#brat tamer hange

[leavemethefuckalne]

Lesson Learnt - Hange Zoë

Hange can't stand it when reader is a brat so has no choice but to fuck them to their senses c;

MINORS DNI !!

Hange, they're so sweet bless them. They'd do anything to please you and make you happy. Even with how difficult you can be sometimes, they do their best to meet your standards and to satisfy you no matter what.

"Is that what I asked for?" Hange's expression is blank, trying to process what they've done wrong. "Ahh my bad I'll just return it, I still have the receipt, my apologies dear." Hange reaches forward to collect the wrong item they had purchased off the table. This was the second time they'd done this, Hange can't seem to remember the difference between loose makeup powder and pressed powder. You sigh in annoyance, trying your best to not let it show in your speech but failing . "It's fine, I'll just manage with it." You say bluntly. You didn't mean to, it's just that today you were going to dinner with your coworkers. This would be the first time that they'd meet Hange and you wanted things to go perfectly, hence why your stress levels were higher than usual.

You were finishing up your makeup when you asked Hange to help pick out and iron your favourite red dress. "The one that I always wear for special occasions." You described to Hange. Hange started scrambling through your closet, trying to locate the dress you were referring to. They came across two red dresses, both that you usually wear to evening events. You were already quite annoyed at the fact that you were running slightly late and poor Hange didn't want to ask further questions about which dress it was between the two. So they betted on their luck and went with the first option. 

Unfortunately for Hange, it was the other dress that you wanted to wear. You entered the bedroom only to find your short red dress layed out on the bed. You felt as your suppressed temper started to rise to your throat, spreading out to your temples. "Hange!" They quickly came running from downstairs to your bedroom. "What's wrong dear?" You scoffed and looked around in disbelief, eyes searching for an audience who'd understand you. "What's wrong? What's wrong?!" "I told you to pick out the dress I always wear, this is a formal night with my co-workers why the fuck would you pick this skimpy shit out for me?!" A stoic expression takes over Hange's usual sheepish face, you could swear the reflection in their eye had dimmed ever so slightly. They swallow thickly and let out a sigh, picking up the dress from the bed and hanging it back in the closet. They pick out the second dress and turn on the iron and begin ironing it, all without exchanging a word. 

You were too riled up to even notice Hange's character and continue muttering to yourself in annoyance. "And now we're going to be late, have you even ironed your blazer Hange?" "Yes y/n I have." "And your pants?" "Yes y/n I have." You look over your shoulder at them, still ironing your clothes. It was a little unusual for them to refer to you by just your first name alone but you didn't question it as you were too busy trying to pick out which bag to take.

It was now quarter to 6. You had fifteen minutes left to get there. It's a fifteen minute drive and you had both still not left yet. You couldn't find the car keys and you could've sworn Hange last had them. "How many fucking times Hange oh my God you just love misplacing everything!" Hange remained quite, looking around the living room and checking behind the sofa to see if it had fallen behind it. It's not like you to have a go at Hange, but you've been so stressed out over this dinner that you've accidentally taken some of it out on them. Eventually you found it, it was in Hange's coat pocket, the one they wore out when they went to buy your powder. You didn't even berate them for it, you just rolled your eyes muttering a unnecessary "how surprising" at them.

You managed to arrive only 5 minutes late to the venue. You'd usually wait for Hange to get out from the driver's side and come open the door for you but you let your snarkiness get the best of you, opening your own door yourself and rushing into the venue without them. Not your smartest move and one you'd regret later on.

-----

Dinner went fine, you received compliments on your dress and everyone was really friendly and kind to Hange. You did notice that they were a little quieter than their usual extroverted self, you didn't bat an eye to it though. Whilst eating, you placed your hand on Hange's lap, as you usually do for comfort. You were met with shock as you felt Hange gently brushing off your embrace with their hand. They didn't even turn to face you whilst doing so, leaving you staring at their side profile, scanning their face for any sort of answer. Throughout the night, Hange wouldn't let you touch them even in the slightest ways; ways that you usually do when you're feeling anxious or awkward. You tried to keep your cool and not make a scene in front of everyone, pretending like you didn't notice when Hange would move their leg away any time your knees would touch, or when Hange would slightly shift over when they felt you were too close.

The night was drawing to an end and you and your co-workers said your goodbyes and parted ways. Hange made their way out of the venue leaving you behind and entering the car without helping you get in. The car ride back was silent. Only the clicking of the indicator and gentle rumbling of the engine filling in the silence. The silence did allow you to reflect on how you were speaking to Hange before you left. It's only now that the severity of your actions had started to hit you. You felt like an idiot for not noticing Hange's stoic behaviour, even when she was calling you by your first name. You just thought you'd be able to talk it out when you got home.

Hange pulled up into the drive way and parked; getting out the car without bothering to open your side of the door for you. It was a simple gesture, one that most people would overlook, but Hange always insisted on opening your side of the door. You were their princess after all as they would say so. You climbed out the door, trying not to stumble in your heels and made your way in after them.

Before you could even shut the door, Hange had already cornered you by the door frame, leaving just an inch of space between you both. You could feel their warm breath on your cheeks, melting the stiffness on your face from the cold December weather outside. You'd be a liar if you said you weren't a little scared right now. "Hange I-"

"Shut the fuck up." Their tone was laced with anger yet they delivered it so calmly. You were terrified, hell, you could feel your knees bucking down against the door in a desperate attempt to further the distance between you and them.

They used their right knee to forecfully push your knees back up straight, closing the distance, grabbing your chin with their left hand. "I swear to you y/n you fucking piss me off sometimes, I swear to God you do." You felt sqeemish under their overwhelming presence, any confidence you had earlier on had completely vanished.  Hange's knee was moving dangerously close to your core. You closed your eyes to protect yourself from their gaze. 

A barely audible "I'm sorry" was all you could let out under them. "You're such a little fucking brat y/n, what did I do huh? All because I didn't get your powder is that it? Or was it the keys, was it all over that? You think you can talk to me however you want? I can't stand it y/n you know I can't." Hange never raises their voice at you, they weren't even being loud. But something about their tone was scaring you, you had never seen them like this. "I'll make it up to you I promise, I'm swear I'm sorry." That was all you could make out in a desperate attempt to be let off the hook this one time. "Oh you will be, don't you worry about that." Hange said before they removed theirself from you, ordering you upstairs.

---

"Strip"

You didn't even protest. You slowly began taking off your jewellery, placing it on the vanity. They were starting so intently that their eyes alone could undress you. You couldn't reach the zip at the back of your dress. You turned your back towards Hange and they quickly caught on. They began tracing your body with their calloused fingertips, all the way up from the curve of your hips to the tops of your shoulder blades, then to the centre, slowly ziping down your dress, knuckles brushing down your backside as a guide for their movements. Synchronised, their hands peel of the straps on each side of your shoulders, allowing you to pull the dress down to your ankles, leaving you in just your undergarments. 

You could feel your embarrassment rising from your feet to your face; this was just one of many times where you have been exposed to Hange but never like this. You felt like you were being preyed on. "What the fuck are you waiting for, take the rest off." Hange commanded. There was no protest on your end. You turned to face them again, unclipping your bra slowly, removing it and placing it on the floor. Your underwear followed swiftly. You couldn't tell if it was the size of Hange's pupils that made their eyes appear so dark or if it was the thick lust clouding their once brown pupils. Your nippes hardened at the cool breeze of the room, goosebumps forming from the cold or from Hange's stare sending chills down your spine.

"On the bed."

You positioned yourself towards the centre of your bed, staring intensely at the ceiling. You could hear Hange unbuttoning their shirt and removing their pants. They still had their vest and boxers on. "Are you gonna behave for me?" Your anxiety rolled up and lodged like a ball in your throat. You swallowed it down thickly almost causing you to choke on your words. "Yes." "Yes what?" "Yes Hange."

"Good girl."

"I don't like doing this baby you know that, but I don't like it when you behave like that." Hange spoke with discipline yet with care. "I know Hange, I'm sorry." You let out, accepting your fate. "I know you are baby, I know." Hange leaned forward and placed a kiss on your forehead, almost like she was accepting your apology and apologising at the same time for what was about to come. 

---

The teasing. It went on for what felt like hours.

Hange was positioned on top of you, their legs on each side of your hips, both arms placed on either side of your head to support their weight. They'd leave a trail of kisses from your neck to your stomach; nibbling gently at your collar bones, marking you. They kissed you, tounge entering your mouth, dancing it's own rhythm, you struggling to match their energy back. There was no fight for dominance here, Hange had taken it all from you. Their hand would carefully trace from your neck, down to your chest and up to your right breast, their palm slowly caressing the soft flesh whilst catching your areola between their index and ring finger, rolling the sensitive nub gently. 

A series of whimpers and soft moans were released into Hange's mouth, still connected with your own. You almost forgot this was supposed to be a punishment. They disconnect from your lips for a moment, bringing their hand from your nipple to your mouth, now using their index finger to hush your lips gently "Shh, baby I don't wanna hear it. I've heard enough of you today." You whine again silently in protest and from the loss of sensation from your nipple. They began repeating this process, now moving onto your left breast; leave a trail of kisses and marks, then halting their movements any time they'd hear you whimper or notice you were showing any signs of enjoyment.

You were growing increasingly impatient by the minute and wasn't sure how much of this you could endure before crying from frustration. Hange's ego was being fuled by seeing you rilled up and desperate under their simple touches. You could tell by the way their lip would curl up into a smirk against your mouth anytime you would let out the slightest noise, mouth agape from their movements. They loved seeing you whine and protest every time their mouth would go back to work on the same areas without going down to where you really needed them.

Hange can't get enough of seeing you like this, but they're not cruel. After what seemed like forever, they finally began increasing their movements, their mouth now working on your breasts. Their hands traced the sides of your stomach gently in an up and down motion as their tongue worked around your hardened nipple's, the tip gently dipping into the ducts, sucking and nibbling gently around the flesh. You tried your best to contain your whimpers but it was all too much, your hands now also desperately searching for any sort of grounding to latch onto, finally settling on Hange's toned back. Hange abruptedly detached themselves from your body, only  connected still by your hips. 

"A ah ah." Hange warns as you whimper at the loss of connection. "What did I say about making noise hmm, and those hands are too loose, let's say we do something about them?" You object to their request but you have no say in what they choose to do to you tonight. Hange peels themselves off you, and off the bed. You could finally close the gap between your legs attempting to soothe the ache between your thighs as discretely as possible. You could hear them shuffling around through the drawers looking for something.

You got too carried away as you didn't even notice them towering above and staring directly at you, unimpressed by your actions. They had their harness on with the dildo to the side, and in their hands some rope and your underwear. You felt their two hands forcefully pull your legs apart, your eyes shot open, placing themselves between your legs again. You heard a slapping noise followed by a sharp stinging on your thigh. "Don't try that again y/n. This is your final warning." They sooth the stinging pain on your thigh with th it hand. "I'm sorry, I just need you to ple-" another slapping noise ripped though the now warm air, followed by another stinging pain. "You're really testing the waters y/n. Fucking brat, shut up and be a good girl for me for once."

They grabbed the rope they had placed on the bed and used it to gently tie a knot between your wrists. They then grabbed your discarded underwear, "Here, since you can't seem to shut up." They squeezed the sides of your mouth open and shoved in your laced garment. You wriggled in protest, more so for your hands to be freed. Hange ignored you and began kissing your navel, moving down to your pelvis and thighs. They lifted one of your legs onto their shoulder,  slowly kissing down from your shin to your  inner thighs, so so close yet so far to the throbbing heat between your legs. You let out a stifled moan, the fabric of your panties muffling your sounds. 

Hange finally started placing gentle kisses just above your core, lips just gently grazing the top of your vulva. They took their two fingers and gently traced between your lips, gathering up some of your arousal. The feeling had your mind running laps, it was the first kind of contact you'd gotten since this all started. You were breathing frantically, letting out chopped whimpers and moans through the fabric, hands writhing between the ropes. Hange continued like this, just like as before; peppered kisses along your thighs and vulva, gentle traces around the outsides and then withdrawal. This was your breaking point.

Your throat hurt from the constant moaning, you couldn't take it anymore. Hange pulled their hand away from your core, instantly being met with persistent protests from you, then gathering enough slick before taking your panties out of your mouth and replacing it with their two fingers to pacify you. "Can you do a quick taste test for me, I need to see if you're ready or still need more work." You desperately swirled your tongue around their fingers, sucking hard and tasting yourself, nibbling gently at the flesh of their blunt fingertips. "Now tell me, have you learnt your lesson yet?" They ask, removing their fingers from your mouth being instantly met with your response. "Yes Hange, please, I'm sorry ohmygosh I'm sorry just please I'm begging you please." Hange had to hold back a moan from your voice, seeing you like this made a mess of them too. "Please what darling, use your language baby what is it that you want?" "You! Your fingers, anything oh please fuck me Hange please fuck me I wanna cum so bad please I'm begging you." You moan back desperately, not a single ounce of shame laced in your response. 

