Summary: Acacius returns home with an injury—and you try to care for him. But his ideas of healing (and baths) are a little ... different. Especially when you finally have some time to yourselves.
Pairing: Marcus Acacius x F!Reader
Rating: Explicit / MDNI
Word count: 2.3k
Tags: Explicit, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Handjobs, Nipple Play, Dirty Talk, Bathing/Washing, Blood & Injury, Secret Relationship, Mention of Period-Typical Violence, Mention of Period-Typical Slavery, Not historically accurate
AO3 LINK // Masterlist
notes: i can't believe i wrote smut about romans. anyway, i can't wait to see the trailer, enjoy the porn <3
domus - a type of house
dulcissima - sweetest
anaticula - little duck (affectionate)
subligaculum - a type of underwear
(i had three years of latin so i absolutely know what i'm doing)
The domus he lives in sits on the edge of Palatine hill, a small house that feels more welcoming to you than any palace could. The atrium is decorated with a variety of plants, the green colors peaking through the columns that line the sides of the open space. You’ve come to know the details of this place well, from the feel of the stones below your feet to the artistically created, coffered ceilings.
As you let your gaze wander over the sunlit atrium, you find yourself looking at the small statue that sits in the middle of a small fountain, both almost hidden by the plants around them. The water below reflects the merciless sun above and sends small reflections of light dancing across the open space. The form of Apollo stands still, frozen in a heroic movement with one arm raised and his head held high.
The god of music, of truth, and most importantly, of healing. You always think your presence in this house must please him, because since being here, you have felt more healing than you have known before.
You hear Acacius before you see him, his breath coming in a little shorter than you’d like. His footsteps sound through the atrium and you catch glimpses of him as he passes behind the columns on the other side. Even from a distance, the way he’s holding himself tells you he’s hurt, not to mention the dirt on him and his armor. The golden details usually shine in the sun—now they look almost ancient, covered in grime.
You sent a silent prayer to Apollo, your eyes briefly flying back to the statue. When you turn back towards Acacius, he has rounded the corner, making his way over to you, though much slower than he usually would. A small sigh leaves his lips as his eyes land on you and you can see his body deflate visibly.
“Acacius.”
You’re by his side in an instant, attempting to let him prop himself up on you, to use your body to support his. Instead, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a hug. You wrap your own arms around him, a hand finding his hair and attempting to brush through it—only to find it matted with blood. He must feel you tense next to him, a sharp breath escaping you as your fingers feel over his scalp, trying to locate the wound.
“Not mine,” he mumbles under his breath. He pauses for a short moment. “I promised I would come back.”
“You always do and yet I dread the day you will break that promise,” you say, a sad smile playing around your lips. You pull back enough to look at him, taking in the small cuts on his face and the deep lines between his brows that you want to smooth out until he looks as peaceful as he does in his sleep.
He does not protest when you try to take some of his weight on you, silently wishing you could take his worries too, and lead him away from the atrium and towards the small bath that is off to the side. You maneuver him through the small archway that is framed by beige columns on either side and into the middle of the room, the scent of the bath salts filling your nostrils as soon as you take a deep breath.
Acacius lifts his right arm—and immediately screws his face up in pain. You send a stern glance his way. “Let me do that.”
You nudge his arm to the side just enough to reach the leather strings that hold his armor together, slowly working your way through them until you can easily slide the dark leather off him, shaking your head weakly when you see how caked with blood and dirt it is. When you’ve placed the armor on one of the stone benches that line the wall, you move on to his braces and his shoes—and finally, the undercloth, taking it off just as carefully and leaving him in just his underwear.
And then, you suddenly see the reason he’s holding himself the way he is.
A nasty cut marks his right side, just below the ribs. You swallow hard, reaching out and tracing the dried blood around it with a motion that comes naturally. You feel Acacius shift under your fingers, bringing his own hands towards yours and wrapping them around it. They fit perfectly, his grip strong despite his injury.
Your gaze is drawn back to his face by the movement and he smiles weakly. “It looks much worse than it is, dulcissima.”
He’s not wrong. He’s definitely had worse injuries, including the time he barely made it to the atrium, instead collapsing into your arms just behind the entrance to the domus. But, quite frankly, it doesn’t mean you don’t worry.
“Why didn’t you clean yourself at the baths? They would’ve tended to your wound.” You search his face as you speak.
“I wanted to be with you.”
You sigh disapprovingly at his response, though you can’t deny you like to have him close too, especially when he’s injured. Which, with him, feels like it’s every other day.
He leans down to you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, mumbling. “It really does not hurt all that much anymore.” His arm sneaks back around you, though his hand is now wandering much lower than it did before.
You bite your lip, trying to give him another stern look but you can feel the way you begin to falter as he smoothes circles into the fabric of your tunic. “Acacius, your servants—”
“They are busy,” he assures you, dragging his lips over your cheek and towards your earlobe. “Besides, if any of them attempted to talk, I’d have their heads.”
You listen into the silence that follows, almost determined to catch a pair of feet approaching or a voice in the distance. But the only sounds that reach your ears are those of the small fountain in the atrium and Acacius’s breath against your skin.
“We won’t be disturbed,” he hums and you sigh in defeat, reaching down to undo his subligaculum, the soft fabric falling away to reveal the trail of dark hair that leads down towards his cock. You’re only mildly surprised to find him already half-hard.
“Let me clean you first at least,” you mutter, leading him further into the room and towards the small bath embedded in the tiled floor. You sit him down at the edge of it, letting him dangle his legs into the warm water. You reach for a cloth, wet it slightly and get to work. You start with his arms, watching as the dirt and blood starts to come off, revealing the tanned skin underneath.
You hear Acacius sigh above you and you feel his eyes on you, the soft gaze he looks at you with so different from the one he carries on the battlefield. His hands begin wandering again, dipping below the thin fabric of your tunic and you are just reaching down to wet the cloth again when he manhandles you into him, placing you comfortably on his lap.
You tense for a split moment before he catches your lips in a kiss—and then you hear yourself sigh as the protest inside you makes space for a fire that’s rapidly building in your lower abdomen. You can smell him, his sweat mixed with a hint of blood, you can feel the dirt rubbing off on you but you don’t care. You just want him.
His voice is a growl. “Merda, get out of that thing already.”
You obey, crawling off him and slipping the tunic off your body, carelessly letting it fall to the dirty floor. You see Acacius’s eyes raking over your body, taking in every curve like he’s seeing you for the first time rather than the hundreth.
“You are as beautiful as the gods, my dulcissima,” he mumbles, pulling you back onto his lap, one hand securely placed on your back to keep you from falling into the water behind you.
