Chapter Text
You had a thing for bad boys. That had been well established by the majority of your one night stands and failed relationships. They were always so alluring, at first, but quickly devolved into trouble with a side of infidelity. You learned that they weren’t worth more than a dirty fuck or two before it was time to kick them to the curb. You knew that if you stayed long enough, they would do the same to you.
That, of course, had changed when you met him .
You had to admit that you respected the kind of confidence he exerted by asking you out within five minutes of meeting you. He didn’t know a thing about you, but just by looking at you, he decided that he certainly wanted to learn.
He met you for dinner later that day, and he even brought you a beautiful pair of ruby red roses. The antiquated gesture would have been silly if it weren’t for the fact that no one had ever brought you flowers on a date. You didn’t spend a lot of time eating, instead talking the evening away like old friends.
You left him your number before heading home for the night, giddily thinking about your new acquaintance.
When you woke up the next morning, you were disappointed to find that he hadn’t texted you yet.
Your work was busy when you walked in and you practically hit the ground running after grabbing your apron.
“Good mornin’, what can I get ya?”
After a few hours of slinging greasy sausage and overcooked eggs to ungrateful tourists, you were finally given a window of quiet to take a break. Your eyes lit up when you found that you had one last table to wait on.
“Hey, cutie,” you purred before smooching his cheek. “What are you doing here?”
His cheeks flushed with a wide, bewildered stare as if a kiss was the last thing he expected from you. His expression softened as you sat across from him.
“I wanted to surprise you and take you out to lunch,” he answered contentedly.
“Aww,” you cooed, blush spreading over your own cheeks. “I’d love to, but I actually have some errands to run on my break today. Maybe a rain check?”
You watched his smile flatten as your words hit him. You would have felt bad, but if he had texted you to ask, you wouldn’t have had this problem.
“W-Well,” he started again, “I could accompany you, if you like?”
“No,” you chuckled lightly, “that’s not necessary. Besides, I only have an hour for lunch and I don’t want our time together to feel rushed.”
His smile returned, happiness shining in his eyes. “How about dinner tonight?” he offered. “At my place.”
“You’re going to cook for me?” Be still your beating heart!
“I saw you sneaking those French fries before coming out here, Darling,” he mock-chastised, wagging a finger at you. “When was the last time you had a good meal? Hm? And I know you work here and all, but greasy diner food doesn’t count.”
You sheepishly sunk a bit into the red vinyl booth.
“Let me cook something for you,” he insisted again, resting his hand on yours. “What do you like?”
“I’m not too picky,” you pondered. “Surprise me.”
His eyes lit up with excitement. “You got it. When do you get off?”
“Five.”
“Great, I’ll see you at six.” He stood up from the booth looking like a man on a mission. “O-Oh! I almost forgot to tell you where. Again. Um. I’ll text you my address?”
You nodded in agreement.
“Make sure to bring your appetite, love.”
The wink he gave you made you wonder what kind of appetite you should be bringing.
Standing at his doorstep, you felt overwhelmed with nerves. You had rushed home to shower and change after work, frantically rummaging through your wardrobe for something to wear. Even after changing outfits four separate times, you were still dubious about your final choice.
It’s just dinner, you told yourself with a sigh.
Reaching out with a shaky fist, you firmly rapped against his cerulean front door several times.
The silence that followed was deafening.
But there! Footsteps behind the door, louder and louder, and unlatching the bolt with a click and the door swinging open and—
“Hey.” His blue eyes melt all your anxiety into a puddle at your feet. “Welcome home.”
You shyly return his greeting and accept his invitation to come inside, stepping past his threshold. The first thing that you notice is the warm smell of garlic and onions sautéing together somewhere.
“Mmm, smells good in here.” You spun around on your heels to face him, about to ask what was on the menu, but were startled by the giant splatters of blood all over the white apron he wore.
“Jesus Christ,” you shouted, trying to hold back the panic in your voice, “who the hell did that come from?”
Panic crossed his face before following your line of sight to his apron.
“T-Tomatoes!” he replied quickly, reaching his hands behind his back to hurriedly untie the apron and pull it from around his neck. “Tomatoes, I promise!”
“...Oh.”
