#can I tag this as that even if there's no actual art in the post | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blooming-violets · 1 day

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The Exhibit

[tasm!Peter Parker x fem!Reader]

Warnings: use of pet names such as Daddy/Princess/Babygirl, BDSM in the form of dom/sub, bondage/spanking/blindfolds/nipple clamps/a bit of masochism, anal play, exhibitionism/voyeurism

WC: 8K

A/N: This was an anon request for window smut off of this prompt list but tumblr said a big no no to (what I'm assuming) was one of the gifs I used for the graphic and hid the post so I had to delete it. I'm reposting it again minus the very bad so naughty terrible gif I used. Porn bots can run free and terrorize the tags with their tits and wide open pussy on display but how dare a smut writer use a tastefully erotic, black and white, gif of a blurry couple making sweet, sweet love against a far away window. So naughty. Such a bad girl.

The elevator chimed with a pleasant musical melody as the doors slid open to their floor. There were only four rooms in this hallway. Behind each door held a luxury suit overlooking the busy streets of Florence.

Peter had gone all out for their honeymoon.

They’d spent the last week in Sardinia, making love on the beaches, drinking wine, making love on sailboats, drinking more wine, making love in their hotel room in the early morning with the windows open to enjoy the breeze…more wine…more sex…

They were struggling to keep their hands off of each other. Even now, as Peter guided her towards their room, his hand was slipped under her vibrantly red sundress and fingering the elastic waist of her cotton underwear.

They left the beaches of Sardinia to come to Florence specifically to see the art but she wondered if they would ever actually make it out of their room with the way Peter’s hands teased her. She was surprised that he wasn’t sick of her yet. Seven straight days of love making and he was still as rowdy as ever.

He let her admire the suite, watching her as he leaned against the wall, more interested in eying her legs in that dress than the luxury accommodations he had provided for them.

“Peter,” she whispered, eyes wide as she took it all in. “This is gorgeous.”

Their beachside Sardina resort had a more airy and cool feel whereas this room screamed of sophistication and class. She knew Peter had been working like crazy leading up to their wedding but she had no idea this was why.

“Like it?” He asked with an arrogant smirk toying at his lips. “A room fit for a queen.”

She dropped her bag beside the bed and kicked off her shoes, flopping backwards onto the bed to stare up at the arched ceiling with thick, exposed wooden beams. Even the ceiling was stunning.

She felt the bed sink as Peter crawled on top of her.

His white, loose button up had the first few buttons undone so his athletic chest peeked through. She loved the sight of his chest hair being exposed. He looked so relaxed, laid back, and blissful with life. Filled with wine, good food, and love. The perfect blend of medicine for him to simply shine.

He placed a soft kiss against her lips, humming appreciatively, “You look sleepy, babe. Why don’t you take a nap while I unpack our things. I’ll be quiet as a mouse.”

A nap sounded wonderful after traveling between hotels. She rolled onto her side. It was warm enough that she didn’t need to snuggle under the covers. Peter ran his hands up her bare leg and slipped under her sundress to take one last squeeze of her ass before she slept.

She awoke to light kisses tickling her stomach. Peter was laid over her legs, her dress rolled up under her breasts so he could let his lips roam over her belly.

She stretched, a sleepy smile growing on her face, as she peered down at him.

“What time is it?” She mumbled through the lingering sleep.

“Time to wake up and play,” he said. He blew a raspberry on her belly with his mouth, making her laugh. “It’s about 4 in the afternoon. You slept all morning. I missed you too much to let you keep sleeping. Wake up and play with me. I’m bored.”

He had his shirt completely unbuttoned and was stripped down to his boxers to get more comfortable while he lounged around waiting for her.

Judging by the state of his hair, he looked like he might have gotten in an hour or so of sleep, too.

“Alright, alright,” she giggled. “I’m up. Let me go freshen up and then we can go explore the city.”

Peter pulled her up to her feet and gave her a quick spank as she walked off into the bathroom. That man always needed to have a hand on her ass in some way.

By the time she came back out, she was surprised to see that he had yet to get dressed and had actually lost an item of clothing.

His shirt was now thrown onto the bed, cast aside without a care.

“Underwear is a bold choice to go walking around Italy in but I admire your confidence,” she said with a teasing smile.

Peter didn’t smile back. He had a look in eyes. A look that she knew very well.

It wasn’t the “making love” look.

It wasn’t the “quickie” look.

It was dark, ravenous, and screaming of dominance.

He had yet to give her that look on their honeymoon. So far, he'd been more playful and loving. This evening, he had other plans.

They were not leaving this hotel room any time soon.

A shiver of excitement shook off whatever sleep might have still been clinging to her mind.

She blinked and he was pouncing on top of her.

Her back hit the wall but his hand slipped protectively behind her head before it slammed, instead, falling into the cushion of his palm.

Her breath exhaled from her lips at the force but, before she could catch it, he was attacking her lips with hungry, demanding kisses. His tongue pushed possessively into her mouth at the same time he slid a hand over her breast to fondle her over her dress.

Taking what was his.

“‘Can’t stand the sight of you in this dress.”

He moaned into her open mouth.

“Makes me want to rip it straight off your body.”

He grabbed at her breasts, aggressive and horny, rutting his hips against her.

“Do you know how hard it was not to fuck you while you slept?”

Her hair was being violently pulled, head crashing against the wall, her mouth falling open into a cry.

“Laying there, all innocent, legs spread open and begging for me to touch them.”

He clawed down her bare legs. Nails dragged against her skin. Feeling like she was getting attacked by a raging bear with the force of power behind each of his movements.

“Teasing me even in your sleep. A foxy, little minx, aren’t you?”

She shuddered, lowering her voice to a whisper, ready to play along, “I picked this dress just for you. I knew what it would do to you.”

He grabbed her wrists, slamming them above her head against the wall, and holding them in place. He let out a groan, grinding his stiff cock into her thigh.