He’s careful not to lean on his bad side as he sneaks his free hand between your bodies, dragging it down ever so slowly until he reaches your mound, his index finger drawing a few circles around your bundle of nerves before moving on, a smile spreading over his lips when he finds wetness waiting for him between your legs.
You feel your breath catch in your throat as he inserts a finger without warning, the size of them always taking you slightly by surprise. His moves are shallow, never quite pulling his finger out completely but always keeping you on that delicious edge. When he adds a second one and starts curling them, he has you whimpering almost immediately.
“Marcus, please—”
“I thought I was Acacius to you. Just to make sure you do not—how did you put it—slip up,” he mumbles, a smirk on his face. The groan you intend to sound annoyed comes out much more desperate than you would like.
“You know we have to be careful—” you try to start, but with his fingers inside you, your brain simply does not work the way it usually does.
“One of these days, I’ll make you my wife,” he mumbles into your ear, his voice so low you can barely hear it. Without taking his eyes off yours, his thumb finds the spot that, combined with his words, almost drives you over the edge. “And you’ll live with me and we can make as many babies as you want.”
It catches you off-guard, but not in an unpleasant way. It’s just a fantasy, one that may very well be unattainable, but you like to let your mind drift there regardless. Judging by the twitch his cock gives against your skin, you’re clearly not the only one who does.
At that thought, you manage to hold off a bit longer and reach for him in return, enjoying the way his breath catches in his throat when your hand wraps around his attention-starved cock. His gaze flies down, to your bodies already so intertwined, touching each other impatiently. And you know he craves it as much as you do—to be even closer, to feel the weight of him nestled inside of you.
“You are so dirty,” he whispers, withdrawing his hand and making you whine at the loss. He wipes at some of the dirt on your thigh, mixing it with your own juices.
“And you seem to rather enjoy that,” you mumble back, squeezing him slightly. An affirmative chuckles leaves his throat before he lifts you up and lowers you into the small bath in front of him, the warm water immediately soothing your body.
He follows a moment later, stepping into the blue mass. A few petals swirl around on the surface, stirred by your movements in the water as he pulls you close again, his body seemingly all around you as he wraps you in his arms. Then he lowers his head, trailing kisses over your collarbone and down your skin until he reaches your chest, grazing his teeth over your hardened nipple.
“Marcus—” you whine, impatiently pressing your body into his, attempting to get any friction, a task made even harder by the water around you. “I want you inside, please.”
“Always so polite, Anaticula,” he mumbles into your skin but he does satisfy himself with one more nip at your skin before pulling back. “Is that what you want?”
You nod impatiently and feel him lining himself up below you, gently directing you towards the far edge of the bath, where he immediately braces himself against the wall for support with you in his arms—and just a moment later, you can feel him sink into you.
Your bodies mold together, his cock making you feel so deliciously full and complete. You can hear him grunt as he begins to thrust into you gently, his hands on your hips as he guides you onto him again and again, making you moan into his neck as you cling on, half a mind not to touch his injury.
Acacius groans your name, his movements speeding up slightly. “Come on, I want to see your pretty face, dulcissima.” You pull back enough to see him and press your forehead against his. Your thumb comes up to wipe a spot of dirt off his face and brush over his beard, the hairs of it more gray than dark, like they were when you first met, and for a few moments, you both just stare at each other as the water around you ripples with your movements.
“Let go for me.” It's just a whisper—and one you don’t think you could ignore if you tried. You feel the wave wash over you, your vision going weak as you fall apart—knowing that Acacius will hold you close until you’re put together again. You barely notice that he follows suit, spilling himself inside of you with whispered promises of all the things you’ll have one day.
You stay intertwined in the water like that for a while. Eventually, you begin to gather some in your hand and let it run down Acacius’s scalp, beginning to wash the dried blood out of the gray-streaked hair.
“You are going to let me put a proper bandage on your cut once we get out,” you state, earning a loyal nod from him. His eyes are searching yours again, carrying the soft look you know is reserved for you.
“I did come back,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion and you suddenly feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.
“I know.”
You kiss him softly and he kisses you back just as softly as you curl into him, inhaling his scent and pulling him close and ever closer, determined to let noone take you from him.
thank you for reading! feel free to follow my socials or leave a comment if you want more of slutty roman men <3
this was absolute PERFECTION!!! the gentleness of the reader, the cheekiness of marcus and fierce burning love between the both of them made my heart (and face) warm!!! 🤭🥹🫠❤️🔥
This is so much fun! Thank you for the tags: @bardot49 and @djarins-cyare
Tagging: @apenny4thots @capuccinodoll @604to647 @bergamote-catsandbooks @simpingforjoel @dreamedaboutitinthedark and anyone else that wants to join!
1. Where is your blog title from?
It’s a Dieter Bravo quote! Not gonna lie, I was not the biggest fan of The Bubble but Pedro made it worth watching and his character Dieter was iconic!
2. Latest movie? What did you think?
At home, I watched Hokum. I was not feeling well when I saw it so I think I need to give this one another chance cause I wasn’t paying attention too well.
In the theaters, Obsession and it was AMAZING! One of the best movies I’ve seen!!!!
3. What are you looking forward to right now?
I’ve been soooo busy lately, running all over the place so I’m looking forward to a weekend of ABSOLUTELY NOTHING! I can nap, watch movies, read, and write!
4. If you could do anything at all today, what would it be?
Sleeeeep and write!
5. Drink of choice?
Water, coffee, and tequila!
6. Hair Routine
Hair day is the WORST! I have wavy/curly hair and it’s definitely changed the older I get. I typically do a clarifying shampoo and a deep conditioner mask once a week. Other than that, shampoo, conditioner, leave in spray, humid control gel and volume mousse. Then I plop and diffuse OR I blow dry straight. Phew! It’s a process!
7. Favorite Way to Travel? Is there another way you want to try?
Trains! Driving is ok….I hate flying but I do it cause I love to go places. Other than that there is no other way I would want to travel.
8. Favorite month and why?
October! It’s spooky season, the leaves change, sweaters, and fall flavors! Honestly what’s not to love!
9. Favorite Time of Day and why?
Definitely the early morning when everything is quiet and it’s still dark. I can sit with a cup of coffee, pet my dog, and if it’s the weekend, go back to sleep.
10. Do you follow any sports?
Eh, not really.
11. What kind of music has been stuck in your head lately?
Lots of angry feminine rock—Veruca Salt, Bikini Kills and 90s pop!