How could Hange say no to such a sweet request. "That's my good girl, you're so good for me, I'll give you what you want I promise." They swiftly remove the rope from your hands, using their palm to soothe the burn. They leave a trail of kisses from your neck all the way down to your navel, just above your bush. Finally, Hange starts to go down on you, they lick a stripe up from the bottom of your vulva to the top, tongue lapping at the hood of your puffy and swollen clit. A sinful moan rips through your vocal chords, your body shaking from pleasure. Your hands palm at the well roughend bedsheets, one arm finally resting at the top of Hange's hair gripping for relief. They can't help but also moan at your reaction, sending vibrations through your core. They rest both their hands onto your thighs and caress them gently, their tongue coaxed with your slick and cum, the salty flavour mixing with their saliva. 

"You're so fucking wet for me baby" Hange keeps the praises coming as your moans get more and more frequent. They gently suck on your puffy clit, using their tounge to do gentle small licks in between. Your eyes are shut tight as your hands instinctively push Hange's head further into your core for more release. "Just like that ah, Hange oh fuck fuck" Hange removes their right hand from your thigh and gentle inserst their ring and midde finger into your core, fucking you gently whilst sucking and flicking your hood with their tongue. You could feel your eyes practically roll to the back of your skull as Hange's long slender fingers rim through your spongey walls, curling and rubbing your sweet spot over and over again. 

Hange knows your body too well, more than you do, they can tell the knot in your stomach is seconds from being undone so, slowly they retract their movements, causing you to moan in dissent. "Relax baby relax, I've not even used the strap yet, I'm not going anywhere. Where would you like to be, on your front or back?" "Any fucking where Hange I don't fucking care." Hange laughs at your response, leaning forward to kiss your sweaty forehead. "Atta princess, just lie there and look pretty for me m'kay imma make you feel good." 

Hange finally removed their vest, exposing their perky tits and defined torso. Hange attached the dildo to the strap, now kneeling on the bed. "How about on your back so I can see your pretty face when you come undone for me, how does that sound?" Hange reaches forward and grabs two pillows, placing one just under your tailbone and the other under your head. "Just get on with it please Hange." you moan back begging, Hange can't help but laugh at your desperation. "You're so fucking feisty gosh y/n, gonna have to fuck that attitude out of you." 

They meant it.

Hange aligns themself with your entrance, the tip just barely going in. They lean forward, grazing their nipples along your chest and scoop their arms under yours, allowing you to hold onto their back for support. Finally, they enter you slowly, pushing in inch by inch. Your moans coaxed Hange's ears like sweet honey, a sluttery voice that made them want to take you there and then without waiting. But they refused to. They patiently waited for you to give them the heads up to continue moving. "You take me so well baby, just tell me when you're ready and I'll go." You nodded in response into the crook of their neck. They slowly began pulling out and then pushing back in, eventually picking up the pace.

"Hange faster please!" you moaned out, your speech slurred and mixed with desperation. "As you wish princess" Hange sat up and placed one of your legs over your shoulder. They then positioned themselves between your legs, hitting you at an angle and at an increasing speed. More sinful moans errupted from your throat, not holding back anymore. Hange guided the shaft of the dildo right to the hilt of your core, your cum and slick leaking onto the pillow beneath you. "Gosh you're so fucking wet baby, ugh you take my cock so well. Wanna fill you up so bad." Hange can't help but babble out loud; you're too fucked to even process what they're saying, only responding with your whimpers and moans.

Hange keeps up the pace, using one arm to hold your leg in place and the other to keep hold of your pelvis, keeping you in place. "Hange I'm close I'm so close please don't stop, oh" They could see you writhing more and more under their hold, your knot finally being loosened, ready to be burst open at any givin moment. They wanna give it to you so bad, knowing that you deserve it after being patient for so long. And they finally do: hot flashes of white took over your vision, "Fuck fuck Hange I'm coming holy fuck oh" ; your core throbbing so tightly around Hange's girth, as they continued to fuck you through your orgasm still not stopping. You couldn't even moan anymore, your body shook violently from pleasure, back arching off the mattress, slowly riding it out. "That's it beautiful, oh you're so fucking good for me, cum for me princess." Hange slowly decreased their pace, still trying to help you ride out your high. Hange was still yet to halt their movements, trying to make it last out for as long as possible. You started to whine from overstimulation and gently grabbed Hange's hips to a stop. Hange, still inside you, leaned forward and placed soft gentle kisses all over your body in attempt to ground you back to reality. 

"You did so well princess I'm so proud of you. Imma pull out now so I can clean us up okay baby?" You nodded and Hange slowly pulled out, your cum slowly following through. Hange grabbed a wet, warm towel and gently started wiping the mess between your thighs and on your body. They removed the strap and joined you on the bed, laying next to you. You lean over and place your head on their chest, matching the rhythm of their breathing. They move a hand to stroke your hair gently, tilting their head down to place gently kisses on the sides of your face and hair. Hange looks from over your shoulder and admires their work: Your body is littered with marks and love bites. "I hope I didn't hurt you too much dear?" You hum a no in response. You were so fucked out of reality you weren't really saying much. Hange's praises were slowly grounding you: "You did do well baby." "You did amazing." "I'm proud of you."

...

"Don't think I've forgiven you that easily. We're not done yet."

That one brought you to your senses real quick.

[moechies]

oh please more bunny reader and toji they’re so cutesy. maybeeeee reader has really sensitive tail/ears and toji really takes advantage of that?

tamer! toji who’s the roughest with his little client bunny. well, your previous owner is to blame. he claims that you’re the pickiest, messiest, neediest bunny that needs to be put in her place ; with none other but a little bit of force.

tamer! toji who doesn’t really like rodents , but he assumes he could make an exception for you; since you’re cute and fluffy. just this once though , bunny !

tamer! toji who doesn’t let your brat antics slip past him, and makes sure that you know your place at the end of the day. he can’t let your owners tedious cash payment go to waste !

“d-don’t touch my ears !” you whine, soft sobs spilling from your pouty lips. the man has both your ears in a strong, unforgiving grip, looking to teach you a lesson for sneaking into his washroom for a peek.

the thin, white towel he has around his waist hangs dangerously low and not to mention, loose, and your wandering eyes can’t help but notice the fat chub that shows through the fabric.

“fuckin’ perverted bunny. ya need a whoopin’ to learn yer place ?” he sneers, lowering his face to face yours. you paw at his hand, thumb slipping against his burly fingers, “hn— no— it hurts ! w-was an accident , swear ! i got lost !”

toji can’t help but grin at your limpid lies; he can see right through you, little bunny.

y’r gonna learn not to lie t’me ever again tonight, bunny.”

tamer! toji who carries you towards his bed as you writhe in his grip, ignoring your little mewls and complaints about your sensitive ears as you rub incessantly at the sore flesh.

tamer! toji who bends you over in the grossest arch against his towel-clad lap, feeling his warm skin against yours as the towels knot grows weaker and threatens to slip. he tugs off your soft shorts, revealing that soft, chubby bunny butt.

tamer! toji who’s surprised when he sees how fluffy your little cottontail is, twitching nervously under his gaze.

tamer! toji who even more surprised when he takes a sneak peek at your bunny cunt , just to see how slicked up your chubby folds are, soft hole throbbing with your carnal needs. what a pervert.

“no ! d-don’t look there !” you squeal, frantic paws attempting to scurry away from the man’s grasp.

his hand comes down unexpectedly with a hard smack across your ass, the soft flesh growing raw to the touch. your throat elicits a small gasp of shock, falling pliant against the man’s lap. you’re quick to burst into tears, even if you don’t want to; but it truly hurts so bad!

“bad bunnies need t’learn.” toji coos, kneading at the raw skin. it makes you flinch against his touch. “bad, perverted bunnies.” he whispers against your soft ears, making them twitch.

he tugs at the soft tuft of your cottontail, exposing your puckered asshole soft to the touch.

“n-no!” your tail twitches against his hold, shaky hand coming behind to cover yourself.

“hey.” he spits, a rough hand grappling at the chub of your ass almost like a threat, “y’think y’r in any place to tell me no right now ?”

his hand slaps down against your plush ass once again, the sting inevitable as he holds you firmly. your hands ball into fists that shoot up to your eyes, furiously wiping away at your newfound tears, soft hiccups that accompany your cries.

“that’s it, y’r learning.” you submit helplessly below him, watching intently at your softened ears pliant against the cushion. “y’know what you need to do?”

“m—m sorry. ‘m sorry mister…!” you burst into tears once again, little toe pads curled up into ‘c’s in a fear of feeling his punishing hand on the hot burn of your ass yet again. you don’t know if he’d punish you for your loud cries yet, but you simply can’t hold back. he’s breaking your little bunny heart.

“oh..” he sighs, he feels a tad bit bad; he supposes. he watches as your forearm slaps across your face to hide your expression, your other hand in an attempt to protect your burning cheek. “hey.”

you peek up at him with a tiny stare, hiccups still reverberating through your body causing you to bounce against his lap. you ignore the fat chub that pokes at the side of your tummy, flaunting shamelessly through the fabric of toji’s pants.

“come to this room t’ night after yer duties. y’took yer punishment well.” toji grimes, and he adores the way your eyes light up like diamonds. his friend down below seems to adore it just as much as he does, too.

tamer! toji who sees you peek in half of your head at the designated time that he asked you to come, nervously treading along the glazed floors with a glint of fear that he’ll continue his punishment.

don’t think of him so lowly, bunny. he really isn’t that mean!

tamer! toji who takes care of you that night; after a bit of coercing and getting you on your tummy, ripping your frilly panties from your bruised butt and pressing in a thick plug. he thinks the pink diamond is terribly gorgeous in contrast to your soft tail, twitching with pain at the unfamiliar feeling.

tamer! toji who preps you briefly, leaning down to block your view of his hefty fingers slipping in between your chubby folds. “s—sir!” it’s not like you don’t feel it, but he loves to make a little face at you that makes you look crazy!

tamer! toji who fucks you brutally against his soft matress that night, relentlessly humping into the depths of your gushy cunt. he can’t get enough, truly. you’re one damn bunny.

he watches you skillfully, the little plug snug in your ass squeezing against his cock from the inside. he feels the hard metal that bulges from the other side of your soft walls, grunting at the tightness.

tamer! toji who can’t help but cum fat loads in your cunt when he hears your little cries, sweet yelps for your ‘mister’ to come and save you. it’s even better when they slowly grow to cute moans and pleads to cum all over. don’t worry, bunny. your new mister will be sure to tug at your cottontail and rub your clit, just to ensure his bunny a good time.

[chestersturniolo]

“brat”

Chris Sturniolo x fem!reader x Matt Sturniolo

brat tamer!chris • brat tamer!matt

WARNINGS; established poly relationship - no incesty weird shit, orgasm denial, edging, bed restraints, bdsm themes, p!slapping, spitting, use of toys, drug use (dealer/stoner!Matt&Chris) , pleasure tears. MDNI !!!

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Chris had been out on deals for most of the day, leaving you alone with Matt, and you’d been testing his patience all day…and you knew him well enough to know your defiance wouldn’t go unpunished for long.

So here you were, splayed out across the bed, wrist and ankle restraints pinning you down.

“Oh-mmph-oh my god” you moan, as your favourite wand vibrator circles your clit, sending blissful waves through your entire body. You feel the tension coiling tight, your orgasm fast approaching. Just as you were on the brink of letting go, it was ripped from your grasp. Once again.

Matt had been edging you for hours now, bringing you as close to the point of no return as possible before, well, returning. Removing the vibrations from where you needed it most, and slowly dragging it over the rest of your naked body, until he knew your climax had subsided enough to build another.

You let out a needy whine at yet another denial

Matt gives you a faux sympathetic look, as he teases your nipples with the toy, circling each slowly

“Ah what’s the matter?-“ he coos, “you wanna’ cum?”

You feel a flicker of relief as you frantically nod your head “P-please” you beg

Matts mouth turns up slightly at your desperation, before clicking his tongue with a small shake of his head “Hm…well maybe you should’ve thought about that before testin’ me today,shouldn’t you?” he snarks, before reuniting the wand to your core, drawing slow, tantalising circles with it.

