#when characters and women clearly… consented.

[jesusinstilettos]

Alright I need to say it. I think Gen Z has internalized and repackaged purity culture under a different justification.

(To be clear, this isn’t Gen Z’s fault. Older generations indoctrinated them into it)

[ellecdc]

I'm back with another request!!!

This one is remus×femreader bc we love remi in this house

Basically, remi and reader are arguing about something stupid (something to do with books) and there's a lot of flirting going on whilst arguing. Remus starts becoming a little amused while arguing and tries to hide his smile (we all know he has eyes that glitter when he's happy). Reader gets annoyed and starts going off on him and Remus kisses her to shut her up. The thing is, the reader has never been kissed before. And she REALLY likes him. So she's shocked to say the least. She stares at him in disbelieve and Remi's like "what" and she goes "you kissed me" "ik" Remus says plainly. "I've never been kissed before" reader whispers while looking down, ashamed. Remus feels bad so he takes her by her shoulders, tilts her chin up, and kisses her again. Properly.

Thanks, love! Here are some flowers for you 💐

soooo cute - hope I did your idea justice!!

Remus Lupin x fem!reader who has never been kissed

CW: fluff, narrative around consent

“I cannot believe you just said that.” You deadpanned, staring at Remus with a fiery glint in your eye as he watched you very clearly try to fight off a smile. 

“Why would I not say it?” Remus asked incredulously as you repositioned yourself on the sofa to angle your body towards him for better arguing.

“Because it’s so incredibly wrong.”

“Well now that’s ignorant.”

You scoffed disbelievingly at him. “You did not just call me ignorant.”

“Nope, wrong again.” He laughed. “I said your statement was ignorant.”

“In what sodding world did Amy and Laurie make any sense?” You asked then, slapping your hand against your knee to punctuate your question.

“Uhm, this one? Obviously, that’s why it’s canon.”

You pursed your lips as if you were restraining yourself from bodily launching yourself at Remus; he really wished you wouldn’t.

“Author’s don’t get it right all of the time.” You said instead of telling Remus to go fuck himself. 

“I don’t think that’s true; this book has become a classic for a reason. Louisa May Alcott didn’t write these things by accident, there was intention and purpose behind these characters and their choices.”

“Yes, and the purpose was to drive readers mad!” You nearly screeched.

“Or perhaps it was to illustrate to young women that they don’t need to settle for their childhood friend.” He countered. 

“It wasn’t settling! She loved him back!” 

Remus couldn’t help but smile then; between your passion, how cute you looked when you were wound up, and the fact that you were screaming about love made his own heart beat in double time. 

“You’re sodding laughing at me.” You narrated with a disbelieving head shake, clearly misinterpreting Remus’ lovesick expression for humour. “Remus Lupin! Stop laughing at me!” You shouted playfully, landing a few good whacks on his arm with the book as he pretended to shield himself from you. 

“Okay, so not only do you have horrid takes on classic literature, but you also use classic literature to assault people? What has the world come to?” Remus teased as you continued your attack. 

“You. Are. Infuriating!” You spat, punctuating each word with a whack as you moved to stand on your knees for better access to Remus.

Better access indeed he decided as he quickly grabbed your wrists, rendering your weapon utterly useless as it hung limp in your hand.

“I’m infuriating, am I?” He asked you quietly.

“Exhausting.” You agreed, matching his volume.

“Exhausting?”

“Troublesome.”

“Is that so?” 

“And completely unromantic! I mean, how could-”

But he never got to hear what your next argument was about how perfect Laurie and Jo would have been together before he quickly slotted his lips against yours.

For how energetic the conversation had been, the kiss was decidedly not; it was soft, gentle, tentative, and Remus only hoped you couldn’t read him like a book for how utterly in love he was with you. 

And entirely too soon was Remus pulling away from your face, still holding your wrists as he looked between your eyes.

“You…kissed me.” You whispered; the statement sounding nearly like a question as you looked at Remus with a mixture of shock and bemusement. 

Remus felt his stomach drop; was he not supposed to? He should have asked first; fucking arse. Had he read this all wrong; were you not into him like that? Had he been projecting his own feelings onto you, merely expecting you to reciprocate feelings he’d never properly expressed? 

“Yes…I- was that not okay?”

“I…I’ve never been kissed before…” You admitted quietly, arms falling limp in Remus’ hands as he loosened his grip. 

“Oh dove, I’m sorry. I- did…you want to be kissed?” He asked, leaving out the ‘by me?’ 

You looked surprised at his question; the corner of your mouth turning upwards as you examined Remus' face. He hoped to Godric his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. 

“Very much so.” You whispered.

Feeling hopefully brave by the way your fingers were fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve and the way your eyes were fixed on his lips, he moved his hands to your waist and encouraged you to straddle his lap. You positioned yourself immediately, as if being in his lap was the most natural thing in the world, watching as his hands trailed up to your shoulders and down your arms, guiding your hands to rest on his shoulders. 

“Yeah?” He asked under his breath. 

“Please.” You whispered back.

“Oh pretty girl,” he cooed; pushing a lock of hair behind your ear before hooking a finger under your chin to pull your lips towards his. “It’d be my absolute pleasure.”

[dollypopup]

I get why people would think it but

Colin is NOT a rake. Colin is a young man trying to figure out his identity and what he likes sexually and trying to understand what the men of his society talk about and do. He's not out here messing around with women just to string them along and then leave them. He's trying to fit in and has been made fun of for being a virgin so yeah, he rectifies that by having sex, but just because he slept with a few women, that doesn't make him a rake? You wanna know who an actual rake in the series is?

Fife.

Because what the fuck happened to Miss Goring? I think about her sometimes and my heart aches for her. Her first season out, she's an 18 year old woman, and an older, titled man of her society who she assumes to be a proper gentleman makes her believe their relationship can actually be something, messes around with her the entire season, and then fucks her in a linen closet at a ball only to....what? Come back the next year with absolutely no mention of her whatsoever. Did she get pregnant? Was sent off in disgrace? Have to marry someone else?

Fife is a 30 year old man who has a bad habit of hounding after young, vulnerable women in his society. He fucks them and leaves them. He's a rake. Colin? Colin is not even close to that. Say what you will about the brothel scenes, but that IS the responsible place for a man of his time to go to for sex. Please stop demonizing sex work. Yes, many of these women are in that line of work because of less than savory reasons, but Colin is not taking advantage of them. He is paying for a service and they are providing that service. It is transactional, and he is the LEAST of their concerns in terms of clientele. A kind, handsome man who pays well and is discrete? Yeah, they're fine with him.

Colin has a history of respecting women. He respected Marina all throughout their courtship, and even after. I know some people sneer at him coming to see Marina, but please keep in mind she is a woman on her own who married a stranger far away from ANYONE who knew her. Colin was worried about Daphne when she came to him, asking if anything happened when she was away and clearly ready to fight for her, so of course he's worried about Marina. Partly he visits her for his own closure, but also like....y'all that's a WELLNESS visit. He's concerned that she's unhappy, but ultimately leaves because she's not hurt and that she tells him to. Colin listens to 'no' from the women around him. He asks for permission from them. He waited for Penelope's consent sexually, but he also didn't even get into the carriage until she allowed him. He even asks "Please, let me in".

Colin lives in a time when women do not have many rights, and he listens to the women around him even more than the men. He is the only one of his siblings to ask for his mum's advice and immediately takes it and takes action. He brings Eloise back a feminist text from his travels, even after she's besmirched as a radical, because he supports her pursuits. In season 2, he also knew of her going to the printers and didn't say anything. He has always respected and cared for Penelope. He hasn't insulted a single woman in his vicinity. He doesn't make the women he flirts with feel bad about themselves, or feel less, but compliments them, all whilst keeping respectable distance so as not to make them think he's interested in marrying them. He doesn't dance with any woman but Penelope in that season.

Colin isn't a rake. He's not a fuckboy. He's trying to act like he is, emulating the circle of his society, but that doesn't mean he is. I swear people just WANT to misinterpret him because that's the easiest way, but Colin is a character who doesn't lend well to surface level readings. He's a nuanced, gentle hearted character who has been looked down on for his sensitivity. He's a deeply relatable person because who of us haven't pretended to be accepted? Especially if we've been bullied or excluded. I know I have. Put on a persona for the sake of survival. And he does so for what? A few weeks? That does not a fuckboy make.

Just say you don't want to understand him and move along because those of us who get him GET HIM. And I'm grateful for a character like Colin.

He's the best man in the series by an entire mile and you can't change my mind about that.

[perseidlion]

Fandom needs to have a serious conversation about the difference between a sexual character and a predatory one.

A character who is comfortable in their sexuality, is a flirt, and attempts to charm other characters isn't a predator by default. Predatory behaviour ignores signs that the attention is unwanted. Predatory behaviour means ignoring consent and pursuing someone when they're clearly not interested and blatantly ignoring their wishes.

Conflating the two downplays ACTUAL predatory behaviour and makes it harder to spot both in fiction and in real life. It's also different in the context of a story than it would be IRL. It's important to keep in mind that the purpose of fiction is to have narrative tension, conflict, and character development. The purpose of fiction unless it is religious or for children, is not to model ideal behaviour. A story for mature adults trusts that its audience knows the difference between permissible behaviour in real life and permissible behaviour in fiction.

Still, someone flirting with someone when they aren't immediately into it isn't some transgression. Neither is continuing to pursue someone or show attraction when they aren't given a hard no or directly blown off. ESPECIALLY in fiction where one party playing hard to get is a common story element.

The difference between a predator and a sexual person is emotional intelligence and an ability to both read and respect body language and signs. An emotionally intelligent flirt will back off when they know their attentions are unwanted. But shooting their shot to see how the person responds isn't evil behaviour, nor is trying to convince the person of their merits.

If this were true, a lot of people would never get together both in fiction and in real life. You can never 100 per cent know how a person is going to respond when you flirt with them. That's why flirting exists, to test the waters. Not every relationship starts with friendship, either. A lot of people jump right to romance. Also, sometimes people aren't into it immediately because they haven't thought about it. So the response can be ambiguous. There's been a worrying trend of people vilifying and painting characters as criminal/problematic/evil for simply being sexual and making their desires known. This is a prudish attitude that is very damaging - especially when levied on queer people who have historically been vilified, criminalized and experienced violence for expressing their sexuality.

It may be uncomfortable if someone expresses sexual attraction to you when you don't want it and don't reciprocate it, but if it's done respectfully, it isn't a crime. The crime comes if they ignore your wishes and pursue you anyway, or objectify you. **Addendum to note that I am talking about flirting that approaches a person like a real human being and not an object. This doesn't apply to say, dudes trying to talk to women on public transit with headphones in, or street harassment of any kind. I'm talking about flirting that comes from a place of respect and genuine interest at an appropriate time and place. Edited to add proof that the Cat King is definitely reading emotional signals from Edwin that encourage him to keep flirting:

[darkshrimpemotions]

People miss the point about Dean's interaction with Marta the post office lady in 14x13 so hard and it's FRUSTRATING.

No, it's not a reversal of the running gag about older women finding Sam attractive (which is gross anyway because it usually involves playing his obvious discomfort at being touched without consent for laughs). It is also not just Dean trading on his looks and flirting to get what he wants.

The point is to illustrate a significant difference between the brothers!

Specifically how they interact with the community of Lebanon, and what that says about their characters.

At this point in the show, Sam and Dean have now lived in Lebanon for like, six and a half years. And yet Sam approaches this woman like he would approach any stranger or witness in any random town in the country. And she reacts to him like any witness would to a strange man asking questions--with caution and some level of suspicion. It is incredibly clear that they don't know each other at all, despite how long they've been living in the same community.

But Dean knows her! And not just by sight and in passing. He's on a first name basis with her! He asks about her grandson and she readily answers! She knows his first name, too! They very clearly have an established report and have talked many times, enough times for her to have complained to him about her "spoiled little jerk" of a grandson!

This scene establishes that Dean is a known entity to at least some of the people of Lebanon. A known and LIKED entity. Trusted, even! He has truly put down roots there in a way that Sam has not, despite them living there for the same amount of time. He's bonded with people he sees regularly. He has little interactions with them offscreen all the time. That tells us something about Dean as a character!

And if it's a reversal or play off of anything, it's 1x11 (Scarecrow) when Dean fails to convince a couple who is in danger to let him fix their car so they can leave town sooner. Dean assumes (incorrectly IMO) that it's because HE specifically comes off to "normal people" as abnormal and dangerous, whereas Sam would be able to convince them with just a sincere look. In reality, of course, it probably has more to do with Dean being a total stranger, with no obvious credentials for car-fixing other than his word, in an unfamiliar place, than it does any inherent quality of Dean himself.

Because the key is, Dean isn't putting in any special effort in either scene. The way he approaches the couple is a contrast to how he usually handles cases. There's no costume, no subterfuge, and no alias. He isn't trying to fool either the couple in 1x11 or Marta in 14x13 into liking and trusting him. He's just being himself and telling the truth in both scenes (maybe not ALL the truth, but the essential basics). It works on Marta because she already knows and likes him. It doesn't work on the couple because he's a stranger to them.

So in 14x13 (and at other times in the show too) we see that Sam is not any better with people than Dean, especially when he makes no effort. He in fact gives off somewhat alarming vibes to strangers when he doesn't present with some kind of subterfuge that engenders immediate trust (i.e. being an FBI or insurance agent). (Think of Amelia's initial reaction to him in season 8 for example.) And this is true even for people who have almost certainly seen him around before, in the town he's lived in for over half a decade.

And the fact that he has made no effort to get to know his neighbors is telling in itself. Sam isn't any more automatically trustworthy to regular people than Dean unless he puts in specific effort to be. Costumes and aliases, fake credentials, even that specific face and voice he uses to talk to witnesses are all effort he has to put in. And that effort is not something that comes naturally to him or occurs to him outside of the context of a case. (I think we also see in season 6 exactly how much conscious effort those things require of him, given that without a soul he not only lacks personability but is downright impatient with and insulting to people.)

It's actually Dean who's good at building bonds, establishing casual report, and eliciting trust from people. And moreover, it's Dean who thinks to make the effort to do so. Sam is better at leading hunters specifically, but that's a whole different story and meta.

[trexiejan]

Some Toxic Dickbabs moments that happened in canon. (LONG POST)

so i saw a dickbabs shipper talking crap about dickkory saying they're the most toxic nightwing ship? and they also claim dickbabs is the most healthiest ? it's ironic considering I've seen many dickbabs comic panels where dickbabs is being toxic towards each other plenty of times in the canon comics. Looks like Tom Taylor wants to brainwash people and make them believe that Dickbabs is such a perfect healthy loving couple since day 1, when that hasn't been true at all before he was put in charge of the nightwing comics to write dickbabs wattpad fanfiction in the book every single issue, this ship has done nothing but damage both characters even in tom taylor's run Dick is turned into a happy go lucky himbo who is incapable of accomplishing anything on his own without being monitored and babysat by barbara 24/7.

Anyways let's proceed with dickbabs history of being a toxic couple.

Remember those times where Barbara physically and verbally assaulted him when he was only trying to be nice and polite. She yelled at him, called him stupid, a crybaby and beat him up.

Also they keep calling Kory a victim blamer for something that happened once in over 30 years ago but ignore the fact that Babs has victim blamed him and slutshamed him multiple times in the modern comics when he was sexually assaulted and raped by Tarantula and when he got shot in the head by the Joker.

Dick just got raped by Tarantula and was traumatized by what happened but instead of comforting Dick, she has the nerve to mockingly say Dick likes his rapist. her jealousy always clouds her judgement.

I'm sorry But Barbara is canonically a victim blamer and a slutshamer. Don't forget how she also insults and slutshames other women like Helena when she gets jealous of the other women in Dick's life. She called dickhelena a cheap one nightstand even though Dick clearly told Helena he doesn't do casual sex and and she mocked Kory and refused to help her on a mission when her people were dying.

so yeah let's get back to her history with victim blaming Dick. She victim blamed him again after he got shot in the head and had an amnesia and when his memories was restored, she lashed out at him for forgetting about her when he had an amnesia.

And remember that time when Bludhaven was burned down and Dick lost his apartment, he came to Barbara to ask if he can stay at her place but she kicked him out of her apartment the next day. She's totally fine with him being homeless but dickbabs shippers claim babs has always been very loving and supportive towards him while calling Kory a slut.

Even in elseworld stuff she treats him like garbage. Aside from cheating on Dick with Batman and getting pregnant with Batman's baby in the BTAS universe, she's also very emotionally abusive to him in comics where dickbabs shippers brag about them having a kid in it like in whiteknight.

Barbara was always out there acting like a toxic judgemental domineering bitch in the modern canon comics, Barbara behaved like this consistently for more than 30 years but Kory is the one we should crucify over something that she did only once from 30 years ago 🙄 Did they crucify Barbara too when she was ableist to Cass and called her stupid because she can't read.

And they call Kory a sexual assaulter? Because she kissed him when they first met. Did they forgot that Kory was an alien, she was clueless about Earth laws when she first came to earth, she didn't know that you're actually not supposed to kiss someone without their consent, she had no clue that it was considered inappropriate and she kissed him not to sexually assault him but for her to learn english. Her people can learn other languages through kissing and Kory didn't learn anything about Human law until she officially joined the teen titans, so you can actually excuse her for her behavior what's not excusable is Barbara who was a human being who studied law for years, but still has the nerve to commit a sexual crime. As always, She violated Dick's personal privacy, she put camera on his apartment so she can enjoy watching him naked without his consent. Look it up on google the crime is called voyeurism. Barbara would considered a creepy criminal by human law. I'm not surprised considering I always think of her as a type of gf who has no respect for her partner's personal space especially when she's Oracle, She never respected Dick's privacy even in tom taylor's run, she keeps monitoring his every move in her computer, she always invades his personal space. Dick is trapped in this relationship. It's not a good relationship if you constantly watch your partner's every move and if you keep following your partner around like a dog wherever he goes.

Many people think Dickbabs is such a healthy because of Tom Taylor's run. I think for someone who is a huge dickbabs shipper like tom taylor it's expected he's gonna try to convince people to believe that to to sell his favorite ship but in reality even in Tom Taylor's run Dickbabs relationship is pretty toxic and forced. It's toxic when your partner doesn't respect your privacy, when your partner constantly stalks and keeps an eye on you on every single thing that you do, when you wanna talk to other people but she's there lurking in her computer listening to your conversations with other people, when she puts a camera on your mask so she can always see what you see and hear what you hear, as if you're not a real human being who needs your own privacy, and constantly follows you around like a dog, like Barbara does to him every single issue. It really is a sign of an abusive relationship when there is no respect. How is Tom Taylor's Nightwing good when the book keeps destroying Dick's independece by having Barbara stuck to him like a leech 24/7 . The book is called Nightwing but Tom Taylor turned it into a Nightwing and Batgirl fanfiction series where 90% of the time Dick hasn't done anything on his own and where his IQ is chopped off in half to prop up Barbara as the smarter woman in their relationship. Dick can't even handle his own missions without constantly being babysat by Barbara in her computer like a sidekick who needs to be watched 24/7.