12. Dishes or laundry?
Neither? Hahaha but if I had to choose I would say laundry.
13. Something you learned recently?
A new song on bass guitar!
14. What could you talk about if you have a Ted talk on anything?
Hmmm I don’t know if I truly am an expert on anything to feel confident enough to give a Ted talk.
15. Piece of advice you find yourself giving a lot.
You’re doing a great job. I find myself telling my family and friends that whenever they feel that they aren’t doing enough or if there “good” is never good enough.
16. Piece of advice you would give yourself 5 years ago.
Be patient and kind with yourself. Negative self talk is not going to get you anywhere! I still tell myself this.
17. Do you believe in luck or superstition? Do you carry any lucky items or follow any rules?
I am!!! I will throw salt over my shoulder if I spill it. Tap the roof of my car when I go through a yellow light, not listen to certain songs if I had a bad day when I listened to them. It’s insane!
18. Are you musical? Sing? Would you perform for an audience?
I am! I play bass guitar and I sing. I would sing and have sung in front of an audience but I won’t play bass.
19. Write, type, or speak?
Hmmm type and speak! My hand would cramp up if I write.
20. What do you wish someone would ask you?
I’m sorry, are we being too loud? I work in a male dominated space and the lack of respect for others is astounding! The men are SO LOUD and rude about it! Doesn’t matter if you’re on a call, etc. I HATE IT! Actually maybe that would be my Ted Talk—how men take up space in the office. 😂
Warnings: Smut, 18+ (Minors DNI!), soft but dominant Marcus, angst (you do care for him and want him, but you're oh so nervous), attentive Marcus (he wants to worship you), inexperienced reader, fluff, aftercare.
Word count: 1, 467
"So beautiful," Marcus coos, towering over you, his thumb tracing your plush bottom lip. "And all mine. The gods have smiled on me tonight." He can scarce believe the vision sitting at the foot of his bed, all sweet and doe eyed. There's a hint of uncertainty in your eyes as they search his; as if you're awaiting instruction. Your lip trembles and you fiddle with your hands in your lap. "My Lord-" "Marcus," he interrupts softly. "I'm your husband now and you will call me by my name." "M-Marcus..." you correct yourself, taking a deep breath. "I- I don't wish to disappoint you but..." You close your eyes and lower your head, your voice dropping to a timid whisper. "...I'm afraid." Your confession makes Marcus' chest constrict and his gaze softens, a sudden urge of protectiveness washing over him.
Placing his forefinger under your chin, he tilts your head up and when you open your eyes there's a glossy sheen to them. "My sweet wife, you need never fear me," he soothes. "It's not you I fear, Marcus... It's..." Your cheeks flush. "The act." A small smile tugs at Marcus' lips. He can't help but find your coyness endearing. He's had many an intimate encounter with women in the past but this is something else. His previous trysts had been nothing but a release for pent up tension, a way to scratch an itch, but with you... he doesn't want to simply know your body; he wants to know you. He wants to know the woman he married and he wants to worship every inch of you. "Did your mother tell you what to expect tonight?" Marcus asks, lowering his voice. You nod. "Yes... she said it'll hurt."
Marcus exhales through his nose, his lips pressing in a thin line. "Only a little at first but I promise you, you will enjoy it." He gently takes you by the shoulders and pulls you to your feet. He runs his hands up your bare arms, up to your hair and pulls away the ribbons woven throughout. Long locks cascade down your body and his eyes follow their path. His fingers skim along the shoulders of your wedding gown, slowly pushing the fabric past your shoulders until the garment falls at your feet and Marcus almost forgets how to breathe. In an instant his cock is throbbing hard under his tunic. Your cheeks blaze as your eyes stay locked on his chest. You can't move, can't breathe. Your whole body is on fire for this man but at the same time your nerves are getting the better of you. In a tender tone, Marcus says, "Look at me, my love." You obey and stare up into his eyes, your face betraying your anticipation.
Macrus smoothes his hands up your thighs, your skin prickling with goosebumps and you can't control the slight tremble coming from you. "I will never harm you," he promises, his eyes earnest but also firm. "You are my lady, and I'll treat you as such. Allow me to lead you tonight. Just relax and let me make you feel good." "Of course, Marcus," you reply, breathless. He slides his hands around your hips and down to your arse, cupping the globes, pressing your whole body against his. Your stomach swoops as his erection grinds against you and he claims your lips with his own, his tongue breaching your mouth. The little moan you release only seems to excite him further. He releases you, takes a step back and quickly pulls off his tunic, throwing it to the polished floor. Marcus can't suppress his smirk when your eyes widen at the sight of his hard member.
"Is my lady pleased?" he teases. Your gaze snaps to his and you stutter, "Y-yes... But... Will it...?" Marcus' smile widens. "I don't think it'll fit," you say apologetically. Marcus chuckles. "I will. I just have to prepare you to take me first." You bite your lower lip in response, your lust growing by the second. Marcus pulls you back against him, naked flesh on naked flesh and an instant throb pulses between you legs. He kisses you again, steering you backwards until your knees hit the mattress. You sink down onto the bed, Marcus' broad frame covering you. An arm, warm and thick wraps around you and you gasp when he moves you further up the bed, his knees spreading your legs. He settles his body between your legs, the tip of his head nudging your entrance.
His lips find you neck and he slowly drags them down to your chest, his tongue swirling around your puckered nipple, your back arching up to meet him. He can't stop the groan escaping him when his dick rubs along your folds, a pearl of precum hightening the sensation on his head. "You are Venus in the flesh," he breathes. "Oh, Marcus!" you whine, hands in his hair. "Shhh..." he smiles against your stomach as his kisses trail all the way down to your core. "I've got you." He licks a slow stroke along your pussy, smiling inwardly as you gasp, flinging your legs wider, your fingers punishing his hair and hips shuddering. He increases the pressure along your folds, then focuses his tongue on your clit, swirling, flicking, sucking. Your groans are heavenly! Bringing his hand between your legs his teases your hole with a finger before pushing inside, finding and stroking that soft spot that'll make you putty in his hands.
"Oh my g-" Marcus crashes his mouth to yours, swallowing your cries of pleasure as, moments later, your release soaks his hand. Fingers still pumping, he helps you ride the wave, only stopping when your body goes limp. You're in a daze; head spinning and chest heaving. The drag of your nipples along his chest is glorious, every nerve ending ten times as sensitive. "I think you're ready for me now, my love." Marcus grins down at you and all you can do is smile. He parts your lips with his cock head and slowly pushes inside. Your walls immediately clamp down around him, the burning stretch stealing your breath. Your fingers dig into his shoulders and he stills. "Relax," he murmurs, "Just let it happen." He pushes further in and a sudden sharp sensation has you whimpering. Marcus presses a kiss to your forehead. "It's okay. You're doing so well."