Helpless moans cascade from your mouth as you throw your head back into the pillow, your tear filled eyes squeezing shut at the overwhelming pleasure. The more time went on, the less time it took for Matt to push you to the edge between each denial,, so It wasn’t long before that familiar pressure reformed. But just before you reached your peak, you’re snapped out of your daze by the sound of the bedroom door swinging open. Matt doesn’t even look behind him, just simply pulls away the wand, and slowly trails it down each of your shaking legs.

You blink away the tears that were clouding your vision, your eyes quickly landing on Chris…stood leaning against the door frame , with a lit joint hanging from the corner of his mouth.

“C-Chris” you breathe, tugging at your restraints,, maybe he will grant you what you’ve been chasing for hours. You give him a look of desperation as a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Don’t be lookin’ to him for help sweetheart-” Matt mutters, still teasingly tracing your figure with the toy “-y’think i didn’t tell him about the attitude you’ve been givin’ me all fuckin’ day huh?”

You let out a small whine as you watch Chris stroll over to the foot of the bed. He takes a long,slow drag of his joint as he lets his eyes roam every inch of your quivering body. A small smirk plays on his lips,taking in your appearance. Your messy hair, tear stained cheeks, your lips swollen and red from biting down on them repeatedly. You looked a mess, and he loved it.

Chris’s gaze holds yours as he exhales, letting the smoke slip from his lips in a stream that curls in the air between you. There’s a powerful intensity in the way he watches you through the haze, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint smirk.

he clicks his tongue before speaking in a low voice,

“i’ve heard you’ve been a very bad girl” he mutters, whilst he casually reaches down, handing the joint off to Matt whilst taking the vibrator from him. His fingers curl around it with an authority, his eyes never leaving yours as he takes control. Matt sits back, lazily toking on the joint, an amused look on his face, now letting Chris handle you.

You start to speak, but before you can even utter an excuse for your behaviour, a plea, or a beg, Chris cuts you off,bringing his free hand down in a smack to your dripping pussy, “brat”

Your body jolts at the pleasurable sting, and before you could recover from the feeling, Chris spits on your folds and hastily reunites the wand to your core

You writhe beneath your restraints, uncontrollably moaning as your wrists and ankles tug on the stiff material. “Mmph p-please—fuck—please let me cum” you beg,

All you got in response were low taunting chuckles,

You were in for a long night…

MASTERLIST

[mountainsandmayhem]

Shhh...Just A Little Bit More

DBF!Joel x Fem!Reader

18+ MDNI

Masterlist || Part Two || Part Three (Soft Version) || Part Three (Spicy Version)

Summary: Joel catches you somewhere you shouldn't be, twice. CW: all p no plot! age gap, spanking, dirty talk, parental guilt, brat and brat tamer, sub/dom dynamics, edging and degradation kinks if you squint AN: I found the bottom right photo on Pinterest and @mermaidgirl30 said it screamed DBF!Joel. I have never written for DBF before so please be kind. Dividers by @saradika-graphics - thank you for all your amazing graphics and dividers, I'd be lost without your page.

“Let go of me, you fucking psycho!” You’re practically yelling over the music of the club, wrenching your arm from Joel’s strong grasp. The security guard approaches and Joel shoots him a glare so dark that he holds his hands up and steps back. “What the fuck, Joel?”

“What are ya doin’ here, sweetheart” he demands, one eyebrow raised. 

“I’m working!” You stomp your foot and then get right up in his face, pointing a finger at him. Joel Miller, your dad’s best friend, hanging out in a strip club one town over. “The real question is, what are YOU doin here?” 

You’re only a bottle girl, you don’t get on the stage and have no intentions of stripping. It’s good money, great money actually. At 22 you’re already well on your way to having a down payment on a condo, it’s just too bad you’re having to lie to your parents. 

“With my crew, they picked the place. I’m takin’ you home. Go get your coat.” He crosses his arms over his chest, staring at you sternly. The music is pounding in your ears, the air thick with smoke. Even in the dimly lit hallway you can see the way Joel’s eyes rake over your body, taking in the very tiny Jean shorts and bralette you’re wearing. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” you spin and flip him the bird as you walk away. You know he’s staring so you give a little extra wiggle of your ass as you walk away. Joel Miller, staring at your ass. The fourteen year old inside you does a happy dance - that version of yourself had a tiny crush on him. Too bad he’s a stuffy, grumpy asshole now. You miss the fun, young Joel. He used to do cannonballs in the pool with you and his daughter Sarah. She was a few years older than you, but he was much more fun than your father. But now? Now he’s a certified prick. Thinking he can drag you away like some sort of barbaric caveman. He’s not your dad, even if he was, you’re an adult. 

When you finish your shift you head outside and pull up your Uber app, men often want to do shots with you so even though you never get drunk at work you also don’t drive there. 

See, Joel. I’m responsible. 

“Let’s go,” his voice is deep, still angry with you. You didn’t see him waiting by the door so you jump. 

“Jesus. You fucking scared me.” 

“Watch your language. Get in the truck.” 

You grumble under your breath that he should kiss your ass as he holds the door open for you. He stalks around to his side of the truck while furrowing his brow and shaking his head. 

“Got somethin’ to say young lady?” 

“Ya,” you say, slumping in the seat and putting your white vans on his dashboard, “kiss my ass.” 

He presses his lips in a thin line, you can see him eyeing your long toned legs from your peripheral vision before the engine roars to life and he speeds off down the gravel highway. 

When you pull up to the house he hops out of the truck and is right on your heels as you open the door. 

“I’m fine, Mister Miller.” You say with a sneer. You know he hates that, he has told everyone he’s ever been introduced to to call him Joel. 

Joel steps into your parents house and calls your dad’s name. “What the fuck! Joel! Shut up!” 

He calls for him again and your dad comes stumbling from his room, tying his robe around his sleeping attire. “Joel? What’s going on?” He flicks on the light, squinting against the brightness. “It’s 3 in the morning.” 

“Just thought I’d let you now know that the guys at work wanted to go to The Skin tonight. Caught your daughter working there.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Joel?!” You yell, pushing at his broad chest. Your dad stands there stunned. Eyes wide and mouth agape. He thought you were working as a nurses aide overnight at the hospital on weekends. He’s even seen you leave the house in scrubs. All a part of the web of lies you have weaved. 

“Don’t speak to Joel that way,” your dad snaps. “Go to your room young lady. We’ll talk about this later.” 

“Kiss my ass, cowboy.” You practically spit at him as you stomp to your room. As you round the corner your mom is standing in the hallway clutching her crucifix necklace. You have a sudden urge to hiss at her with the way she’s looking at you, like you’re a disappointment. A sinner, the worst kind of person in her eyes. 

The next morning was the fight of all fights with your parents. Your dad tried to ground you, your mom started shoving church pamphlets at you. They wouldn’t even fucking listen. 

“IM NOT A STRIPPER,” you yelled at them over and over again. 

Finally, when the yelling ceased, your dad said in a very quiet anger, “young lady. I FORBID you from going there again. Is that clear? I don’t care if you’re 22 or 42, if you live under my roof, you live by my rules. You’re going to go to continue going to your university classes during the week, and on weekends you will be home. Studying. Helping your mother with the chores. You will go to bed at respectable hour. If you need money, you ask us. Is that clear?” 

You blink back tears and head to your room, slamming the door behind you. You are NOT quitting that job. 

When the next weekend rolls around you say goodnight to your parents at 10pm and head to your room. You worked it out with your boss to work the midnight to 4 am shift. So you wait - ear pressed to your door until you finally hear your parents go to bed. You sneak out the same way you’ve been sneaking out for years and run down the street with your newly embroidered denim shorts in hand to meet your Uber. 

You peel yourself away from the men and the booze around 2am to get some fresh air, exiting through the back to the dimly lit alley. You take a big inhale through your nose before you see it. The truck. Joel’s truck. And Joel. Leaning against the truck box, arms crossed, one foot up on the tire. 

You flip him off and then turn back towards the back entrance to the club. He’s on you so fast, grabbing the back of your bicep in his large hand. “You little brat. You aren’t supposed to be here.” 

“Read the shorts, MISTER Miller.” You say it as much venom as you can muster. 

His eyes rake down your body and you can almost feel them burning into you. It feels so good, you never want him to stop. Your pussy throbbed when he called you a brat and you wouldn’t be surprised if your light jean shorts hadn’t been soaked through already. When his eyes reach the pocket he sees ‘Kiss My Ass, Cowboy’ stitched in baby pink lettering and his grip tightens. 

He’s fucking furious with you. Furious that you’re here. Furious that other men get to see you dressed like this. Furious that he wants you so fucking badly. But mostly, furious because he knows you want him too and he’s a weak weak man when it comes to pretty little things like you. He yanks you back against his body and you let out a pained moan. 

“Don’t make me punish you,” he says coldly in your ear and you fight to stop your knees from buckling. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say breathlessly. 

Joel’s lips graze against the shell of your ear, hand gripping so tightly that you’re sure you’ll have bruises tomorrow. “So that’s what you want? You want me to punish you? Put you in your place? Huh?” 

You grind your ass back against him, “you would dare, Joel.” 

His other hand clamps down on your hip as he steers you to his truck, walking you around so no one can see the two of you. He opens the back door and pushes you forward until your legs are against the cold steel frame of the vehicle. “You don’t get to call me that. You call me Mr Miller from now on. Understood?” 

“Go fuck yourself, Joel,” you emphasize every vowel of his name, digging deeper. Pushing him. Pushing to see how far he’ll go. You get off on being a brat, and by the way his hard cock is pressing into your ass, he does too. 

He unbottons your shorts then lifts you slightly and pushes your upper body down onto the seat, the truck is high enough that your feet are dangling, ass stuck out for him. “Look at these slutty little shorts.” He tugs on the hem, your shorts now sitting just above your knees. Your pert ass is exposed to Joel and the night air. He tuts at the sight of you, “No panties. Little fuckin’ tease.” 

You whimper at his words, slick starting to coat your thighs. “You’re the one standing back there doing nothing.” You taunt. 

The cool night air spreads goosebumps across your skin, your clit twitches in anticipation of his touch. Other men have fucked you hard to get you to shut your mouth. And finally, FINALLY, you’re going to get fucked by Joel Miller. However, you grossly underestimated the different between the boys were with before and the man behind you now. 

His hand strikes your cheek hard and you let out a loud pained yell. “What the fuck, Joel!” 

“If you’re gonna be a brat,” his hand lands on your ass again, “you’re going to get a spanking.” His voice is harsh and rough as he hits you a third time. The sound of his skin on yours echoing through the cab of his truck. He hits you again, not caring about your cries of protest. 

You’ve never been spanked before and you’re thrown by your bodies reaction to it. At first you were shocked, then humiliated and then the pain and heat travelled to the base of your spine and you found yourself starting to get turned on. Arousal pools in your belly with each strike of his palm and when your pussy throbs the humiliation starts to creep back in. Are you supposed to be enjoying this so much, is this what Joel wants?

You bend your knees up, trying to make space between your bodies. One of his strong hands wraps around your ankles, pinning them to the back of your thighs as he spanks you again. 

“Stop! I’m sorry. I’ll - “ he strikes you again, harder than the last few times and there’s no more pain, every slap is full of pleasure. You let out a deep moan, your pussy practically gushing onto the leather seats. “Oh fuuuuck.”

Now that it’s turning you on it almost eggs Joel on. “Put your hands out in front of you,” he commands. Your arms shoot out, stretching them across the seat above your head. “Such a needy little slut. You’re drippin’ all over my fucking seat, baby girl.” He strikes you again and your arms flinch. “Keep them there.” 

Your ass is starting to get pink, his splotchy handprints covering it. The world around him starts to fade, all that he can see is you and your ass - and he wants to make it hurt. Then he wants to make it good. So very good. 

His strikes keep coming, he’s like a man possessed. “Stop, Joel. Please.” 

He drops your ankles, then uses his hand to spread your thighs apart, the denim biting into your knees. “Shhh…just a little bit more. Look at this messy pussy. You don’t want me to stop.” 

He hits you again and you start to hate how much he’s right. You don’t want him to stop, you’re on the verge of coming and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You’re sure the second he’s near your clit you’ll explode. 

Both of your cheeks are glowing red and Joel finally stops. You’ve both lost track of how many times he’s hit you. His large palm rubs the marks. You know you should keep your mouth shut, but fuck do you love to rile him up. 

“Are you done now? I have work to get back to.” 

Joel growls behind you. You hear the sound of his belt undoing, the leather whipping out from the demin loops. “I’m sick of your goddamn mouth, baby girl.” 

Your eyes widen in fear, stomach twisting up over the thought of him striking your sore ass with his thick leather belt. Your pussy, however, flutters in excitement. Slut, you think to yourself. 

