“I can’t do this,” Whumpee sobbed, gripping the whip Whumper had given to them even tighter in their hands as they stared wide-eyed at the trembling victim in front of them. Caretaker. “Please-”
“Do as I damn well say,” Whumper ordered. In one swift movement, they grabbed Whumpee by the wrist and cracked the whip down as hard as they could across Caretaker’s back, a sinful grin curving on their lips at the shrill cry they received in response. Wrapping their free hand around Whumpee’s neck, they roughly pulled them back against their chest, talking dangerously low in their ear. “Do you want to see what happens if I have to do this for you?”
Whumpee frantically shook their head, tears welling in their eyes as they weakly tugged on Whumper’s arm in an attempt to loosen their grip on their neck.
“Then be good and do what I say, or It’ll end much worse for the both of you.”
Finally, Whumper shoved them forward again, watching as Whumpee’s frail body stumbled in an attempt to regain their balance. “Now It’s twenty hits instead of ten. Go.”
Summary: So, a couple months ago I was sent THIS POST like 900 times by all of you screaming at me because I tagged it as “Max Phillips” so…here it is. This is straight up PWP–Max is the big shot boss that we know and love and you are his long time girlfriend. You both call out in favor of staying home and spending some quality time together–but he has an important meeting that he just can’t miss…no matter what he is doing when he gets the call.
Pairing: Max Phillips x Reader Word Count: 3k Warnings/Ratings: NC-17/18+ - smut, pwp, choking, dirty talk, rough, teasing, established relationship, vampireness, slight exhibition kink, hand-over-mouth, having sex while on the phone with your job–MAX. BEHAVE. (spoiler…he doesn’t)
You weren’t sure how this had started. This insane competition between the two of you that seemed to be escalating with each round. It was attributed to the fact that you were both stubborn, cunning, and meticulous in your efforts to please one another. But it had to stop sometime. Right?
If you had to think about it, it probably was your fault. It probably all started on that day you brought him lunch to his office. But it wasn’t food that you had in mind. You locked his door, twisted the blinds closed and dropped your black pea-coat revealing the white lingerie that he had gotten you on your anniversary. He seemed to understand then–you were lunch.
I don’t even want to write a review of “Top Gun: Maverick” honestly, I’ve seen 1,500+ movies and I’ve never finished one that left me more depressed about the future of this country. I just want to stop thinking about it