“Daddy knew his babygirl was a little tease.”

A trickle of wetness soaked into her panties at the use of her favorite pet name for himself.

What had started out as a joke early in their relationship, quickly became a genuine kink to turn them on.

With that name on his lips, she could guess what kind of torture was held in store for her. It was going to be a dizzying whirlwind of fast, hard pleasure.

Peter’s voice lowered to a near growl.

“Pretty, little thing like you shouldn’t be traipsing around in a dress like that. You don’t know who might snatch you up.”

With both her wrists bound tightly in his one hand, he lifted her off the ground, dragging her up the wall, blatantly showing off his inhuman strength so she knew exactly what he could do to her if he wanted.

To him, she weighed nothing. This was a man who had stopped moving trucks with his bare hands and thrown cars around like a kid with a ball.

He let go and she dropped the few inches back to her feet with a surprised yelp.

“You’re lucky you have me to protect you. Daddy won’t let anything bad happen to his little princess, will he?”

She was shoved straight back against the wall, getting off on the feeling of being handled so roughly.

He nipped at her ear lobe, sucking it into mouth the sounds of her tumbling whimpers.

“Do you like to show off when you wear dresses like this? Do you like having men look at you? Do you like that they imaging fucking you when you walk by?”

“I only want you to fuck me. Only you,” she whined, trying to free her hands from the hold he had on her.

“Of course I’m the only who will ever fuck you, princess.”

He tugged her hand back down to flash her newly placed wedding ring in front of her face.

“That right there means that my cock is the only one that will ever split you open again. But that doesn’t mean others can’t look. People have eyes. They can see what I’ve got hanging off my arm.”

He brushed her hair away from her neck so he could lean down to graze his lips along her pulse points, murmuring against her heated skin as he continued to taunt her with his words.

“How do you expect anyone to keep their thoughts pure when you’re walking around in this?” He pulled at the bottom of her sundress. “You’re putting on a show for them, babygirl.”

“I didn’t mean to,” she cried. “It's hot out! I wanted to stay cool.”

Strong arms twisted her around so she was facing the wall, cheek shoved against the rough wallpaper. The force knocked the air from her lungs.

He bent both her arms behind her back and a strong, sticky substance shot out to bind them in place. She knew the feel of those webs well and a smile danced on her lips.

She loved being bound.

The pressure of being restrained was like a tiny slice of heaven.

“Daddy doesn’t like it when you show off, princess.”

He flipped up the back of her dress to palm at her rounded cheek, giving it a harsh slap to the sounds of her delicious yelp.

“Do you look at other men, too, when they’re looking at you? Do you imagine yourself with them?”

She gasped in horror at the thought, “Of course not! I would never!”

No other man could ever compare to her husband. Not even in the game they were playing. There was always only Peter.

He hummed like he disapproved of her answer, “Well…just to be certain...I think we need to make sure you can’t let those eyes wander.”

Something smooth slipped over her eyes, leaving her in the darkness, while he tied the blindfold tightly behind her head.

Leather.

She smelled leather.

She couldn’t remember them ever owning a leather blindfold before. It must have been something Peter picked up when they arrived here but she couldn’t recall a time when he left her sight.

She liked how heavy it felt against her eyelids. There was no way she could peek through this one.

“There,” he whispered. “Perfect. Blind to my advances. Lost in the dark. Never knowing when or where I will touch.”

He gripped her hips and spun her back around to face him.

A wave of dizziness over took her and she swayed on unsteady, bare feet.

“Careful, babe,” he whispered with a tenderness to his voice, breaking his haughty charade, and reaching out a hand to steady her. “I got you.”

Peter teased a finger under her chin, leaning down, to kiss her again. Soft and gentle, filled with the love and joy only a newly married man on his honeymoon could give.

A coil of tension spread throughout her stomach as she melted into him.

Her mouth opened to willingly accept his tongue past her worshiped lips to kiss him with all the passion she could muster with her hands bound behind her.

Peter’s own hands couldn’t stay still for long before they began to wander.

He squeezed her breasts through her dress, molding them to his palm, and rutting his hips into her.

She moaned, long and drawn out, leaning her head back against the wall so he could attach his lips to her neck. He sucked on her pulse points like a vampire draining blood and she wished he had fangs so she could feel the sting of pain as he sank into her flesh.

And then he was gone.

She stumbled forward, nearly losing her footing without him to push against.

Her head whipped around in the dark to try and find him through sound.

It was useless.

He was as silent as a spider.

“Look at the sight of you,” he chuckled, his voice dark and deep, dripping with desire. From the sound of his voice, he was across the room near the window.

“You have no idea what you look like right now, do you? Don’t fret, I’ll describe it for you.

He was moving. Pacing back and forth down the length of the room against the far wall.

“The strap of your dress is halfway down your arm. The nipple of your left tit keeps poking over the fabric, desperate to be sucked upon. Your hair is already a damn mess and I’ve barely touched it. Your mouth keeps parting like it’s just waiting for a cock to fill it up. A horny little thing, aren’t you?”

“Mmm,” she moaned, only getting more turned by his descriptions. “Peter. Come back. Touch me.”

“That’s not my name, princess,” he shot back.

His voice sounded different now, like he was up on the ceiling.

“Daddy,” she begged, craning her blind head upwards toward the sound. “Touch me, Daddy.”

He gave a quiet laugh, “Come get me then.”

He was back on the floor. In a different corner by the bed. Jumping around the room. Silent. With only his voice to guide her.

She took an unsteady step forward, blindfolded with her hands bound behind her. She didn’t know this hotel room very well. He knew that.

Which was why he kept moving. Teasing her. Making her work for his love.

She kept inching ahead, little by little.

“Tick tock, princess. Daddy doesn’t have all day.”

Behind her.

She gasped, whirling around, stumbling back the way she came only to find nothing but air.

With another step, her body bounced against the wall he had pinned her to and she staggered backwards.