After a few seconds he begins to move, slowly dragging his thick shaft along your walls. You can feel every ridge, every vein as he plunges in and out of you. "Open your eyes," Marcus whispers. "I want to witness your pleasure." You do as you're told and when your eyes meet his, the tension in your body eases. He's looking at you like a man enraptured, like he can't believe this is real. You've never felt more treasured, more loved. Without warning, a warmth builds inside your core, a delicious tide of pleasure getting stronger and stronger. Marcus sees clearly the shift from pain to pleasure on your face and he picks up his pace, pulling his hips back further and pressing deeper and faster into you again and again and again. Your clamping walls and the sound of his name on your lips as you come tips him over the edge and he moans as he spills his hot seed into your womb.
Sweat clings to his curly hair as he kisses you deep and slow, your warm breathes mingling. "How are you feeling, wife?" he asks, holding your gaze. Your blissful smile tells him everything before you say it. "I feel incredible, husband. Did you enjoy it?" Marcus grins. "So much! I'll never be able to get enough of you." You pull his head down for another searing kiss. That was everything you could have wanted on your wedding night; tender, loving and passionate. The fear you'd felt is now a distant memory, replaced with the intimacy you'll always share with Marcus from now on. Marcus length softens inside you and you wince as he pulls out. He notices, a frown on his face. "Are you sore?" "A little," you relpy. "But it's okay. You were... you were amazing, Marcus." "As were you," Marcus declares, cupping your cheek.
Laying on his back, he takes you with him, holding you in his arms. You sigh, and press a kiss to his collar bone. Your body lays stretched over his and he can feel the beat of your heart in time with his own. In all his years he never imagined a connection like the one he feels with you. It's as if this was meant to be; ordained by the gods themselves, and he will give them praise every day for bringing you into his life.
18+, Minors Do Not Interact
Pairing: Pleasure!Dom Pike x Female!Reader
Word Count: 2.8k
Summary: Just a casual evening with your pleasure dom husband and as many as orgasm as he thinks you can handle. There is zero plot here, people.
CW: so many orgasms, light bondage, temperature play, use of pet names (baby, honey, etc.) praise kink (obviously, unless you're new here. In that case; hi, welcome, I have a praise kink), aftercare
AN: I need this man more than I need food or oxygen or money. I'm out of my mind over him and I curse the day I decided to watch these random ass episodes of The Mentalist. Friendy reminder that I am phasing out my tag list, so please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates and turn on the notifications to stay up to date. Thank you so much for reading, where's my Pike Army? XO
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Masterlist
The warm oil drizzles over your mound, spreading across your hips and cunt. You let out a pained hiss when it hits your sore and overstimulated clit.
“Ouuchh,” you whine, your breathing shudders.
“You’ve been such a good girl,” Marcus murmurs, watching the oil as it beads and rolls in every direction. “Just relax.”
You close your eyes and try to steady your breathing. Relaxing the muscles in your arms and legs that have been pulling at the soft silk restraints for god knows how long as Marcus pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you.
He is still dressed, he had only managed to remove his suit jacket and tie before he started. He has the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled to his elbows, still tucked into the dark blue dress pants you picked up from the dry cleaner yesterday. His belt is still on, too, shoes toed off at some point during his slow torture.
You, on the other hand, are completely naked. A delicate, white silk tie around your wrists that is then looped through the headboard, stretching your arms above your head. Your ankles are held much in the same way, one tie on each ankle, keeping your legs spread wide.
He’s used every means available to him to make you come tonight; fingers, tongue, your small purple vibrator, a dildo, or a combination of one or two of those things. He’s done everything except fuck you. At some point you lost count of the orgasms, lost track of when one would end and the next would start.
The oil starts to soothe the dull ache he’s caused at the apex of your thighs. Marcus’s intention is never to cause you pain, but tonight you learned that too much pleasure can feel like torture.
You let out a content sigh, muscles going gooey and pliant. “There’s my girl,” he says proudly, his strong hands coming to your hips, his thumbs needing the muscles along the crevice of your leg and pelvis.
He clears his throat gently. “I think I counted sixteen.”
You smirk and let out a small giggle, eyes still closed as you relax into his touches. He kisses the plush skin along your lower belly. His soft velvety lips are gentle, granted Marcus Pike is always gentle. Yes, he’ll tie you down or make you orgasm so many times you black out, but he’s always soft and warm. Always asking for permissions. Always explaining exactly what’s going to happen before it does - not that you have an option, or want an option if you’re being honest.
“Baby girl?” He mumbles, his breath hitting the oil, warming your most sensitive spots. You shudder, an icy shiver running down your spine at the feel of him. “Think we can get you to twenty?”
His hands move to massage the tops of your thighs, thumbs crawling closer and closer to your pussy. Your clit twitches at the promise of him giving you another orgasm, that blissful tingle causes the tired and overworked walls of your cunt to flutter. Pleasure followed by a dull painful ache waves across your center and mix of a whine and whimper fills the room.
“What’s the matter, baby?”
His thumbs come to carefully pull apart your puffy outer lips. Watching intently as the oil coats your glistening folds. A moan rumbled in his chest, “Beautiful.”
“I’m sensitive, Marcus,” you murmur, pulling at the silk ties he has your hands bound above your head with.
“I know, this perfect little pussy has taken so much. And you’ve been so brave and submissive. I’m so proud of you, honey.” He places a light kiss on the patch of hair right above your clit.
Your orgasm happens so quickly and without him even touching you. A lustful gasp leaves your lips as you shake under him. His voice is full of lustful admiration as he says, “Good job, baby.”
Your muscles tense, hands fisting, as the orgasm rolls through you. You whine his name, equally desperate for the orgasm to end but also for it to never stop. “Just relax, that’s my good girl.”
“Oh god,” your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath.
“Look at me, darling.” Marcus said sweetly, the soft pads of his thumbs running up and down the slick lips of your pussy.
You look down at him, the soft expression of his face riddling you with emotions. You can feel the tears prickle behind your eyes. Tears of what you aren’t sure. Happiness, that’s for sure. But also a sense of overwhelm and insatiable need, it’s all mixed together. You can stop it, a hot tear runs down your flushed cheek.
“It’s ok. I’m right here,” He says softly. “You can do this, baby. Just three more, then I’ll run you a bubble bath and give you my sweat pants and all the cuddles. Can you do that? Can you give me three more?”