“I, uh. May have underestimated a can of tomatoes earlier,” he admitted sheepishly, throwing the dirty apron over his arm. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to freak you out. Coming over to a stranger’s apartment, alone, and you see— God, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
He had stepped toward you to hold your hands in his, his eyes pleading for your forgiveness.
“It’s okay,” you murmured softly. Then, more confidently and with a curt laugh, “Nothing like a good serial killer scare to really get your appetite going, huh?”
He blinked a few times at you before nervously chuckling, squeezing your hands. God, he was cute.
“You look lovely, by the way,” he told you softly. His eyes had drifted down your body, ogling the knee-length A-line skirt you had picked out.
You blushed nervously, suddenly very aware of the very tall, very handsome man looming over you. Without his apron, you noted that he wore a long sleeved T-shirt, but had rolled up the sleeves to display his forearms. The fabric clung to his torso slightly, giving him a sexy, slim silhouette.
You averted your eyes from his to mumble a quick, “Thank you.”
He smiled as he leaned down to plant a chaste peck on your forehead. “Are you thirsty? Let me pour you a glass of wine.”
He reluctantly pulled away from you before leading you over to his kitchen. A covered stainless steel pot gently simmered on his stove, and a pile of fresh, bright herbs rested on the cutting board on his counter. Also, most notably, a pool of canned tomato guts splattered on the floor, only halfway cleaned up.
“Wine?” you repeated, crossing your arms over your body nervously. “You really are going all out, huh?”
“Well,” he started before yanking the cork off his already-opened bottle with a grunt, “I definitely wanted to impress you.”
You grinned, embarrassed, as he poured the contents of the bottle into a stemmed glass he had fetched from his cupboard.
“Is it working?” he asked facetiously, handing you the glass.
You dipped your nose into the balloon, inhaling the scent of the deep, ruby-red wine as you coyly gazed back at him.
“So far.”
He chuckled at you as he poured his own glass. “How does spaghetti sound for dinner?”
“Well, it sounds good, but it smells even better.” You were surprised your stomach hadn’t started eating those butterflies yet.
“I’m glad you think so. Many innocent tomatoes sacrificed their lives so I could impress a pretty lady, after all.”
You laughed, less nervous than before. He has a bizarre sense of humor, but it was endearing.
He turned around to face you, holding out his glass expectantly. “So, what shall we toast to?”
“Hmmm,” you hummed, faking deep thought, “tomato genocide?”
“And I thought I had the dark sense of humor,” he chuckled. His laugh was intoxicating. “How about…” His smile turned slightly nefarious. “...anticipation?”
You tipped your glass to clink against his, repeating the sentiment. “A toast to anticipation.”
You held eye contact with him as you tipped your glass back with him, sipping on the wine with more thirst than you recalled having when you got here.
“Not bad,” you mused after a few gulps, licking your lips and inspecting the color again. When you looked up, you found him staring at you with a somewhat blank stare. You noted the blush spread across his face. “Uh, hello?”
“Oh!” He snapped out of his trance, shakily placing his glass down on the nearest counter. “U-Um, I, uh, just remembered! I got you something! But it’s in my car, down the street. I— Stay right here? I mean, please don’t leave— I mean, I’ll be right back, okay? Make yourself at home.”
You smiled at him, understanding. “Do what you need to do. I’ll be here.”
“You’re amazing,” he sighed, relieved. “I’ll be right back.” He darted off to the front door and slammed it behind him.
Another sip of wine and then it was time to snoop around.
Who was this mysterious stranger, anyways? He didn’t even give you his name, instead asking you to just call him whatever you wanted.
You started with his refrigerator, opening the door to find what you’d expect in a bachelor pad fridge. Beer, lunch meat, leftover takeout, and jarred condiments. You pilfered a slice of leftover pizza to fill the void in your increasingly audible stomach. It didn’t seem like dinner would be ready for a while, anyways.
Munching on the cold pizza in one hand and washing it down with the wine in the other, you continued your self-guided tour around his apartment. The ceilings were high, at least, allowing his one bedroom apartment to seem larger than it actually was. The walls were covered in framed movie posters from box office hits, giving more life to the space than the neutral grey walls could provide.