Poor Dick he became Nightwing to stop being Batman's sidekick and be independent only for Barbara to take away his independence and treat him like a sidekick again. Dickbabs has always been a toxic ship in any kind of form.

and don't forget Tom Taylor himself is a toxic misogynist slutshamer. He keeps throwing shade on Kory on twitter by liking comments that slutshame her on twitter

You know what would be the best way to fix dickbabs? is by letting them move on from each other! Let them grow tf up and move forward in life outside this relationship.

Babs is an anchor that brings him down whenever she's too involved in his life and same with Babs because do dickbabs shippers even care about Barbara. I haven't seen any barbara fan complain about barbara not doing anything on her own other than chasing dick around like a dog in his comicbook every single issue.

[autistichalsin]

I don't know, I just find it interesting that every single one of the three characters who consent to having the player have a poly relationship with Halsin, have the fandom erase their consent using the exact same argument, which is, and I quote:

(They) don't actually want it. They just are afraid to lose you.

All of these characters will not hesitate to read the player the riot act for violating their boundaries, and there are quite a few scenes where they (especially Astarion) will outright break up with the player for going too far. These are adults who have little trouble standing up for themselves, yet we are supposed to believe that suddenly, with and only with Halsin, they are unable to consent. (Notably, this also is applied only to the poly romance; the characters' ability to consent to a monogamous relationship with the player is, of course, never to be questioned.)

Shadowheart, who practically salivates at the idea of being regaled with your story of "climbing Mt. Halsin", must not have really consented. (Women can't consent to icky, nasty sex things, see. That would imply they have desires of their own.)

Karlach, who is passionate and strong and hot-tempered, who, again, will call the player out on anything that makes them uncomfortable, is suddenly a shrinking flower who just can't tell the player, "no, I want a monogamous relationship." It can't be that her terminal illness has left her unable to examine her own feelings around polyamory; it must be that she is only saying it not to lose the player. Because Karlach is, somehow, the kind of woman who would stick around if she thought the player would sink low enough as to pressure a dying woman into an open relationship? (Again: women are always delicate flowers. They can't consent to anything, clearly.)

And then there's Astarion. Astarion, who has the most triggers to break up with the player out of ANY romanceable character. Astarion, who says he has trouble saying no to sex sometimes, but explicitly says the reason he's willing to give this a try with Halsin is his experience in this area which guarantees Astarion won't get hurt (and even says earlier that he won't have a relationship with Shadowheart too because she has no experience.) Astarion, who is eager to find his own desires again. Astarion, who wants to make choices- even wrong choices or ones he regrets, because isn't that half the fun of getting to make a choice? Getting to fail? Anyway. THAT Astarion is, coincidentally, ALSO, somehow, lying to the player and doesn't want this at ALL and only says this so the player won't leave him. He leaves if the player manipulates him into sex, he leaves if the player lets him get kidnapped, but this one boundary is, somehow, one he just can't seem to express. Because, you see, survivors are MAYBE capable of enjoying sex, but only "normal" sex with the player. Can't have him agreeing to something taboo like polyamory, because then he might not seem like a delicate flower.

Even Halsin, the bear himself, isn't immune to this: people insist that he too doesn't actually enjoy poly, and only says it because he thinks if he asserts himself too much, makes it seem like he wants the player to himself, that they won't be interested and will reject him. So he pre-emptively brings up something he can't properly consent to... despite polyamory being the default in wood elf culture. Despite wood elves specifically viewing romantic jealousy as immature and worthy of mockery. See, if a character has insecurities and is in a poly relationship, that must mean they aren't actually poly, not that they need reassuring. When a character in a monogamous relationship has doubts, that just means they need comforting, but when they're in a polyamorous relationship, well, that just means they can't truly enjoy poly!

I don't know, I just find it really fascinating that the arguments against the characters who are poly or open to poly "really" being poly are all the exact same argument applied uniformally to the characters regardless of whether that actually fits their backstories and behaviors during the scenes where it's discussed. It's like poly makes people uncomfortable, but they aren't willing to reckon with their favorite romanceable character(s) having such drastically different values around relationships, so the only way out is to insist they don't actually like it/are incapable of consenting. It's as fascinating as it is frustrating, really.

[tightjeansjavi]

The Rite of Movement | drabble

“Teacher Tommy”

written deliciously by @tightjeansjavi & @itsokbbygrl 💗🤭 LJ lost her smut v-card last night, and it calls for a celebration!

~word count: 7.0k~ (we…yeah 🥵)

Summary: Tommy teaches you how to properly eat pussy

Pairing | pornstar!tommy miller x f!readers (two unnamed female characters written in 3rd POV)

Warnings: NSFW, smut, amateur porn film, one mention of degrading language (purity culture) soft!dom Tommy, threesome, mff/wlw, oral (f receiving), pussy worship, unprotected piv, bush love, consent, sex positive environment, brief mention of Tommy’s sexuality (and a sprinkle of Joel’s) dirty talk, teasing, one mention of hair (unspecified length/no details) no other physical description of the readers, unspecified age gap (legal) +18 minors dni! (Let me know if I missed anything!)

series masterlist

Unlike his brother Joel, who meticulously crafts his films and is stubborn as an ox, Tommy’s signature filming style revolves around spontaneity—spur of the moment changes to scripts and impromptu dialogue, creating a care-free and very, very fun set environment where his actors feel empowered to follow their instincts. Tommy isn’t too keen on having the perfect mood lighting or props to add to the ambiance. He likes amateur-style, low quality camera shots and iPhone POV’s from his partners. While Joel is truly making adult-film art, Tommy unabashedly loves making porn.

And Tommy’s girls are first and foremost, sexy. That’s not at all to do with their looks, although if you asked him, they’re all 10 out of 10 knockouts in their unique ways. No, to Tommy it’s all about confidence. A woman who knows what she wants and goes for it, no care for the names society might call her. Slut. Whore. Harlot. Jezebel. There is nothing in the world sexier than a sexually liberated woman, and Tommy has made it his literal job to show the world that.

Tommy checks the time on his phone’s lock screen and heads over to the studio. He’s scheduled to supervise and direct a scene between a couple of their female actresses. A younger looking couple, it’ll be listed as a first-time experience–horny best friends who are experimenting with each other for the first time, hopefully catching the budding chemistry between two women who already love each other one way turning into a simmering heat that leads to sexy fun. Tommy recalls some of his early days experimenting himself, that feeling of excitement at trying something new, learning how to make another person’s body sing like he knows his own, and he knows exactly how he’s going to help them bring that energy to set.

One of Tommy’s actresses is fairly experienced in the art of women loving women porn, but the second is a greenie and it’s evident that she’s feeling nervous and self conscious even before the filming begins.

“Hey, Tommy? Maybe instead of you just filming, you show her how to eat pussy? Make it a teaching moment?” His experienced partner suggests as she takes a sip from her water bottle.

Tommy mulls over the idea for a moment. He wasn’t planning on being in the scene today, but if the day called for it, he could jump in; expecting it from time to time with his line of work where he had to be ready for just about anything. “Think you’re onto somethin’ there.” He grins.

He makes his way over to his second partner who is sitting off to the side, aimlessly scrolling on her phone. Tommy notices her slightly trembling fingers and tense shoulders, clearly anxious. Well, that just won’t do.

“Hey doll, y’got a minute?” He asks softly.

She tenses for a second before looking up at him with a practiced pleasant smile. Fuck.

“Yeah, of course! What’s up?” she starts. When Tommy doesn’t speak right away, she sighs and continues, looking back at the phone limply held in her hands, “Look, I understand if you think that I’m maybe not the right fit for this scene. I’ve never—”

He interjects with a reassuring smile. “Hey, none of that, alright? I’m not kickin’ ya offset if that’s what you’re thinking.” He winks to ease her nerves. “Was actually gonna suggest that we make a change, put me in the scene with ya. Y’know, showin’ you the ropes on how to properly eat pussy. How’s that sound, doll?”

She looks at him as if he has suddenly sprouted five heads and her lips part in shock. “Wait, you want to like..teach me? Holy—I mean, I’m good with it if you both are?”

“Course, doll. I’ll teach ya, and then by the end of it, you’ll be a pussy eatin’ pro!” He laughs. “It was actually her idea to have me teach you. We both know you’re a greenie, and we want you to be comfortable, okay?”

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it. I honestly was dreading coming in for this today when you told me what the premise of the scene would be.” She visibly relaxes and then barks a laugh after a second, hand flying up to cover her mouth. Amused, Tommy prompts her to share her thoughts. “What if we titled it “Teacher Tommy?” she suggests with a small grin.

“Well, if that’s the case,” he leaned in close, “class is in session.”

With everyone on the same page, Tommy double checks to make sure everything is ready to begin filming. He sets the lower quality digital camcorder he thrifted from a local camera shop up on the small table stationed next to the middle of the bed and turns on the attached light, bathing the three of them in a soft white glow that barely extends to the other side of the bed. Low quality resolution is a favorite stylistic choice of Tommy’s, loving the way it adds to the feeling of realism and spontaneity in his films, as if none of this was planned–they just pulled out the camera in the heat of the moment, wanting to cement the memory in history.

He moves to the far corner of the room where he has his phone sitting on an armchair next to a small speaker. He picks it up and opens his Spotify app, turning towards his partners.

“Hey girls, what sounds good? What’s the vibe?”

“Can I see your phone?” his scene partner asks.

“Yeah, baby, of course. Here you go,” he hands her the unlocked phone. She types for a minute and scrolls, finding what she was looking for and hands the phone back to Tommy. He gives the playlist a quick preview. “This will work,” he smirks.

He puts the phone back in its previous place and turns on the speaker, making sure it’s correctly linked to the input of the separate audio recording device so he can mute this particular track while editing the video, and presses play. He learned the hard way that not all background music is equal after they received a cease and desist letter from Universal Music Group for copyright infringement on one of their first videos produced at Miller-Co. Joel was less than pleased about that one, giving Tommy a tongue lashing about professionalism and an angry, “This is why we plan ahead, Tommy!” Since then he’s learned how to create a vibe in the studio conducive to generating the right feelings and reactions in his scene partners while simultaneously protecting their company’s assets. Tommy Miller is nothing if not a practiced multitasker.

“Everyone still ready to go?” Tommy checks in one final time, making sure he has enthusiastic “yeses” from his partners before he starts the camcorder and sits on the bed, starting the scene.

Tommy sits on the bed, the girls following the loose script they’d prepared. They giggle, one of them reaching over and grabbing the hem of Tommy’s cotton t-shirt, looking into his eyes and waiting for his nod before tugging it up over his head, Tommy raising his arms to assist with its removal. The light catches the peaks and valleys of his obliques as he moves. He leans forward, smiling, and reaches out a hand to cup her face and pull her into him for a heated kiss. He makes sure to angle her face with the hand on her jaw so the camera catches the way their tongues dance together while he uses his other hand to move to the waist of her denim shorts.

“Let’s take these off, sugar. Get you a little more comfy,” he drawls, looking her down and back up, meeting her eyes, then dipping to her spit slick, plush lips. She nods, utters a soft yeah, please in response. His fingers trace along the edge of the waistband until they get to the button, pushing it with his thumb through the hole, using his remaining fingers to pull the tab forward, and then pulls the zip down slowly, letting the tension build.

With the extra space, Tommy reaches inside her shorts, cupping his hand over her clothed sex and pressing up with his palm, giving her some friction. She lets out a soft whine. He smiles, atta girl. She pushes the shorts down her thighs and kicks them off with her feet. Now partially exposed, he spreads her thighs, making sure the camera can see his ministrations as he strokes his fingers over her panties, teasing. Her mouth drops open and head drops down, chin to chest, watching where he touches.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it, baby?” He asks and she nods in response. He tips her chin back up with his unoccupied forefinger and leaves another kiss on her mouth before he turns to their other partner, never stopping the teasing ministrations of his occupied hand.

“C’mere, doll. Lemme see you.” He removes his hand from his first partner’s mound, wet patch visible through her cotton panties where he’s pressed them into her cunt, splitting her lips, showing off the shape of her even through the material, and moves it to the collar of his second partner’s blouse. He attaches his lips to the underside of her jaw and nips, soothing the bite with his lips and tongue while his fingers deftly unbutton her shirt, pushing it gently from her shoulders, bare breasts exposed to the cool air of the room around her. She lets it slip off her arms and tangles her fingers in his thick, dark curls, anchoring him to her. He kisses from the spot along her jawline until he meets her mouth and she’s hungry for it, eating at his mouth with her own. He groans at her forwardness, this is his favorite part, he thinks.

Eventually he pulls back, taking a moment to admire her newly exposed skin. He leans forward, taking nearly the whole of one breast into his big hand, and brings it to his mouth, humming as he suckles at her, lathes his tongue over her peaked nipple. She throws her head back and moans. He allows himself one final deep suck before he pulls off with an audible, “pop.” He kisses up her chest, runs the tip of his tongue over the front of her neck, up and over her chin, over her parted lips, and leaves a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose. The contrast makes her laugh, and the sound sets him and their other partner off in tandem, the sound tinkling through the room, and easing them into the next moment.

He turns and finds their other partner has removed her top while they were occupied, now only clothed in her damp panties and little socks. He shucks his pants and briefs, and the girls share a heated look before moving together. Tommy makes room, allowing them to explore each other for a moment while he reaches down and palms his half hard cock. They finish undressing each other as they kiss, hands roaming over torsos, before the first girl lets one hand drift lower, reaching the wet center of her partner, and she slides her middle finger through the glistening slick, gathering some before bringing it to her mouth, making eye contact and sucking it deep into her mouth, groaning at the tangy flavor that bursts on her tongue.

“Yum,” she says playfully, and they giggle. Tommy joins in, smiling, loving watching them have fun. This is what this is all about, he thinks, cock now fully hard in his grip, thumb gently stroking over his head, smearing the precum there, creating a sticky mess.

He rejoins them. “She taste nice, sweetheart?” He asks, tracing his fingers down her chest, her stomach, watching the muscles in her abdomen twitch and clench at the sensation. He looks up and sees her nodding. He grins back, fingers lightly playing with the soft curls at the top of her sex. “Should we compare?” He presses his fingers down, sliding between her lips, a quiet, “Shit,” leaving his mouth unbidden at the sensation of feeling her once dampness now fully blossomed into wet. He drags two fingers insistently through her, running from her hole to just below her clit and back, building her pleasure slowly. He pulls his fingers back, spreads them, lets the sticky mess of her stretch into clear strings between them, and he whistles lowly at the sight. “Ain’t that pretty,” he says, and then he brings them up to her mouth, resting lightly on her lower lip. “Open up, sugar, give yourself a taste.” She obeys, sucking his fingers into her mouth, winding her tongue around and between them, closing her eyes as she suckles, cleaning him fully before releasing them with a pop. “So, what’s the verdict?”

“Hmm,” she thinks on it playfully, tapping her fingers to her chin in mock deep thought. “I think I taste pretty good. Want a taste?” She asks, turning between both of her bed partners searching for a response.

Tommy, as pre-planned, turns and finds the greener of the two women fidgeting with her fingers in her lap. He chimes in, directing his response at her instead, “I’m up to share if you are?”

She raises her head and meets his eyes, her gaze full of trepidation and excitement in equal measure. Good actress, Tommy thinks. She speaks then, softly replying, “I’ve…um, I’ve never..” and gestures to their partners exposed, glistening cunt.

“You’ve never eaten pussy before, baby?” He asks her gently and she shakes her head, dropping eye contact. He reaches up, pushes his fingers through her hair as a comforting point of contact, strokes over the shell of her ear with his thumb, before resting his palm on the side of her neck. “That’s just fine, sweetheart. You wanna learn?” She perks up at the line, eyes alight with the possibility. She nods shyly and Tommy gives her a real smile then, easing her into the meat of the scene. “Well, just call me, “Teacher,” then, I suppose,” and he chuckles.

Here we go, he thinks. He turns back to his other partner, leaning in and giving her another soft kiss on her mouth, then another, and another, leaning her back onto the bed as he goes. “Now you, just lay here and look pretty. We’re gonna take real good care of you, sugar.” Once she’s laid fully on her back, he sits back on his haunches and reaches forward, grabbing under her thighs and hauling her forward by the hips, pressing her thighs back and exposing the center of her fully to their gazes. “Gorgeous little cunt,” he says, and turns to his new pupil. “Come take a look, babygirl. You ever seen a pussy so pretty?”

She scoots over, planting herself right next to Tommy, leaning into his side and looking at where her partner is on display for her. She speaks up then, “So pretty, wow, she’s so wet.” He isn’t sure she’s even fully aware of what she’s doing or if she’s just as pussy drunk as he’s starting to feel, but she reaches forward then, lets her fingers touch featherlight, exploring the feel of another woman for the first time.

“There you go, baby, give it a feel,” Tommy encourages, and she’s a good student, fingers moving more surely then, scritching lightly through her partner’s soft curls, making her stomach jump, and she smiles at the reaction she created. Growing bolder, she dips a finger lower, gasping softly at what she finds waiting for her.

“Oh my god,” their partner moans.

“Doing so good, sweetheart, keep going,” Tommy says, kissing her shoulder, nipping at it lightly, letting his hand explore her back, fingers trailing over the knobs of her spine, dipping ever so slightly into pock marks scattered here and there, tapping at the constellation of beauty marks and moles he finds. When he comes back around to face the scene in front of him, he’s pleasantly surprised to find her fully exploring now.

“Mmm, that nice, sugar? She makin’ you feel good?” Tommy prompts their receiving partner and she nods surely.

“Yeah, she’s so, mmm god, a natural. You’re sure you’ve never done this before?” she asks.

Pausing her ministrations briefly to chuckle, she looks up from where her gaze was trained on the slick slit where her fingers have been playing, “Nope, first pussy I’ve ever been in. It’s fun, I like it. Think I want a taste,” she responds, turning to look at Tommy.

“Yeah, babygirl? Alright, come here,” Tommy pats the space next to him and lays on his stomach, gesturing for her to do the same. She lays down next to him, kicking her feet up behind her and crossing them at the ankles. Cute, he thinks.

“Sugar, can you do us a favor?” He drags his hands up the backs of her thighs and pushes them towards her chest by the bend of her knees. “Can you hold these for us, please? Gonna be a little busy, need both of my hands,” he explains and winks at her. She groans softly in anticipation at his statement and complies, grabbing behind her own knees and maintaining a hold there, opening herself up to be further devoured.

“Ok, baby, now first thing’s first, every pussy’s a little different, every woman is going to like something a little different, too. But there’s two things for certain–” he leans in and presses his hands to the crease where her thighs meet her cunt, runs his thumbs reverently over her outer lips and spreads her open, “don’t overlook the power of gentleness, and always remember to love the clit.” He punctuates the end of his sentence by using the tip of his nose to rub a tight circle into her nub, inhaling deeply as he goes.