“No,” you say through a shaky breath. He’s trying to kill you, you’re sure of it. And while death by orgasm might sound like a great way to go, your pussy is aching and tired.
His thumbs stop their ministrations.
“Do you need to use your safe word?”
You shake your head, “No.”
He lowers his mouth to your swollen clit, lightly feathers his tongue over the tender bundle of nerves. You pull so hard on the restraints that the delicate silk snaps and your hands card through his hair, pulling him back. He has you on that paper thin line of pain and pleasure, but the slight attention to your puffy clit slices through you. “Nonono - please stop.”
“Do you need to use your safe word?” He asks again.
You shake your head no.
“Do you need me to go get some ice? Make my tongue nice and cold, then make your pussy feel better?”
“Yes, please.” You pout, sticking out your bottom lip.
Marcus stands and removes his belt. “Ok baby, but first, my naughty little girl broke her restraints. Arms up.”
You put your arms back above your head and he expertly loops the belt around your wrists. He leaves the scraps of silk that are still around your delicate wrists and then wraps the belt around the headboard.
He stands beside the bed, looking down at you hungrily. “Fuck, I could torture you for hours,” his eyes flick to the alarm clock across the from you and then back to your flushed face. Smirking a little, he corrects himself. “I already have been, so I guess I should say that I will never be sick of seeing you like this. So submissive and sweet. Listening to my every word. Teetering on the edge of pain and pleasure. You’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”
He runs the back of his hand down your cheek, you keen into his touch and smile at him. “Yes, I’m a good girl, Marcus.”
He bends down, kissing your forehead and then the tip of your nose before he walks out of the bedroom. You look him up and down, so sexy in his dress pants and white dress shirt, his strong, veiny forearms on display. You had no idea what you were in for when he ditched the tie and suit jacket the moment he walked in the door tonight. But you knew that look. When frustration etched his eyebrows and a hunger flashed in his eyes. You knew he needed an escape, and you knew it came in the form doing exactly as he says.
Marcus grabs a small bowl and fills it with ice from the freezer. He grabs you a bottle of water and then pops an ice cube in his mouth, letting the frozen water melt on his tongue as he walks back up the stairs. As he re-enters the bedroom he sees you lying there - spread eagle and arms bound, eyes closed peacefully, long lashes resting on your cheeks. Your swollen tits rise and fall, nipples hard and slightly purple from the rose gold clamps he had on them earlier. You look sinful and delicious. He meant what he said, he could do this to you forever and never get sick of it. But as your pleasure dom he knows he’s going to have to stop soon. The folds of your pussy are puffy and red, he sucks the ice cube harder, making it small enough so he can speak.
“Goddamn,” it comes out as groan. “You’re so fuckin beautiful.”
You flutter your eyes open, “So are you.”
You swear he blushes as a shy smile crosses his face. “I’m going to make it all better now, baby. I’m going to use my mouth to make you come again now. My tongue is nice and cool, it should help with that ache.”
He puts the water on the bench at the foot of the bed and then climbs between your legs, placing the bowl of ice on the bed beside your hip. “Are you ready, baby girl?”
You gulp before whispering, “Yes.”
His cold tongue licks a slow, flat, languid line from your entrance to your clit. The cooler temperature of his mouth soothes the burning heat between your thighs.
“Mmmm - Th-thank you, Marcus,” you hum as he repeats the motion with his tongue two, three, four more times.
He grabs a new ice cube and pops it in his mouth. As he sucks on it, he grabs a second cube and runs it down the right outer lip of your cunt. He hushes you as you cry out and then does the same thing to the left side. The cube in his mouth has melted enough now for him to continue tasting you. He places the flat of his tongue on your clit and presses down, his hand with the ice cube comes to your right nipple. Ice starts to combat the fire in your veins, and as he trails the ice cube around your nipple, his tongue mirrors the pattern on your swollen nub.
And then it happens again. For the eighteenth time tonight, your orgasm hits you out of nowhere. Your convulse under his cold tongue and as quickly as the orgasm starts it’s over. You’d think after coming this many times in the last two hours that you’d be satisfied and exhausted, but the quickness of that last one leaves you wanting more.
He stills his tongue and lets you grind on him, the ice cube he was trailing along your body has melted. He grabs a fresh one and traces it along your body as you shamelessly hump your husband’s face.
He brings the ice cube to rest right above your mound, the cold water running down your folds, causing you to hiss as it hits your clit.
Marcus pulls his tongue away quickly to say, “Come on, baby.” He lays his tongue out for you again and you push your hips into him harder.
“Fuckfuckfuck - Marcus, I - I’m, oh fuuuuuck.”
He slips the ice cube between his tongue and your cunt and you shatter around him.
“Oh god, mmmmm, yes.” Your voice is hoarse, throat dry from the combination of your rapid breathing and incoherent ramblings throughout the night.
He stays still, letting you control your nineteenth orgasm. His name spills from your lips as you circle your hips. The walls of your pussy clench and release around nothing, slowly and deeply, over and over. Sparks of pleasure light behind your eyes.
“Marcus. Yesyes - oh my god,” your legs start to tremble as you come down the other side of the most intense orgasm you’ve had so far tonight.
“Good girl,” he whispers, kissing up your hip bone to your stomach, your navel to your sternum, the swell of your breasts to your neck, and finally your lips. “You’re doing so well, baby. Just one more. Can you do just one more for me?”
You strain your neck to press your lips to his again. Kissing him deeply and slowly. “One more,” you mumble into his lips.
“I’m going to untie you for this one. I want to feel your fingers tug at my hair as I suck on that perfect little clit while pushing my fingers against that little spot inside of you that drives you absolutely wild. Is that ok, little one?”
“Mmm,” you hum. Mischievously adding, “Yes, daddy.”
Marcus laughs flirtatiously as he releases your wrists from his belt and the torn silk ties. “Are you okay, baby?”
You nod as he guides your arms down and then situates himself between your soft, plush thighs, sitting back on his heels.
“Do you need a drink?” He asks, grabbing the water from the foot of the bed.
“Yes, please.”
He cracks the lid and then helps you sit, guiding the bottle to your lips. You sip a little, the cool water soothes your throat. Marcus’s brown eyes bore into you, soothing the rest of your body. “One more, baby,” he whispers.
You hum in agreement before lying back down in the bed. Marcus leaves your ankles restrained as he unbuttons his dress shirt and then tosses it on the floor. You eye his hard chest and slightly soft belly, a line of dark hair that starts at his navel and travels down to his cock, which is rock hard under his dress pants.