She tried to spin back to the way she started but was getting all turned around.

He laughed at her pitiful efforts.

In front of her again.

Near the windows.

Or maybe the beds?

Was he at the door?

She was spinning in circles. Getting disoriented.

This wasn’t a fair game and she was getting frustrated. Her foot stomped angrily against the rug with a grumpy whine to accompany it.

“Is my poor princess getting dizzy?”

She had half the thought to plop herself onto the floor and stay there until he came to her.

But she didn’t want to lose the game.

She was too stubborn to give up.

“Watch out,” he warned. Still by the window. At least…she thought that was the direction she was facing. “If you move any more, you’ll run straight into the side of a table. Wouldn’t want my baby girl to get hurt.”

The table. She remembered where that was in the room.

He was by the windows. He was close.

Excitement tumbled around in her stomach as she tasted her nearing victory.

She shuffled to the left, feeling the table at her hip, and kept going towards the last place she heard his voice.

Blind and bound until she heard his soft breaths directly in front of her, thankful that he hadn’t moved again.

“Good girl, you made it,” he whispered. A soft kiss was placed on her lips as a prize. “As a special reward, Daddy’s going to take your dress off, okay, baby? He’ll be really gentle even though he wants to rip it to shreds.”

She felt him snake an arm around her waist to rip through the webs binding her wrists. She immediately went to reach for him but he slapped her hands away.

“Hands at your side or else I’ll spank you,” he ordered. “I’m taking my time. I’m in Florence. I’m here to admire the art. Don’t rush me.”

The zipper at her side slowly inched down until it rested at her hip.

His big, warm hands slipped under her straps, fingers scraping along her shoulder, as he pushed them down her arms. His head fell down to kiss her shoulder, dragging his lips across her heated skin.

Her breasts held the dress up but the moment he gave a light tug to the bottom, it yielded quickly and pooled around her ankles on the floor.

His shuddered breath told her that he was enjoying the view. Bare chested, nipples taut, and in nothing but her underwear and blindfold.

The underwear didn’t last long.

Peter slid them down straight after the dress until she was completely nude.

“More beautiful than The Birth of Venus. We should put you in a frame and have tourists come to gaze upon that instead. Maybe I should dangle you from the wall…all tied up with nowhere to go…I’ll start my own museum right here since you love to be such a tease. I’ll put you on display and have everyone see the kind of beauty I married.”

She was surprised to feel a wave of appreciative tears dampening her lashes. There was genuine love and admiration behind his words.

Married. They were married. Finally.

Her husband.

She loved that she got to call him that now.

Cool air breezed against her throbbing clitoris, halting the tears, to remind her how horny he had made her before she was chasing him around the room. She was too hot and eager to think about where that breeze was coming from. Drunk on her love for him. She bucked her hips to try and find some kind of friction for her to grind on.

She squeezed her thighs together, rubbing them back and forth.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Peter teased. “Need a hand?”

“Please,” she gasped.

“Hmm,” he pretended to think about it.

She wished she could see him.

She hated that he was so close but she couldn’t see exactly where.

“I don’t know. With the way you were strutting around in that dress, showing off to the boys, I don’t know if you deserve my touch. Maybe you deserve to be punished instead? What do you think?”

He didn’t wait for any answer.

Thwip!

Her left wrist was encased in a sticky, impenetrable substance and she jumped in surprise.

She was yanked forward until she felt the cool breeze against her bare chest.

The wind was softly blowing.

She could feel it rustling through her hair and dragging up the goosebumps along her flesh.

For the first time, she questioned exactly where in the room she was.

Why did it feel like outside when they were inside?

“Pete?” Her voice wavered. “What are you-”

Her arm was dragged out to her side and lifted high above her head as she gave a yelp of fright.

“Not my name, princess,” he chastised from up on the ceiling above her.

Thwip!

The same treatment was done to her right arm until she was bound, outstretched, and helpless.

Her fingers wrapped around the thick web, holding onto it for purchase, as her toes just barely scraped along the floor.

Peter chuckled to himself in amusement at her struggles, the sound coming from the ground behind her.

Always so damn silent.

“You look like a sexier version of Jesus on the crucifix. I want to drive nails through those dainty little hands of yours and listen as you cry out for mercy.”

If her eyes weren’t confined under heavy leather, she would have rolled them in response to his dirty talk.

“That sounds very appealing. Thank you,” her voice was dry and full of sarcasm, refusing to take him seriously.

Slap!

Her entire body jerked forward from the force of his blow against her ass.

Strong. Stinging.

Done with direct intention to cause pain.

Punishing her for the sarcasm.

She shrieked, mostly from the shock than the hurt, but immediately felt a trickle of wetness run down her thigh.

“Won’t you be a good girl and remind me of my favorite rule?”

His hand spread out over the stinging, hot skin of her cheek, giving her swift, hard pats to make sure the pain didn’t disappear too quickly as he spoke.

She shivered under his touch, “Don’t talk back to Daddy. Ever.”

“Good girl,” he cooed. “Next time use that pretty, little brain of yours and think before you speak.”

Her hair was tangled in his large hand as he shook her head back and forth to further his point.

“Otherwise, I’ll be forced to ball gag you.”

Fingers slipped between her thighs.

She parted her legs the best she could for him to get better access to her core.

A squelching of wet, soaked squishing sounds followed as two long fingers sunk inside of her.

A low, deep moan of approval rumbled out his throat at the sounds.

“You are absolutely drenched, my little whore. Something tells me you liked the pain. Maybe you were using that brain after all. Did you like it when Daddy spanks his naughty girl?”

Her tumbling whines followed as nimble, expert fingers stroked at her pussy, drowning out any worded response she might give.

Coaxing her to life.

Waking up all her senses.

She tried her best to hold her legs open for him despite feeling unsteady in her web binds. She wanted him to give her as much pleasure as he could and that meant letting him have easy access.