“Holy fucking shit,” she responds, squeezing her thighs tighter in her grip.

The woman next to him squirms, and he wonders if she’s feeling it, too, the phantom drag across her most sensitive spots.

He pulls his face back to move the scene forward, delivering a line they planned earlier. "Hey, sugar, you got your phone with you?” She lifts her head from where it was resting on the bed to nod at him. “Let's get this on video so babygirl here can watch it back later, give her a little coaching if she needs it,” he turns next to him, plants a kiss on his partner’s shoulder, “Or if she’s as much of a natural as I think she’ll be, you’ll both have a nice little souvenir for the wank bank," he ends crudely, almost jokingly, shrugging and chuckling.

She lets go of one of her legs and reaches over, finds her phone where it was resting in the sheets, unlocking it and turning on the camera, the flash illuminating their faces between her thighs, slick from her cunt making Tommy’s nose glisten. She whines at the sight.

“There we go. We makin’ a pretty picture for you, sugar?” Tommy teases.

“Oh, fuck yeah, this is for sure the hottest thing I’ve ever done,” she replies in earnest.

Tommy preens. He uses one arm to push the leg she dropped to pick up the phone back into position. “Alright sugar darlin’, need you to use both hands, hold that camera steady for us,” he instructs. “Now, baby, grab her other leg, yep just like that, push it back, give yourself some room to work. Perfect little student for me, aren’t you?” Access to their pussy re-granted, Tommy gets back to work, missing the way her eyes glaze over at the praise.

“Next lesson–multitasking. Now, when you’re getting fucked real good, right, you’ve got a nice cock inside you, stroking nice and deep, hitting those nice spots and that’s fine, but the ones who know what they’re doing, they do a little extra, don’t they baby?” He looks at his partner next to him, gently stroking the pussy in front of him with his thumb, making sure she stays nice and stimulated while he teaches. He receives an animated nod in return and continues, “that’s right. If they’re worth their salt in bed, they’re hitting all the good spots, inside and out. This is no different, baby. We’re going to start outside first. Watch me, then you take a turn, ok?” He doesn’t wait for her response before he dives in.

Tommy turns his head ever so slightly to the side, making sure the camcorder can see his tongue when he eventually moves it through her. He uses the hand not holding back her thigh to spread the lips of her cunt open further for him with his forefinger and thumb. He leans down all the way, leaving a kiss to the whole of her, before his tongue flicks out and licks a wide stripe from just above her hole to her pulsing clitoris, tongue contracting and flicking firmer as it passes over the sensitive nub. He earns a moan from her in response and repeats the motion again and again, lapping at her cunt like a cat getting the sweetest cream. He moans at the tangy taste of her, of pussy, the flavor incomparable to anything else he’s ever tasted and he loves this, the carnal delight of sex. He gives a final lap and kisses her clit as a parting gift before passing the reins to his partner.

“Alright, sweetheart, you ready for a turn?” She nods eagerly, pupils blown wide, mouth lush and swollen with arousal. Tommy moves over a little, giving her room to get situated. He removes her hand from the other woman’s thigh, giving her the comfort of having both hands to work with for her first time. Their partner lets her leg fall from where it was being held and instead opens up at her hip, resting it in a frog-like position with her knee on the bed, letting her calf and foot rest on the other woman’s upper back. Good girl, thank you, he thinks, making quick eye contact with her and in silent communication.

Hesitantly, she leans down, doing just what Tommy showed her, spreading pussy lips open with her thumbs and licking gently, first along the plush softness of her inner lips, just tasting, feeling it out. The whine her exploration earns must spur her on, because she dives in with abandon then, gathering her viscous wetness direct from the source and bringing it with her before lathing her tongue over her clit again and again, lapping and swirling, moaning into it, both women losing themselves in the pleasure of the moment, unworried about the sounds emanating from their throats.

“There you go, baby, doing such a good job. Such a quick learner. You like that? You like eating pussy?” His mouth is filthy, egging her on, watching as she whines into it and nods her head. He laughs at that, “Alright, now, come up for air, got more to teach ya.” She pulls away, taking a few labored breaths, mouth shiny, corners turned up into a pleased grin, and he can’t help but to pull her in, share a deep, slick kiss, get his second helping from her tongue.

Tommy resumes his earlier position between their partner’s thighs, giving the one in his grasp a sweet kiss. He turns back to his student and continues his instruction. "Now, if you really wanna make her sing, you gotta multitask, get your fingers in her while your tongue works on the outside. Watch, here,” he looks down at the messy, open cunt in front of him and slides his index finger inside gently, letting a guttural groan leave his throat at the feel of her. She’s hot, soaking wet, and tight. This is going to be so much fun, he thinks to himself. He gives her a few slow pumps, watching her like a hawk, making sure she’s feeling good and relaxed before he pulls his finger out, offering it to his bed neighbor and she opens immediately, welcoming it into her mouth and sucks the now familiar milky slickness clean.

“Mmm, good girl, baby, thanks for cleaning me up. Sugar, you ok to take another?” He checks in.

“Yes, yes, please, more, Tommy,” she responds eagerly.

“Happy to oblige,” he smiles before getting back to work. He slides in his first two fingers together this time, letting her unfurl her muscles and pull him inside, holds steady for a moment, leaving kisses on her thighs, the top of her mound, nosing at her curls. Once he feels her totally relaxed, he starts to withdraw, shallowly at first, before pumping back inside slowly. He steadily adds length to each stroke, until she’s easily taking all of his thick, long fingers without resistance. The sounds reverberating through the room are obscene. Pussy absolutely squelching, moans unabashed as he hits her just right every few strokes, then he adds more.

He drops her leg, letting her open for him like she did for their partner, giving him access to his other hand. He uses his newfound freedom to curve above where his face hovers and pulls back the little flap of skin hooding her sweet clitoris. He leans his face down and points his tongue, pressing firmly, directly onto her fully exposed button for a second before flicking it at a rapid pace up and down, back and forth, all the time never ceasing his movements inside her.

“Tommy, Tommy, fuck I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna–” she nearly shouts, feeling her tense, squeezing his fingers like a vice, before she releases, walls of her cunt pulsating in time with the pounding of her heart, slickness coating down to his palm.

“There you go, sugar. Gorgeous when you fall apart,” he praises. “You ok to keep going, or you need a break?”

She sits up, phone forgotten for a moment, dropping it to her side while she answers, “Give me like 30 seconds. I wanna do that again, with her this time,” she points at their partner who is looking at the scene in front of her with poorly concealed awe on her face, never seeing another woman orgasm up close like this before.

“Think we can do that, sugar. You up for it, babygirl?” He turns to check on his other partner.

“Ye–mmh,” she starts, voice thick, before clearing her throat and trying again. “Yeah, yes, please. I would like that very much.”

“Alright, sweetpea, hop on in here. You get stuck, you wanna stop, you need anything, just say, ok? We got you,” he reassures her with his words, clean hand running over her hair gently and down to cup her cheek.

She situates herself between her partner’s thighs and looks up, offering a shy, “Hi, again,” and giggling. Her partner giggles back and waves a little wave. “I’m just gonna…” she starts, and presses in her first two fingers, knowing the feeling of her own cunt, but finding the feeling of another woman’s entirely new at the same time. She starts a slow and easy rhythm, building her confidence with every new sound she drags out of her partner.

“Want to try adding your mouth?” Tommy encourages. She leans down, hovering right over where she’s most wanted, and looks up and makes direct eye contact with the camera in her partner’s hands before she licks. Her partner throws her head back and groans, something deep and real, almost animalistic. She continues, alternating between a pattern of flicking like Tommy and lapping like before, absolutely devouring the juicy pussy in front of her. The loud squish squish squish she’s drawing from inside her cunt causing her own core to pull tight and hot, the liquid of her slicking her nearly to dripping onto the sheets below.

Tommy watches on absolutely rapt. Cock angry at him for not sinking into the nearest tight, hot, wet hole immediately. He staves off his primal desire, giving it a harsh squeeze at the base, tell it to behave a little while longer, the chastity will be worth the reward they have planned.

“God, baby, sugar, so sexy, look so goddamn gorgeous together, sound so gorgeous together, fuck,” he rambles, knowing he doesn’t have long until he needs to come.

He squeezes the base of his cock once more, taking his lower lip between his teeth and bites down hard as he gets lost in the mix of obscene moans coming from his two partners. It’s like a symphony to his ears, (and his cock). He makes the executive decision to remove himself from the scene momentarily and swipes a bottle of water from a nearby table and twists the cap off in a haste.

The mushroom head of his cock is red, angry and engorged as he downs the entire bottle, a few stray drips of water roll down his chin, neck, and between his pecs.

When he makes his way back to the bed, both women are coming down from their highs, bodies slick with a sheen of sweat coating them like a sultry mist. They’re a mess of giggles and praises when Tommy situates himself once more. He presses a warm kiss to the shoulder blade of his bedside partner, nipping playfully with his teeth.

“How are we feelin’, ladies? Can teacher Tommy getcha anything? Refreshments? Need a breather?” His tone is light and carefree, genuine.

His bedside partner who has her cheek resting against the pelvic bone of the other woman, looks over at him with a newfound confident grin. Her face and lips are covered in slick that glistens on her skin. She makes direct eye contact with him briefly before her eyes slowly drift southwards to his cock. She coyly smiles and peers back upwards to him. “Well, there is one thing you could get for me..” she trails off.

He’s proud, it’s written all over his face and he does his best to contain his genuine smile and craft it into a convincing smirk. But it’s moments like these where he’s reminded just how much he loves his job. The reward of a satisfying orgasm is almost always certain, but to see a woman come out of her shell so naturally? Now, that’s a spectacle that he holds onto dearly.

“What is it that you want me to do for you, doll?”

“Teacher Tommy, can you please fuck me while I eat her pretty pussy?” She asks sweetly, eyes glazed over, pussy drunk undoubtedly, but the way she’s eyeing his cock has Tommy nearly combusting right there on the spot.

“You want teacher to fuck you now? Mmm. Think I can manage that, baby. You okay with me goin’ in raw? S’what I prefer, but whatever the lady wants.” He reassures her.

This type of conversation rarely ever takes place in mainstream porn. Most people would end up skipping through to get back to the main event, but Joel’s and Tommy’s viewers were different. They thoroughly enjoyed all the real bits of dialogue and relatable moments.

She giggles and pushes herself up into a sitting position between the other woman’s thighs. “Fuck me raw, please.”

“Atta girl.” He grins and gives the base of his cock a few slow pumps. He’s at the point where he’s hoping, praying that he can last through this without coming too soon. Despite his years of built up stamina, sometimes pussy is just that good.

He watches with hooded eyes as his bedside partner rolls back over onto her stomach, back arched as she dives right back into what Tommy taught her about the art of pussy eating. There’s no hesitation on her end as she laps at the other woman’s clit, eyes fluttering shut as she savors the tangy taste on her tongue.

The bed dips down slightly as Tommy situates himself behind her. His hands slide around her hips, yanking her back towards him in a sudden motion. Her weeping hole is pulsing, pushing out a drool of slick that gathers between her thighs, and he marvels at the sight of it.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous pussy you got, babygirl. Fuckin’ drippin’ all over the goddamn sheets.” He whistles low. “Eatin’ pussy really turned ya on, huh? Mmm. Your little hole is just beggin’ to be fucked.” He rasps and drops one hand from her hip to spread open her thighs further so that he can get a proper look.

“Such a needy lil’ cunt. Fuck. Don’t worry, baby. Teacher Tommy is gonna take real good care of ya, I promise.”

“Please, please, please fuck me, Tommy.” She mumbles against the woman’s cunt, mouth full of pussy. She presses her ass back towards him, desperate to feel the sweet stretch of his cock.

“Alright, alright, darlin.’ I know how eager you are, baby. Trust me, I know.” He chuckles before spitting directly onto his cock. He rubs his saliva in for extra lubrication (not that he needs it) before he notches the head of his cock at her entrance. He’s so painfully hard that he has to press down on it with his thumb to get the angle right as he slowly guides it into her wet warmth. She hugs him like the tightest fucking glove, pulling him in further and further till he’s bottomed out with his hips firmly pressed against her ass.

Vulgar, crude, filth tumbles past his lips as her pussy squeezes him like a vice he never wants to part from. He lets out a puff of hot air, before he chuckles, tone deep and raspy, “Jesus fuckin’ christ, doll. This pussy made outta liquid gold or somethin’? Lord have mercy, goddamn.”

Between moans both women couldn’t help but giggle at his comment, but those giggles transformed into cries of pleasure when Tommy almost immediately set a grueling pace, thrusting in and out of her. His skin slapped against hers wildly as the entire length of his impressive cock disappeared and reappeared again. Her jaw went slack and the movements of her mouth on the other woman’s pussy had soon become uncoordinated and messy.

“Don’t you stop eatin’ her pussy on my account, doll. I know how fuckin’ good it feels to have my cock stretchin’ your pussy apart, but c’mon, baby. You can do this.” He encourages her, leaning down with the breadth of his shoulders pressing into her back as he leans over, cock buried so deep inside of her, she can feel the head of him kissing her womb. “Want you to suck her clit into your mouth, babygirl. Remember to be nice n’gentle. It’s a sensitive little thing, and she’s so-so close. Make her come for me, baby, c’mon. Make her come for Teacher Tommy.”

She nods fervently, trying to focus back in on making the other woman feel good, while also enjoying her own pleasure. By god, Tommy Miller has a nice fucking cock, and he sure as hell knows how to use it. She suckles her clit into her mouth as instructed, rolling her tongue over the little pulsing bud. She uses her hands to keep her thighs spread apart when they threaten to close in around her skull.

“That’s it. Good fuckin’ girl.” He growls praisingly. “Makin’ her pussy sing, baby. Makin’ her feel so fuckin’ good. Teacher Tommy is so-so proud. But y’know what would make him even prouder, babygirl? Makin’ her pretty pussy squirt all over your face. C’mon, baby, you and me. Let’s get her there.”

He receives a chorus of enthusiastic “yes, yes, yes, teacher Tommy.”

He grinds his hips deep into her ass before pulling back shallowly and thrusts back in, repeating the pattern as he instructs. “Now to get her there, baby. Y’gotta do somethin’ extra special. Want you to slip your fingers back inside of her, and crook your ‘em inwards. Keep ‘em right there and do that as fast as you can. Drag ‘em n’ shake ‘em just right while you suckle on that sweet lil’ clit, and she’ll really sing for ya then.” His southern twang is thick and raspy, his own orgasm impending, but he’ll be damned if he comes too soon.

She obeys enthusiastically as she remembers just how Tommy taught her how to eat her out and finger her at the same time. She slips two fingers inside of her pulsing hole, scissoring them open before she crooks them inwards, right against that soft, spongy warm spot. She curls them at a rapid quick pace while she sucks on her clit just like she did before. The other woman wails and keens her hips forward into her face, chanting her name as her fingers grip her head tightly, nails scraping her scalp.

“O—oh—oh fuck!” She cries out, throwing her head back, “I’m gonna cum! Oh god, don’t stop! Please, please, please!” She sees stars behind her eyes as white hot pleasure shoots from the top of her spine and down to the tips of her toes.

“Come for us, sugar. C’mon, soak her fuckin’ face!” Tommy’s voice is commanding, dominant as his own carnal need for release seeps in, and they get a little taste of what Brazzer’s era Tommy was like for a moment.

The three of them come at nearly exactly the same time, orchestrated by the maestro himself. There’s a shared moment of real vulnerability as they let themselves go. He shoots hot ropes of his cum into her pussy from behind when he hears the telltale hiss of liquid shoot out of their sweet sugar, giving her a taste of the divine nectar for the first time. Her cunt milks him fucking dry, her orgasm fluttering for a long moment after the first handful of tight squeezes, and when he slowly begins to slip out, his cock is gleaming in a creamy mixture of both of their releases.

When she finally comes up for air, she’s coated in the other woman’s release and the space between her face and the other woman’s pussy is positively drenched.

Tommy preens at the sight, gently pulling the woman he was fucking up into a sitting position as she falls back against his hard chest. He kisses all over her face, tilting her head to the side so he can chase her lips and taste their partners cum on his tongue. “Did so good, baby. So-so fuckin’ good. M’so proud.” He kisses the tip of her nose before his attention is drawn to their other partner. “Let’s go and give her a well deserved cuddle, shall we, babygirl?” He wiggles his brows playfully as she reaches up to push back his sweaty, messy black curls that have fallen over his face.

They move in a languid motion to settle against either side of the other woman who appears to be in a post-orgasmic haze when she feels two pairs of soft, wet, lips peppering endearing kisses up her arms and to her face.

She giggles, eyes peeking open, glazed over as Tommy gently cups her face and strokes her cheekbone with his thumb.“Did so fuckin’ good for us, sugar. So fuckin’ good. Teacher Tommy is so proud of his star students.” he preens.

She lets out a pleasant sigh, and stretches her legs out, causing her pussy to squelch from the movement, and they laugh at the sound. “That was fucking incredible.” She finally says, catching her breath as Tommy’s free hand slowly wanders down between her thighs. When she feels his fingers drag through her folds, her hips jolt up against his hand and she lets out a soft yelp of surprise.

He chuckles and says, “Easy now, sugar. Jus’ wanted to see the mess you made s’all.” he rasps warmly.

“Jesus, dude!” She laughs and swats at his hand. “I’m fucking sensitive!”

He laughs again, withdrawing his hand and lets it rest on her hip instead. He feigns disappointment as their other partner tucks herself up around her side, draping her arm across her middle. “So does that mean you don’t want my cock?” He teases and she giggles.

“Fuck. I think I’m spent, Teacher Tommy,” she jokingly tacks on the nickname. “Maybe next time?”

“S’alright, sugar. Teacher Tommy understands. And besides, I think it’s snack time anyway. Y’all good with eatin’ out?” He coyly winks at the camera and the girls groan and roll their eyes. “What?! I meant orderin’ pizza s’all.”

Joel is working in his office, the door left open in case anyone needs him. He’s updating their channel page when he hears the familiar sound of Tommy’s footsteps approaching. Tommy is a repeat offender of strolling around the studio naked after a scene, so Joel doesn’t even look away from the screen, just hollers from his seat to avoid being confronted with the image of his brother’s bare cock and balls.

“Boy, if you don’t put on some fuckin’ pants...” He scolds with a tight shake of his head.

The younger Miller brother scoffs playfully and fights the urge to roll his eyes, “What? I just needed to grab my wallet! We're ordering pizza, you want anything?"

Joel pauses his typing as he leans back in his chair before saying, “Yeah, for you to put on some fuckin’ pants, you imbecile.”

“Cool, cool, so extra sausage?” Tommy teases and Joel threatens to throw his pen at him.

“No, you fuckwad. Pepperoni.” He emphasizes, “and none of that thin crust shit, Tommy. I’m serious.”