You hear his buckle clinking, he grabs you by the hair and jerks your head back. “Open you mouth,” he says with a snarl. You obey him and he slides the folded up leather between your teeth. “Bite down on this. You can speak to me again once you’ve learned your lesson.” 

You press your teeth into the rough leather, waiting for his next move. His hand comes across the back of your thigh and it’s a whole different sensation. The pain shoots straight to your core, the walls of your pussy clenching harder than your teeth do as you whine out a high pitched squeal. On instinct your hands shoot back, knees bending to protect yourself from him. He steps back from you, without his heat you’re left in the cold air. 

“Arms up and legs down,” he says in an eerily calm voice. 

You whimper again, grinding your teeth against the leather of his belt before slowly peeling your arms and legs away from your body, returning to Joel’s desired position. You’re so wet that it’s staring pool along the leather seat of Joel’s truck, your hips slipping slightly. 

“Dirty little thing. I’m tryin to punish you and you’re sopping wet.” He steps forward and lays a loud sharp slap with perfect precision right across your sore thigh. 

You yelp again, whining as your lash line fills with tears. This is not what you thought would happen when Joel threatened to punish you. And you definitely didn’t expect to fucking love it. You’re so turned on that you feel dizzy. 

Joel’s lips come to your thigh. Light kisses and his scratchy facial hair peppering along your red hot skin. “Fuck me,” you say around the leather clamped between your teeth. 

Joel laughs into your skin, kissing along the handprints he’s left on your ass. You’re squirming underneath him, pushing your ass towards his face, desperate for him to make you come. His hands grip around your shorts and your whole body relaxes at the thought of him finally fucking you. “I need you to listen to me now, ok?” 

You nod fervently and he lets out an amused laugh. You arch your back at him invitingly, but instead of removing your shorts he yanks them back up. You moan out in protest as he lifts you down from the truck. His strong fingers work to do up your shorts before he spins you. You look like a wreck; mascara smudged under your eyes, cheeks pink, eyes glazed and dopey looking. Cock drunk and he hasn’t even given it to you. He grabs the belt and you release it for him. It’s killing him not to fuck you right here and now. 

His hand cups your chin, squeezing your cheeks and locking eyes with you. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

You try to nod but he’s gripping you so tightly. “Yea? Then you need to do what I say. Ok?” 

“Mm-hmm” 

“Go in there and quit. Then come back out here and I will fuck you so hard that you’ll feel it in your throat.” 

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag  @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @baar-ur @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde  @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya @javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @mermaidgirl30

[ugh-yoongi]

hang up if u want to | kmg

he's in japan. you're at home, knowing there's no point in staring at your phone, waiting. mingyu might not wanna define what the two of you are, but that certainly doesn't stop him from asking for what he wants.

pairing: idol!mingyu x f. reader genre: situationship au; a lil angst, smut warnings: swearing. sexting — use of gendered terms for genitalia, mentions of oral and penetrative sex, masturbation, images/videos, dirty talk i guess?, squirting. one mention of reader wearing a dress. another mention of reader wearing mingyu’s shirt and it being large on her. (not meant to be an indication of size—that mf is just so large i think most people would drown in his clothes.) mingyu is domineering and kind of brat tamer-y but i wouldn't say this is dom-y at all. he also uses the term "baby" a lot bc i refuse to use y/n. rating: explicit. minors dni. wordcount: 3.6k listen to: namasenda - dare (pm) / khalid, 6lack, ty dolla $ign - otw / keshi - like i need u / edward maya & vika jigulina - stereo love / monsta x - addicted / brockhampton - sugar / shy martin - good together author's note: hello, i barely text men let alone sext them, so if this sucks my bad. i'm also not 100% comfy for writing any groups outside of bts, so i'm also sorry if the characterization is off. the mingyu brainrot was brainrotting tho bc if there's one thing he's gonna do it's look hot holding his phone in a photo, so. here we are. i was gonna wait and post this tomorrow but it's valentine's day so fuck it we ball. thank you: @the-boy-meets-evil, @hot-soop, & @effortandmore for checking this over and brainstorming with me. namasenda for the lyrics in the title and inspo.

Kim Mingyu Missed Call (2)

Your eyes glance upwards at the time. It’s nearing one a.m.; Mingyu’s second call came and went only a few minutes ago. The first one will have come not long after he got off stage, because they always do. There’s a script—unspoken and unacknowledged, but a script nonetheless—and Mingyu follows it religiously.

You sigh. Leave your phone on your nightstand as you change into pajamas, back into the bathroom to wash your face. Roll your eyes as you hear the texts roll in, the sound grating and ominous as it vibrates against the wood.

All part of the script.

Kim Mingyu: just got back to the hotel Kim Mingyu: you up

Also part of the script: this is the only way it goes. Maybe Mingyu wants to text you, but adrenaline’s the only reason he ever goes through with it. That post-concert high, nothing else to do with all that energy but invest it into you, and the thing about scripts is that they get old, grow stale. Always the same thing, and you can only have that conversation so many times before you get tired and rip it up.

We all have roles to play. Mingyu is the one who refuses to define what it is the two of you have, put a label on it. He’s the one who calls from countries away and speaks in that low, hushed tone. He’s the tempter, the one who holds all the cards but refuses to lay them down.

A royal flush, every single time.

And you—you’re not helpless. Not some poor creature fighting for its life in a spun-silk web. Mingyu’s capable of devouring you in more ways than one, but it’s not like that. Not really. As laissez-faire as he is, you come and go as you please, too. Perhaps it’s as mutually beneficial as it is destructive, but that’s the nature of the production; the result of the roles you two of you play.

Kim Mingyu: you ignoring me? Kim Mingyu: i saw your ig story Kim Mingyu: knock it off baby

You smile, private and sardonic, because you aren’t helpless. Sometimes it’s your web, and it’s all Mingyu can do to keep his head above water. Another role you’d borrowed from someplace else but still have memorized. Still remember all the lines, the mannerisms.

On your story: a video of you, bare skin glittering beneath the golden-fluorescent light of your bathroom; you, with your dress unzipped, the straps slipping down your arms; your hand pressed to your chest to keep yourself covered. Your back turned to the camera, visible only in the mirror, as the silk dropped to the floor.

In the settings: only two accounts given permission to see, both belonging to the same person.

In your DMs: Mingyu, on his private account with the username that looks more like a keysmash than any legible thing, reacting with the fire emoji.

Related: the image hovering just above Mingyu’s texts. The one he’d repaid you with not long after seeing your story. A mirror selfie of his own: grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, a soaked-through white t-shirt stuck to his stomach, the lines of his abs visible.

That, and everything below it—all left unanswered.

The thing about Mingyu is he’ll give chase. Doesn’t shy away from all the things he wants; isn’t shy about giving voice to them.

But he’ll never, ever beg.

(Not like this, at least. When he’s in your bed it’s always a different story. He’s a kept man, there, and kept men have no qualms about things like that. Begging for your mouth, your pussy. Begging you to let him come.)

Normally you’d let it go. Let him talk to himself in your texts, because he’s got a lot of nerve if nothing else, but you’d gone out earlier. Grabbed a few drinks with your girlfriends, let the alcohol thrum through you like a livewire. Watched as they danced with men whose names they didn’t know and never learned and thought about what it’d be like to be able to do something like that in public.

Got home, felt a little scorned, just on the edge of bitter. Made a show of taking your dress off in the bathroom mirror and posted it someplace you knew he’d look.

You: did you like it?

Rhetorical. Mingyu may not want to put a label on this thing, might not want to be caged-in and suffocated, but you know what you do to him. All the ways you affect him.

i could tell you, comes the immediate reply, and your eyes are halfway rolled when—

Kim Mingyu: or i could show you

It takes a second to come through, but once it does your breath hitches in your throat. Far from the most obscene image he’s ever sent you, but just as effective. An expanse of tanned, soft skin, lean muscle; still in those same grey sweats, bunched up a little on the thigh as he lays in his plush hotel bed with his legs spread.

At the center of it all, the outline of his hard, thick cock, so fucking big as it stretches the fabric taut.

All you can do is stare.

Mingyu is not of this earth. This thought is nothing new: he has always existed outside the realm of possibility, in more ways than one, so this is merely a fact. Grass is green, the sky is blue, sometimes you can love someone in a way that’s so overwhelming and still be no good for them.

Another fact: it’s primal, the way you need him. Always has been.

You: what am i looking at? You: new sweatpants?

On the other end of the line, it’s easy to imagine his reaction. A quick snort of laughter, tongue pressed into the fat of his cheek before he clenches his jaw. If he were here, he’d haul you into his lap, kiss you deep and messy. Trail his fingers along your skin until they settled in the hollow of your throat.

Pull away just for a second. Just long enough to say, “Watch your mouth,” before he’s licking into it.

Kim Mingyu: don’t be like that 🙄

This time your eyes fully roll. Spitefully, you snap a picture of what’s in front of you: your bedroom wall, some drama playing on the TV, a sliver of amber light from the lamp next to you.

You send it.

You: while we’re sending pictures of irrelevant shit

Truth be told, you’re not like this often, but you get a streak of it every now and then. Only ever at times like this, when the two of you haven’t seen one another in a while and the distance between you is still so ambiguous, untitled.

Usually Mingyu will come by your place. Get you stripped down to almost nothing, have you writhing on his fingers. Then, in between satisfied groans, he’ll slap at your thighs, tell you to stop being a brat.

Kim Mingyu: then send me something worthwhile You: you first

Another beat of silence. Long enough to flick through the channels, plug in your phone, let some of that heat dissipate.

Your phone chimes, and when you look down—

Those grey sweats are long gone, replaced with a pair of black briefs barely containing his cock, still hard and curved toward his stomach. You swallow. Let your eyes linger on the corded muscle of his thighs, all that soft skin. Let your mind remind you, just for a second, how it feels beneath your fingertips, your hands, your mouth.

All the sounds he makes.

Kim Mingyu: is that better Kim Mingyu: is that what you wanted

Unbidden, the corners of your mouth lift. hm… close but no, you type out. Let it sit for a few seconds before you delete it. If Mingyu wants to be a tease, you can do the same.

You situate yourself against the pillows. Angle your phone so the length of your body is visible: your bare legs twisted in the sheets, the bruise Mingyu had sucked into the inside of your thigh before he left just barely making it into the frame. What’s fully visible, though: his shirt that’s draped over your frame, how much it engulfs you, the way you’re drowning in it. In him.

You send it.

You: depends... is this what you wanted?

The response is immediate:

Kim Mingyu: absolutely not. take it off baby.

You’ve starred in this production before, knew where it was headed the second you saw the missed calls, so you’d put on his favorite of your underwear. Skimpy red lace, part of a set he’d had sent to your apartment. Used to tell you in desperate whispers how ruined he was seeing you in them; used to have to rein himself in so he didn’t rip them off.

So you snap another photo. Spread your legs a little further, pull the hem of Mingyu’s shirt between your teeth. Know seeing that sliver of your stomach will drive him crazy, too, but it’ll pale in comparison to the underwear.

You consider video calling him. Want to see his face when you send this photo—the pinch of his brows, the slight drop of his jaw. The way he’ll whimper a little, say baby in that tone that floods you with heat: a little desperate, all hushed awe, bordering on a whine.

The same kind of heat that starts to creep back in again. There’s power in desire, in being desired, and even though you’re here and Mingyu’s in a hotel room in Japan, you can still feel it. Subconscious, like some kind of red string shit. Anticipatory.

Kim Mingyu: goddamn Kim Mingyu: you wear those for me? Kim Mingyu: fuck, i wish i was there to take them off of you

You suck in a breath. and if you were? you send back.

Kim Mingyu: you know that pair is my favorite Kim Mingyu: drives me crazy every time you wear that set Kim Mingyu: but i’ve changed my mind. i want you to keep them on Kim Mingyu: want you to keep my shirt on too You: yeah? you want me to wear your shirt while you fuck me? pull my panties to the side? Kim Mingyu: slow down baby, i’m taking my time with you

In your bed, you snort to yourself. Mingyu has never been patient with anything, but especially not with you. Most of the time he’s so keyed up, wound so tight, that it’s all the two of you can do to make it to your bed—and sometimes you don’t. Sometimes Mingyu puts all that body to use, presses your back to the wall and throws your legs over his shoulders as he eats you out. Wraps your legs around him as he fucks you right there, the slide so, so easy with how wet and messy he gets you.

You remind him of as much. Type out, you? taking your time? i’ve got a couple walls in my entryway that would say differently, and laugh when the reply comes through—can’t help myself sometimes—and promptly stop laughing at the next one: never can, with you.

