SMUT🌚🌝✨⚠️🔞

511 10 1
                                    

🔞✨⚠️Warning ⚠️✨🔞

If you are not 18 years old, please refrain from reading this fanfiction chapter. Now, let's work on enhancing the language and expanding the content:

"Caution: This fanfiction chapter contains mature content, and if you're under 18, it's advised not to proceed. Reader discretion is advised as the following narrative explores themes intended for a mature audience. Please be mindful of your age before delving into the contents of this chapter."

But you guys don't listen to me. When I say to you guys don't read 🔞+ff .⚠️🌚🌝

You all deserve this🏆⤵️

You all deserve this🏆⤵️

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Dirty mind 🙊✨😌😏🌚🌝😳💯😎

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Dirty mind 🙊✨😌😏🌚🌝😳💯😎

----------------********************--------------------

Vegas's hand, usually so steady, trembled as he turned the lock with a click that echoed in the opulent silence. The air in the room, thick with unspoken emotions, seemed to cling to their skin like silk. Pete, usually so composed, flinched at the sound, his gaze dropping to the intricate patterns of the Persian rug.

Vegas didn't move for a moment, his eyes a storm brewing behind his designer sunglasses. The shadows cast by the room's single lamp danced across his face, obscuring his true intentions. Pete felt a cold knot twist in his stomach, fear mingling with a strange, unsettling anticipation.

"Look at me," Vegas finally commanded, his voice raspy, a stark contrast to the polished persona he always wore. Pete forced his eyes up, meeting Vegas's gaze with a trembling breath. The anger seemed to dissipate, replaced by a dark hunger that set Pete's pulse racing.

He stepped closer, his presence filling the room, his movements predatory. Pete instinctively took a step back, but Vegas's hand shot out, wrapping around his wrist like a steel trap.

"Where do you think you're going?" Vegas murmured, his voice a mere whisper against Pete's ear. The heat of his breath sent shivers down Pete's spine, a delicious counterpoint to the cold fear that still lingered.

I AM POSSESSIVE BOYFRIEND (VEGASPETE)Where stories live. Discover now