"I keep tellin' ya, Joel, just give the sausage another chance! You might actually like it!" He winks. “Speakin’ of giving things a chance, I had a proud teachin’ moment back there! Taught one of ‘em to properly eat pussy, and my god, she did fantastic! Even made her squirt!”

“Tommy, I tried it, and I didn’t like it, and I ain’t ever gonna like it.” He huffs before a grin begins to tug on the corner of his lips. “S’that so? Sounds like y’all had a party. Good job, little brother.”

“Oh, we had a party alright. Anyway, extra sausage, and super fuckin’ thin crust, anythin’ else?”

“I swear to god—” Joel threatens but Tommy is quicker than that so before Joel can throw his pen directly at his head, Tommy takes off down the hall gleefully.

banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

I no longer have a taglist so please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications!

[azure-firecracker]

I hate seeing Scully so distressed but I think Irresistible might be my favorite episode of the show so far. (Spoilers under the cut!)

I’m sure I’m far from the first person who’s talked about this but just…the realization that sometimes the scariest monsters are humans. And the fact that those are the cases that scare Scully the most because these are the ones she should be able to understand because there’s nothing supernatural about them yet they’re just as indecipherable as any supernatural being.

And God, Scully. The fact that she clearly hasn’t really dealt with any of the trauma from her abduction and the way it’s so clearly paralleled in this case with bodies…women’s bodies…being used for the purposes of others without their consent or their ability to retaliate.

How she’s so desperate to make sure Mulder doesn’t see how bothered she is and all the reasons behind that. Because she knows how worried he was about her when she got abducted and doesn’t want to worry him again. Because she’s built so much of her identity on her abilities and not needing to be protected by anybody else. Not to mention that she’s a woman in two different male-dominated fields and is probably averse to showing emotions at all just because of that.

She’s such a good character because she’s the definition of competent and collected, but here we see that just underneath that is a fear of needing others, of not being able to do everything right herself. And yes, she says she trusts Mulder with her life, but she hates the idea of needing to rely on him, of him or anyone knowing that she needs to rely on him.

And the ending. I need to watch it again for it to really sink in. I’m sure everyone has said everything there is to say about this already. Scully has just been fighting for her life in this desperate attempt to regain the agency and control she’s been missing since she got abducted, and of course it’s terrifying. And then Mulder gets there and all of this fear she’s been feeling all along sinks in but she’s so afraid of letting him in, of needing him or anyone. But he’s so gentle with her and he doesn’t let her brush everything aside the way she’s been doing all episode, and instead he really looks at her and he doesn’t even have to say anything but the way he looks at her just speaks volumes. He sees her, all of her, and he doesn’t need her to be okay all the time and all he wants her to know is that it’s okay for her to let her walls down with him.

And she finally does, and wow the way she just leans into him and lets herself go limp because she can finally admit that she needs to. And the way he holds her, not with the frantic worry he had while she was abducted but with all the care in the world like he could just to hold her there forever as long as it’ll make her feel safe. And for a second, maybe, she does.

Also correct me if I’m wrong but I think he was kissing her hair? It was hard to see.

Anyway I’m VERY in my feelings rn. Beautiful.

[flowerandblood]

The Prince and The Fox (8)

[ modern! • Aemond x friend! • female ]

[ warnings: fingering, smut, mention of grooming ]

[ description: After the events of her childhood, despite her best efforts, her neighbor and the younger brother of her friend Helaena, Aemond, does not want to know her. This state lasts until a house party organized by his older brother, Aegon, during which an incident occurs that will change their relationship forever. Slow burn, angst, toxic ex-Alys, rough Aemond. This is several anon requests combined into one fic. ]

WARNING: The main plot between the characters takes place in high school. Yes, in high school. The belief that teenagers wait with an intimacy when they are in love in high school is ridiculous to me. Aemond and the character here are the same age. Don't ask me how old they are, in my country you are of the age of consent in your first year of high school and an adult in the last year of high school, so if it is more convenient for you, think about it that way and decide for yourself. In this story, I am not following the trail that they are magically friends right away, but how they become friends and what that even means. I'm writing this fic to give the perspective of young, lost people, not adult women who want to see exactly themselves in everything they read. If that's all you expect, this isn't the fic for you.

I don't want whining about this in my comments or asks. I will delete these and block you. You have been warned.

Aemond + Evans Series Moodboard

This is my first story that has its own playlist, but yes! Get in the mood!

Story Music Playlist.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She woke up hearing the clacking of dishes in the distance. She opened her eyes and furrowed her brow, not knowing for a moment where she was. She looked around and recognised Helaena's living room in confusion, only then remembering with a blush on her face the events of the evening before.

Their passionate kisses, his hand on her soft breast, his arms embracing her throughout the night.

He had slept with her on the couch, his face snuggled into her shoulder, his hands on her palms.

She thought they really were together.

She got up and followed the sounds that led her to the kitchen. In it she saw, amazed, Aemond standing over a frying pan, apparently just making scrambled eggs, next to him water was boiling in a kettle on the burner.

He heard her footsteps and glanced in her direction; she saw that he too was embarrassed and swallowed loudly, stirring in the pan with a wooden spoon.

"Will you eat with me?" He asked lowly, and she agreed with a smile, walking slowly closer.

"Can I help you somehow?" She asked and he nodded, pointing with his head to the mug standing on the countertop.

"Choose what kind of tea you want to drink. I don't know if you want sugar. There are plates upstairs in the cupboard, take three out, I'll ask Aegon if he'll eat with us." He said turning off the fire under the pan and went out into the corridor, shouting from downstairs to his brother if he would have breakfast with them.

After a while Aegon joined them and the three of them sat down at the table. Aegon looked at her wrinkling his brow, sleepy, not yet fully awake.

"Did you stay overnight?" He asked puzzled, and she lowered her gaze, embarrassed, swallowing the bite she had just eaten.

"Yes, I fell asleep on the couch and Aemond probably didn't want to wake me up again." She said in a slightly trembling voice, trying not to give herself away or look at them, taking another bite of scrambled eggs into her mouth.

Aegon raised an eyebrow and looked at his brother, then grunted loudly, clearly amused, already concentrating on his food.

"Helaena returned safely?" She asked uncertainly wanting to change the subject, worrying if anything had happened to her.

"She texted me a while ago that she was staying with a friend for the night and that she would be home this afternoon." Aemond replied, and she nodded.

Aegon left them alone, saying that he needed to sleep for at least another hour and Aemond looked at her uncertainly, fiddling with his cup in his hand.

"If you want, take a shower. I'll give you a clean towel. We can still play here or in my room. Or watch something." He muttered quickly, as if suddenly throwing out ideas and reasons why she could stay longer.

Her heart was pounding like crazy.

He wanted her not to go home yet.

She agreed and, at his suggestion, bathed, then they moved to his room to play games on his computer. They took their pads with them and spread out comfortably in two leather armchairs, one of which he had brought for her from Helaena's room.

She saw him looking at her, her hair was still slightly damp and completely loose.

She knew that, like her, he was thinking about what had happened between them and that for him it had been an equally groundbreaking experience.

He paused the game they were playing after a while and looked down at his thighs, his lips tightened.

"Can I ask you a question?" He asked without looking at her, fiddling with his pad in his hand, his voice trembling as he spoke the words. She nodded.

He licked his lower lip, as if he was gathering what he wanted to say with great difficulty. He was silent for a moment.

"Do you have any physical experience? I mean…one with yourself, for example." He mumbled embarrassedly, sliding lower in his chair as if he wanted to curl up and hide. She lowered her head feeling the embarrassment that was visibly painted on her face.

"…I've never had a boyfriend before, if that's what you're asking." She said quietly and he swallowed loudly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, pale.

"But have you…you know. Have you ever touched yourself?" He asked uncertainly, and she gave him a concerned look, furrowing her brow.

"Why do you ask about it?" She asked in a slightly trembling voice, and he looked at her surprised, feeling subconsciously that he might have crossed a line with this question, even though he didn't want to.

"I just…I just don't want to hurt you. I want to know what point you're at so I can…adjust to you. You know." He shrugged his shoulders pressing his lips together; she felt some kind of pain and at the thought that he was more experienced than her, that he had done it with his ex-girlfriend in all sorts of ways.

She lowered her gaze, looking at her pad with a blank stare, thinking about how she would be a disappointment to him.

How would she give him what she had?

She felt tears under her eyelids, her lower lip beginning to tremble a little. She heard him lean forward in his seat wanting to see her face and seeing her state he moved quickly towards her, touching his hand to her cheek, taking her hair back with a light flick of his fingers.

"− hey − what's going on? − tell me −" He mumbled out, frightened by her condition and the fact that he had offended her. She swallowed hard, looking down at her thighs and shrugged her shoulders.

"− it doesn't make sense − you'll be only frustrated with me − I can't give you what she had −" She uttered with difficulty, and he pressed his forehead against her temple, tightening his hand on her hair.

"− stop − okay? − you don't understand this − I regret a lot of things − I regret that I didn't wait with them − I regret that I couldn't erase all of this and start over, with you −" He whispered, and she felt a strong squeeze in her heart, breathing unevenly through her slightly parted lips.

"− I was proud of the fact that she treated me like a man − that she wanted me like a man − but inside I was terrified − she didn't care, she took what she wanted − I was left with this sickening sense that she used me, that I am just a flesh and nothing more −" He muttered, and she looked up at him, shocked by his words, her eyebrows arched in pain.

"Don't say that." She said softly, quietly, and he swallowed loudly, his jaw clenched, his fingers running over her cheek and lower lip.

"− but it's true − that's how I feel − I did fucked up things with her − I felt like an animal − when I came home afterwards I didn't know what my fucking name was − I couldn't look my mother in the eye −" He choked out with difficulty, his face and healthy eye red, his voice trembling making her feel a tightness in her throat.

"− but with you −" He stammered and chuckled under his breath, shaking his head, his thumb circled and returned back to her cheek.

"− I didn't know it could be like this − so tender − so peaceful, safe − − just your scent and your closeness makes me want you so badly that I can barely keep my hands off you −" He exhaled and bit his lower lip, sighing quietly.

"− that's why I just want to know what you need, how much I can allow myself − you're my girlfriend and I don't want to hurt you − okay? −" He asked in a trembling voice, and she nodded quickly, feeling hot in her heart at his words.

You're my girlfriend.

She looked up at him, swallowing loudly, her lips slightly parted.

"− I'd just like to please you − I'd like to be enough for you −" She whispered in a trembling voice, and he drew her to him, forcing her to sit on his lap and embrace him, his large chair creaking under their shared weight.

She felt safe in his arms, his hand stroking her hair, his lips kissing the top of her head with a tender click. She could hear his heart pounding fast.

"− I want you − I want to wait for you − I want to be worthy of you − make us slowly discover everything together −" He murmured tenderly, placing affectionate kisses on her hair again and again; she snuggled into him tightly, touched, lingering like this with him in the embrace, feeling that they were closer to each other than ever.

"− can you kiss me? −" She asked in a shy, trembling voice. He hummed contentedly and lifted his head, his nose gently rubbed against hers before his lips pressed to hers in a soft, innocent, warm kiss.

She hugged his neck and pressed herself tighter to him wanting to show him how much she needed him, how much she desired him, how happy she was. He murmured contentedly as he embraced her around the waist, their kisses loud, sticky and slow, she could feel his fingers trailing down her back.

She pulled away from him and looked at him with a misty gaze, thinking with a fast beating heart that she wanted to do this, she wanted to open up to him, she wanted him to think she was beautiful.

With a light movement of her trembling hands, she grabbed the material of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head, exposing her bare chest to him. She saw the pupil of his healthy eye narrowed in shock, his breath caught in his throat, felt his manhood pulsate hard beneath her in his trousers.

She looked at him uncertainly, feeling a slight chill, feeling vulnerable, exposed, however at the same time realising that she was safe, that he would never hurt her.

She saw him swallow loudly, his gaze running from her face to her breasts and back again, his hand gently running over the side of her naked waist. She felt him slowly move forward and press his face against her sternum, placing his hands on the bare skin of her back.

She could feel him pulsing hard beneath her, his fingers trailing up and down her body, but beyond that he didn't move. She slid her fingers into his hair, stroking his head and kissed the top of it leaning over him, pressing her cheek against him with a blush on her face.

She felt his lips place soft, tender kisses on her sternum, and then he pressed the side of his face into her warm flesh, one of his hands tentatively running his fingers gently over her soft, plump breast as he looked at it.

He traced his fingers up and down, a pleasant shiver passing through her every time he ran his fingers over her nipple. He felt it, his thumb deliberately beginning to tease and play with it; she felt a pulsing between her thighs and a pleasant heat in her lower abdomen, involuntarily rubbing against his erection she felt underneath.

She heard him sigh softly, his hips responded to her movements with slow rocking, their bodies in some subconscious reflex begin to press against each other with their breaths speeding up.

He surprised her when he lifted his head suddenly, his lips finding hers in greedy kiss, his hands gripping her armpits in such a way that both his thumbs brushed and teased her nipples.

She moaned into his mouth, feeling a pleasant shiver that shook her whole body, she felt him smirk.

"− feels good? −" He murmured between one sticky kiss and another, and she only nodded, unable to focus on anything other than the wetness and pulsing between her thighs, her hands stroking his cheeks and hair, holding him close.

He pulled away from her and looked at her in a way that made her hot, and then he leaned over and grabbed her right breast in his mouth, sucking and licking her nipple, making her clench her hands in his hair and tilt her head back, a moan escaping her lips again, her thighs speeding up their movements, rubbing against his manhood faster and faster.

"− quiet −" He gasped out between one lick of his tongue and another, starting to suck her again, and she pressed her lips together with difficulty, remembering that Aegon was asleep in the next room. The tension she felt was indescribable, she had never felt this good before in her life.

She heard him let go of her breast with a loud click of his saliva only to deal with her other breast in the same way, making a quiet mewl escape her throat, his hands sliding down to her buttocks forcing her to press harder against him.

"− fuck −" He growled, panting loudly along with her; she had the feeling that they had both lost control and surrendered completely to what was happening between them.

She squealed quietly as he stood up with her, grabbing her under her hips and walked with her towards his bed, thrusting himself onto it with her pulling away from her breasts, looking at her.

"− did you ever touch yourself down there? −" He repeated the question in a trembling voice, and she swallowed loudly, embarrassed, feeling that she had never been so wet before in her life.

"− yes, but − nothing ever came out of it − I mean −" She mumbled out, feeling that she was red, though she didn't know how to put it into words.

She touched herself and it felt good, but she couldn't bring herself to orgasm and had no idea what she was doing wrong.

Never then, however, had her insides pulsed as hard as they did now. She saw that he licked his lips, breathing hard, restraining himself with all his might not to just throw himself at her.

"− would you like me to try? − you know −" He muttered, and she swallowed loudly, looking at him with wide eyes.

"− we don't have to − we can only do what we've been doing − I just want to know −" He added quickly, terrified that he might have imposed too fast a pace on her and frightened her. She swallowed loudly, looking at him with her lips slightly parted, feeling her heart pounding hard.

"− we can try −" She mumbled embarrassedly and saw that he swallowed with difficulty, letting the air out loudly. He nodded, laying down beside her.

"− lie with your back to me − yes, just like that −" He murmured, pulling her to him, embracing her with his arms, she could feel his hard length pressed between her buttocks.

She swallowed loudly as his fingers gently began to tease her nipple again, and his other hand slowly slid lower to the material of her shorts, his warm breath surrounding her ear and cheek.

"− tell me if you get uncomfortable, okay? − promise me −" He whispered in a trembling voice, and she nodded quickly, feeling like her heart was about to jump out of her chest.

"− okay −"

She drew in a loud breath as his fingers slid under the material of her panties, in a slow, unhurried motion sinking into her most intimate place. He stopped as her whole body tensed through this new, foreign sensation.

"− do you want me to stop? −" He asked uncertainly, but she shook her head.

He swallowed loudly, gently exploring her condition with his hand, sinking into her hot, soft folds, his fingertips ran gently over her slit, so wet because of her arousal; she gasped, hearing his sudden, surprised, quiet groan.

"− oh fuck − little one − what happened here? −" He asked with some kind of appreciation, spreading her moisture all over her womanhood, his fingers in gentle circular motions began to tease the space around the spot from which shivers ran through her.

"− I − I don't know −" She mumbled embarrassedly and he chuckled softly, his lips placing a gentle kiss on her neck.

"− but I know − my little fox got all wet for me −" He whispered, and she felt his words between her thighs, a wave of heat went through her, the space inside her throbbed hard.

"− ah −" She moaned helplessly, his hands simultaneously teasing her nipple and her clit made her body all hot, she felt like the tension in her lower abdomen kept growing, that she was no longer thinking soberly, her hips began to move to the rhythm of his hand.

"− that's it − just feel it − such a good girl −" He praised her, kissing her hair tenderly, obviously feeling her leaking onto his fingers.

She squeezed her eyes shut, panting loudly along with him, feeling him rubbing against her from behind, feeling his hardness pulsing aggressively pressed against her buttocks, feeling that he was turned on by what he was doing to her.

She shuddered and barely stifled a loud moan when she suddenly felt the tip of his middle finger slide into her a little, pushing her tight, throbbing muscles apart.

"− shhh −" He hushed her and she swallowed loudly clenching her lips, reaching back with her hand, grabbing his hair with his murmur of delight, with subconscious movements she sank down onto his finger, letting it fill her, both of them sighing loudly.

"− fuck − so tight − we need to prepare you a bit before you feel this inside you one day, hm? −" He asked, rubbing his hard erection against her buttocks. "− I wouldn't want to tear you apart −"

She let out a loud gasp at his words, all hot, moaning and panting as quietly as she could, his finger sliding in and out of her with a loud click of her moisture.

She arched her back as he found a spot inside her that every time he rubbed it made her go dark before her eyes, his thumb teasing her clit as at the same time the fingers of his other hand massaged and pulled at her nipple.

"− A-Aemond − I think − oh my God −" She mumbled out and opened her mouth wide with a loud moan, sensing that something was coming; he managed to cover her lips with his free hand before she whimpered again and again, her body shook with a wave of pleasure that took her completely by surprise. She breathed loudly, quivering and moaning his name, falling and rising on his finger.

"− oh baby − so much flowed out of you − fuck, I want to feel you so badly −" He breathed out into her ear as her body shook with convulsions, his hand still clamped over her mouth.

He let her go when he felt her calm down; she could feel him looking at her but she just lay there with her eyes closed, concentrating only on how wonderfully intense the experience was.

"− how was it? − did you enjoy it? −" He asked in a trembling voice with some kind of pride, and she just nodded, unable to get anything more out of herself.

"− I'm going to go to the bathroom for a while, okay? − I'll get you some tissues so you can wipe yourself off −" He said quietly and she nodded again. He kissed her on her cheek and got out of bed, walking quickly towards his door, closing it behind him as soon as he left.