His TV was big, but not obscenely so. His couch looked worn, but plush and comfy. You fell into it to gauge it for yourself, happy to find that you were practically sucked into the cushions. Ooohhhh, you could see yourself falling asleep pretty easily on this thing… Among other things.
Licking your fingers from the pizza you just finished, you regretfully left the couch and continued over to his kitchen table. Modern and attractive, with four chairs surrounding it. Nothing too unusual.
You made your way around to the edge of the kitchen again where mail seemed to accumulate on the counter. Oh! Mail! Who was it addressed to?
Sorting through it, you grimaced when you found it to only be junk mail. The recipient was “FIRSTNAME LASTNAME OR CURRENT RESIDENT.” You huffed, drinking more of your wine in defeat.
Who is this guy?
A folded piece of leather next to a pocket knife caught your attention next. His wallet! Thinking you’d hit the jackpot, you quickly plucked his wallet from the counter and opened it to find his ID, plain as day.
Peter Yurbekov?
Sure enough, his picture was immediately recognizable as the man you’re totally about to fuck tonight. Gorgeous blue eyes, saccharine grin… It’s really a remarkable feat to be so photogenic that even his ID photo was nice.
You glanced at his date of birth, quickly determining that he was only about a year older than you. You made a mental note of his birthday.
But… Peter? That was the name he was so ashamed of?
You startled when the front door opened. “Darling?” he shouted, sounding a bit worried. “I’m back!”
You hurriedly folded his wallet back and replaced it on the counter. By the time you picked up your now-empty glass and turned around, he was there.
“Ah, you’re still here!” he beamed at you. “Here, I got this for you earlier today.”
He held out a stuffed chestnut-brown teddy bear holding a big red plush heart.
“Aww, how sweet!” you gushed, quickly setting down your glass and pulling the bear into a cuddle. It seemed a bit heavy for its size, but it was still very cuddly. “Thank you, Peter.”
His expression shifted to a harsh frown, brows furrowed in confusion.
“Wh… What did you just say?”
“Peter. Peter Yurbekov,” you repeated, still nuzzling your big teddy bear. “That’s your name, right?”
“Yes, but— How did you—“
His eyes caught his wallet adjacent to your glass.
His frown turned into a predatory grin.
“You naughty girl,” he growled slowly, cocking his head to the side. “Have you been snooping around my apartment while I was gone?”
You felt sick to your stomach. You didn’t respond, instead sinking further into your bear’s fur.
Peter yanked the bear from your arms with more strength than you realized he’d had, tossing it to the floor with abandon. Before you could register what had happened, he had you cornered against his kitchen counter.
His warmth quickly soaked into your body and his scent, musky and dark, sparked a fire in your core. He seemed to tower over you, making you feel like an ant. You tried averting your gaze from his, afraid to look him in the eyes, but his knuckle dug under your chin to lift you back up to him.
“Oh, no,” Peter purred deeply, “you’re not getting off that easy.” His grin seemed to widen as you stared at him, your hot breath coming in shaky gasps and betraying your true feelings.
You were turned on.
Seeming to notice your reaction, he doubled down, gripping your face in his giant hand, forcing you to look at his dilated blue eyes as he spoke to you. His warm breath ghosted across your lips with every word he spoke. “You know what happens to naughty girls, don’t you?”
You whimpered pathetically— music to his ears. His teeth, sharp and menacing, parted to reveal a thick, long tongue dripping with drool. A fresh wave of his heated breath flicked along your exposed neck as he roughly turned your head to give him better access.
“Naughty girls,” Peter whispered into your ear, “get punished.”
You braced your hands on his waist as he flicked his inhuman tongue along your ear and trailed it down your neck. The tongue was hot and slimy, and the trail of spit he left on your body sent a chill shooting up your spine. Your body arched further into him, another pathetic whimper on your lips.
“Yes,” you whispered, barely audible.
A deep, conceited chuckle rumbled in his chest. “What was that, love?”
“Yes,” you repeated, trying to find your voice again. “Plea—” You swallowed dryly. “Please, punish me.”