Kim Mingyu: have i ever told you what i love the most? Kim Mingyu: just kissing you. you always taste so good, baby Kim Mingyu: the way you get so worked up and start grabbing at me when i’m doing it. the way you try to get me to touch you. the way you start grinding your pussy on me like you can’t go another second without me inside you

You feel like you’re on fire. Gets worse with every word you read and re-read, try to commit to memory. You know it all too well, what he’s talking about. Know how warm his skin is, how firm he feels under your touch. Know what he tastes like. How soft his lips are. The way he sounds when you start to writhe, the way he groans when he presses tighter against you, presses you into the mattress, hard cock rutting against you, enough to take the edge off but nowhere near what he needs.

You: love that too You: love when you’re inside me even more

Kim Mingyu: me too baby Kim Mingyu: love the way you feel around me Kim Mingyu: always so fucking tight Kim Mingyu: ffuck

Your stomach drops at his last message. are you touching yourself? you type, even though you already know the answer. Another sight you’re blessed to know: Mingyu’s hand wrapped around himself, how the size of his cock makes it look small in comparison. Head tilted back, abs flexing under the weight of the pleasure.

You get a singular character in reply: 응.

show me.

He doesn’t respond right away. The pause is enough to have anticipation thrumming through your veins, make you a little shaky. Your hand trembles as you trace patterns into your warm, soft skin, pretending it’s Mingyu’s touch and not your own. Pretend it’s Mingyu’s hand that grabs at your breast beneath his shirt, thumbs over your nipple; Mingyu’s touch that has soft gasps escaping you. Pretend it’s Mingyu’s hand that dips beneath the hem of your panties.

Kim Mingyu Attachment: 1 Movie

On the screen: Mingyu’s face greets you first, eyes half-lidded and hazy, the corners of his mouth lifted in a smirk. He tilts his head back, lets you see the sweat-slick skin of his neck, the column of his throat; pans the camera down over his collar bones, his bare chest, before he flips the screen. Can barely fit the entirety of his frame in the shot, and it strikes you someplace deep, how big he is. How overwhelming.

You suck in a breath as your eyes focus—as you take in the way he’s stroking himself. His cock glistens with whatever lube he’d indulged in, but you can’t help but pretend it’s from you and your mouth. Wish you could see the way he’d touch himself as you sucked him nearly to orgasm and told him to finish himself off. The way he’d whine, beg a little, get a little shitty with you.

“Fuck,” you say out loud. You can feel your pupils blow at the thought.

“Jagiya,” comes Mingyu’s voice, intertwined with the sounds of the tv, a city so far away from you, “fuck, I’m so fu-fucking hard.”

If you’d thought you were on fire before, it’s nothing compared to now. Hearing the need in his voice, watching the way he’s touching himself. The way his hips stutter as his body seeks out more, more, more, always more, and the way he squeezes the base of his cock so he doesn’t come too soon.

“Wish it was you. Wish it was you touching me like this. I—fuck, need you so bad.”

You watch as Mingyu strokes over the head of his cock, as each subsequent pass gets more tacky and wet. Lick your lips at the sight of it. Want, more than anything, to get your mouth on him and taste the salt of his skin, the precome he’s jerking himself off with.

Before he even needs to ask, you start recording a video of your own. Leave your panties on because you know he’d want you to. Record the first pass of your fingers through your slick, let out a disbelieving little laugh at how wet you are, how you can hear it. Moan as you dip a finger into your cunt, just to the first knuckle. Say, “I’m so wet, Gyu, oh my god,” all breathy.

Not all that different from how you sound when he’s here. When he’s flesh and blood and right beside you, on top of you.

You use the wetness you’ve gathered and move your hand to your clit. It’s throbbing beneath your touch, your body already wound too tight, and you nearly hiss in oversensitivity and relief when you finally touch yourself the way you’ve wanted to. “Fuck.”

You force yourself to take your time. Slow, small circles, when everything in your body is screaming to be selfish, begging for release the same way Mingyu’s had.

“Should I finger myself?” you ask. A sharp inhale as your next pass has your toes curling. “Wo-won’t feel as good as you, but I need—need more.”

Before you cut the video, you zoom in a little. Make sure Mingyu will be able to see the way you’re touching yourself, be able to hear the sound of your arousal, the same sounds that have warmth blooming in your cheeks.

Kim Mingyu: jesusf fuck Kim Mingyu: god baby youre so hto Kim Mingyu: wanna see you finger yourself Kim Mingyu: please

It’s a little embarrassing, how incapable you are of denying him anything. You trust him implicitly, love him even more, so it’s second nature to give in, to adjust your phone so you don’t have to hold it. Second nature to press record, pull your panties to the side just like you’d proposed earlier; second nature to make a show of sticking two fingers in your mouth, sucking on them, before bringing them to your entrance and easing them inside.

Nothing compared to the stretch of Mingyu, both his fingers and his cock, but it’s still good. Enough to have you sighing softly, barely audible over the sound of everything else: the rustling of your sheets, the low thrum of your own television, you in general.

A rhythmic song and dance. Practiced. You grow wetter with each push and pull; know Mingyu will be able to see it, the way you work yourself open. That, too, has you a little dizzy. Breathless. You wonder what he sees when he looks at you. Not only like this, but all the time. Does he see an expiration date? Something good while it lasted? Is there just this—something carnal and superficial?

Or does he just see you?

It drives you crazy. Inspires something within you: not just the desire to please him, make it worth his while, but to be something else, something more than this. Has your fingers moving a little faster, has you grinding your clit against the palm of your hand. Has you a whining, writhing mess; has sounds spilling out that you aren’t sure you’ve ever heard come out of you.

You send it before you can overthink it. Whatever Mingyu sees in you, at least these are the images that’ll play in his mind whenever he thinks of you. At least you’ve sunk your claws into him.

Seconds pass in a blur. You’re still on the brink of a mind-numbing orgasm, stuck in this liminal space simply because Mingyu isn’t here, and you know, too, how this goes. Know you aren’t supposed to come without his say-so in the same way he edges himself until he gets yours.

Kim Mingyu: shit shit shit Kim Mingyu: i wish that was me. wanna take you apart like that. wanna finger you while i eat you out, make you squirt all over me again Kim Mingyu: fuck i thin k about that all the time Kim Mingyu: im gonna cum

I think about that all the time.

So do you. You, on your hands and knees, Mingyu eating you out from behind. Bracing yourself against the headboard with one arm, the other one reaching behind you to pull at his hair. You remember how relentless he’d been that night. A man possessed. Disregarded all your breathless pleas, every Mingyu, Gyu, fuck, fuck, Mingyu, baby— that left your mouth. His tongue left your pussy only long enough to say, you can take it, baby before he was right back at it. Before he worked in two fingers alongside his mouth. Before his free hand came down hard on your ass, the sting startling you, making you jerk, forcing you closer to his mouth.

You remember coming with a scream. You remember coming to with Mingyu’s lips to your neck, the sweet way he was speaking to you. You remember the knee-jerk embarrassment you felt when you saw the giant wet spot you’d left on the bed and how quickly it dissipated when Mingyu pressed a kiss to your temple, called you his good girl.

You: you can come, but you know the rule

You move your fingers back to your clit, feel all that pleasure flood back, start in your toes. It’s not long before you’re pulling a blistering orgasm from your body—one that feels like it belongs to Mingyu, wasn’t yours for the taking.

thank you, he replies, right beneath a photo of his abs streaked with cum.

The comedown is jarring. You feel both too big for your body and completely out of sorts now that you’ve fulfilled your role. Now that there’s nothing to do but sit in the stillness of your bedroom, that same drama playing on television, some girl getting her heart broken.

You wonder if Mingyu’s thinking the same. If his body also sags with relief, if the absence of all that tension feels crushing. If the first thought he has in this newfound clarity is also I love you and if he also swallows it down every single time. You wonder if he thinks about his role, if it’s becoming stale and tired.

Because you know what comes next:

Kim Mingyu: i’ll be home soon Kim Mingyu: can i see you

And you also know what you’ll say. After all, you’ve played this role before.

if you've made it this far thank you so much for reading! this is prob not my best work since it's a lil rushed but i needed something to get me out of my slump.

i would love to hear your thoughts! <3

[rainrot4me]

TW: Choking, suffocation, hand job, brat tamer reader, teasing

𐚁₊⊹

Jeff is so comfortable with being overbearing all of the time.

It’s just his personality: yelling too loudly, hitting too hard, and especially pushing the boundaries of comfortability with others. Any chance he could get to provoke a fight he was going to take.

He’s a tease, a prick who likes to watch others cringe at the worst insult he can conjure up.

So, when he’s nudging your side and pestering you about how easy you are to make mad, it’s no surprise when you come back swinging.

Now, Jeff is flailing his legs, kicking his heels into the hardwood in an attempt to escape.

You’ve pinned him in a headlock, bicep and forearm locked tightly around his throat and squeezing hard enough to make him cough. His hands are clawing at your skin, a panicky attempt to get you off of him, but the lack of oxygen is proving difficult.

“Uhn- Fuc- Hnng-!”

He can’t even get words out, labored-cutoff breaths getting caught in his throat as you pull him back against your chest and restraining him further.

“Sorry? What was that? Gonna have to speak up, Jeffrey.”

You’re taunting him, sitting back on your knees as you hook your free hand behind his head and push, creating more pressure against his airway.

He lets out a rushed cough, a deep grunt as he’s trying to fight, kicking his legs like a kid.

You’re nearly satisfied, ready to let off and leave him embarrassed, but your eye catches something that makes you hesitate.

Jeff’s face is red, cheeks flushed deeper than you’ve ever really seen. But what really catches your attention is the way his eyes roll back.

His legs are shifting, pushing his back firmly against your chest as his jaw hangs slack. He’s gasping, eyes fluttering and rolling up into his skull with an almost pleasurable edge.

Your suspicion is confirmed with a tempted look towards his crotch, a noticeable bulge pressing firmly against the fabric of his jeans. You falter for a moment, the tense in your arm relaxing as you watch Jeff’s thighs press together.

You’re also surprised at the way the killer is pushing your forearm back against his neck, almost like he’s upset you’ve let go. An embarrassed string of noises floods from his lips when you retighten your arm back, the twinge of excitement in your chest making you brave.

“God, you’re a freak.”

Sliding your hand from the back of his head, you’re reaching to his open mouth, daring to run your fingertips against his lips. Jeff halts for a moment, rough breathing all you can hear before he’s opening his mouth further and taking your fingers inside.

He sucks in the digits, his jaw falling loose when it becomes too much and he’s dizzy for air again. Groans and huffs fill the room as you’re pushing your fingers deeper, sliding the pads of your fingertips against his tongue and reaching for more.

Jeff’s gagging when your knuckles meet his lips, fingers brushing against the tightness of his throat as you watch his eyes strain to shut. Even without being choked, gagging on your fingers is making the killer dizzy, his head nearly spinning before you’re dragging your hand from his lips.

“Hah- Fuck you… Huhn- Buh- Bitch-”

His voice is ragged, snapping his anger between heavy inhales. You don’t listen, readjusting your grip as Jeff’s placing his hands on your thighs, watching carefully as you’re running your spit-soaking fingers towards his jeans.

“Hold on-”

Jeff’s trying to sit up, your arm locking back around his neck and holding him firm into your chest. He’s forced to watch as you single-handedly undo his belt, tugging the zipper down and pushing your hand under the waistline of his boxers.

He’s gasping against your arm, his nails dug into your skin as he watches you push the fabric down, his cock slipping out and bobbing heavily against his abdomen.

You take the length in your saliva-soaked fingers, gripping tightly and smiling when Jeff’s whole body jerks with it.

He’s whining, a labored hiss below you when your forearm hooks tight around his throat and his eyes begin to roll back again.

You jerk your wrist, tugging the length roughly as Jeff’s hips jerk along with it, desperate noises pushing past his lips. His heels dig into the ground, spreading his legs as he becomes lost in the dizziness and adrenaline rush of it all.

You grip onto the head of his cock, running a thumb on the head and gliding against the slit. Jeff grits his teeth at that, a gutteral groan echoing as you smile, whispering against his flushed ear.

“For someone who talks so much shit, you sure do give in real easy. What? Can’t fight back when you’re being handled like a bitch?”

The attempted curse Jeff tries to spit gets cut off when your arm tightens against his neck, his heads reaching back up to grip against your skin as you continue to pump his wilting cock.

So much pre-cum is drooling from the tip, his lightheadedness forcing his body to compute with your every touch.

“Fuu- Hngh-”

He’s drooling now, tears pricking at the corner of his heavy eyes when you teasingly bite against his ear, nibbling against the shell of hot skin. He whines out of shame, squirming against the overwhelming sensations.