He'd been gone quite a while, but she didn't think about it, happy and fulfilled, thinking about the fact that she felt a little more like a woman now, not a little girl.

That even though her whole body was trembling, it felt good.

She opened her eyelids when he returned and took the packet of damp tissues from him, slipping them individually between her thighs, wanting to get rid of that uncomfortable, sticky feeling.

She tossed them into his bin standing next to his bed and lay down again. He settled behind her back as before with his arms around her, kissing the bare skin of her neck and shoulder; she felt that the hardness in his trousers disappeared.

"− what happened to that? −" She asked with amusement, rubbing her buttocks against him; she heard him hum behind her, she knew he was smiling.

"− it's my dark secret −"

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[priceforrottenjudgement]

Ok, absolutely unnecessary, but here are my feelings on the gaiman situation.

I dont think there is any reason to not believe the two victims. Their stories are corroborated by Text messages and partly by gaiman himself.

However. A lot of ppl seem to have taken in a very reductive summary of events when they come away from this with "gaiman is a serial rapist deliberately preying on young women and abusing them". The relationships were confirmed as consensual by all parties, the Podcast seems to be staunchly anti bdsm, in their opinion all bdsm relationships are abusive and they drive this point home very hard. Theres clearly an Agenda and they tried to find other partners to corroborate their Story of "gaiman is a bdsm sex pest" but couldnt find anyone else who supported that view.

2nd however. Just bc the Podcast is obviously biased and working unsoundly, doesnt erase the fact that gaiman had relationships with 2 (that we know of) women significantly younger, obviously unstable and with a severe imbalance of Power (one was a fan who was clearly obsessed with him and the other was employed by him) and that he acted skeevily and was pushing, if not crossing, the limits of consent with these women. Also the fact that he tried to guilt trip one of them by saying he was thinking of suicide bc she was gonna "me too" him (what a disgusting way to phrase this??).

All this adds on to other red flags concerning gaiman, so its safe to say supporting him as a person isnt a good idea.

BUT it also once again has shown how unreflected and impulsive a lot of ppl on here are. Ppl were shouting "believe the victims!!!" At ppl asking questions about the situation, without even having checked in on the story themselves. "Believe the victims" doesnt mean "believe reductive tumblr posts made by ppl who didnt read past the headline". You still have to seek out additional info before jumping into crusade mode, and i dont get how thats a controversial thing to say???

Also: ive seen multiple people ridicule the notion that this has something to do with terf politics or the current election in the uk and im honestly not sure if these ppl were living under a rock, bc thats DEFINITELY a thing that has happened before. Deliberate exposes and "character assassinations" against ppl/celebs who have a different stance on politics, lgbt issues etc happens all the time in boulevard press or reactionary spaces, wtf are you talking about????

The makers of the Podcast WERE out to get gaiman, but that doesnt change the fact that there was indeed something "to get".

[saintsenara]

❤️

So many options here! Therapised Sirius, endlessly kind Lupin, suave Draco, incel Snape, emotionally intuitive Hermione, villainous Dumbledore, boorish Ron, the list goes on.

thank you very much for the ask, anon! and you're so right that we have lots of potential options to use as answers to this question...

which character do you think is the most egregiously mischaracterized by the fandom?

but i'm going to go for my best girl, merope gaunt.

merope’s son is, in my opinion, the most interesting character in the series, and his relationship with his dead mother’s memory is one of the most fascinating things about him [and also an aspect of his characterisation which canon dwells on only lightly - dumbledore’s view that voldemort "despises" merope is never interrogated, despite the fact that harry clearly clocks the ways in which his grief about his motherlessness drives his decisions].

but i also think that merope is a fascinating character in her own right, not least for what she reveals to us about the complex threads which bind being a victim and being a perpetrator together, what she shows about how there are no perfect victims, and what she shows about how there are no irredeemable perpetrators. and i really dislike the fact that - even in fics which attempt to deeply get into voldemort's character from perspectives not found in the canon series - authors typically write her as an unambiguous villain, and take dumbledore's view - that merope chose to die [something which directly justifies voldemort's view of death as shameful, which isn't what the series thinks it's saying...] because she wasn't brave enough to live.

i hate this - because i hate anything which suggests that wizards and muggles are, essentially, different species. throughout the course of human history hundreds of thousands of women - who would have loved to have stayed alive for their babies - have bled to death in childbirth, because childbirth is dangerous. a lack of courage doesn't come into it.

but i also think that merope deserves to be treated as something other than a one-note villain outside of this.

she's a rapist. there's no need to handwave that away - even though canon does [love potions are treated as somewhat benign in the text, the canonical tom riddle sr. gets no sympathy whatsoever within the narrative, and he is blamed by both harry and dumbledore, even if this happens in ways which make sense for their characters, for "abandoning" his son].

but she's also someone who must meaningfully lack the capacity to understand what she does as rape. the implication of canon is that she's subjected to incestuous sexual violence at her father and/or brother’s hands [morfin’s jealousy over tom sr., and the fact that he tells tom jr. that merope "dishonoured" him by having a sexual relationship with another man, heavily suggests this], which the narrative once again considers vaguely amusing - and she's certainly subjected to physical violence by them. she's treated as little more than an object to display her father’s locket. this is a girl [she’s nineteen when she dies] who cannot have any idea what things like consent and bodily autonomy are, and who shows through this how this lack of safety and education in one person’s life can go on to beget horror in another’s.

and, alongside this, she also provides a particularly good insight into something which is often absent from the canon narrative - the failure of the wizarding state. it is extraordinary that, when morfin and marvolo are arrested, she's just left on her own. or that the state has made no prior effort to remove her from the home of two men with reputations for violence, or to make sure that she has an education, or to notice that she lives in grinding poverty. or that she's forced to sell her father’s locket for a pittance because the wizarding state makes no effort to help heavily pregnant women who have nowhere else to go.

this - the fact that evil is often banal proceduralism, and that the greatest harm is caused by state apparatus - is something which is largely absent from the canon narrative, which tends to locate good or evil within the individual. so too is the reality of gendered violence, or how poverty affects women specifically, or how the institutions praised in the series - hogwarts chief among them - maintain a social structure which is hugely oppressive. these things go on to affect voldemort too, but they originate with merope.

[liz-allyn]

love on the brain: sugar & vice, vol 2 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!OC]

summary: You didn’t think it was going to be easy, did you? AKA The night Peter and Honey reunited—Four. Months. Later. [mob!peter parker x oc!MJ] 

words: 11.8k (omfg)

NSFW/MINORS DNI - ABANDON ALL CHASTITY, YE WHO ENTER HERE (detailed warnings below)

extended warnings (spoilers): p^rn with plot, detailed smut, really just... filthy and deranged. slightly dubcon parts (although consent is clearly confirmed), no Y/N...ever, arguing, anger, jealousy, physical violence (slapping, scratching, throwing objects), almost hate sex, fem!reader with a vagina and breasts and wears a dress, oral (f! receiving), P in V, rough!dom Peter, sub!reader, possessive!peter, mirrors, titty!worship, shame and slight degradation, use of emojis, f! being restrained, discussion of masturbation, slight breeding kink, non-consensual voyeurism, moderate BDSM kink, “punishment” play (spanking, edging) bratty reader, peter parker being a dunce around women, mob!au, furniture harmed in the making of this

names used: daddy, princess, baby, babygirl

A/N: This is a one-shot standalone story that takes place immediately after the Epilogue of Vol 1. And serves as the official beginning of Vol. 2. If you haven’t read Vol.1, you really should. The main OC is AFAB and goes by the name “Honey.” You’ll need to read Vol. 1 to know why.  I try to be loose with my descriptions for people who prefer a Reader-Insert. But I’m not perfect. In this canon, Honey has a Latina heritage (as do I). Take that as you will. Thanks to @moonyslove78 and @blooming-violets for cheering me on through this very long hiatus. 

This is 18+ AF. And if you think the term ‘AF’ shows how old and out of touch you are, then you’re probably not old enough to read this.

This version of TASM Peter Parker is not canon. The relationships here are not healthy and the characters need therapy. Don’t date a mob boss IRL.

#1 - Love on the Brain

>>> heya boss. how’s your trip? 😜

Peter arched a brow as he peeked down at the text message.

>>> ⋯ >>> your trip to pound town? 🍆🍑 

He rolled his eyes, swallowing back an irritated snort.

Real mature, Felicia. 

He almost tapped out a haughty reply but stopped. Corners of his mouth turned down, he found himself unable to respond.

“So many choices. I just don’t know what I want.”

An understatement.

The girl of his dreams sat across from him in the quaint East Harlem Cuban restaurant. They were crammed together at a bistro table near the kitchen. The enormous menu took up the entire surface, and she had spent the last 25 minutes reading the items aloud. 

It was nearly 11 p.m., and they had yet to pick an appetizer. 

The woman he’d called ‘his Honey’ sweetly sighed with a shrug. “Now that we’re here, I just can’t make up my mind.” 

Her voice had a singsong tune to it, purposefully careless. Blissfully ignorant of the fact that Peter was starving.

“Maybe I’m just not feeling Cuban food tonight,” she shrugged, nonchalant.

Peter swallowed hard. Tried to rid his expression of any hint of impatience or irritation. 

“Oh,” he remarked delicately, thinking of all the different dinner reservations he’d made for tonight. It didn’t matter what magazine talked it up, didn’t matter how many “tire awards” it had won. 

Honey was unimpressed. 

“M’surprised,” he said, as emotionlessly as possible. “Thought you had your heart set on this place.”

The place was one of those hole-in-the-wall joints that had less than 10 tables, which made takeout the most popular choice. 

On this night however—a Tuesday— the restaurant was nearly empty, except for the overdressed couple and the loathsome kitchen staff, who didn’t expect to be subject to “este cabrón” and his picky girlfriend strolling in 30 minutes before closing. 

While Peter could feel the heat of their ire over the oven, Honey avoided it. She explained to the manager that Peter was “un ricacho que tiene demasiado dinero.” And with that, they were seated.

When Peter approached her earlier that afternoon in the park, he’d expected a much worse welcome. He nearly died of a panic attack when he spotted her on the park bench. It had been four long months since he’d attempted to communicate with her, and he half-expected her to throw her iced coffee in his face. 

Actually, he had no idea what to expect from her. Terrifyingly.

Peter had lamented to Felicia— “There’s no card that says, ‘Sorry, I ghosted you for a few months while attempting to shake the heat off my back.’ Which flowers say, ‘I apologize that the last conversation we had, I called you a whore in front of a room full of cops’?”

The true challenge came when Peter actually looked into her eyes. He didn’t expect that one look would render him useless. 

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Ethereal. Glowing. The human equivalent of a bouquet of sunflowers, with happy round cheeks and her hair tied back in a ponytail. She was the color of rainbows, and summer, and sunshine. She was the cherries of her red lip stain and the golden rays of her yellow linen sundress.

God, that dress. 

Peter planned for everything—but not that dress. 

His carefully rehearsed speech went out the window when he saw her in that dress: a cotton ruched-waist, tea-length gown in a yellow gingham pattern. It featured a sweetheart neckline that cradled her breasts perfectly between the halter tie-back straps. 

He had no idea where that dress came from, but it was the most perfect piece of fabric ever to grace a woman’s body. He would buy her twelve more of them, no matter the cost. He’d buy every last one.

He’d give her the sun, the ocean, Hawai’i, and all the stars in the sky— if only she’d forgive him. He was ready to throw himself on a bed of hot coals as long as it meant that she would take him back. If she would come back home.

Truthfully, he needed her to come home.

Not to get ahead of himself, he started by taking her to dinner. 

That was Felicia’s advice—women love dinner. solves everything. the fancier, the better, with lots of red meat—u know how they say food is the way to a man’s heart? dinner is the way to the ovaries. works every time.

Actually, Felicia gave Peter lots of advice. For once, he was more than grateful to accept it. 

>>> make her feel like you can’t take your eyes off her. but don’t stare. like a creeper  >>> be a gentleman, but not a pushover. you wanna be the good guy. soft YA novel boyfriend type

Followed quickly by—

>>> but not too soft! don’t be a little bitch. if she plays hard to get, you play offense.  >>> and defense.

Peter had no idea what she was talking about. But he knew when it was wise to trust the advice of more intelligent creatures than men.

Five restaurants later...

“I thought going to dinner was your idea?” Honey asked with pursed lips.

“It was; it was my idea,” he nervously replied. “Six hours ago—it was my idea.”

She narrowed her eyes to slits. “Hmm. Six hours. Long time to wait.” Her eyes fell down to the menu again. Her lack-of-sympathy said everything.

Peter’s pocket buzzed again, and he glanced down at the incoming text message from Felicia.

>>> ...???? 

He rolled his eyes. Tapped out a response.

<<< Not great.

“Am I interrupting something?” Honey asked with a clipped tone.

Peter jumped, pocketing his phone immediately. “No, just... just something... silly,” he muttered. “How ‘bout we get a few plates in, yeah? I’m gonna just order some stuff—”

“Like what?” she questioned skeptically.

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged, his stomach twisting. “One of everything.”

“That’s wasteful,” Honey said, judgment sharpening her gaze. “Food waste is bad enough as it is in this city.”

“Well, at this point,” he snapped with an exasperated sigh, “I might be able to eat two of everything.” The words floated away from him, and he bit the inside of his cheek, wishing they would come back. Hesitantly, he made eye contact with Honey.

She peered at him disgustedly from over the top of her menu. She scoffed, crossing one leg over the other, and dropped the leather-bound book closed. 

“Don’t let me slow you down,” Honey said icily. “I’m not that hungry anyway.”

Peter’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. His pocket buzzed again. 

>>> the fuck? what do you mean?  >>> she was in love with you b4... how hard can it be to take her on a date?  >>> christ. did you fuck this up, parker?

He shoved the phone back in his jacket, nearly punching through the silk fabric. 

“If I’m wasting your time, tell me,” Honey sharply retorted. She crossed her arms even tighter across her chest. He had to force himself to look away from the way it plumped her breasts together. “I’d hate to keep you from something important.”

Felicia was right. He was fucking this up. Before he could open his mouth—

“Excuse me, señorita,” a masculine, smoky voice crooned at them. 

Peter and Honey glanced up to see a chiseled man in his 30s approach the table with a hurricane glass of ice. He was a specimen of Latin American art—a bronzed statue, with carved muscles that bulged out of his floral shirt. Deep brown eyes—no, hazel eyes— fixed on Honey as he reached across the table with rolled-back sleeves. The corded muscles in his arm, toned by long hours of hard labor, flexed gracefully as he gently set a cocktail in front of her. 

A frosted, colorless liquid speckled with crushed mint leaves filled the glass. Honey blinked with delighted surprise.

“Our compliments,” the young, disgustingly attractive waiter explained with a sultry smile and a thick accent. “In case you found yourself thirsty while browsing the menu.” 

A blush colored her skin as she glanced up at their handsome waiter. The sparkle in her smile was as blinding as ever, and she graciously looked back between the glass and the server.  The waiter— no way in hell this fuckin’ guy is a waiter— beamed back at her, enamored. 

“Oh, wow!” she gasped, reaching for the glass with dainty fingers. “Is this a mojito? That’s my favorite! How did you know?”

The waiter graciously chuckled. “Lucky guess. You look like a woman of refined taste.”

Peter felt his blood pressure rising.

Honey didn’t even look at her date, as if he was suddenly invisible. “Thank you,” she grinned, self-satisfied. “I mean, I do know my way around a Bacardi bottle.” The waiter chuckled, maybe too hard, at her silly joke.

“We want you to enjoy your evening with us,” the waiter added politely, sparing Peter a glance but keeping all his attention on Honey. “We are honored to have you as our guest.” 

The waiter spoke gentlemanly as he splayed his long fingers across his chest. “Please, take as much time as you need. No need to feel rushed. It is my pleasure to serve you.” 

Peter could feel a twitch behind his eye. Could have been the fire shooting out of his eyes. Fuck this prick, probably another Broadway reject or somethin’, couldn’t buy himself a decent shirt—His mind churned along with his anger.

Oblivious, Honey beamed up at him with a golden smile. “Thank you so much for saying that,” she replied, endearingly sweet. “You are too kind, um... I’m sorry, what was your name again?” 

“Pedro.”

Honey’s brows shot to her hairline. “Pedro?” she repeated, absolutely delighted. She glanced over at Peter. “Isn’t that something?”

The mob boss’ lip curled mirthlessly. “Oh, it’s somethin,’ alright.” 

Peter continued to burn his stare—fuck his stupid accent— into the side of the aloof waiter’s head. He wondered if Pedro’s handsome, chiseled jawline was sharp enough to cut through a noose.

Buzz..

>>> you’re keepin’ your cool, right?  >>> remember what i said.  >>> anything she wants. no questions asked! >>> don’t get all crazy possessive either

The joyful sound of her laughter ripped his attention away from his phone and back towards his charmed date. 

“Pedro,” she sweetly preened. “Can you give us a recommendation?” She briefly flashed her eyes at Peter before looking back at her new friend. “My date’s clearly distracted. He has no idea what I like.” 

Oh? Peter raised a brow at that. And lost his appetite.

Peter followed Honey down the hallway to his hotel suite while storm clouds swirled in his gut. Lighting crackled with each footfall. Tension clogged the atmosphere, and they shuffled in a silent fog to the door.

Despite Felicia’s advice about controlling his inner beasts, Peter’s hackles were raised, and his stomach growled. Now, he was hungry for more than just food. And simultaneously, he’d never felt so powerless. 

Peter noted how tightly she wrapped her arms around herself. Her face suggested she was deep in thought. He wondered if she was just as tightly wound as he was. Wondered if she could break his heart with just a look.

He was flailing. Pathetic.

Peter’s fist clenched his keycard tight. He had to be careful not to snap the card in half between his fingers. Was it from excitement or terror? Desire or rage? 

He had to focus, to make this work. He had nothing if he didn’t have her. 

Rigidly, Peter pushed the door open and stood to the side of the frame to let her enter. 

She paused briefly, lips tight, as she gazed into the rotunda entryway of the lavish suite. They hadn’t spoken in the car, and he hadn’t had the chance to explain the location. 

Letting out a steady breath, she strode through the threshold and stopped. Her body blocked the doorway. She turned to look up at Peter, defiant eyes flashing.

“This is as far as you go.” 

Peter blinked, looking at her in confusion.

Her tone was curt. Icy. He recognized that sound. It was the tone of voice she used when she wanted to draw blood, and it never failed to inflict pain. Her voice. Her eyes. Even her tongue was razor-sharp.

Peter curled a brow upwards. “Sorry?” 

Honey narrowed her eyes. “Not yet, you’re not.” 

He took a step back, blinking owlishly. 

“What did you think was going to happen tonight, Peter?” The ire of Honey’s question sliced through him. “Did you think you were gonna shave your face, take me to a fancy dinner, and then I’d just... open my legs for you?”

A literal ellipsis formed in his mind. 