“Does my baby like the pain?” He asked again, running the hand not buried inside of her against her still stinging ass cheek. “Come on, I asked you a question, use your words, pretty girl.”

“Mmm, yes, Daddy. I like it. I like it!”

Smack!

She yelped, throwing her head back as waves of arousal washed over her. The pain from the spank mixed with the pleasure of his touch was enough for another gush of fluids to soak into his hand.

“Look at how hard your nipples have gotten,” he gave a dreamy sigh. “Oh wait, you can’t. My sweet, blind baby. All lost in the dark with nothing to look at.”

Her breathing was becoming ragged in her ears. Her body swayed against the webs.

Knowing hands wrapped around her stomach, leaving the warmth of her cunt, much to her displeasure.

They trailed upwards, through the valley of her breasts, until they gripped around her neck.

Her mouth opened in a silent gasp.

“Guess where I went today?” His voice was nothing more than a low, darkening whisper.

She couldn’t respond. His hand had tightened around her, softly squeezing, using a mere feather touch of his strength but still able to restrict her air flow.

“While my princess was napping, Daddy slipped out to buy you some presents. Found myself a little sex shop. You would have loved it,” he mused. “They had vending machines full of toys. Picked myself up a few fun gadgets to play with.”

He released his hand from around her neck, never wanting to hold her there for too long, and admired the way she gasped for breath.

Fingers tweaked at her nipples. He hadn’t been lying before, they really were rock hard. She could feel how tight they were from his rough menstruations.

She could hear him rummaging around behind her when something cold dragged across her breasts.

“Deep breath, princess.”

Following his warning, the cold, grooved metal clamped down over her left nipple.

She let out a genuine cry, her back arching from the pain.

It gripped her tighter than his teeth ever had, dragging her nipple out from her body, and squeezing down painfully hard.

The groves made it feel like little razors digging into her sensitive flesh.

Peter huffed out a laugh in a sadistic amusement at her reaction, “You know, when the woman running the store saw these come out of the vending machine, she looked over with a nod and said something like ‘molto doloroso’. Now, I don’t speak much Italian but I’m going to assume it translates to ‘Those hurt like a bitch and your pain whore of a wife will love them.’ Am I right?”

She choked out a sob, squirming uncomfortably against the webs, “Ow. It hurts…too much…hate ‘em.”

“Oh, don’t worry, there’s another one right here! It’ll help balance out the pain so both those beautiful tits get a turn.”

Another agonizing clamp bit down against her other nipple. The sharp, grooved metal felt like it might rip her nipple straight off her breast.

The nipple clamps they had at home were capped with a smooth rubber. These were bare and ready to grip on to her tender skin with the strength of a fucking bear trap.

She let out a full scream the moment it bit down, thrashing her body in an attempt to get away from the clamps. Crocodile tears rolled down her cheek from under the blindfold.

“Shh, shh, shh!”

A heavy hand cut off her cries by wrapping around her mouth. His breath was against her ear, hushing her, soothing her, running his lips over her forehead with quick kisses.

“Not so loud, baby,” he whispered. “You’ll draw a crowd with those cries.”

“What?” She gasped through heavy, pained breaths. “Crowds?”

Peter’s hands reached up to slide the blindfold up off her eyes and tossed it onto the floor.

He took a step to the side, watching her blink in confusion, as her tear blurred sight came back into focus.

She had forgotten about the breeze.

He had distracted her.

Kept her mind occupied so she wouldn’t ask questions.

She was tied up, stark naked, and splayed out directly in front of the arched floor to ceiling window overlooking the streets of Florence.

The top half of the glass was pushed open, letting in the cool evening summer breeze, and making sure nothing muffled the sounds of her screams.

And she had been screaming.

“Peter!” She cried in horror, paranoid that anyone could look up and see her. They weren’t that high up in the hotel. Any curious person who decided to glance upwards would certainly catch her out in all her glory.

Wack!

The sound of her sore ass being slapped filled her ears.

Nothing could hurt more than her breasts at the moment and she welcomed the familiar pain his hands brought.

She also couldn’t deny that growing, aching pressure happening between her legs. Her masochistic tendencies had yet to fail her.

“Not my name,” he scolded.

She whined, bouncing her leg against the floor in protest, and trying to tug at her bindings.

“Let me down!”

She knew full well that those webs would never give but it didn’t stop her from giving it a shot.

He leaned against the wall beside the open window, arms crossed, a prideful smirk sitting on his smug face, watching her struggle.

“I told you I was going to put you on display.”

She never thought he meant it literally.

Tears burned in her eyes at the wave of shame at being so exposed.

At least the shock helped to dull the pain in her breasts.

She scanned the tight streets below and was thankful to see that no one was stopped and staring.

Yet.

Her watchful eyes followed Peter as he pushed off from the wall and moved behind her.

Breath caught in her throat as his fingers found a home back inside of her drenched pussy.

“Still as wet as ever, I see,” he noted. “You can cry and beg and plead all you want but Daddy knows the truth. He sees behind your tears.”

Slick fingers circled around her aching clit.

Toying with it.

Teasing her.

“You like being held up on a pedestal.”

A long, skinny middle finger sunk inside of her.

Her head rolled back. Eyes closed.

“You like people hearing you cum.”

His thumb on her clit.

Brushing. Stroking.

Building her pleasure.

“You like having others watch as your Daddy pleasures his princess.”

In and out.

Slowly penetrating her with his finger.

Tending dutifully to that tiny bundle of nerves.

“You like the pain.”

He flicked at her nipple clamps.

Sending shots of pain throughout her breasts.

Electrifying her.

Soothing it over with those wonderful ministrations at her pussy.

“You love me and you’ll let me do anything I want to your gorgeous body…isn’t that right?”

She whimpered.

Eyes closed tight.

Feeling that build of orgasmic pleasure rising.

“I love you,” she breathed back, tears in her eyes. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He practically purred in her ear.