He abruptly stepped away, firmly yanking you by your wrist as he led you to his bedroom. You were roughly thrown onto your back on his bed, letting out an excited squeal as you bounced on his mattress. It smelled of freshly laundered linen and him.
Peter nearly jumped on top of you to smother you in a deep, long, passionate kiss. His lips were firm, but, almost surprisingly, he respected your reciprocation or lack thereof. Matching his kisses, you soon grew bold enough to slide your tongue along his lips, begging for entry. His tongue met yours, eliciting hearty moans from his throat. Your arms wrapped around his neck, clutching him closer to you, deepening the kiss. Your knee brushed against something hard in his pants and you felt your stomach flip. He‘s already so fucking hard!
Your sweet little pink tongue engaged in a sort of dance with his own tongue, though his was certainly taking the lead. He flicked his tongue along your teeth, swirled it around your tongue, and even slipped it down into your throat. You gagged, unable to take the surprise intrusion, and coughed a few times while Peter watched you. You could swear his pupils had turned to hearts in the dim light of his bedroom.
“God, you’ve no idea how long I’ve waited to do that. You taste just as amazing as I thought you would.”
Peter reluctantly pulled himself away from you, moving to stand at the foot of the bed. He began unbuckling his belt with a lecherous glint in his eye.
“Come here, Darling,” he cooed at you, curling his index finger at you. “You still need to be punished.”
You blindly followed his command, crawling on all fours to sit on your knees on the bed, awaiting further instructions.
Peter clutched his belt into a loop in his hand, pointing to the floor beside him.
“Get on your knees. Right here.”
You were no stranger to what kneeling before a man meant. You did as you were told, eagerly reaching up to further unbutton his pants. He let you do so, gently running his hand through your hair, encouraging you.
You sucked in a deep breath when you revealed his cock, throbbing and standing at full attention for you. You reached up to grab it, but he quickly stepped away before you could do so.
“Oh, no, Darling.” You watched as he circled around you, smiling with wicked intent. “It’s not going to be that easy. Give me your hands.”
Your wrists were deftly bound behind your back with his belt.
“There, how’s that? Not too tight?”
You numbly shook your head.
“Good.”
He seemed to ponder for a moment before sitting on the edge of his bed. He was rather tall, especially compared to her. Once again, he curled his finger at you, and you obeyed by awkwardly shuffling over to between his spread legs.
“No hands,” he told you. “Only that sweet little mouth of yours. I want you to choke on my cock until I cum down your throat. Understand?”
You nodded hungrily, eyeing the way his cock languidly bobbed against his thigh.
“Good girl,” he praised you. You felt your clit throb between your labia, begging for attention, but the perfect cock in front of you seemed to be a more pressing matter. Peter held his cock at the base, inviting you to take in your mouth. “Ready when you are, love.”
You didn’t even bother licking or teasing the man— you parted your lips and swallowed the head of his cock into your mouth.
Peter leaned back in a blissful sigh.
Encouraged by his reaction, you swirled your tongue around the tip, tasting the bitter precum starting to leak from his slit. You moaned softly, overwhelmed by the scent of his cock.
His hand clutched at your hair, lazily guiding you as you worked your mouth further and further down his shaft.
“You’re… nnhhhh, you’re doing so good for me, Darling. That feels… hahhh… incredible.”
You started a steady, moderate pace of bobbing your mouth on his dick, laving it with your tongue between strokes. Your eyes darted up to look at him for his approval to find that delicious tongue of his lolling out the side of his mouth. His eyes hooded with desire as he watched you pleasure him with your mouth.
His grip tightened on your hair, slightly pulling it from the roots. You whimpered, wincing from the pain.
“But I know you can take it deeper, can’t you?”
You took a solid breath before diving down onto his cock, shoving as much of it down your throat as you could. Your gag reflex churned in response, but you felt determined to take him.