Peter swallowed hard. “Uhhh—?”

“‘I’ll wait for forever, Honey,’ she parroted his earlier admission mockingly. “Is that all you have to say to me? You left me! For four months!”

Peter nodded his head, not sure exactly why or when he began. “I know, I know...”

“You know!?”

The walls of etiquette and politeness between them began to crack.

“How many times I gotta tell ya? I was tryin’ to protect ya, Honey—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

It stung like a snake bite. Rage filled her eyes, disdain bubbling out of her mouth. She had only just begun. 

“You buy me all this expensive bullshit!” she scolded. “And you dress up in your ridiculous designer suits and parade me to all these fucking pretentious places! Like I’m some kind of accessory! Like you own the whole fucking city and everyone in it!”

He replied with a string of noises. Or, at least, he thought so.

“Big bad mob boss—all that power—and yet, you couldn’t just talk to me? You had me wait around for you like a stray dog! You can just come and go as you please, but you—you expect me to follow you around on a leash?”

“Honey, please. Let me explain—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Peter!” her voice echoed through the rotunda and down the hall of the hotel. “I don’t want to hear a single one of your lame excuses! I don’t want a fancy dinner, or a new Porsche, or a mansion, or whatever else makes your dick hard!”

Peter blinked rapidly, stunned. His body responded as if she had just kicked him in the place she referenced, “Jus’lemme—”

“And I sure as hell don’t want another apology!” she asserted definitively. “I don’t want you anywhere near me!” 

Peter’s jaw hung open, tongue dead in his mouth. The woman who barely stood at his collarbone stared down at him, making him feel inches tall. 

“Now, I’m going to bed. Exactly as I have been for the last four months.” Her voice thundered, “Alone!”

With that, the door slammed in his face, rattling inches from his nose. The echo reverberated through the empty hallway and inside his chest, emphasizing the deep crack that formed.

Peter let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The shock subsided slowly, and his heart sank. The ache soon sizzled into a burn, boiling his blood. At the same time, the sting of her rejection was raw. Unbearable.

Unbelievable.

Absolutely unacceptable. 

He should break down the fucking door. Throw her over his shoulder and tie her up. Gag her—Anything to get her to listen.

Haplessly, Peter’s eyes fell on his expensive shoes—his Valentinos. Or maybe these were the Tom Ford’s? He had no clue. Just more bullshit.

Fuck—He was going to cry. Maybe he should let himself just do it. Lean into it. Drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. Shoulders slumped, he squeezed his eyes closed. 

He was a little bitch.

Peter pictured a door closing on a rocket or an airplane. Whatever it was, it was leaving him behind. He was falling back to Earth, having placed too much faith in miracles. This was his punishment for flying that close to the sun—

The door swung open. 

Two hands grabbed Peter’s jacket, pulling him forward off his heels. It was a surprisingly fluid motion; his heartbreak had reduced the mass of his bones to nothing. 

Honey’s nails practically pierced his lapels. She yanked him through the doorway into the suite, slamming the door behind him, and slamming him into the door right after.

Before Peter could open his mouth to speak, she was on him like a viper.

A sharp, biting kiss swallowed him whole, stealing the oxygen from his lungs. The heat was as intense as he had remembered. This time, they didn’t melt into one another. Honey was like a wildfire, her touch scalding him. 

His skin flushed from the sudden unbearable heat. Before he could react, her lithe fingers started tugging the edges of his jacket. Clumsily, she tried pushing it back over his broad shoulders. As soon as he knew of her intent, he eagerly obliged, shrugging the garment off and to the floor. 

Her hands went to his throat, ebony-painted nails leaving trails on his skin. Buttons popped as she yanked on his clothes. Her goal could have been to draw blood with her kiss.

Every time her teeth tore at his lips, he responded with a groan into her mouth.

Clumsy, he fumbled with his fingers—reaching up to grip her by the hair. Finally, he wrenched her head back, detaching her bite from his face.

Immediately, he was met with an open-palmed slap on the cheek.

Sharp gasps cut through them, and they jumped backward a few feet. Tension and shock reverberated in the chasm they created. Like the barometric pressure plunging before a storm, an eerie calm settled over them. 

Honey blinked at him, jaw agape and her palm throbbing. 

Peter glared at her in silence. He looked a mess—hair unkempt, the top buttons of his shirt torn open to reveal jagged crimson scratch marks across his milky skin.

His heartbeat steadily increased as he gently dabbed his fingertips at the ache in his jaw. The exquisite lines of his face were stained pastel pink, flushed by arousal or anger. His eyes were black as night, so it could have been either one.

She looked just as wrecked. Dress askew, her hairstyle half-unraveled. Goosebumps dotted her skin. She looked shocked at the violence she was capable of, surprised and possibly guilty at her own strength. As the seconds passed, the feelings faded.

Peter watched her, pupils dilating, blood pressure rising. The shadow of a smile curved his mouth. His features darkened into something primal. Something familiar.

There’s my girl.

Slowly, he lowered his hand, studying her threatening look until his own expression began to match.

Physically, his senses were haywire. Danger, excitement, and a sick sort of pleasure rattled his bones and labored his breathing. The hairs on his skin stood on end. Alarms blared in his head. The sound of his own blood was almost deafening to him, thumping like a kick drum. 

Peter could hear her heart, too. Fast. Like a rabbit. He was a wolf in pursuit. 

Maybe the pain of her slap triggered him, a preemptive action against further attack.

She got one in, Peter mused mockingly. He knew she was no match. Not as Peter’s night vision sharpened. Not while he could taste the salt from her perspiration on his tongue. Most intoxicating of all, Peter could smell her desire. Like a rose bursting open.

In another blink, they switched positions. Peter snatched her by her shoulders and slammed her back into the wall, pinning her there. She went feral—hissing and raging at her entrapment.

Not a rabbit. A honey badger, then.

“Get off of me!” Honey spat.

“Shut up,” he ordered. Quiet and fierce.

Fingers gripping her forearms tight, he attacked her lips, teeth colliding. The ferocity stunned her. For a moment, it seemed like she finally submitted to him before she wriggled her mouth free.

“Mmffucker—Let me go!”

His body might as well have been a brick wall. His face was stonelike, eyes just as cold. 

“No.” 

Honey’s brow scrunched up like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. “I’ll scream!” she countered.

Peter smirked, the hickory in his eyes igniting. “Baby. You have no idea.”

Peter’s guarantee sent a shiver down Honey’s spine. He saw the gears turning in her mind as she carefully considered pushing him further. 

He hoped she would. 

His fingers tightened around her forearms. He crucified her under his gaze. And yet, despite the danger anyone else would have felt... A glimmer of curiosity flickered in her eyes.

It set his mind reeling. A tiny sign of weakness to temptation made Peter’s stomach trapeze. He zeroed in on it, licking his chops. 

Not to make it easy, Honey brought her knee up, attempting to make contact with his groin. There was nearly a foot of difference between their heights, and she paid it no mind.

Brave girl. 

Peter admired her tenacity. She had balls. Smart, too, he pleasantly recognized. Honey went for the weak spot first. Good call. 

Pointless, though. 

Nothing below Peter’s belt was weak when she was around.

Unfairly, Peter picked up on her attack before her leg was even bent. He snatched her above the knee, lifting her toes off the ground and prying her thighs open. 

He pictured the bruises on her skin that his fingertips would leave behind. Just the thought made him rock hard. 

A year ago, Peter would have been ashamed. He would have shied away from her, for fear of repulsing her, and took out his frustration by himself in the shower. 

Grinding his teeth at those memories, he pressed Honey’s hips into his waist, forcing her legs around him, and—Fuck—her heat.

Peter’s brain nearly short-circuited. She was like a bonfire against his belly. His cock pushed against his trousers, straining for her warmth. He secured her hips to his with a tight grip, which only pissed her off more. She thrashed, enraged. 

She really needed to stop doing that. It only made the burn worse. 

A few months ago, Peter would have been ashamed of the rush he felt from manhandling her. Ashamed of how his cock ached and twitched at her fruitless tantrums.

“Fucking asshole!” Honey sneered.

“Yeah?” he said with a bitter laugh. “You're a spoiled little brat!”

“Fuck you!”

“See what I mean?” Peter scoffed, holding her tighter. He breathed hotly into the shell of her ear. “Not even a ‘please.’” 

His pride was short-lived. Inexplicably, Honey arched her neck and buried her teeth into his shoulder. He roared—“Fuck! What the fuck!!??” —surprised she didn’t bite through the silk of his collared shirt.

Apparently, he wasn’t the only beast in the room.

They tumbled down ungracefully. Peter landed hard on his back, with Honey crashing on top of him. She collapsed on his lungs, knocking the wind from his chest. Sputtering, he reached out to grab her, his fingertips barely missing the hem of her dress. The small woman scrambled to her hands and knees, then to her feet. 

Honey dashed into the suite while Peter’s voice echoed—“Goddamnitareyacrazy!?”—after her. 

Padding on her toes, she ran into a darkened living room with vaulted ceilings that might have been large enough to fit her entire apartment. Outside glass walls, the Midtown skyline surrounded her. The Metlife and Empire State Buildings glittered proudly in a breathtaking view.

The room was situated in the corner of the building. Velvet curtains framed the floor-to-ceiling windows, providing an unobstructed view of the city. The Dark Academia-Meets-Glam aesthetic seating area featured a sleek, modern leather sectional and mod velvet chaise lounge chat set. 

Without time to admire any of it, she scrambled to the first piece of furniture she could reach. She grabbed the first thing her fingers could find—a designer fruit bowl centerpiece made of polished stainless steel and brass pomegranates. 

It was exquisite and expensive. 

Honey spun on her heel and flung the heavy metal at Peter.

He dipped deftly, his spine bowing back, narrowly missing the bowl as it whipped past him. The object barreled through a crystal chandelier, glass shattering like raindrops as they came down.

“Hey—!” he scowled, facing her with an indignant glare.

A moment later, he quickly shielded his face from another flying object: an asymmetrical crystal-and-Riverstone candelabra that crumbled against his forearm. It might as well have been a brick, with ceramic shards tumbling off of his shoulder. 

Peter bristled in aggravation, brushing the pieces off. Now, she was really pissing him off.

He glanced up just in time to see a glass vase containing two dozen roses—meant to be her gift—hurtling towards his head. Reflexively, he snatched it from the air with one hand, water and all. He palmed the crystal vase like catching a baseball. Didn’t spill a drop. 

His quick reflexes stunned the both of them. Peter’s jaw went slack—partially at his ability to save the flowers, but mostly with indignation that Honey had somehow destroyed $1,000 worth of the hotel’s tchotchkes in a few seconds. 

“Enough!” Peter barked, carefully setting the vase down. Ignoring him, the woman darted toward another side table, already reaching for another expensive object to throw at him. 

Suddenly, Honey’s ankle was caught in a sticky grip. Both legs pulled out from beneath her. She flattened immediately with an ooof—her belly dropping to the wool carpet. 

Dazed, she glanced back at her legs with a crease in her brow. With a jolt, she was pulled along by a stringy, spongy substance on her ankle. It felt the way canned compressed air feels when shooting skin at close range. 

Her nails dug into the carpet fibers as she was dragged back. “Agghhh! What the—Getitoff!” 

As soon as the pulling stopped, Honey was on her back again, gazing up at the sharp lines of Peter’s cold gaze. He towered over her, even on his knees, as he mounted her hips. Protesting, she pelted him tirelessly with her fists.

The smell of sweat loomed in the air as he finally restrained her. He caged her in, pinning her wrists to the floor. Nerves buzzing and tempers flaring, she continued to writhe and wrestle with him to no avail. Peter quickly overpowered the more petite woman, fomenting her anger. 

“You’re hurting me!” she sneered breathlessly, teeth gritted. 

Peter was unimpressed. “Liar.”

“M’not lying—!”

He glared back, barely breaking a sweat. “You’re so full of shit—!”

“Fuck you! What do you know—?”

“I know you, Honey!” he charged, silencing her. 

She went still, subdued beneath his dark gaze. Peter loomed over her like a stormcloud. “I know the games you like to play,” he said—both teasing and sinister, toying with his prey. He lowered his lips until they breathed the same air. 

Honey’s focus was split between Peter’s intense stare and glistening, kiss-ravaged mouth. She tried not to notice the sensation of her nipples brushing against the fabric with each labored breath. He could easily reach down and touch her. Tried not to focus on how solid his chest felt against hers, like carved marble. Tried not to focus on the dark chocolate of his eyes melting in the heat of their gaze. 

Just as intensely, Peter watched her watch him—zeroing in on the idle way her tongue darted to wet her lips. The tiny action shot electricity down his spine, straight to his groin. 

Honey felt that, too. A tiny gasp escaped her, her lashes fluttering. The fight suddenly left her arms as she noticed the heavy bulge against her hip. 

He was hot. Not just figuratively. Feverishly hot. He was so hard, too—and just for her. The lewd image of him splitting her open on his cock made her insides clench. 

Peter eyed her dangerously, his voice a dark abyss. “Think you can hide it from me, eh?” The teasing smile on his lips bordered on a snarl. “Gonna sit here an’tell me... that if I were to reach down between your legs right now...” Her heart hammered in her chest, hanging on every word. In her mind, she was begging him to follow through with the threat. “...Those panties won’t be soaked?” 

Honey failed to swallow back a little mewl as he leaned down closer.

“Ya think I can’t feel ya, huh?” he mumbled, lips ghosting the curve of her throat. “Think I can’t smell how wet you are right now?” Another wanton exhale left her belly as she leaned into the heat of his breath on her skin. “Y’know I can already taste you on my tongue, babygirl.”

Honey’s mouth and legs seemed to part further at his vulgar words. She shivered at the sensation of his slick tongue traversing her pulse point.

“You’re... an asshole...” she murmured breathlessly. She sounded half-asleep.

Peter hissed, “And you’re a needy little slut, aren't’cha?” 

The sudden ferocity made her eyes unintentionally roll back. A second later, Peter’s fingers collared her, choking off the small mewl in her throat. He turned her by the chin, wrenching her attention to him. 

“Hey—Eyes on me,” he commanded.

Mesmerized, Honey blinked up at him like a fawn.

“How ‘bout that little stunt you pulled with the waiter?” he prodded. There was an icy edge on the last word. Her throat bobbed while she kept her face neutral. The bright amber of his glare penetrated her. Peter continued accusatorily, “Those flirty little giggles while he gave ya fuck-me eyes? Y’think I didn’t see that?”

Honey sniffed, stiffening her upper lip. This was a power move; she knew better than to back down. “Look who's jealous,” she scoffed. 

With a jolt, she again attempted to wrench her wrists free. He simply held on tighter, closing his talons as she twisted like a snake.

“Jealous?” Peter repeated calmly, narrowing his eyes into slits. “Me? Nah.” His hands suddenly seized her hips as he forcibly jerked her up off the floor. A slew of profanities spilled from her mouth, bucking against him as he carried her.

In a few strides, he was at the edge of a dining table. With little regard for his barbarity, he plopped Honey on the surface, shoving her flat on her back. Peter arched over her as if to dominate her, spine bowing until he filled her periphery with his fierce gaze. 

Honey’s eyes sparkled, cheeks colored from the rush. “Threatened, then!”

Peter’s face softened inexplicably. Blinked at her for a moment, head tilting. Then, he landed an open-palmed smack against her ass. 

It was a surprisingly heavy blow, as close as he’d ever come to intentionally inflicting pain on her. Honey yelped, hissing from the sting on her upper thigh. Right after the strike, Peter’s fingers began kneading her flesh, soothing the welt that was bound to form.

“See, if I were a jealous man,” he noted with an evil sneer, “I woulda gouged his eyes out with a salad fork.” 

Peter swallowed up her gasp with a forceful kiss. A few moments later, he broke away.

“If I felt threatened?” he added breathlessly, “I woulda bent you over the table and fucked you dumb. Let everyone in the Five Boroughs hear you beg for my cock.”

Once the filth rolled off his tongue, Peter went back to using it to lash against hers. Honey was overwhelmed by the soft, wet muscle invading her mouth. Not only that, the violent edge to his words felt like standing in a river and grabbing a livewire. A shiver racked through her body, a current of pent-up anger and desire sending blood rushing to her core.

As if on cue, Peter’s fingertips made contact with the lace fabric between her thighs. She tremored at his touch, heart skipping. He toyed with the soft, stretchy material. Snapped it lazily against her flesh.

His voice was hypnotizing. “I woulda shoved these dirty panties down his throat just to never hear his stupid fuckin’ accent again.”

Honey felt drunk off of the vitriol he poured into her ear. It was violent and possessive... and it shouldn’t have made her so horny, and yet—

Honey trembled with anticipation, panting like a bitch in heat. “I-I... can’t... ugh, fu—” 

The pads of his fingers ran firmly along her seam. She let out an embarrassing whine. Peter's prediction was spot-on. A shameful amount of wetness coated the inside of her thighs. He played with the soaked fabric and smeared her mess across her skin with a smug smirk.  

“Think I don’t know what you like?” he muttered darkly, echoing her earlier jab. 

RIP!

The lace bunched at her waist. Honey’s wet skin felt particularly chilled being exposed to the air. She quivered with anticipation. Her head was spinning, pussy throbbing. She felt worshiped and simultaneously defiled. 

Peter pressed his forehead into hers, skin-to-skin. She stared into the black of his eyes in suspended silence, like the pornographic thoughts in his head were being projected into her mind.

Her own pupils were blown black. “Fuckin’ hate you so much—”

“I don’t care.”

“—re’such an asshole—”

“I don’t care,” he repeated more firmly. Then, “You belong with me.”

“You left me!” she fired back.

The sharpness of her tone sobered him a little. He blinked and sighed. “I couldn’t leave you. I didn’t leave you.”

She attempted to sit up, trying to lift her shoulders unsuccessfully. She writhed with spite, “Fuckin’ selfish prick, I outta cut off—”

“What was my drink order?”

He blurted the last sentence out with a mind-blowing level of calm. At once, their bodies went still. Still pinned to the table with a hummingbird beneath her breast, Honey stared up at him in confusion. 

Her brows pinched together. “Huh—?”

“My drink order,” Peter repeated, his expression void of the aggression he had the previous moment. 

It was like a mask had fallen away, and the man on top of her transformed into a different person. Maliciousness evaporated, replaced by eagerness. Desperation. 

Peter stared at her, intently searching her gaze. “At the shop,” he whispered, eyes soft. “What you used to make for me every time I came t’see you..?” The words fell away as he stared at her expectantly. 

She arched a brow. 

It had been black coffee, bitter and dark. Just like Peter’s entire world. How it had always been. Until—

“You said I should try something new,” he added, with urgency like reminding her of a forgotten dream. “So you made something for me—something... special.”

Peter’s heart swelled through his eyes at the last word. Honey stared up at him, perplexed. He was looking for the answer on the tip of her tongue:

Honey and Lavender. 