Or maybe it was a growl.

Whatever it was, the noise caused her cunt to gush in reply.

He chucked, “That’s it baby, you’re so close. I can feel you tightening around my fingers. What do you say we give the people a show?”

He was gone.

Leaving her empty.

Dripping.

Pathetically whining and begging for a finish.

“Don’t worry, princess,” he called from the other end of the room. “Daddy bought some more toys. He’s going to treat his baby tonight.”

She listened to the zipping of a bag as he rustled through to find what he was looking for.

Her chest rose and fell in anticipation. Each breath brought back the dulling sting from her nipples. She tried to keep still, terrified more movement would draw attention upwards toward the window.

She gave a quiet shudder at the thought and tried to imagine what she would look like from down below.

The image brought a glint of a wicked smile to her lips.

Something small and chilly brushed against her back door and she yelped in surprise.

Slap!

“Hold still!” He scolded.

The sound of a bottle squirting caused her to try to careen her head around to see what he was doing behind her.

She managed to catch a glimpse of the butt plug he held in his hand.

It looked a bit bigger than the small one they used at home but had the same metal teardrop shape. A red jewel flattened out the end.

“Figured this was the next size up from your old friend. You leveled up from girlfriend to wife. Time to level up in other areas, too.”

Lube smeared over her tight hole as the cold, rounded point pushed against it.

Not even a warm up with his fingers first.

Peter really was in a dominant, pent up mood.

Her eyes slipped closed and her head fell back against her arched spine. She let out a deep breath, relaxing her body as much as she could, so it could slide in easier.

“Ah, ow,” she gasped, hissing in pain. “Oh, fuck.”

Slow and steady he sunk it into her.

He held it there, stopped in place, over the thickest part of the teardrop. Forcing her body to stretch to the foreign object.

She tried to control her whines from being too loud. Her thighs trembled under her. Her face contorted into pain and her jaw clenched.

More lube trickled down between her crack to help the little device along as Peter took note of her tensing body.

“There you go, baby,” he encouraged. “Nice and easy. Breathe through it.”

He teased it through her ass, pushing it in a little ways and pulling it back out, making her continue to take on the thickest part of the plug just to keep up to torture a bit longer.

“Please, Daddy,” she whimpered. “Just put it in. Please.”

“Aww, does my sweet baby need her ass filled? You’re Daddy’s little fuck toy. Daddy’s going to have any hole he wants. You have no say in where he ends up.”

He refused to move it past the diameter, holding it steady.

“Did you happen to catch the color of that tacky, little jewel they stuck on the end?”

He pulled it back out.

Teasing just the tip.

Exciting the bundle of sensory nerves around her anus and making her wriggle around.

“Spider-Man red. Just for you.”

Finally, he eased the entire thing inside of her.

“Ahhh!” She wailed. “Fuck!”

Filling her up.

Swallowing the plug.

Feeling it heavy inside of her.

“So you’ll always remember who owns this ass.”

Smack!

His hand came down hard against her bruising cheek.

Ecstasy coursed through her veins at the sting.

She was so full. Stretched and heavy. Uncomfortably aroused.

An arm snaked up her own outstretched one to brush his fingers over her wedding ring, lacing his fingers with hers.

His bare chest pressed against her back, grinding his hips over her ass.

His face fell against her neck, inhaling her scent, nuzzling his nose against her.

“My beautiful wife,” he breathed. “All tied up. Horny for her husband. Put out on display for all of Florence to see.”

Fingers wrapped around her waist to dip through her pubic hair, finding her heated crevice, needy for his touch.

Palming. Flicking. Penetrating.

“Nipples clamped. Ass filled. My name, cursed forever on your lips. All you need now is a cock to fill that empty cunt.”

He fished it from the confines of his boxers.

Dragging it along her soaked valley.

Feeling it pulsate against her waiting lips.

“No!” She gasped, staring down at the people below.

She knew once he started to fuck her she couldn’t keep quiet. Her voice would soar out the open window and onto the people below.

They would look.

They would see her.

“What if-” Her breath quickened. “What if someone looks up? They’ll hear me. They’ll look. I know they will.”

She didn’t need to see his face to know Peter had a cheshire cat grin growing. The sound of his voice was enough to hear his rising libido.

“Then they’ll see a little princess fucking herself on her Daddy’s cock.”

The bulbous head of his thick rod pressed between her folds.

Sinking in.

Stretching her out.

He hesitated there. Stilling behind her.

“Go on, baby. Fuck yourself. Let everyone see what a whore you can be.”

She almost didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to give in. She could play games, too.

Her breath held in her lungs. Closing her eyes. Biting down on her bottom lip.

Peter waited.

The crown of his manhood nestled patiently in her pussy, being squeezed by her heated walls, kissed by her slick.

Letting her throw her silent tantrum.

She hung there, counting the seconds, fighting the urge to move, trying to breathe through her body’s desires.

Her legs were trembling. Her toes ached from holding her weight.

It would be so easy to just…ease back…impale herself on his sword…give up.

She could hear his labored breaths behind her. Smelled his cologne. Felt him twitching inside of her.

“Close the windows,” she struggled to whimper out through her held breaths. “Let’s go to the bed. Take me there. Fuck me there. I’ll let you do anything you want. Just…not…not in front of the window.”

Peter tutted his tongue, “Since when has Daddy ever let you make the demands, hmm?”

He reached his hands up to her shoulders and gave a gentle push, getting tired of her defiance, “When I tell you to fuck yourself, you fuck yourself. I’m not going to do it for you.”

Even the smallest of shoves from her shoulders was enough for her tiptoed feet to give out. She stumbled back, feeling his cock sink deeper.

She let out a strangled cry.

“No! On the bed. Bring to me to the bed!”

Her eyes were squeezed shut, refusing to see the window in front of them, torn between finding it extremely arousing and positively mortifying.