Every exasperated noise and jerk of his drowsy body is disheveled. He’s desperate now, chasing every twist of your fist on the head of his cock and every tense of your bicep against his airway.

Humiliation burns his cheeks when you whisper, “So you do get off on this…” He doesn’t know if it’s an insult or a tease, but he can’t help but gush at the feeling.

He can’t stand it any more, the corners of his vision slowly darkening when he feels his abdomen strain and knot, his dark cheeks soaked in tears when he finally cums.

Your hand tightens against the base of his cock, hot stripes of cum shooting onto his stomach and drooling from his tip. Jeff’s head is so light, temples pulsing when you finally release your grasp on him, panicked inhales and gasps following.

The killer leans back against your chest, your hand still firmly gripped onto the base of his cock when he finally recatches his breath.

“You’re so disgusting.”

You’re teasing, releasing your grip on him and reaching to grip his face, hand tightened onto his jaw. You force him to look up at you, heavy eyes and darkly flushed cheeks flushing you with pride.

“Fuck you.”

His voice is hoarse, throat raw and aching as he glares, your answering smile making him falter.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

He nearly moans, that overbearing intensive exterior faltering when he’s forced to stare into your excited eyes.

It seems he’s finally found his match, but Jeff always did like a fight.

[shellshocklove]

brat three: i don't wanna feel feelings | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak

summary: joel’s brat summer is coming to an end.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, drinking of alcohol, smoking, reader wears a dress, heels and makeup but otherwise no other descriptions, use of pet names, some angst, smut, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, some daddy!joel, manhandling, some light bondage, degradation (whore, slut), oral sex (f+m receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: ok so here's part three to brat! there's one more part planned, and then that's it! <3 big thank you to @dustydaddyyy for reading through this, i love you!! <333 happy reading! 💚

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

The gravel moaned under your heels as you carefully left your uber at the foot of the driveway. The air smelled of summer; flower-y notes with a hint of anticipation. Cars lined the driveway, tightly parked with the wheels almost hanging in the air over the ditch. The sky turned purple then pink as the sun started to dip beneath the horizon, the small beams of light coming through the doors of the big barn beamed brighter and brighter the closer you got.

This wasn’t the first time you’d crashed a party, but it was your first wedding. You’d looked up the place online, Pecan Grove Ranch. It was nice, but pedestrian, not filled with the extravagance a party of this size would rank up in your father’s circles �� the ones you’d been dragged too ever since you were old enough to put on a charming smile. This felt real, no fake happy smiles and secret codes, just people gathering to celebrate love.

Love.

It had always been a thing that happened to other people. To your friends, to the protagonist in a movie, to the person on the other side of your kiss. They always thought they were in love with you, but love always felt like a joke everyone was in on except for you, a story told to sell movie tickets or for a song to hit number one.

Sex was different, sex you understood. It was like acting, and you had no problem slipping into the role. It was fun, it was a release, it was a fleeting connection you couldn’t help but chase.

One you were chasing right now.

Maybe Joel was right, maybe you are desperate, but it was his fault for leaving you like that, right on edge but without the release. Honestly, it was his fault you were here, you thought as you stood outside the open barn doors.

Off to the side a few of the guests had gathered around a picnic table. Billowing white smoke clouded them as you watched their animated conversation between drags of their cigarettes and sips of their drinks. A small boy ran past you, almost crashing into you as a little girl chased after him with a giggling laugh. They chased each other on the grass, as they ran between the large trees where a million lighting bugs danced between them.

The air felt light like cotton candy, a sweetness of celebrated love coated the faces that emerged as you stepped inside. The picking guitar intro of TLC’s ‘No Scrubs’ met you at the door, followed by a large cheer, bordering on collective scream, coming from the people on the dance floor. Walking slowly, you followed the back wall of the barn. A light breeze came through the open doors and windows, and tugged at your dress as you closed in on the bar. 

Open bar… Nice, Tommy. 

Most of the guest had their assigned seats at the round tables pressed up against the wooden walls of the barn. They must’ve been moved to make room for the dancefloor, you thought as you leaned up against the side of the bar. It was rustic, made entirely of untreated wood and decorated with large white bows. The bartender was around your age, handsome, and painfully bored it seemed by the way he lit up when you approached.

“What can I getcha?” he asked, a charming lilt to his voice.

“Um…” your teeth caught on your bottom lip, as you scanned the drinks menu. They all had quirky names, most likely inside jokes or references to the wedding couple that mostly went over your head.

“One ‘Contractor Juice’, please?” you ordered, holding back from cringing at the name. At least you got this reference, and the promise of mint and citrus mixed with alcohol had never failed you before.

“Sure thing, doll,” the bartender smiled, a little too sweet for your liking, or maybe you’d developed a preference for grumpy frowns.

“So… bride or groom?” he asked, making conversation as he worked.

“Um… groom,” you told him, leaning your back against the bar as your eyes rolled over the tables, searching.

“Ain’t seen you up here yet,” he said, a question unsaid hanging in the air as he handed you your drink.

Turning around, you thanked him and slipped a five-dollar bill in the tip jar. “There,” you said, “Now you can turn off the charm.”

You watched how he tried to hide his smile, as he held up his hands in a surrender, “Who’s to say I can turn it off?”

He smiled when you rolled your eyes at him. It was cute, two dimples separated by perfect white teeth. At the start of the summer, you might’ve let him fuck you at the end of the night, but the summer was coming to a close, and you had your eyes set on someone else.

He had his back turned, but you knew it was him, you’d recognize those broad shoulders anywhere. Something bubbled under your skin then, and your hands felt clammy around your glass – you were nervous, there was a whole room between you, but he still managed to make you nervous.

Maybe this was a bad idea?

He sat with his body turned, his hand around a beer bottle, as he watched the dancefloor move. Your eyes followed his and found Tommy where he danced, his hand clasping a woman’s, a woman you’d only seen in photos.

Joel’s daughter.

She was beautiful. Clad in a dark lavender satin dress, matching the other bridesmaids. Her dark hair was slicked back and gathered at the nape of her neck, held together by a matching satin bow, perfect curls spilled across her back. Her smile was even prettier as she laughed and sang with her uncle, swinging to ‘Build Me up Buttercup’. It was the same smile you could see across Joel’s face as he watched them. 

The drink burned slightly from the acidity at the back of your throat, and you were grateful that he’d been heavy on the liquor. You needed to catch up, let the alcohol loosen you up, pull away your unexpected nerves. 

“Who’s that?” you heard behind you. A warmth coated your neck and cheeks at being caught staring, and the embarrassment mixed with anger.

“I don’t think that’s any of your fucking business,” you scoffed. 

The bartender huffed out a dry laugh, “Jesus, it’s wedding small talk, no need to bite my head off.”

“Well, I’d prefer it if you didn’t talk,” you told him, sending him an annoyed look over your shoulder.

When you turned back around, Joel’s seat was empty, the beer bottle he’d nursed left behind on the table, the only sign he’d ever been seated there in the first place. Your tongue found the straw of your drink, twirling it around while you sipped, eyes scanning the dancefloor.

Nothing.

Did he slip out? Out to catch some fresh air or go to the bathroom? Maybe you could find the restroom, hover outside the door and ‘accidently’ bump into him?

No.

You cringed. Did you even hear yourself? As you took another sip, trying and failing to come up with a plan, a familiar gruff voice heaved a heavy sigh behind you.

“You got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.” 

He didn’t look angry, but the way his hand rubbed over his face was worse, he was disappointed to see you. 

“What the fuck you doin’ here?”

“Celebrating Tommy, and–” you squinted your eyes, looking at the name scrawled elegantly next to Tommy’s on the bar menu, “–Maria... aren’t you?” 

You gave Joel an easy smile, and stepped closer, crossing one foot nonchalantly over the other. There was no way in hell you’d give him the satisfaction of seeing you even a bit phased he’d caught you crashing his brother’s wedding. 

A huff escaped Joel at your lie before the corners of his mouth pulled ever so slightly in a dry, sarcastic smile. 

“That’s cute,” he told you, his voice devoid of any humor in it, tone entirely disbelieving. 

“I’ve been known to be described as such,” you grinned. 

Joel didn’t seem to like your joke, his face not moving an inch. “You know this is way out of line, right?” 

“What?” you snorted, taking a sip of your drink as your eyes fanned out over the room for a second, before landing back on Joel, “Aren’t you happy to see me?” 

Joel let out an almost incredulous scoff, shaking his head as his eyes quickly scanned across the room, going to Tommy still on the dancefloor with Sarah. Something seemed to flash over his eyes, or maybe it was the lights but he leaned forward then, fingers wrapping around your forearm in a firm grip. 

“Way to make it obvious,” you said under your breath as he pulled you a bit. Not letting him have it, you planted your feet, “What the hell are you doing?” 

“Don’t be a fuckin’ brat,” he told you, his voice filled with annoyance. 

Something ignited in you then, and you knew you had him right where you wanted him. Unable to contain your smile as the words crossed his lips, you felt them settle in your core, drip down your thighs like sticky honey. 

“You’d know just what do about that, wouldn’t you?” you challenged, your eyes burning into his, and for a second, you had his attention. He held your gaze, and his eyes flickered with the same intensity you felt.

A beat passed between you, and you watched as his jaw tightened, waiting for the bomb to tick down to zero. 

Then it popped.

The guests cheered as a song faded into another, and Joel took a step closer to you. His hand released your forearm to slip around your waist as his eyes never left yours. 

“Come,” he spoke through his teeth, his voice low and quiet.

The feel of his hand so close to your skin sent your brain into a temporary reboot. You’d craved it all week, missed him so close to you, missed his scent on your skin, and you let yourself be steered away. 

Quickly, Joel led you out the barn doors, his hand firmly pressed against your lower back as he looked over his shoulder. The music faded as he guided you towards a handful of small, scattered cabins hidden away behind a grove of trees. The trail snaked its way from tree to tree, your heels digging into the gravel making it hard to keep up with Joel’s pace. He walked with haste, passing cabin after cabin until the hand on your lower back looped around your waist, turning you around to face him as he came to a stop outside the last cabin.

His eyes drilled into your own, giving you a wild look, “I want you to leave,” he said, voice stern.

Leaning into his touch, you tilted your head to the side and let your eyes roll over him. He’d combed his hair back, wavy curls held back by gel. You raised your hand to cup his cheek, letting your thumb run through his trimmed scruff, hints of salt and pepper shone under the rising moonlight. The full of his lips was pressed together in a tight line, your eyes trailing your thumb as you let it gently run over his lips. Something softened in him under your touch, his eyes brown and deep as they watched you, it made your heart pick up its beat, hammering out of your chest.

Leaning closer, your eyes flickered to his lips again, and you thought about how you didn’t know what he tasted like, didn’t know how his lips felt against your own. You were so close now; his breath came out in small puffs against your face. Slowly you tilted your head, your nose accidentally brushing up against the crook of his own.

“You owe me a fucking orgasm,” you whispered.

His hand around your waist tightened, and with a small huff he tilted his head back.

“I owe you nothin’, princess.”

God, he could be stubborn sometimes. 

It might’ve annoyed you if it didn’t turn you on as much as it did. You loved how he made you work for it, and he was worth doing the work. Something deep down inside you knew it. Joel was a good man. If you weren’t careful he’d remove the walls built up by that lonely girl you’d kept hidden inside; one emotional stone at a time. Maybe it was ironic? The man who’d devoted his life to building walls, now breaking them down?

“Why do you deny yourself something you want?”

“You...” Joel swallowed hard, dark eyes watching your face with an unreadable expression, “You're a piece of work, you know that?”

The words stung more than you’d like to admit, and when Joel’s hand slipped from your body as he stepped away, a wave of anxiety washed over you. 

Had you gone too far? 

Joel didn’t look happy, and a small knot started to tie itself in your stomach under his gaze. You watched as he unbuttoned the top button of his tuxedo jacket, making it fall open and showing you his perfectly pressed shirt underneath. His right hand dug into his inner pocket, fishing out a white key card.

His steps were heavy up the front stairs to the cabin, almost dragging, like he moved through molasses. The lock clicked as he held the key card against it, a green light blinking before he opened the door. 

Dumbfounded, you stood at the foot of the front steps. You’d riled him up, played your little game and he’d gone along with it like always. 

Was this how it was gonna end?

He stood in the opening, hand on the handle with one foot on either side –  halfway in, but also halfway out. He didn’t move, his head tipped forward, weighing his options. Then he sighed and pushed the door open, and stepped inside the darkness.

“C‘mon, get in before anyone sees you.” 