Confusion ceded to aggravation. A line formed between Honey’s brows.

“You remember, right?” he asked, hopeful.

She did. He knew she did. He could see it at the corners of her eyes, pooling behind her eyelids. Sobering memories flooded her, cooling the heat between them. A different sort of ache settled in.

Reluctantly, she nodded.

He took a breath, relieved but still anxious. “Say those words,” he said, “if you really want me to stop.”

Her damp lashes fluttered as Honey blinked up at him in surprise. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, he swallowed dryly. His stomach lurched at the thought of being sent away like this. 

Still, it was a risk he had to take. 

“I can let go, walk away,” he offered tenderly. “Right now. No questions asked.” Each word felt like sticking needles through his tongue. He gave her an out, needing confirmation that her reciprocated lust wasn’t imagined. 

“Say the words,” Peter whispered in lament, “and I’ll leave you alone.”

That word settled like a boulder crushing his chest.

Despite Peter’s heart telling him her rejection would be unbearable, the thought of truly harming her was more so. 

Honey studied him with thoughtful eyes, contemplative and curious. He had won. He subdued her. Restrained her. She remembered when he threw a piano like a toddler throwing a toy truck. 

She could do little to stop him if he wanted to force her. And yet—

There he is. 

This was the man she remembered. The one that was ready to die for her. To die by her hand, if that’s what she wanted. 

“Two words,” Peter sighed, his nose brushing against hers. It was a sweetly affectionate gesture. “Say the words, and this can end right n—”

Honey captured his lips, stealing his breath like it was her only source of oxygen. Static filled Peter’s ears, his body tensing and relaxing simultaneously. He was soaring and plummeting. Rising and falling. 

Her tongue slipped past his lips, dragging along the pad of his mouth. Soon enough, the sweetness melted off in their flames. 

Honey pulled her mouth away, barely able to get out her plea. “Touch me, Peter. Make me feel it.”

And she dove right back in. This time, Peter plunged with her, deep beneath the waves of lust. He sank into her current, dragging her with the tide of desire.

Peter’s hands were frantic travelers. Flitting from her wrists to her shoulders. To gently cup her face. To smooth over the mounds of her breasts. To dig his fingers into the linen fabric of the sweetheart neckline.

“Love this dress,” he idly mumbled between kisses, abusing the neckline. “Mmm—where’d ya say ya got it?”

“Oh…uhm—?”

The question caught her off guard. She blushed, brain foggy with lust. Her instinct was to say something like ‘thank you,’ but her tongue fumbled the words. “Uh... it was, I think, Old Navy—?”

A ripping sound shocked her. She squeaked as a flurry of cotton fibers burst from the top of the dress. 

Peter yanked the linen bodice apart like tissue paper, his tongue chasing away any protest from her lips. Gooseflesh broke out as her skin was exposed to the air. Driven by lust, he shoved the ruined material down to her waist. 

“Fuck, Peter...” she gasped, scandalized.

“Sorry,” he muttered, not sorry.

It was his turn to be greedy. Peter dug his hands beneath the cups of her bra, toying with the peaks of her breasts. 

With a snap, the bra was torn in half. The strength in Peter’s long fingers stunned her. Puzzling her as much as it turned her on.

He laved at her left breast with his tongue, drawing an obscene moan from her. His hand pinched sadistically at her right nipple. The delectable sting traveled from her chest to her cunt. She arched—”ughhh, god”—her spine bowing beautifully.

He held the cleft of her left breast delicately in his hand while lapping at the ridges of her peaked flesh. Warm tongue caressed the tip, drawing shapes and discovering pathways to her pleasure. Every little flick inspired something new. She cooed and twitched beneath him. He was desperate to memorize her taste. 

Languidly, he massaged each of her tits inside his mouth, his cock aching as he imagined licking her pussy with the same fervor. It was almost unbearable. A strangled moan vibrated through his chest at the picture in his mind. 

Her reaction to the sound came out as an agonized mewl. 

Oh.

He needed more of that sound.

Peter felt her push on his shoulders. Trying to wriggle away from his mouth. 

This time, he had no tolerance for misbehavior. He grabbed both wrists and forced them above her head. Honey yanked back, stunned at being glued down to the table surface by his palms. 

The peach of his pouty lips curved upward as his eyes took a turn ravishing her. She was a sight of wicked debauchery. Her hair was a mess, and her nearly-naked body lay across the table like a feast. Her thighs locked around his hips.

He used one hand to rub circles into the delicate skin of her restrained forearms. The other hand mischievously dipped lower and lower, sliding through her wet heat. Calloused, dexterous fingers spread her lips open, playing in her slick and prodding her tight hole. 

Honey was finished. Ruined. Past the point of no return. Unconditionally surrendered. Helpless and eager to subjugate herself to her conqueror. Filthy sounds filled the room, punctuated by weak cries from his new loyal subject.

“So pretty,” he sighed breathlessly as he coated his fingers in her cream. “All this for me, princess?” He cooed at her, edging on cruel.

A broken gasp fell from her lips, her chest pulsing involuntarily. 

“Aww, what’s the matter? Does this little pretty pussy ache, baby?”

A vortex formed deep in her belly, dragging her in. He licked his dry lips, salivating at the image.

“I know it hurts, baby, I know. I know,” he teased. “It’s been hard playin’ all by yourself, huh?” The sunniness of his voice was eclipsed. “All alone. Screamin’ out my name into your pillow. Fingers buried deep in your wet cunt.”

Honey’s eyes snapped open. Before she could respond, the breadth of his middle fingertip penetrated her. She gasped as his finger speared her open. All the while, he wore a devil’s smile.

“Ain’t that right? Only for me.” Entranced, he watched her every twitch and shudder. “This pussy belongs to me, doesn’t it?”

It was a question feigning the need for her confirmation. She couldn't answer. Couldn't breathe. 

No, that can’t be right—had he been watching her masturbate in her apartment? Was he watching her the entire time he was gone? 

The possibility enraged her. Ten orgasms from the King of New York’s Underworld couldn’t even quell that fire.

Peter smiled wickedly, playing with her pussy. Taking his time toying with her flesh. He was a tyrant-king, dominating her pleasure. With a calloused hand, he held onto her cunt like it belonged there.

But she was his wild colt. Difficult to break.

“Oh-n—ohh god,” she gasped. Unbeknownst to him, an evil plot bloomed in her brain. Her lips curled into a smile.

“Fuck—gah—ohhhhh…”

He licked up each broken syllable.

“Yes! Oh, god, yes! Oh—” 

Sweat beaded on her chest, sin oozing through her pores.

“...Pedro.”

Halt.

Brakes squealing. Full stop. Not only in the physical world between them but also in Peter’s living fantasy.

Mischievously, Honey’s grin widened. 

She got him, alright. 

Flawless victory.

Dark eyes flashing, Peter withdrew his fingers from her. “Fuckin’ brat…”

In one fluid motion, Peter flipped her over to her belly, stunning her. He followed with another forceful slap to her ass cheek. This one was more punishing than the last, drawing a puppy-like yelp. His voice was ice. Eyes black. 

Now, she was in trouble.

“Think that’s funny?” he said through gritted teeth.

Peter manipulated her limbs like a rag doll. He maneuvered her forward until her cheekbone pressed against the table. She panicked for a moment at being in such a compromising position. 

The chill of the air across her wet pussy made her shiver. At the same time, she clenched at his roughness.

Peter kneaded her sides, pressing fingerprint bruises on her waist. He yanked her hips towards him until her knees were on the table’s edge. Honey’s face burned, stricken with modesty and flustered by how he hoisted her ass in the air. 

Her hips were propped up like a rack of lamb, and he licked his lips at the sight. It was too vulnerable, being bared to him like this. Obscene, on display, inches from his face. 

For a half second, she considered using the safe words. 

She squirmed uncomfortably while her mess dripped down the inside of her thighs. Peter denied any attempt to escape, eventually gathering her limbs and pulling her hands behind her back. 

Short puffs of breath fogged the glass surface of the table. Her heart pounded beneath her. Honey had only witnessed this side of him a few times—and never directed toward her. 

She was in trouble. But was she in danger?

The buckle of his belt clinked as it came free. Honey quivered at the sound, pussy aching in anticipation.

And if she was in danger, why did that make her wet?

“Pete—” Honey muttered, a scream bubbling at the back of her throat. Leather nipped at her forearms as he used his belt to tie her hands behind her back. 

“Ple-please—“

He fisted her hair, rearing her head back. Her neck arched beautifully, her chin dangling above the table surface.

“Listen to me, princess,” Peter snarled, hot in her ear. Spite peppered his tone. “If you ever call out another man’s name when I’m inside ya again— I’ll make ya wear nothin’ but my cum for the next week.” 

The savage tone contrasted with the glow of his eyes. 

It was always opposites with him.

This was the same man who coddled and worshiped her. The same one who kidnapped her, drugged her, blindfolded her, and gagged her. 

He forced her, a willing participant, into his bed—by asking her permission. 

Peter was more than capable of keeping her chained to his bedpost if he wanted it. 

Or… if she wanted it.

Peter snickered at her expression. “Ooh, yeah… Betchu’d like that, huh?” He taunted her like she was broadcasting her dirty thoughts. “Such a needy little slut for me, ain't that right?” 

Honey felt his warmth leave her back, like being plunged into the Hudson in winter. His hands reappeared at the back of her thighs, and her first instinct was to try to close her legs. 

That was a mistake and an impossible endeavor. 

He split her thighs like opening a book. Grinned at the sight as if he stumbled across gold.

“Fuck, babygirl, you’re soaked. Just talkin’ about it and look at the mess you made…”

Embarrassment and want ravaged her. The conflicting experiences had her ovaries twisted into knots. Honey bit her tongue, unsure if she was going to scream or moan. 

Instead, it came out like a pathetic mewl. “Pe-Peter, please—”

Then he open-palm-smacked her cunt, fingers landing directly on her labia. 

The wet sound it made was humiliating, and the sensation triggered all of the reactions above. She squealed at the sting on her folds. This was a delectable torture. For Peter, it was an appetizing sight. 

“Ya like that?” he grinned over the sound of her whimpers. He already knew the answer.

Another slap to her cunt made her whole body shake. 

“Like bein’ my kept girl? Tryin’ so hard to get my attention. Drivin’ me nuts. Well, you got it now, Honey.” 

Slap. 

A third strike had her pussy clenching. Honey had never experienced such an erotic rush before. She shuddered with embarrassment, afraid she’d cum from this—

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Honey gasped for air, a scream breaking through her voice. She was drowning in sick pleasure, tears in her eyes.

The mob boss gripped her thighs again, pulling her knees off the table and lifting up the weight of her lower half. The action was as easy as lifting a sheet of paper. 

God, his strength was impossible. She struggled to comprehend it while picturing herself being broken apart by it. A slew of tiny pleas fell from her lips. She didn’t even know what she was begging for—his mercy or punishment.

“Shh, shh, babygirl,” he purred with a candy voice. Brought his lips to where she was split, equal parts seductive and sinister. “Be still for me. I gotcha.” He wore a Cheshire grin. “Lemme kiss it better.” 

Slowly, he licked a line from her clit to the entrance of her cunt. She shuddered, followed by a lewd wail. She bucked her hips as he let the tip of his tongue toy with her. 

“Mmmf—so fuckin’ sweet,” Peter mumbled between languid strokes around her vaginal gate. His grip was inescapable. “Can’t help myself, s-sooo hungry…”

Honey felt an evil smile against her skin before his mouth went back to work on her. Tiny, stinging nips and kitten licks tormented her flesh. With her hips locked in place, he lashed her clit with his tongue.

Honey squirmed against the leather belt, her nails digging into the grain. She wanted to be bound like this forever. 

Peter had no intention of letting her go any time soon. 

With her thighs spread open, he dragged her toward the edge of her ecstasy. As soon as he felt her body begin to shake, he pulled away. The punishment ended with another smack to her swollen clit.

Honey cried out in frustration at having her release snatched away. 

Oh, yes—He was weak for that sound.

“What’s’a matter, baby?” he smirked with a dark chuckle. This was becoming his favorite pastime. “You mad now that you’re not the only one who can play games?”

“Gahh—Peter… fuck, plea—don’t tease—!”

Peter’s fingers slipped inside with a squelch, shutting her up. Simultaneously, he lapped at her juices while massaging her walls. Soon, he settled into an unbreakable focus.

Each kiss to her nether lips sizzled with passion. Fueled by devotion usually only reserved for a wedding day. 

“—mmmm, tastes so pretty,” he murmured into her flesh, “my pretty girls...” 

In her dazed state, Honey wondered with a pang of jealousy who the ‘she’ he was referring to was. 

“—sooo sensitive; she likes it when I kiss her like that, yeah?—” He said, in between languid, open-mouth kisses to her slit.

Jesus Fucking Christ, he’s talking about my pussy? In the third person? 

Honey gasped, scandalized at the preposterous thought. It was the most deliciously erotic moment of her life. Enraptured tears budded her eyes, the coil in her belly nearly suffocating her.

“—Fuck, oh god, Peter, don’t stop, don’stop, donstop, donstah—”

Preoccupied with his own intoxicating thoughts, Peter was eager with his tongue and steady with his hands. The room filled with the filthy, wet sounds of his carressing and French kissing of her cunt. He pleasured her with his fingers and mouth, passionately— reverently— as if making love to two different brides. 

Soon, Honey’s pleas were barely more than breathless whining. He smiled like the devil, lips coated with her slick. 

“Patience, Honey,” he admonished, sing-song and patronizing. “If you’re a good girl, maybe I might let you get to taste Her, too.”

Fuck—she was going to come from this. 

The more perverse his words were, the closer she was. So, so close—

Then, another sharp slap. 

Honey wailed, fingers digging into the leather of her restraints. Her whole body protested. The cycle repeated so many times she lost count—until her flesh was puffy from his torture. 

“Please, don’t—please, Peter, don’t tease,” she frantically begged, tears streaming. “No more— Please, I wanna come so bad—” 

He sucked on her clit.  “Yeah?”

“God, yes, please—Nyahhh-need you—Need you... inside—“

Peter hissed behind his teeth, struggling to keep his pace even as his cock jerked at her pleas. He flashed an evil smile. “S’at right?”

“Pl-please, f-feels so good, ple—gah-I need it—!”

He was in no hurry. It was almost greedy, the way he ravaged her. His fingers pressed Merlot bruises into her hips and waist while his mouth left raspberry welts on her thighs. 

Honey cried out around a moan as she felt his fingers deepen. His loving touches to her sensitive spots turned wicked, reminding her this was also a penalty for her bratty transgressions. She wept and squirmed, practically drooling on the table.

He simply grinned.

“—Mmmhm, that’s it—scream for me, princess—”

Honey’s tiny little hip thrusts fit easily in his palm as he groped her. He found it adorable, really.

“Mmm...m’sorr—ow—agh!”

“Sorry’s not gonna cut it,” he panted, eyes blown black. Shadow returned to his voice. “You’re mine now, ya hear?” His eyes traveled to where his fingers were buried to the knuckles. “Gonna fuck you every way I want—”

“Pleasepleasepleaseyes—it’syoursit’syoursallyours—”

His eyes swam over her body, drunk with lust.

All mine. 

The sinfulness of his thoughts tugged his insides into a vortex. This was wrong, he reasoned. Not how he wanted this to go. Poor girl sounded brainless, begging to be fucked.  He wasn’t much better off. This wasn’t how he planned this to go. 

But he was willing to pivot.

Hands shaking, he fumbled with his fly. It wasn’t until his cock bobbed free, glistening with precum, that he felt any sort of relief. Peter grabbed her hips and lifted them off of the table, repositioning her so he was lined up with her slit.

“Fuckin’ need you so much, Honey—” he muttered mindlessly, focused on pushing the swollen, leaking crown of his cock against the silk of her pussy. 

Her hips’ weight rested easily in his hands, and she keened at the sensation of his head pressing against her entrance. 

And god, she'd forgotten he was thick.

Honey tensed up, even as her pussy throbbed with want. It was as if all her muscles were reaching for him, heart included.

It was too much. Mascara trailed faintly down her cheeks. Her heart soared. And ached. She felt spoiled with pleasure, delighting in this penance.

More. She wanted more.

“Fuck—wanted ya so bad,” Peter mumbled, watching his cock slip through her lips. He sounded airy, hypnotized by the view. “Wanted t’crawl through your window like the goddamn—ahh— boogeyman... fuck ya in your own bed. Wanted t’take’ya home with me and keep ya there— Never let you leave.”

Honey swallowed back a sob. Then why did you send me away? 

He paused. 

Uh-oh. Did she say that out lo—?

“Because I’m an idiot,” Peter huffed, his voice fragile. 

He leaned forward and lovingly kissed up her spine, each tender press of his lips an apology. 

“I’m a stupid fuckin’ fool.” The heat of his breath ghosted across her back. “So stupid—Thought I could protect ya if I kept you away. Thought I could somehow live like that—without you.” He shook his head. “Goddamn fool.”

Peter felt the sting of tears flooding his vision. Instinctively, he squeezed his eyes shut to keep them out. “I can’t live without ya,” he nearly whimpered. “There is no life for me if you’re not in it.”

“Peter,” she said, feeling her heart lurch. Her spirit was a ship being tossed in a hurricane. One more wave, and she would break. Honey’s voice trembled, “St-stop t-talking—”

“Not until I’ve said what I shoulda said—!”

“If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next five seconds—”

Peter cut her off by pulling her up by the shoulders and standing her upright. Honey fought it—because, of course, she did—desperately clutching the steel armor around her heart. 

Overpowering her again, he tugged the naked woman closer until her back lined up to his chest. It was an awkward position with her bound arms crushed behind her against his abs. He towered over her, eyeing her face from the side, seeking her gaze. Hooked a finger beneath her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. 

Always the fighter, Honey tried to wrench herself from his hold. Peter’s body was like a Greek god’s, with pillar-like arms and marble fingers keeping her from wriggling away. But his soft, soulful eyes are what pinned her in place. 

As soon as she peered into their oaken color, she was trapped again. 

“No,” she sneered, shaking her head. The tears weren’t from pleasure anymore. “Don’t—”

“‘Honey and Lavender,’” he whispered, featherlike. “Those are the words. All you gotta do is say ‘em, and I’ll stop.”

She gritted her teeth, bucking against his sweetness. His arms wrapped around her torso, pulling her in.

“I thought you wanted to fuck me!” she revolted, voice getting weaker by the second. “What the hell do you want from me, Peter?!” 

His features softened. Serenity pressed between his lips. “I want all of you, Honey,” he answered with resolve. “Body and soul. Wanna spend the rest of my life with ya. If you don’t kill me first.” 

He said the ‘if’ part with a teasing lilt in his tone and a half-smile. The same smirk that she loathed—and fell in love with. 

Honey squeezed her eyes shut. Peter’s thumb came up gently, wiping a messy tear from her cheek. That loving and pure act was worse than any torture he could inflict.