“I’m sorry, princess. The bed is for good girls. The bed is for well behaved women who don’t wear little dresses and shake their ass as they walk for all the men to stare at. The bed is for lovers.” His hand gripped around her hair and shoved her face towards the window. “The window is for whores who get off on pain and love the attention their Daddy gives them.”

His voice lowered into a commanding, deep tone, “Open your fucking eyes and look at your audience.”

She blinked through the flow of overly emotional tears clinging to her lashes and forced her eyes open.

People lined the tight, winding streets, walking lazily to their destination. Not one glanced up at them. Not one seemed to notice her out on display, front and center, above their heads. Peter was protected behind her body. She would be the one they see.

Framed by the window.

Art.

That’s what he called her earlier.

She was art and Peter, the artist.

Helpless to whatever ways he wanted to exhibit her

Little by little she sunk back onto his cock. Taking him into her. Eyes rolling back. Submitting to his demands until he bottomed out.

His chorus of pleased moans let her know he had won.

She let her body get used to him inside of her. Her pussy knew his cock well by now but she liked to reacquaint them carefully every time they would meet.

Peter was always a bit of a stretch.

With the girthier plug shoved in her ass, her arms bound and outstretched, and her nipples screaming in pain, she felt the need to move a little slower with her pussy today.

Gradual, small movements, easing herself up off his cock and then impaling herself back down.

Slow and steady.

She shifted on her toes, rocking her hips back and forth, taking him with longer and longer strides as her shameful whimpers grew into desperate cries.

“There you go,” he murmured, brushing her hair back off her shoulder to nip at her skin with his teeth. “Ride Daddy’s cock, babygirl. Show everyone how good you can take it.”

Her own slick coated his shaft, making it slip through her without resistance.

He stayed fairly still behind her apart from making sure his hips were pressed forward enough for her to have easy access to his body.

She was getting into a rhythm. Starting to get lost in the feelings.

But, the harder she fucked herself, the more her breasts would sway.

The more they moved, the more pain the clamps created as they bit down like they might cut clean through her flesh.

It was getting to the point where it might be too much pain for her to enjoy and ruining her momentum on his cock.

She hissed, biting down on her lip, trying to endure it the best she could manage.

Peter shifted behind her, bringing his lips to her ear, and whispering for reassurance, “Color?”

She swallowed, trying to decide exactly what she was feeling, “G-green?”

He stilled her by gripping onto her hips, keeping himself buried inside her warmth, but moving his head around in an attempt to better see her face.

“You sure? You don’t sound sure.”

She nodded, breathing heavily, “Almost yellow. Not quite though. But almost.”

“Which part?” He trailed loving kisses of safety along her neck, wrapping his arms around her waist to hug her sweetly from behind.

“The clamps.” When she saw his hands immediately move to take them off her, she hurried to add. “Not yet! I…still like them…but soon, okay?”

“Soon,” he agreed, giving her one more adoration infused kiss to her cheek, before slipping back into character. “Daddy never told his little princess to stop, did he?”

To shove her back into the role, he slapped her ass with three hard, lashing blows of his open palm.

Each slap caused her breasts to bounce, sending shooting shocks of pure, agonizing pain through her body and a rush of warmth to her cunt.

Pain and pleasure. Her favorite combination.

“Looks like the sweet little angel is getting quite the bruise back here. If you keep misbehaving, you won’t be able to sit down for our breakfast tomorrow. Then everyone will know what a bad, little whore you’ve been.”

She whined in response, bucking her hips backwards to find his cock again, needing more pleasure to balance out the scales.

“Eager little thing, aren’t you?”

He soothed his hands over her shoulders, pushing her down, sinking her onto his length.

“My pain hungry baby.”

It wasn’t difficult to fall back into her previous rhythm. Her cunt was soaked and starving for its lover to come back home.

“Fuck yourself on Daddy’s cock. Let those people down there know how much you love me. Be louder, princess. I want them to hear.”

She whimpered out a tiny cry.

Her motions grew frantic the more he continued to talk dirty in her ear.

That tiny cry grew into loud, unadulterated, guttural moans.

The sounds of a whore taking her favorite cock.

She struggled against the webs binding her. Her shoulders were starting to ache. Her arms were losing feeling.

Her body was stretched tight. Nipples crying. Ass sore. The weight of the plug was even more noticeable with his cock pushing in and out of her.

It felt like it was bouncing inside of her each time he pushed under it.

Her toes hurt from being hung up on such an unsteady height.

“Peter- Daddy,” she gasped. “Daddy, please…”

She didn’t know what she was asking for.

Some kind of relief.

Something steadier. Something more concrete.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay, Daddy’s got you.”

He reached around to her chest with both hands, simultaneously unclamping her nipples from their prison.

Fire erupted in its place as the blood rushed back.

A new kind of pain bloomed.

Searing and hot.

Her breasts were in flames.

She cried out. Loud and sharp.

At the same moment, Peter ripped her down from the webs, still embedded on his cock as he wrapped her up in tight arms and pushed her flat against the window.

Her hips pressed against the cool glass but her torso nearly bent out the opening.

Her anguished nipples happily sought out the cool breeze. Soothing over the sting. Settling her inflamed body. Not caring who looked up.

Peter gripped onto her hips so he could better ram into her. Her job was over. She had done what he wanted.

Now it was his turn to take over.

Her body surrendered to him.

“Ugnnn,” she whined. “Fuck!!”

Her hands clenched into fists against the glass. Her back arched.

Eyes wide.

Taking his thrusts with near drooling moans.

His rigid shaft drove into her, surging deep up inside, stretching her walls and drawing out the most luscious rumbles of pleasure.

His balls slapped up against her. The sound echoing around their vaulted ceiling.

Filling her. Stuffing her full.

Both holes used and defiled.

She couldn’t stop the noises she was making. Throaty moans, shrieking cries, babbling coos.

He was getting it all out of her.

Someone was watching. Looking at them. Spying them from down below.