He gives you a shy closed lip smile, “Do you need to use your safe word?”
“No,” you say breathily.
Marcus grabs an ice cube and holds it in his fist, his lips coming to place lingering kisses on your clit. Making out with one of his favourite parts of you. Kissing and kissing, occasionally running his tongue along it before kissing you deeply again.
Once the ice cube in his hand has melted, he teases at your entrance with two cold fingers. You cry out, as pushes them all the way in and then he curls them forward, turning you into a moaning mess. You wrap your fingers into his hair like he asked, holding his face against you.
“That’s my girl,” he says between kisses. “So good for me.”
He sucks your clit into his mouth, pumping his fingers against your g spot. A pained cry passes your lips, “aah, it hurts.”
“I know, baby. You’re so close.” He whispers encouragingly, pausing the suckling on your clit, keeping his fingers still.
“I - I can’t.”
“You can do it, baby. You’re almost there. I can feel you clenching me.” He curls his fingers forward slowly. “Come on, my love.”
“M - Marcus. It hurts, baby. I can’t. I can’t.” You whimper.
“Relax, baby.” His free hand presses on your lower belly and the pressure behind your navel becomes nearly unbearable. “That’s it, fuck baby. I can feel her fluttering for me. Can feel your orgasm building. You’re amazing, did you know that? Give me number twenty, pretty girl.”
You whimper again, willing your body to relax. Willing for the dull painful ache to blossom into pleasure.
“Good girl. Just relax,” he presses down on your stomach harder, his fingers still cold inside you as they tickle against the front wall of your pussy.
You tighten your grip in his hair and he hisses at the pain in his scalp before bringing his lips back to your clit. He sucks it into his mouth loudly, lewd sucking noises filling the room, only interrupted by your mumbles of building pleasure.
He releases your clit, “Let go for me.”
With a final steadying breath it hits you. Your last orgasm sashes over, erasing every thought until all you are is the pleasure Marcus gives you. Your abused pussy flutters weakly around his fingers as he pumps them inside of you. You gasp and squeal as your body breaks out in goosebumps, but simultaneously glistens with a fresh sheen of sweat.
Marcus slows his fingers and looks up at you through his lashes. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers in awe as the involuntary full body twitching of your orgasm starts to slow.
“So…” he kisses your mound.
“...Very…” he stops his fingers and kisses your hip.
“...Beautiful,” he starts to slowly slip his fingers out and your body goes slack.
You lay there panting, trying to catch your breath and find your muscles. Marcus unties your ankles and climbs beside you, pulling you into him and tucking your head into his neck.
“I love you,” he murmurs into your hairline, kissing you softly. “You did so well for me. Twenty orgasms. My good girl.”
You roll into him tighter and wince when your thighs squeeze together.
“Aw, baby. Is she sore?”
You pull back to be able to look at him. “A little, yeah.”
“Come here,” he pulls you closer. “Just let me hold you a little and then I’ll run you that bubble bath I promised.”
“Will you come in with me?” You ask sleepily.
Marcus laughs gently, “Of course. Whatever my baby wants.”
You nuzzle deeper into his skin and let your eyelids close. Completely and utterly surrounded by your beautiful husband.
Novel outline - a document that includes important planning information about your novel’s structure, plot, characters, scenes, and more. It is the skeleton of your novel.
An outline can be anything from a one-page written document to a comprehensive visual mindmap that uses diagrams to represent the link between information and ideas.
If you have the space, you can write your sentences on index cards and post them on a wall to make it easier to view and manipulate the parts.
Each event should be a single, short sentence (e.g. Danny gets shot in the leg).
How to Create a Novel Outline
Grab your notebook (or index cards) and follow these simple steps:
1. Craft your premise
This is the underlying idea for your story.
A good way to find the premise is to ask yourself, “What would happen if…?”
For example: What would happen if a young man who survives a shipwreck spends months in a lifeboat with a large Bengal tiger? (Life of Pi, 2001) Or: What would happen if four strangers met in an Italian villa during World War II? (The English Patient, 1992).
Next, it might help to try and answer a few key questions to help expand on the premise and generate new ideas. Things like:
Who is the main protagonist?
What is the situation?
How will the protagonist change from the beginning of the novel to the end?
What is her/her objective?
What does he/she want?
How does he/she get or not get what they want?
Is there an opposing force that is stopping the protagonist from achieving this objective?
What is the central conflict of the novel?
What about the central theme—what are you trying to say?
Once you’ve worked out the answers to these questions, write a 1-paragraph summary of the novel. Think of it as an elevator pitch.
2. Determine your setting
In a novel, the setting (time, place) can be just as important as the characters. Readers need to feel a sense of where things are happening, just as much as why they’re happening.
Planning setting can depend on a number of things, depending on what kind of novel you’re writing. Get to know your setting intimately. Do as much research as you can. If your novel is set in the real world, find photos, descriptions, and other materials to inform your ideas.
Is your novel set in a boarding school? During a particular period in time?
Find as much information, both written and visual, about boarding schools in that time. Picture your settings in your mind, and write down as much detail as you can: everything from how something looks and sounds to how it might smell, taste, or feel.
3. Get to know your characters
Write character profiles. Visualize them. Pretend you’re introducing these characters to your friends. What would you say about them? What details would you include, and what details would you omit—and why? What kind of journey will each character undertake in the novel? Where will they start, and where will they end up? Who will be central to the novel’s plot, and who will just serve as color and background?
Develop character backstories. Think of the moments in each character’s life that have led them to the point where they are introduced in the novel. What elements have shaped their personality and progression as characters? Do they have unresolved issues crucial to the plot?
One method is to conduct a Q&A with the most important characters, as a way of finding out more about them. Ask your characters a series of questions (get as personal as you want) and have him/her answer in his/her own words.
4. Construct your plot
Construct a timeline of events. Write down everything that happens in the novel, from the beginning to the end. Include details where you can, such as where the events take place, and who is involved. If you know the outcome of the events, and how they will impact the novel’s overall plot, include this as well (these can help form the foundation of additional subplots).
Beginning: The beginning of your novel has to accomplish a lot. It must introduce the hero, the villain, and the world of the story, as well as the story’s sole dramatic question, and it must do this with enough energy to grab your reader’s interest right away. A prologue can be useful for seizing the reader’s attention.
Middle: Often, tension evaporates in the middle of a novel, so it’s a good idea to figure out your ending first. It may not be perfect, and you can always change it later, but it’s useful to know the climax to which your characters are headed. Having that destination will help you stay focused during the “middle muddle.” Write as many short sentences as you need to describe the pathway your characters will take to reach the climax.