Walls tumbling down, her body loosened. She went slack against his arms, instead fighting to keep more tears from flowing.

“I love you,” he whispered, pouring his soul into each word. “Forever. Remember? No matter what.” 

Peter waited for her eyelids to peel back, revealing glossy eyes and a weary expression. They stayed still for eons. Nothing but their breaths and heartbeats between them, eyes locked on each other.

“Even if you’re mad as hell at me,” he added. “Even if you hate me—I want it all.”

Her lower lip wobbled. “And what then, Peter? What now?”

A moment passed. He leaned around her shoulder, bringing her chin close, and answered her with a kiss. Gentle at first, his tongue explored hers as she relaxed against him. She felt her toes leave the ground before she realized what was happening.

Peter broke the kiss. “Now?” he breathed into her hairline. “I’m gonna show you what it means to be mine.”

One of his hands left her torso—borrowed to push the head of his cock into her gate. An overwhelming burn erupted between her legs. She arched her back away from his abs as best she could while being split open.

Honey wailed brokenly, voice shattered, as he bottomed out. Peter’s hand instinctively came up to cover her mouth. She let the scream out into his palm, just as he’d promised.

Peter hissed, letting his head fall back in agonized ecstasy. His eyes drifted shut, feeling both relief and torment buried to the hilt in her warmth. 

He barely ground out, “Shh-shhh, s’alright... that’s it, s-so good, so good for me...”

His Honey was already writhing on his cock, and he hadn’t even begun to move. She was so goddamn tight he wasn’t sure he wanted to move at all.

Still, he couldn’t help indulging himself. Never could, around her.

The arm bracing Honey’s torso snaked back across her body. His hand, burning hotter than a branding iron, stretched out and smoothed over the curvature of her belly. Her pussy clenched tighter as his palm found the trophy he was looking for—an obscene bulge in her lower stomach.

A slow, sinful curve played upon his lips. “Fuck, babygirl. Look at you.” When he uncovered her mouth, her roars had quieted down to a wanton purr. He gently tilted her head downwards so she could witness the depravity herself. “Just look at how you take my dick, Honey.” 

She shuddered at the sight, nodding rapidly, unable to speak. She wondered if this was just more teasing, but she couldn’t think beyond the penetration. 

“God, you look so beautiful like that,” he muttered breathlessly. His amber eyes were fixated on the sinful spectacle beneath her waist, unable to avert his gaze. “So pretty with my cock stuffed up inside your tummy...” 

Peter sounded unhinged, even to himself. His abs twisted into knots. Vile, perverse images eclipsed his sense of decency—her body naked and wrecked, with his seed spilling from her holes. Then, her belly round with his children. Just the thought devolved him like his civilized nature was sucked back into a black hole.

Wordless whimpers poured from her lips as her taut muscles succumbed to his girth. Calloused fingertips reached further down, brushing against the hood of her clit. She jolted in his arms with the slightest touch.

At that moment, Honey’s world disappeared. Nothing existed but the exquisite ache between her legs. 

The conquerer inside him preened. “Is that the spot? Is that where it hurts, baby?” he purred into her ear with a filthy, predatory voice. Her body answered him, rewarding him with a delicious squeeze around his shaft. “That’s it,” Peter groaned, insatiable. “Good girl. So good for me.” 

His praise, even if it was teasing, was too much. Peter’s affirmations, paired with his ministrations, tightened the coil in her stomach. Exhaustion crept up on her body even as the bubble of desire swelled.

Ever so slowly, his hips pitched back and then forward. He bottomed out again at the end of the languid stroke. A shattered mewl burst from her lips, pussy pulsating around his dick.

She was magnificent. 

”Fuck, baby. Feels s-so fuckin’ good—ahh, I missed this tight pussy so much. Wanted to play with her so bad…”

Peter’s hips moved of their own accord. They were a pornographic masterpiece in the decorative mirrors situated around the room. He stole a greedy glance at the couple’s reflection. Smiling wickedly, he turned her head, making her see what he was seeing.

Honey’s stomach fluttered at the sight of her body—glistening and restrained—slotted against him. Her head bobbed as Peter gripped her hips and fucked into her like a sex doll. 

Perverse. Debauched. Divine. It made her lightheaded.

Slowly, he increased the pace of his thrusts, panting into her ear. At some point, she started muttering. Broken and embarrassingly desperate pleas and pet names tumbled unwittingly out of her mouth.

One of them must have caught his attention. But she honestly couldn’t remember what she had said.

“Ugh—I lose my fuckin’ mind when you call me that name,” he growled, throwing his head back. “Ya know that, precious? Such a good girl for me. Good girls get spoiled.” 

Honey’s body thrummed at his baby talk. In all its depravity, she started to suspect what she must have said in all its depravity. Slowly, she was losing the ability to be ashamed.

The slick-coated pad of Peter’s thumb circled her clit, before traveling down further. He curiously prodded where they were joined—“Fuck, look at how good ya open up for me.” — His fingers trailed the outline of her stretched hymen wrapped around his cock.

Honey closed her eyes and turned away, blushing from his praise. Timid about how she relished in the filth. Peter brought his lips to her ear as if there was a secret the two of them shared.

“Don’t worry, baby. I gotcha—Daddy’s gonna make the ache go away.”

The spring snapped. She was nearly knocked over by the wave of pleasure that followed. Her pussy fluttered around his cock with no warning, body trembling and toes curling. Her cream gushed down his shaft. 

He snickered as if he’d won a prize. 

Honey could vaguely recognize her pathetic voice through the bells in her ears. She squealed and cried out over his repetitive, patronizing chants — “Awwgoodgirl, fuckin’ so-so perfect— squeezin’ me so tight” — while he fucked her through her orgasm.

It felt like several moments of pure pink haze, herself a willing victim to his delicious, relentless pull. 

“Shit, sweetie, did you just come all over my cock?” he asked, exasperated.

Embarrassment flooded her despite her persistent mewling. 

“Don’t cry, baby. Don’chu worry,” he murmured affectionately, himself obsessed with the cavern of her divine flesh. “When I said I was gonna make you my toy, I meant it.” She whimpered, nodding her head as it rested back against his shoulder. “M’not finished with you,” he said, dropping an octave. “Not by a long shot.”

Time ceased to have true meaning. Peter rammed into her steadily.

“Please don’stop, please use me, please, wan’more—” She yelped like a puppy.

He smiled against her sweaty skin. “Yeah? Ya like bein’ a good girl? My good girl?”

“I’llbegoodI’llbegoodm’yours—fuck—yoursyoursyours—”

“That’s right, sweetheart,” he groaned, with another curse beneath his breath. Eyes drifted shut. “Good, good girl.”

All he could think of was more. 

More of that sound. More of her juices. More of her staccato breaths as he fucked her tits into a steady bounce on her chest. More of her whining, whimpering like a bitch in heat.

“All mine, all mine…”

Peter needed more of her. He needed to watch her fall apart on his cock again. Honey was so close already; he could feel it. He’d give her another orgasm, one that leaves her in tears. Then another. He was going to fuck her into submission atop the throne he built for her. She was already his queen. 

Then—He’d make her his whore.

Flip her on her back against the table—or couch— countertop—fuck, maybe the bed if he could remember where it was. Whatever he could reach first. 

Then he’d split her open again on his cock. That way, he could see the enraptured awe on her face. The neediness. Big, round, wet eyes pleading for his touch, calling him filthy names, as his cock bulges below her pubic bone. Begging him to rearrange her guts.

It was heavenly to witness. Peter loved watching her come. And he would, over and over. Once he relocated her to his bed—as soon as he remembered where it was— he could tie her to it.

Not that Honey was fighting at the present. There was no fight in her body, except maybe the will to keep conscious. With every strike against her cervix, she spread herself wider for him. 

But Peter knew she would like it. Honey wanted his unforgiving ecstasy. To take out the mounting frustration of the last few months on her wet pussy. 

“M’gonna fuck you so good, babygirl, m’gonna use your body like my fucktoy—make me feel s-sogood, don’worry—“ 

Honey full-body shuddered with a sob, her head thrown back against his shoulder. 

“S’okay, baby, you can scream if y’want, makes it feel better, doesn’t it, huh—”

Cock-drunk, she nodded, her words coming out as puffs of air.

“Don’stop—don’stop—please, fuck— fuckmehardDaddyIneedit—“

Oh. 

More. Of. That.

“M’not lettin’ you get away again…” he muttered, voice emerging from beneath his twitching abdominal muscles. With possessed eyes, he was glued to where they joined. “Never—never gonna let you go again… All mine now, Honey—you’re all mine…”

Her arms came up to circle the back of his neck as she panted into his throat. “My-my pussy is yours…”

“Everything,” he corrected.

“Everythi—god—I’m yours, Pete—ahh!”

Peter was getting close. No matter. He’d let himself come inside her soon. There was plenty more to follow. 

He barely recognized his own wrecked voice. “’m not leavin,’ baby. I’m not leavin’ ever.”

A gust of wind followed him as the front door to the suite slammed shut. Peter stood alone in the hotel hallway wearing a sheen of sweat... and nothing else. 

He flushed pink, fumbling to cover himself behind his hands. The cool air made the task easier.

Peter sighed. He’d need to talk to maintenance about better insulation up here.

But not right now. Not while Peter Parker stood ass-naked outside of his door, having been kicked out like a cheap fuck. 

Which might have been Honey’s point, he recognized.

The evidence of their past hour together made his skin sticky. She’d tousled his hair and etched into his back with her nails. He felt sore in places he hadn’t felt in years.

Peter also looked thoroughly fucked. A mixture of pain and relief surged through his muscles. His brain was branded with erotic images of her. He wanted them there.

The door opened again, lifting his hopes. He only caught a fleeting glimpse of Honey, wrapped sloppily in a bathrobe. The rest of her didn’t look much better than Peter. She wore a sour yet adorable scowl on her face.

With a huff, Honey hurled a tight wad of fabric at his nuts, unintentionally intentional in her aim. 

Peter oofed, doubling over to catch the ball of his clothes. At the same time, an Italian leather shoe smacked him in the head. Probably his Tom Ford’s. He heard the door slam closed again, rattling against the frame.

Perplexed, Peter gazed at the molding of the door and the gleaming golden script marking the room number. 

He wondered. 

Would she open the door again to throw him the other shoe? 

Or perhaps the slacks that went along with the dress shirt covering his balls?

Unlikely.

He marveled. 

The nerve of this woman. This goddess-barista who served him his soul in a paper cup. Who held the keys to his heart, his home, and presently, his hotel room. Who somehow managed to kick him out of the penthouse suite of his own hotel. 

Within the confines of his ruined dress shirt, Peter felt another buzz. He fumbled with the shirt, reaching the smartphone concealed inside.

>>> have you moved onto the main course? >>> or are you still tossing the salad? >>> pouring ranch on her hidden valley

Felicia. Peter’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head. With a sigh, he tapped out a reply.

<<<  Kitchen’s closed.  <<< Need clothes. And a new room.

He saw the ellipsis bubbling up on his screen. 

<<< Not another word.

As soon as the message was sent, Peter took another glance at his empty surroundings. Haplessly, he looked toward the closed door. A river of memories flooded him. It surged, swelled, and finally, came to a low simmer.

This was never going to be easy. Nothing ever was with her.

Nothing worth waiting for ever is.

“See you at breakfast,” he whispered aloud lips curled into a smile. “Sleep tight.”

Holding her breath and her ear to the door, Honey waited until Peter’s footsteps faded. When she could no longer hear them, she sighed with exasperation, overcome with exhaustion. Eyes falling closed, Honey leaned back against the door, body aching in places she would feel for days.

After taking a moment, she heard a buzzing sound further in the suite. Honey jumped with alarm, then stumbled on Fawn’s feet to reach the source.

Quickly, Honey waddled to the remains of her yellow dress, fishing out the buzzing object: a 10-year-old smartphone with a black glittery hard case. A holographic cat sticker was fixed to the back, shimmering in the dim light. 

Not just any cat.

She unlocked the phone to see the latest message.

>>> how’d it go? u give him hell?

The heaviest exhale left Honey’s chest, shame creeping up her chest. With her thumb, she scrolled up to review the text messages sent to her. The oldest of which dated back almost four months.

Weeks of correspondence and reassurance from Felicia, not to mention very clear instructions about Peter Parker and how to play his game. 

There was the one from last month:

>>> don’t let him think for one second that you’re gonna let him get off easy!

Then one from last week:

>>> make him suffer. make him grovel. make him lay down in a puddle so you can cross

And these:

>>> go to dinner, but don’t eat anything. order wine, the most expensive one, take one sip and refuse the rest. you pick the restaurant. if he picks the restaurant, hate everything about it >>> play hard to get— but don’t be too cold >>> be flirty. but not slutty.  >>> give him bedroom eyes, but don’t let him stare at you too long.

Finally, there was a clear instruction sent earlier today.

>>> under no circumstances >>> no matter what >>> you need to remember this >>> DO NOT FUCK HIM!!1

Honey frowned as she gazed at Felicia’s text message bubble, sent with so much hope and good intention. A notion soundly defeated. A truly hopeless endeavor, if there ever was one.

Biting her lip, Honey tapped out a reply to her confidant:

<<< Sure did.

Continue to Part 2 - Bittersweet

Back to S&V Masterlist • Back to Main

Thank you for everything you do. Please keep fanfic healthy and support my writing with a reblog.

[lambygoat]

Honestly, i really do consider all people who treat Vatred as this, just like constant stain mark on the shows reputation and plot of the episodes he's in to be deeply unserious. Especially when it comes to the type of show they are watching.

No I'm not only referring to the 'aha the adult swim show from the early 2000s is being edgy again please laugh' aspect but like, the inherent importance of change when it comes to the show's narrative. Did we watch the same show? The same episodes? Did we perceive the same character?

I obviously understand some folk's kneejerk reaction to molestation being mentioned/implied/shown, and at first i too was disgusted with Hatred's character, but I feel like ignoring his following characterization on the show in favor of still viewing him through a running gag that was clearly made in bad faith at the start of the character's introduction, BEFORE he joined Team Venture and went through a very explicit character arc, to just be sooo blatantly choosing to ignore the point the show's trying to make on this one specific character.

Just like all other main characters on this show, he was/(still is but no longer in that direction) a bad person who did terrible things, characterized this way just for the sake of shock value who then went on to develop more as a person with real motivations behind him and who then stopped being a one-off gag character and started being someone worth caring for.

Believe me, I wouldn't have been even CLOSE to liking Hatred's character if he had remained as he was pre-joining and I would've, in fact, pretty openly despised him and believed him to be a bad choice to keep around. But that wasn't, and isn't what Vatred's character is now.

He wasn't even a pedophile by no fault of his own but as a side effect of the Supersoldier serum, and when he became part of the main cast, the show wasted no opportunity to drive in how ASHAMED he was of that fact. He explicitly took meds for it. (All of these choices obviously made by the writers to have a basis to build off of after deciding to pick him up as Rusty's bodyguard in Brock's absence).

When he finally had a chance to be redeemed, he took it. He made a consistent effort to be a good example for the boys, to be an efficient bodyguard, to be that other fatherly figure Hank and Dean needed when Brock was gone. Hell, I can even say with confidence that he WAS a better fatherly figure than both Brock and Rusty combined. He made an effort to better himself, clearly recognized the dangers he posed to the boys, and dealt with it with a clear intent NOT TO HURT THEM. He got better. And even after not having the obligation to, he stuck around with the Ventures. He wanted to be a part of the boy's lives. He cared. He was not the same character as he was before. It was a gradual and intentional change the show chose to make him go through.

You guys are attaching real-world importance to a previous character trait that is, by now, long gone, regarding the character and the state he's in. Real-world importance that seemingly does not apply to other crimes constantly being committed by the rest of the main cast (see: Brock and his unabashed killing of henchmen and uninvolved people in general, Rusty's obvious disregard towards consent and constant sexual harassment of Sheila and many other women on the show, not to mention the various unethical experiments he has conducted on other people without their knowledge i.e That Whole Dome Episode and also Cloning his Sons...), and, honestly, it really does feel like people are being reactionary when addressing him and only him as the Single Worst Character of Venture bros. Please interpret media better thank you in advance 🙏

(Obligatory 'I am not supporting real-life pedophilia I am talking about a character from an adult TV show.' sign)

[mae-lou-ron]

Is this thing on? Hello my fellow feral clone fans!

Call me Mae! I post stupid shit over on @covert1ntrovert, but I am new to posting my fics for goblin consumption.

I like to write about my favorite clones, the bad ass women of star wars, fix its and reader inserts. I write mainly sfw, fluff, hurt/comfort, but I will be re/posting some NSFW work (so, sorry kiddos GTFO, this isn’t for you)

my rules of engagement are as follows: be kind or leave, no cloneshipping/clonecest, whump (your girl needs comfort with her hurt), no noncon or dubcon or really anything of questionable consent (no sex pollen either- I’m not averse to the concept when done respectfully, but I do not want to write them). No minor/child character shipping (e.g. rexsoka, padawan/master, or characters clearly written as a family unit dynamic like sabezra)

You do you, those things just feel icky to me.

If that seems cool to you then check out my Master List.

I am not afraid to use the block button. Like I said above, be kind or leave.

I’ll be using the tag #mae lou ron writes on all the fics I post.

Also if you like something, please consider a ✨reblog✨ too! It’s lovely and makes me kick my feet with joy.

Aaaaaand I'm not sure how to end this.

[lizzie-queenofmeigas]

if green team stans are r*p* apologists (aegon), as team black keeps saying, then these very same people are apologists of violence against women (daemon).

This made me laugh - most TB are not Daemon apologists at all because we have actually accepted his characters flaws and do not try to seperate them from his character or make up bullshit headcanons about him. TB don’t try to defend Daemon using violence or justify it - at most people are annoyed about the scene because there was no indication in the book that he was ever violent toward Rhaenyra in particular but, as for the scene itself, again, I’ve not seen anyone in TB trying to justify or defend his actions. Most have (very reluctantly) accepted it and moved on.

Greencels on the other hand when it comes to Aegon… Greencels claim

- they didn’t see it so, it might not have happened.

- claims that Aegon doesn’t understand consent therefore it’s not really rape.

- claiming it’s not in the book (when it’s clearly implied that he sexually harassed the women in the keep).

- “we didn’t aegon’s side so, we don’t know what really happened”.

It goes on and on, Greencels will go to the ends of the earth to justify/completely dismiss a canonical rapist character being a rapist.

So, no, we’re not apologists of violence against women because we have actually acknowledged Daemon’s actions as being wrong and condemn it and that is the difference between TB fans and Greencels.

—

Also of that post — why does it not surprise me that we have yet another “b-b-but daemon” person when their faves are criticised lmao

They only have Daemon to equate to all of their favs being terrible and having zero redeeming qualities. And even Daemon is not as bad as Aegon and Aemond, specially not in the book.

The Greens just don't accept who their faves are. The ones that do have my respect.