A young couple.

“Daddy!” She sobbed. “They’re-”

“Shh,” he hushed her. “I know, baby. I see ‘em, too. They like what they see. They’re talkin’ about us. Enjoyin’ it.”

A broken cry fell from her lips and she stared down through her tears at the couple.

Her eye sight wasn’t the greatest. She couldn’t make out their faces very clearly but neither of them looked horrified.

They looked…giggly…

The woman was running her hand along her partner's arm. His hand disappeared behind her back and traveled down to her ass.

Harder and harder Peter slammed.

She was being ravaged by his strength. Losing the ability to make any noise.

Nothing but silent, open mouthed gasps and a raining of tears were all that came out.

“Too-” He grunted, crashing into her again. “Hard?”

Through a shuddering, gasping breath, she managed to choke out, “Don’t you fucking stop.”

As long as Peter was fucking her like this, he could do it any way he wanted. He could drag her out onto the streets and fuck her at that nosy couples feet if he pleased.

It was his art show. He held the control.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. Didn’t pause.

His finger marks would be bruised into the soft flesh of her hips for the upcoming days with how tightly he gripped them.

She held eye contact with the watching woman down below. Stared straight at her. Sizing her up, silently challenging her to get as good a fuck from her partner as she was from Peter.

She wanted to make her jealous. Or horny.

Either was fine as long as the woman was thinking of her.

“Yes, Daddy!” She cried, loud enough for her voice to carry down below. “Feels so good! Making your little girl feel so good!”

She knew damn well Peter’s face was cast in the shadows behind her. The idea of this couple truely thinking she was being fucked by her own father made her laugh under her breath.

“Somethin’ funny, princess?” His voice was getting strained and she knew that meant he was getting closer to his release.

“Just enjoying my fans,” she gasped back. “They love what you’re doing.”

Her eyes were wild as she breathed in the fresh air.

She felt free.

She was married and in love. They were on their honeymoon in Italy.

She was getting absolutely pounded by her husband in full view of a watching, interested couple.

She should be embarrassed, ashamed.

But all she felt was bliss.

That plunging, relentless cock, massaging her channel, thick veins grazing over that tender g-spot whenever she angled her body correctly, the weight of the plug in her ass, her aching nipples…

Everything was pushing her straight towards her final hurdle.

Without much warning, it suddenly became all too much. No build up.

Just explosions.

A wave of ferocious, intense pleasure roared over her, sweeping her up, taking her by surprise.

She came hard and fast.

Sheiking. Crying out.

Thrashing against the window, leaning half way out of it, trying to gasp for air.

Peter grabbed at her hair to yank her back inside like he was terrified of losing her over the edge.

“Fuck, princess,” he grunted. “Where ya goin’?”

Her ears defended under the rush of blood swelling to her head but she was certain she was screaming in ecstasy from the way Peter’s hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her sounds.

She contracted tightly around his cock, squeezing him, using him to further her explosion of pleasure, still feeling the stinging pain of her breasts to only shove her deeper into subspace.

On and on her orgasm went. Unstoppable. As Peter kept driving into her and furiously rubbing his fingers over her clit.

He kept her heightened. Overloaded. Knowing that it would destroy her.

She had the brief sensation of feeling him cumming inside of her. Feeling the spurt of warmth. Feeling full.

But her agonizing long orgasm only served to weaken her rational thinking. She no longer existed. She was no longer on solid ground.

Floating. Drifting through space.

Lost amongst the stars.

Finally, her body gave up.

Finally, the orgasm came to a simmering hault.

She was done.

She hung limply against the window pane. Eyes rolling in her head. Twitching and whimpering.

Peter scooped her into his protective arms, cradling her against his chest, peering his face to see their onlookers.

“Shows over!” He called down to them. “Fuck off!”

Without his raging, pent up, sexual energy to seize control of his brain, he no longer liked the idea of anyone getting to view his naked wife besides him. His protective nature spiked to replace his dwindling arousal and he turned his back to the window to shield her with his body.

He carried her away from their stares back into the safety of privacy where she belonged.

She made no protests or struggles as their game finished. Her head hung limp against his shoulder.

“My sweet girl,” he murmured in her ear. She was being placed on their bed. “Daddy’s going to clean you up. Wait here.”

Time wasn’t real.

She blinked and he reappeared holding a warm, wet cloth to her legs.

Over her thighs.

Spreading her open.

Cupping it against her used and battered sex.

Gently cleaning away their mess.

“There,” he whispered. “All better.”

Peter crawled into bed in front of her, wrapping an arm over her waist and kissing at the tip of her nose.

Gradually, she returned to her body, her mind drifting slowly back into her skull.

“Mmmm,” she groaned. “Everything hurts. Think you broke me.”

He chuckled to himself, soothing a hand over an abused nipple, “Sweet girl. I’ll try to find you some ice in a minute. But, right now, I’m not leaving your side until you fully wake up. Rest, baby. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

When she adjusted herself on the bed, sliding a leg through his, she took note of the fact that the plug was still snuggly lodged inside of her.

Their night was only just beginning.

He had left it there on purpose.

She kind of liked it.

Maybe she would wear it out to dinner…

#andrew garfield #tasm #the amazing spiderman #peter parker #tasm x reader #tasm fic #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #tasm peter #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter x reader fic #tasm peter parker #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x reader fic #spiderman #spiderman fic #the exhibit #blooming violets fic #blooming violets

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2hoothoots · 11 months

Text

i was having a chuckle to myself last night about Gristol, and how his plans are basically:

Restore Ford Cruller's memory

Find Maligula

???

Profit

but then... of course they are, right? this is Gristol we're talking about. Fatherland Follies drives home again and again that he's still operating on a child's logic, a warped and reductive version of the world that he never bothered to grow out of. both of his memory vaults center on the images of his childhood, this idealized version of the past that he clings to no matter what. and that's still how he remembers Maligula, too - as this saviour figure, who rushes in to help him when he's in trouble.