End: While it may seem daunting to figure out the ending so early, just return to your sole dramatic question, which already has your ending hidden within it. For example, if your question is: Will Ahab catch the whale? Then your story’s finale will be the moment when he does.
5. Write your scenes
Once your plot outline is in place, you’ll have a better idea of what scenes will need to be placed where. Add them to the outline. Flesh them out as much as you want—everything from where the action takes place to who is involved, even dialogue if you already know what you want your characters to say. Don’t worry about things making sense at this point, you’ll have time later to go back and highlight anything that feels out of place. Just focus on getting everything down so you can see it in front of you.
Once your outline is complete, you’ll be free to start writing your first draft with the knowledge that if you falter, you can always turn back to the outline to see the big picture. As you begin the writing process, watch out for gaps in logic. Refer back to the outline, and update storylines, plot points, and the timeline as you go along.
While it’s necessary to have a basic grasp of your characters and your world when you start writing, it’s not essential to know everything up front. In fact, even with the most meticulous outlines, you may still find that your characters do things to upset your plans. When this happens, follow your instincts. Don’t be afraid to toss your outline or significantly revise it mid-way through your novel. A good rule to remember is that outlines involve plotting what will happen to your characters, but in the end, your characters should determine your plot.
Classic Methods for Creating Novel Outlines
No two outlines are ever the same, however there are myriad methods to kickstart the novel outline process.
Synopsis outline. This involves the creation of a short document, usually one or two pages long, that gives you a rough idea of the novel’s structure but also leaves room for flexibility. Think of this as a synopsis of the book, hitting all the major beats: what happens in the beginning, middle, and end? What are the major plot points and twists? What is the climax? What is the resolution?
In-depth outline. This is a more evolved outline that usually involves writing chapter summaries and outlining the different scenes within those chapters. This is more comprehensive and can take a lot more time. However, some writers swear by this method to stay on track. Some in-depth outlines can almost be mini-novels themselves, hitting around the 10,000-word mark.
Snowflake method. This method was created by author and writing instructor Randy Ingermanson. It begins with a one-sentence summary of the story you’re trying to tell. For example, the sentence could be something like: “Two teenagers discover a secret cave that contains treasures that a group of criminals has been hunting for.” The snowflake method would then require you to build that sentence into a paragraph, and then use that paragraph to create a series of character descriptions, and from there a series of storylines that involve those characters. The process spans outward until you have a fully outlined novel.
Bookend method. This method is for writers who prefer to leave some things to chance. It involves plotting the start and end of the story, as well as each of the main characters—but nothing more. This method is usually recommended for writers who already have a strong grasp of the characters and the kind of story they want to tell.
Basic Questions Every Outline Should Answer
Besides listing characters and plot points for story structure, your outline should give you a general sense of the direction of your story as well as the primary conflicts and tensions that will make it intriguing for readers. Keep the following questions in mind while creating your outline:
What is the main contract of the story? You must resolve the promises you made to your reader by the end of the novel.
What sort of time pressure is working on your characters?
What is at stake for the protagonist of the novel? Does the pressure on the main characters grow more intense as the story progresses?
Pros & Cons of Creating an Outline
Some writers are comfortable creating a detailed outline for a novel. New writers in particular find it helpful to have a road map.
Others feel that writing an outline diminishes the pleasure of discovering the story along the way. They argue that working from an outline means you’re not creating anymore, you’re translating your ideas.
In the literary world, novelists who use outlines are referred to as “plotters.” Example: Ernest Hemingway.
Those who don’t are known as “pantsers” — a reference to flying by the seat of their pants. Famous pantsers include Margaret Atwood and Stephen King.
While every writer is different, there are some general pros and cons to consider before creating your novel outline.
The benefits of creating an outline:
Helps visualize the big picture
Keeps the story on track
Logs which scenes go where
Clearly presents character arcs
Acts as a guide to ease writer’s block when you’re stuck
Clarifies the middle, to avoid the “muddle”
The drawbacks of creating an outline:
Can create a stilted narrative
If followed too closely, can feel formulaic
May lead to more showing rather than telling in the actual writing
Characters may seem to make inauthentic choices, solely based on plot points instead of natural results from narrative action
Bestselling author Stephen King supposedly swears by putting interesting characters in difficult situations and just seeing what happens. He famously said: “Outlines are the last resource of bad fiction writers who wish to God they were writing masters’ theses.”
That aside, both plotters and pantsers agree on one thing: there is no correct way when it comes to novel writing. It simply depends on what kind of writer you are, and what works for you.
➸ “This is a sentence with a dialogue tag at the end,” she said.
➸ “This,” he said, “is a sentence split by a dialogue tag.”
➸ “This is a sentence,” she said. “This is a new sentence. New sentences are capitalized.”
➸ “This is a sentence followed by an action.” He stood. “They are separate sentences because he did not speak by standing.”
➸ She said, “Use a comma to introduce dialogue. The quote is capitalized when the dialogue tag is at the beginning.”
➸ “Use a comma when a dialogue tag follows a quote,” he said.
“Unless there is a question mark?” she asked.
“Or an exclamation point!” he answered. “The dialogue tag still remains uncapitalized because it’s not truly the end of the sentence.”
➸ “Periods and commas should be inside closing quotations.”
➸ “Hey!” she shouted. “Sometimes exclamation points are inside quotations.”
However, if it’s not dialogue exclamation points can also be “outside”!
➸ “Does this apply to question marks too?” he asked.
If it’s not dialogue, can question marks be “outside”? (Yes, they can.)
➸ “This applies to dashes too. Inside quotations dashes typically express—“
“Interruption” — but there are situations dashes may be outside.
➸ “You’ll notice that exclamation marks, question marks, and dashes do not have a comma after them. Ellipses don’t have a comma after them either…” she said.
➸ “My teacher said, ‘Use single quotation marks when quoting within dialogue.’”
➸ “Use paragraph breaks to indicate a new speaker,” he said.
“The readers will know it’s someone else speaking.”
➸ “If it’s the same speaker but different paragraph, keep the closing quotation off.
“This shows it’s the same character continuing to speak.”
« Just another one, baby » | Dieter Bravo x f!reader | ~1.1k words
Summary: This was written for the PPCU Smut Challenge. My prompt was Dieter x honeymoon and two extra 🔥: overstimulation and blindfolded. A perfect combo. I think that sums it all!
I want to thank @mushgloomz for this challenge. This got me inspired so fast (and abandoning other WIPs and challenges), I woke up one night at 3am, couldn’t go back to sleep and had in my head. And I was compelled to write this the next morning at work. I’m now totally obsessed with this Dieter.