“Ooohhh fuuuuuuuck,” Peter drawled, still eagerly watching you work. “Fuck, you’re so good at taking my cock, my darling princess, oh, God…”
His hand helped to push your head down, firmly indicating his desire. “Just a… Hhh… Just a little bit more. Almost there, Darling, almost…”
You felt his dark pubic hair tickle against your nose, and you were so close, god, so close, but he was so big and your jaw hurt just to take him into your mouth—
A final nudge from Peter’s hand behind your head was all it took. Your lips wrapped around the base of his cock, the shaft still throbbing with his pulse as you held it in your mouth. You painfully swallowed around the tip, but you ended up gagging and lurching and—
“No, no,” Peter soothed, almost chastising you. His hand stayed firm on your head, not allowing you to come up for air. “Fuck… Just a little longer, Darling, I know you can do it.”
You lost the ability to breathe through your nose. Your brain started to panic from the lack of oxygen, but Peter held you steadfast. His other hand tangled in your hair and helped to keep you down, no matter how much you fought back against him.
A sudden yank to your hair jerked your head back and you gasped for precious air. Your lips were pink and engorged, and your chin had spittle dribbling down onto his floor. Your eyes struggled to focus together after glazing over from desire.
Peter continued his praises for you, bordering on mumbling incoherently. “Yes, fuck, you’re such a good girl, taking my whole cock down your throat! You’re so perfect, so perfect…” While you attempted to regain your breath, Peter leaned down and licked your spit mixed with his precum from your face. You relished in the strangely erotic sensation of having his prehensile tongue slathering all over your cheeks and mouth.
Eager to please and brain on autopilot, you caught his tongue between your lips and suckled softly. Peter grunted as he struggled to pull himself away, loving the way your perfect lips felt on him, pleasing him.
His hand reached behind your head again to grab another fistful of your knotted hair.
“You’re an eager one, aren’t you?” he rasped against your lips.
Your head was shoved down into his crotch again and, taking the hint, you went back to work on his cock. You struggled to breathe through your nose as you took him down your throat, moaning with every breath, loving his heady taste that filled your mind.
“Hhh… O-Oh, fuck,” Peter groaned, now resting both hands on your head to guide you up and down, up and down. He was intensely focused on his cock as it disappeared past those gorgeous lips of yours, and your beautiful eyes looking up at him for his approval drove him wild for you. His hips had started bucking slightly, trying to match your movements, and his hands in your hair were becoming more than just a gentle guide. It didn’t take long for him to reach his climax with all the stimulation he was receiving.
“Don’t s-stop, please,” he whimpered, tongue lolling over his teeth, “I-I’m so close! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop…”
With a final, hearty grunt, he practically doubled over your head, using his strength to keep your throat occupied with his cock as his orgasm reached its peak.
You tried to pull your head up, but he was just too strong. You felt his throbbing cock pulsate with each wave of cum as it emptied into your throat. You gagged and choked, eyes burning for relief, but you allowed it to happen to you, and soon he relaxed enough to allow you to come up for air.
You were left panting, eyes half-hooded, looking up at your handiwork. Peter had fallen back onto his bed, propped up on his forearms, his own chest rising and falling with each labored breath. When he was able to shift his gaze to yours, a wicked grin curled upon his lips. You confirmed that his pupils could, indeed, transform into hearts.
“Darling, please ,” he huffed with a dark smile, his palm resting against his temple, “you aren’t supposed to enjoy your punishments so much.”
You grinned back at him, demurely biting your lip to contrast his accusation.
“But you did well, my love.”
You were scooped into his lap, your legs straddling either side of him with your hands still bound behind your back. His arms swept around you in a warm embrace, one hand on the small of your back and the other tangling in your hair again.
“You did so, so good for me,” he whispered hoarsely, nuzzling his face into your neck. He allowed himself to inhale your scent, recognizing your perspiration mixed with your shampoo. He would never tell you just how well-acquainted he was with that scent.
“Th-Thank you,” you muttered, resting your chin on his head.
He spent a few moments licking and suckling the nape of your neck, even leaving gentle nips and bites along your skin.
“Will you be my good girl from now on?” he breathed along your skin.
“Yes.”
“Say it.” His grip on your hair and waist tightened, a drop of spite seeping into his voice. His nails were digging into your tender skin.
“I-I’ll be your good girl, Peter!” you hoarsely cried out. “I-I promise.”
His grip on you relaxed, and you heard a gentle rumble in his chest— laughter?
“It’s funny. I used to hate my name. Now? Now I want you to scream it for the whole world to hear.”