[ID: Two slides from Gristol's memory vault, Glory to Grulovia! Left: Gristol clings to Maligula's back as she summons waves to sweep away his assailants. Right: Gristol and Maligula waving from a balcony as the people cheer. Gzar Theodore brandishes a dagger in the background.]

like so much else, Maligula represents a return to this idyllic childhood - to the peace and simplicity of his youth, when he was free from worries and responsibilities. in his mind, he doesn't need to make any further plans - once Maligula's back, everything will go back to normal. Maligula will make everything better.

...is what i thought, but then i remembered this line:

[Screenshot source. ID: Gristol, in Truman's body, bows on his hands and knees in front of the newly-awaked Maligula. The caption reads: "Yes, High Priestess! I am here to correct the mistakes made by my father!"]

and that's kind of interesting, right?

to be clear: this happens directly after Maligula sees Helmut-in-Gristol's-body, and recognises him. her line before this is:

"Little Gzesaravich! Have you come to pay for your father's sins?"

my first thought was that Gristol hadn't expected to still be in Truman's body by the time he managed to find Maligula, and this was him trying to placate her and buy some time until he could explain the situation. but watching the cutscene back, that's clearly not what's happening here. Gristol is answering as himself, and his response of throwing himself to his knees before her is, as far as i can tell, genuine.

so what is going on here?

in Fatherland Follies, there's this line in the ride narration that stuck out to me:

"Why didn't the Gzar help Maligula in her time of need? No one knows, but historians agree - it is Gzar Theodore's biggest failure."

other lines mention Gzar Theodore's "mistake", and it's wording Gristol himself echoes in the screencap above. evidently, he believes that his father abandoned Maligula, leaving her to her fate at the hands of the Psychonauts, and it was that mistake that lead to them being driven out of the country - that mistake which he seeks to correct. maybe he even feels like he has a debt to repay to her for his family turning their backs on her all those years ago.

the 'High Priestess' thing, though - that's kinda weird, and threw me for a loop the first time i played the game. it took me until my second playthrough to connect the dots, and remember how the room in the Lady Luctopus - Gristol's room - was full of Delugionist scribblings and symbols.

[Screenshot source. ID: left, the walls of the hidden backroom in Gristol's hotel suite, covered in scrawlings of eyeballs and Maligula's name. Right, the pinboard from the hidden backroom. On its surface are photographs and newspaper clippings connected by pieces of string.]

i mean, look at this stuff! he had a whole conspiracy board and everything!

we learn very little about the Delugionists and their beliefs as a whole during the game, but i think drawing the connection here suggests two important things. one: that Gristol was in deep with this stuff. i don't know how he linked up with them - maybe via old family connections, or just good old-fashioned digging (we know he's skilled at worming his way into peoples' good graces, after all) - but it seems likely that he's begun to internalise their ideas, maybe even warping his own memories of events. and two: the Delugionists themselves are, if you'll pardon the pun, pretty far off the deep end.

like... i understand why PN2 didn't go heavy on the "mass-murderer cult worship" aspect of things, in the end, but man this is such a tantalising glimpse into the wider mythos around Maligula. Gristol is proud and haughty and thinks himself above everyone else; the fact that his first reaction seeing Maligula is to throw himself to the ground at her feet says so much about the way he's come to see her. he's not just trying to bring back Maligula, his childhood bodyguard. he's trying to bring back Maligula, the High Priestess of the deluge, the semi-mythical figure whose supporters believe even death couldn't stop. he doesn't even flinch at the way she confronts him, and maybe it's because he's bought in so completely to this deified figurehead, this idea of Maligula; more a living force of nature than a person. and it all comes back to the same place: an abdication of responsibility, not just to the person who protected him when he was little but to this avatar of floods and destruction. Maligula will make everything better.

i'd write more about my thoughts on the Delugionists but that'd be taking a hard turn into speculation, and this is already kind of long and rambling so i'd better end it here. but what an unexpected and evocative line, right? it's some of the only stuff we have to go off of regarding the Delugionists as a whole, but i think it does such a good job of hinting at the wider story - at teasing another layer to the mythos surrounding Maligula, one whose ripples we see throughout the game but which never quite breaches the surface.

#psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #bored waiting at the airport so you get more psychonauts meta from me #the delugionists have been on my mind recently (because i Might Just have an upcoming au lorepost about them and also cults are fun)#so tossing my thoughts up here because people seemed to like the last few times i did this #and also it's my blog and i like to talk :)#related vent i HATE drafting posts in the tumblr editor because if you hit crtl+z to try and undo a formatting change #it deletes like half the post you just typed out #(yes i did it again while i was writing this. yes i'm still salty. why do i even bother)#what else... this is just becoming a disconnected thoughts dump #but if you've seen my posts you knew what you were signing up for when you hit the button to expand the post tags #there's new art coming hopefully this weekend if i can get it finished! it's more mermaid au designs #i'm two and a half weeks late for mermay but it turns out starting a new job and moving house doesn't leave you with a ton of free time #but that's okay it's never too late for mermaids #omg and artfight's coming up next month too! geez #i gotta make refsheets for the fsau trio because i would LOVE to get art of them #and this year i don't have a thesis to crunch on so i might actually have time to participate #oh and then in august i'm having top surgery! will make a proper announcement post for it at some point #i say 'announcement'. it's just a life update but it's nice to share #i'm super excited about it :)#i might end up blogging the process and recovery but obviously it won't be going here lol. i'd put it on my main #idk if anyone would find it useful but when i first started looking into surgery i had like very little idea about the whole process #and it's only through joining a bunch of online support/discussion groups that i managed to find more info and resources #so hey it might be useful to share? we'll see #our flight doesn't land for another fifty minutes so now i'm just writing in the tags because i'm bored #alright i'll proofread this and then post it when i land and have signal again. peace out yall hope your pride month is going well

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