The cabin was quaint, but cozy, with only the necessities. It was more like a hut, not bigger than a hotel room. A narrow hallway opened up to the bedroom, with a door to the right leading to a bathroom. Joel had placed his overnight bag on the chair in the corner, a worn leather duffle bag with a dark t-shirt and pair of jeans thrown over it, clearly thrown in a hurry to get ready. White lace curtains hung over the windows, bright against the dark wood of the paneled walls. 

The clinking of Joel’s belt pulled you from the silence, your head twitched like a reflex turning towards him. He’d shed his tuxedo jacket, his broad shoulders fighting against his pristine white shirt. He walked towards you slowly as he removed his cufflinks; the warmth in his eyes had turned darker. Taking a step backwards the back of your thighs pressed into the chair, almost tipping you over, but he caught you, one arm tight around your wrist while the other threw the cufflinks on the pile of clothes behind you.

“You say ‘red’ ‘nd we stop,” he told you, eyes holding your gaze so intently you didn’t dare look away. An inaudible breath pressed past your lips when his other hand cupped your cheek, the touch reminding you to nod your head.

“Or I pinch you,” you said.

A pleased smile spread across his face, “Good.” He punctuated his approval with a light pat to your cheek. 

Stepping away, he nodded towards the bed, an unspoken order, while his hands found his tie around his neck where he tugged at the knot. You sat at the foot of the bed, knees pressed together, waiting for him to make the first move. The white sheets smelled strongly of detergent, nothing like the faded hints of his cologne mixed with sawdust you’d smelled on his own sheets that first night he’d fucked you. 

The tie slipped from his neck and you fell back on your arms, feigning boredom while you let out an audible sigh. It made him laugh.

“What’s so funny?” you queried, your brows pulled together in a frown. 

A smile leftover from his chuckle coated his lips as he stepped closer, your legs spreading for him to slot between as he threw the tie on the bed beside you.

“Nothin’.” 

Over you, he gently rolled up his sleeves with practiced hands before he wrapped a hand tightly around your upper arm. Then he tugged. 

“Hey!” you said, fighting against his grip as he manhandled you. He turned you roughly, his other hand fingering the zipper of your dress, while the other held you in place. “Be careful with the dress,” you whined.

“Stop actin’ like a fuckin’ child,” he muttered, helping you out of your dress.

“A child? Well… that doesn’t bode well for you with what you’re about to do.”

That stopped him in his tracks, eyes burning as he let go of you. “Jesus Christ,” he hissed, throwing your dress over his pile of clothes, “you’re fuckin’ unbelievable.”

Freed from his grip, a smirk pulled at your lips as you shuffled up the bed. Leaning back on your elbows, you seductively parted your legs for him, showing him the darkened patch of fabric scarcely covering your cunt.

“You keep saying that,” you smiled, saccharine and sticky like syrup. 

“I’ll stop when you finally start behavin’.” Joel’s hand wrapped around your ankle, tugging you towards him with a hard jerk, making a giggly squeal escape you. 

“Never– HEY!”

A ripping sound tore through the room, your skimpy panties tattered in his large hands. A smirk spread over his face. The motherfucker looked mighty pleased with himself.

“Surprised you’re even wearin’ these,” he said, thumbing at the wet patch of arousal, before he tossed them to the floor. “A slut like you should’ve gone without, shouldn't you?” 

The warmth of his touch over your knees had you twitching for him, goosebumps following his hands as they rubbed gently up and down your legs. His eyes never left your face though, watching every reaction you gave up. 

“I…” your rebuttal trailed off when he fell to his knees, slotting between your own and spreading you open for him, one hand glided down the outside of your thigh to your ass, while the other found your aching clit.

Then he spat. A thick blob of saliva ran from the top of your mound down your clit, where it combined with your arousal shining through your glistening folds.

“Joel!?” you gasped when the rough pad made contact, pressing down with just the right amount of pressure, spreading his spit around in small circles. 

You kinda hated this part; getting eaten out. No partner had gotten it right before. Not that it wasn’t enjoyable, it could be, but never seeing stars good… And you couldn’t help but think about that first time someone had gone down on you, about the boytoy you’d had wrapped around your finger freshman year. He’d given you an orgasm maybe 60% of the time he’d fucked you (which was a better successrate than your later hook-ups), but his comment as he’d gotten on his knees for you for the first time still rang loudly in your head.

It’s not supposed to look like that, is it? 

The small laugh he’d let out had only made it worse, and you’d dumped him less than twenty-four hours later. Now, you hated having a man this close to your pussy.

Your hand found Joel’s shoulder, where it pushed. “I don’t…” you interrupted yourself with a hand over your face, not wanting to look at him.

“What, baby?” 

Suddenly he was there, hovering above you, caging you in with his body, heavy hand pushing at your own over your face. 

“Ain’t in the mood for the orgasm I owe ya, is that it?” he smirked, and you stayed obstinately silent for a second.

“What is it, hm?” he asks you, “Not gonna let me taste that pretty pussy?” 

Pretty…

“Joel…” 

Your eyes searched his face, looking to find where he’d hidden his lie. His face grew sterner, eyebrows pulling together in a furrow. 

“Tell me.”

Your front tooth caught on your lip and a heat prickled up your neck. You couldn’t tell him, you just couldn’t. Joel’s palm found your cheek, heavy and safe against your skin, letting his thumb sooth you and your eyelids fluttered from his touch. A breath got caught in your throat when he leaned forward, placing a soft kiss to the column of your neck, your pulse vibrating under his lips.

“Do I have to wring it outta you?” he whispered against your skin, his hand gliding from your cheek to fit around your neck. The air between you changed and you forced yourself to snap back into your disguise. 

“I’d like to see you try.”

A deep rumbling laugh vibrated against your skin and Joel found your eyes again. His hand around your neck soothed over your skin and you found yourself pushing up into his hand, daring him to tighten his grip.

“There she is… my brat,” he smiled.

Mine.

He was gone before the possessive word could settle, hovering over your body as he rid himself of his shirt. You couldn’t help but drink him in, he was so handsome, broad and strong with speckled grey hairs trailing to the heavy bulge hidden away behind the soft fabric of his dress pants. His undone belt clicked as he moved closer, climbing onto the bed between your legs.

“Scoot up,” Joel ordered with a tap to the outer skin of your thigh. 

The huff you let out was exasperated, earning you a stern look as his large palms found the cheeks of your ass, patting your skin lightly, before he helped you move. The way he fluffed the pillows behind your back was almost tender, and your eyebrows pulled together in the slightest frown. 

“Is your definition of ‘wringin’ it outta me’–” you mocked his drawl, “–fucking like a boring old married couple in missionary? Is that what you used to do with your wife?”

The way Joel’s eyes hardened made a smile break over your face. Quickly, you regretted the smile when his hand clasped around your wrist, bending it backwards towards the bed post.

“Hey! What are you doing?” you demanded, playfully fighting against his grip, but Joel was too strong.

“Behave.”

“But I hate that,” you exclaimed with a sigh, pushing your head back into the pillow.

His silk tie tickled against the thin skin under your wrist, and you had to turn your head to watch him as he tied your hand to the bed. The way he did it exuded no nonsense; his eyebrows were tied together in concentration as practiced fingers danced over the knots, testing them with a light tug.

“I’m givin’ you what you ain’t closed to earned– so you oughta be grateful, princess, ‘nd thank me,” he told you as he moved on to your other hand.

Joel raised an eyebrow at you when he grabbed a hold of it, daring you to put up a fight again. 

“Thank you, Daddy.” 

The way you said it was sugary sweet, and you knew he didn’t believe a word you said, but a pleased smile settled over his lips either way. Then his fingers found his belt, tugging it from his waist all in one go, his muscles moved under his skin from the strain. The leather felt harsher around your skin than his tie, but Joel made sure to not tie it to tightly. When he was pleased with you, he found his spot between your legs again. 

His rough hands teased over your naked skin, eyes fixed on the way it gave way for him when he squeezed ever so slightly. You couldn’t help but watch him – there was nothing you could do now, your hands literally tied. 

“I oughta tie these too I reckon,” he mused, pushing your legs wider, “but I’m outta rope,” he chuckled, way too pleased with his own joke.

“Ha-ha-ha,” you said, voice dry with an unimpressed look on your face. 

Lowering himself, he placed playful lovebites to the soft skin of the inside of your thigh. The lower he got, the closer he got, you felt yourself brace for impact as your eyes found the ceiling. 

You felt his hot breath first, gentle huffs against your spit-soaked clit. How soft his kiss was, you didn’t expect– didn’t expect the fluttering touch of his lips down your pussy, so gentle against the core of you. A stuttering breath caught in your throat, and quickly you melted against the pillows. 

“Hey,” Joel caught your attention. He had that look in his eyes, something dark and filled with lust as he let the scratch of his rough beard rub against the thin skin of your inner thigh. “Look at me, only me, you hear?” 

He underlined his order with a soothing kiss to the sensitive skin, pulling a nod from you. Pleased, his lips skated downwards, teeth nipping playfully at the skin, leaving small bursts of electricity in the wake of his touch. 

“Such a pretty pussy, baby– all wet ‘nd messy f’me.” Joel spoke with a deep bass, as two fingers found your seam, swiping them through your folds. “Listen,” he told you, as the slick sound of your arousal filled the cabin. 

The beat in your chest seemed louder and louder in your ears the more he taunted you. You didn’t want to do this with Joel – fake it – feel that stone of disappointment sink into the depths of yourself as the orgasm you so desperately wanted fizzled away into nothing. Couldn’t he just rub your clit a little? Finger you instead? 

With his fingers Joel spread you apart and a heat travelled up your neck. You felt so exposed, and you had to fight not to look away from him when he leaned forward with the flat of his tongue, tasting you. A breath caught in your throat like a reflex, and a low hum rumbled out of Joel’s chest, almost in… contentment. Your eyebrows met in a furrow then.

He couldn’t seriously like this? 

He continued to lap at your folds, taking his time, and it felt… good, really good. When he licked a stripe from your hole to your clit, you couldn’t fight back your moan. 

“C’mon, let me hear you, princess,” he said, his tone of voice way too cocky.

He latched on to your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue in a way no man had ever done before. It was intense, sloppy, almost primal. Small, breathy sighs built in your chest, and you wished you could touch him, hold on to him.

Joel licked down through your folds again; his tongue teasing at your hole. “Is–” you cut yourself off with a surprised gasp, reeling from the way his tongue pushed into you. “Is t-this what you call e-eating pussy?” you tried again to taunt, far from convincing. 

Joel didn’t bother with a reply. Instead, he switched his tongue with his fingers. The wet mix of your arousal and saliva made the slide easy. A breathy whimper escaped your lips when he curled them, hitting the spongy spot inside you and hurling you quickly towards your release.

“Fuck,” you sighed, bucking your hips against his lips closing around your clit again.

You couldn’t stay still, your hips moving erratically to meet the swipes and zigzags of his tongue. Never had it felt like this, this good, this perfect. His fingers moved easily in and out, in and out, with a slick squelch. Squeezing your eyes shut, Joel coaxed you closer and closer to your orgasm. The pads of his fingers hit you just right, massaging with every thrust. An increasing pressure swiweled in your stomach around the laps of his tongue around your clit. Your back moved on it’s own, arching off the bed as his makeshift restraints tightened with your movement. A hand found your ass then, holding you flush to his face and you felt yourself starting to wither.

“There she goes… my good girl,” he hummed against you, “Come all over my tongue, princess.”

You let the wave of pleasure wash over you with a broken scream. You didn’t have to fake a thing as your whole body shook with your orgasm. His fingers continued their pace, pushing through your spasming walls and prolonging your ecstasy. Every sigh and whimpering moan was real, and you lost yourself in the buzzing feeling of Joel taking you apart and putting you back together again. 

When the aftershocks fizzled out Joel pulled his fingers, slicked up and soaked from your cunt. A cocky grin coated his face as he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking your cum off his fingers. When your eyes found his, something in them had you slipping under, a want so strong to drown in them. 

He climbed off the bed, your blissed out gaze rolling over him as he removed his dress pants and underwear. You could feel yourself go doe eyed when he took his hard cock in hand, giving it a few practiced tugs as he studied you at his mercy, spread apart and dripping with a mix of your pearly arousal, his spit and your cum. 

He was perfect; his broad chest, tanned under the Texan sun with speckled hairs trailing down his torso where it ended in a dark wiry patch at the base of his impressive cock. Your mouth dropped open in the smallest of o’s – you wanted to taste him again, feel your spit mixed with his precum on your tongue, the thick head of his cock knock at the back of your throat. 

“Daddy…” you pleaded, putting on your best puppy dog eyes.