CW: This is pure smut, basically pwp. Mention of smoking weed. No physical description, if I missed anything, let me know
Main Masterlist | Read on AO3
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
"Shhhh, you're doing good, so good baby. You can give me another one" You’re whimpering, a puddle in his hands and mouth. "I can't... I, I can't..." you can barely talk as your hands grip the pillow under your head, just like he asked you, because you need to be good for him.
You can feel the slight break in him, "You just have to say the word baby and I'll stop."
But you can't, you won’t, his sultry voice, his touch, him, he’s driving you crazy. And he knows you, there is no real concern here, he knows you won't ask him to stop. Because just the fact that he tells you this, it reminds you that you are in total control and it helps you. So you don't say anything, you just moan his name, the d, i and e rolling on your tongue, the second syllable almost absent, cut off by a gasp as he slowly strokes your clit with his nose.
"That's what I thought," and you can hear the smirk in his voice, before his mouth goes back to work on you again. The little reprieve he gave you helping, as he drags his tongue in and out of you, unrelenting.
You don't see him, the headscarf blinding you. But you can sense him. Everything feels brighter, louder. His touch, his mouth, light and heavy all at once, feel like anchors. His voice so low alternating between commanding and soft words, so full of desire and love. You can guess every expression on his face. You can hear the noise his mouth is making, filthy sounds that deepens your need for him, his low moans almost growls, coming out of his throat, vibrating on your core. And from the open window, the distant sound of waves, calming, like a gentle lullaby. The air is saturated with so many different smells, sex, sweat, whiffs of weed from the shared joint you had earlier but also the salt from the sea, outside your secluded bungalow.
You don't know what time it is or how long this has been going on. You just remember it was still day, close to sunset, when this delicious torture started. Even with the blindfold you can tell it’s night now. You don't even remember how many orgasm Dieter has pulled from you. But you know he's keeping count. He always does. You just let yourself be, the illusion of having no control helping you to let go of everything. You feel like your floating in and out of your body, every sense enhanced.
This is only your first day, you arrived around noon in this remote place where you will enjoy the sun and the sea and nothing else, just the two of you for the next few days. But work was still on your mind, even after the last few days, the preparation and excitement of the event having only put it in the background, never leaving you totally.
So Dieter decided to help you, like he knows so well how to. Blindfolding you and asking you lay back and keep your hands up, on your pillow, or else you would have to be punished. You almost wanted to know what he had in mind for your punishment. But you forgot as he started worshipping your body, kissing, touching, murmuring sweet praises, calling you his girl, Mrs Bravo, his voice full of pride and love, because he can't help it, loving hearing his name on you ever since your vows less then 48 hours ago. Telling you everything he had in mind to make you unwind, and how much he loved you. It was maddening. You never knew where on your body he would be next, the anticipation making it almost unbearable, until you were whimpering, begging for him to do something, anything. That’s when he plunged between your legs so, so long ago you almost regret it now, begging. It's deliciously painful, his mouth on every part of your core, kissing, licking, sucking, never relenting. Many times you felt like you were almost passing out from pleasure and overstimulation. Especially now, as his tongue is driving you insane, fucking you, his nose sliding on your clit, again and again and again. But you can feel it, the pleasure is there, so intense, so deep, your next orgasm blooming, inside of you. Your soft whimpers turn into loud moans, you’re babbling things you won't remember saying. Sensing you body is ready for more, Dieter finally plunges two fingers in you, pulling out a loud cry of pleasure from you. You have been waiting for so long to feel full. His thrusts are slow and deep as he praises you "That's my good girl, taking it so well. Do you think I can add more ? Yeah I think you can take it" and he adds a third finger and hooks them to touch you where he knows it will break you.
"You’re so good baby, squeezing me. I can't wait to feel you squeezing my cock" and god are you squeezing, the stretch of his fingers the right amount of pain and pleasure, so delicious. You’re almost there, crying out his name, chanting it like prayer, asking him to never stop, telling him how good he feels, over and over. You eyes are closed behind the blindfold, but when his mouth circles your clit, sucking it, devouring you, you open them as your back arches off the mattress, and you can't help it, your hands fly to his head, fingers griping his hair as your orgasm soars through you. You barely have time to think about the punishment you will get for this, as Dieter works you through your orgasm, with so much gentleness. After his unrelenting touch it's like a sweet reprieve. The love you feel is overwhelming as you fall back inside your body, and you murmur "I love you, so much". You feel Dieter stop and he's instantly on you taking away your blindfold looking at you straight in the eyes as he tells you "I love you too, so so much" and he is kissing you tenderly at first, then with hunger.
But before you can focus, tasting yourself on his lips and tongue, before you can really kiss him back, he pulls away and turns you on your stomach, hands gripping and pulling your thighs to him, then pushing your back to keep it down, cheek on the pillow as he plunges inside you. You gasp loudly, pleasure and pain from the overwhelming feel of him, invading all your space and senses.
"But you were… a bad girl…, didn't keep … your hands … to yourself", his words are punctuated by deep and hard thrust, that have you griping the sheets, the mattress, anything, to stay still as your crying out in pleasure.
The night is not over yet.
Comments and reblogs are always welcomed, and any feedback you want to give.
tagglist (please let me know if you want to be added/removed) : @grogusmum @guiltyasdave @here-briefly @iknowisoundcrazyreads @javierpenaismyhusband @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @yxtkiwiyxt @lillaydee @littlemisspascal @goodwithcheese @harriedandharassed @sunnytuliptime @picketniffler
I love how every time this big scary intimidating former bounty hunter who supposedly terrifies everyone he meets has been shown without his helmet, he's just a slightly pathetic [affectionate] little meow meow underneath all of his big scary armour
Awwwww, big scary Mandalorian, what are you gonna do now....
.... cry? 🥺
You don't look so scary now, you sad little cat [affectionate]
"Preparing [for the role of Nikki] was really fun. We got to watch a lot of fun movies, and kind of pick and choose, like a puzzle, what we wanted in the film. Moments that we took inspiration from, and made them our own." — Inde Navarrette for Fandango
"We watched Get Out, and focused on a lot of the moments where characters are showing an emotion underneath but saying something completely different [on the surface], and how horrific that is. There's a scene where [Nikki] is saying, "no", and there is a [similar] scene in Get Out [which we took inspiration from]." — Inde Navarrette for A Shot Magazine
Obsession (2026) Dir. Curry Barker
Get Out (2017) Dir. Jordan Peele