“What, princess?” he taunted, voice laced with fake pity as he climbed on the bed again. Letting go of his thick cock, he wrapped his hands under your armpits and hiked you upright against the pillows. Under him you couldn’t help but soften at the edges.

“What d’you want, huh? What does my slut want?” he continued, straddling your body, two strong thighs on either side of your torso. He was so close like this, veiny cock inches from your waiting mouth. Reluctantly, you tore your gaze away to find his eyes, focusing hard on finding your words as you could see him start to stroke himself again in your peripheral. The large head of his cock grazed your lips with every stroke, pearling a salty taste of precum for you to taste.

“Why do you ask, when you already know?” you said, your voice lacking your infamous bite. A smile tore at Joel’s face, and a rumbling laugh escaped him as he moved closer. 

“Maybe my cock pluggin’ up that throat will make you behave f’me?” he mused, like he was speaking his inner thoughts out loud and you weren’t even there. “At least  you’d be quiet for once.”

His other hand found your chin, then, robbing you of your answer as he squeezed at the flesh, forcing your mouth to pop open. “Kiss it for Daddy, princess,” he ordered, slapping his cock on your waiting tongue. 

When he let go of your face, you wrapped your plush lips around his thick head, suckling wet kisses to the tip. A lewd moan escaped you at the familiar taste of him, his musk filling your nostrils. It was addicting, Joel was addicting, and you needed more.

The desperate whine you let out, earned you a reprimanding slap to your cheek. “Don’t get greedy now, ‘m gonna give ya what you want,” he told you and pulled back, while the sting prickled away. You couldn’t help the pout forming, and Joel was quick to sooth it away with his thumb tracing over your lips. 

“Listen, baby,” he found your eyes, “You kick me, alright? You kick me ‘f you wanna stop.”

“Okay,” you sighed.

“Okay, what?” he demanded with a slap of his cock against your cheek, smearing glistening precum over your skin.

“Okay, Daddy,” you smiled and dropped your mouth open so he could feed you his cock – all the way this time.

“That’s it, my good girl.”

Eagerly, your plush lips wrapped around his cock, his heavy cock plugged up your throat as he made room for himself. You didn’t gag right away like last time, you had practice now. As he pushed himself deeper, his hand braced himself against the headboard, while the other cradled your head – his rough thumb skated gently over your skin as he gently rocked his hips.

“Fuck,” he moaned above you, “That’s it, slut, let me feel your throat open f’me.”

Closing your eyes, you tried to calm yourself, holding back your gag reflex as tears started to prickle at your eyes. Even with practice, Joel wasn’t easy to take. Your lips stretched wide around the girth of him, swollen and used as spit slicked up his pubes. With each rock of his hips you felt the bulbous head knock at the back of your throat, bruising your flesh.

The sight of you must’ve been pornographic; your throat bulging with every rock of his hips as your spit dripped down your chest, pooling at his thighs stretched over your chest.

A vicious gag choked you, and Joel pulled back quickly, his cock wet with your spit bopping heavily in front of you face. You spluttered between gasps of air, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth as tears ran in a steady stream, smudging your make-up. His hand cradling your head tightened slightly, tilting you to catch his eyes as something close to worry flashed over his face.

“Don’t close your eyes, you hear me?” his voice was strict, “‘nd I need ya to kick me!”

“Keep going!” 

Your voice was hoarse and wet, but it didn’t seem to convince Joel. His face gave nothing away, stern and hard, teeth biting down a scowl – but his hands were tender, stroking at your skin.

“Ain’t ever been with a woman who’s as much of a slut as you I reckon,” he mused, his hand leaving your face to grip himself, tapping the length of himself against your skin.

“Embarrassing way to admit you haven’t been with a lot of women, Joel,” you told him, hiding your smile behind a soft kiss to the wet head of his cock. 

“Jesus Christ.” A laugh escaped him, surprisingly light for someone out to punish you. 

Moving your head, you started to press light kisses down his shaft, waiting for Joel to take control again, to punish you – like you ‘deserved,’ but all he did was a whole lot of nothing. When your tongue finally reached the base of him, your cheek pressed into the crease between his thigh and hip as your lips brushed gently against the soft skin of his balls – so heavy and full. Wrapping his hand around himself, he stroked in languid motions, like he savored it, wanted to memorize every calculated jerk.

“‘s that what you want, huh?” he asked, voice low and dark, almost tainting, and you couldn’t hold back the mewl escaping you. “Go on then, princess, suck on my balls like a good whore.”

With his other hand he guided one of his balls to your mouth. When you wrapped your lips around him, suckling gently at the sensitive skin, a deep groan fell from Joel’s lips.

“That’s good, princess, that’s so fuckin’ good.”

Being so close, breathing in the masculine musk of him, you almost squirmed under his weight, your cunt desperate and dripping with arousal. You felt so dirty, sucking on the balls of a man more than twice your age as he had his way with you. It would never feel like this again with anyone else – you knew it, you didn’t know how, but you did. 

“C’mon, give the other one some sugar too.”

Humming out in an agreement, you let go with a pop as he guided the other ball into your waiting mouth for you to suckle around. The rhythm of his strokes picked up when you flattened your tongue, licking at the seam.

“God,” he groaned, “such a fuckin’ slut f’me– so fuckin’ desperate for my balls in your mouth–” 

Joel cut himself off with a deep groan, as he backed up, making you chase after him as he held himself at the base, squeezing. Your restraints dug into your wrists, and you whined in defeat. 

This bondage act was starting to get old.

“Gonna come already, old man?” 

Joel didn’t seem to like your attitude, his joints cracking as he climbed back onto the bed, the welcomed weight of him now gone. 

“That’s rich,” he spat, “coming from the one showin’ up here all desperate for me to fuck her.”

“Well, I’m waiting,” you told him with a roll of your eyes, voice bored. 

That seemed to finally inspire some action in him. With stern eyes, and a stern grip, Joel parted your legs to slot between. The way his hands dug into your skin hurt, angry finger-shaped welts as he manuveroured you, had you wishing for the dizzying pain of a bruise tomorrow to remind you of this, of Joel.

Your hips bucked when you felt the blunt head of his cock against your clit, making him throw a hand over your waist to keep you still. A heat coated your cheeks when you heard it, the slick sound of your wet cunt as he dragged himself up and down your folds, coating himself in your desperation. 

“Missionary?” you bit, fighting hard to hold back your moans as he teased at your dripping opening, “You’re so old fashioned.”

“I like to watch brats break when they finally get a cock in them,” he bit back, “Now beg f’mine.”

“No,” you hiccuped, with a weak shake of your head. 

Joel played dirty – his thumb came up to graze over your clit, as he continued to tease his cock at your opening, pressing in slightly and then pulling out again just as quickly. He had you squirming for him in seconds, desperate to feel him make a home for himself inside you.

“Beg, brat.”

His thumb on your clit pressed down harder in tight, practiced figure eights, and you had no choice but to break. You needed him, needed Joel inside. 

“Please,” you gasped, “Please, fuck me.”

But Joel continued circling his thumb, drawing you closer to the edge again. It got harder and harder to stay still as he pushed at your boundaries. Everything inside you screamed for him, like you were a piece of metal and he was the magnet. You couldn’t stay away, you’d always end up pressed against him. 

“Whose cunt is this?” he demanded, suddenly hovering above you, dark eyes staring into yours. A large palm held your head in place, anchoring you to him, his face, this moment.

“Yours,” you whispered, “Yours, Joel.”

His name left your lips as a sight, the syllables stolen out of the air when he pushed at your opening, heavy cock splitting you in two and seating himself in your heat. He had your legs shaking, head lulling into his palm at the pleasurable pressure poking at the depths of you, where no one but Joel could reach.

“It’s okay, baby– you come on that cock if ya need to,” he hummed, a hint of condescension in his low voice as he continued to rub your clit.

Everything was coming to a head. Pleasure beamed through your body, like a supernova, as you exploded for Joel, shaking under his body as your eyes rolled back in your head. Whimpering moans stole your breaths, and you almost didn’t register Joel’s deep voice rumbling against the collum of your throat.

“C’mon… that’s it… good girl, that’s my good girl– y’feel so good, baby.”

His warm breath felt sticky against your skin, and you found yourself hoping he’d never leave; that you could somehow tattoo how he felt against you on your skin, let him mark you as his. 

When your legs stopped shaking, Joel’s thumb stopped bullying your clit. He let you catch your breath, heaving chest slowing to steady rhythm again. His eyes found yours again, and for a moment they were almost tender, as something real started to weigh between you. You wanted to say something, anything, but Joel pulled away, hooking his arms under your knees before he finally started to pound into you, chasing his own high.

“Fuck,” you gasped, your walls already sensitive from the multiple orgasms he’d already given you. The way he split you open around the girth of him, it was always too much, you couldn’t see how you’d ever get used to the feeling of him. 

Joel's breath got heavier as he picked up his pace, balls slapping wetly against your ass, as deep groans vibrated through his chest.

“That’s it, princess, you take it,” he rambled, “Good girl– go dumb on that cock f’me.”

His hands dug into your skin, his mind so caught up in you, in the way you felt squeezing around him.

Slap, slap, slap.

He was so deep, he must’ve fucked his way into your stomach. You felt yourself go limp in his arms, letting him take what he needed, letting him use you for his own pleasure. 

“God, y’were made f’takin’ my big cock, baby.”

“Gonna fill up this pretty cunt– watch it leak outta ya.”

“Please,” you begged between harsh thrusts, your tits bouncing with every sway of his hips, “Please, come inside me, Daddy.”

With a particularly sharp thrust, his balls pulled tight against your ass, and Joel came. Deep groans of satisfaction filled your ears, the sweetest sound, as he pumped you full. He rutted into you until there was nothing left, your cunt overflowing with his sticky seed. A content sigh left your lips at the feeling, your body finally sated. 

Thoughts traveled to the next moments, how you wanted him to pull you into his chest, strong arms pulled tight around your body as you both calmed down. To be held close in his embrace, a comforting hand at the back of your neck. You wanted him to kiss you, longed to feel his lips brush over yours. You searched for Joel’s eyes, searched for a small inkling of reciprocation.

Maybe you’d say something stupid – finally let go of all the feelings you can’t control anymore.

But Joel’s eyes didn’t want to catch yours, and he pulled away too quickly, sliding his softening cock from your ruined cunt. You were gonna make a mess of his sheets, you probably already had judging from the slick feeling on the inside of your thighs as you closed them. 

Something in the air felt loaded suddenly, and you wanted to reach for him, touch his rough skin and ground yourself away from your nagging insecurities– But you couldn’t, your hands were bound. His strong back muscles moved under his skin as he fished his shirt from the floor, now crinkled, ruined. 

“Wanna go again?” you tried, pushing at his back, barely out of reach, with your foot. 

He let you push at him, but the sigh he let out as he stood to his feet to get dressed had your stomach tie itself in a knot. 

“This ain’t happenin’ again,” he sighed, getting dressed. 

“Sure,” you nodded in a scoff, unconvinced as a mischievous smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. Between your legs you felt yourself start to leak, his thick spend running down your folds to your ass, and onto the sheets.

When he finally turned around, large fingers fiddling with the small buttons of his shirt, his eyes finally caught yours. Biting down on your lip, you spread your legs coquettishly, showing him where he’d claimed you. 

His eyes, however, never wandered, the familiar warmth that you had seen barely a few minutes ago now gone, his expression stoic and unreadable. You felt the knot in your stomach from earlier tighten.

“I’m serious,” he told you, and almost on instinct you felt your legs close as he leaned over you, untying one of your hands, “You ever pull something like this again, and it’ll be the last time you ever see me.” 

You felt your face drop despite yourself as he untied the other hand, the corners of your mouth straightening out as a small frown appeared between your brows. You were silent for a moment as Joel walked to the other end of the room, plucking his jacket up off of the chair. Your eyes tracked his movements apprehensively. 

“I thought you liked it when I behaved this way,” you said eventually, and you hated the way your tone sounded. You had meant for it to be a challenge, a call-out of his hypocrisy, but instead you sounded like a child; disappointed and petulant. 

“Listen,” he started, voice calm but with a seriousness that made a nervousness tug at the back of your neck. “You’ve had your fun, and I can tolerate a lotta shit, but–... you gotta learn some fuckin’ boundaries.” Your frown only deepened at his words. 

“Comin’ here–” his voice stalled as he shook his head, shrugging on the jacket “This is my family, my brother’s wedding– my fuckin’ daughter is here… You can’t just show up in my life like some kind of trainwreck every time you need me to fuck you.” 

“How else am I supposed to do it? You don’t exactly text,” you bit back, “And don’t pretend like you don’t like it,” you fumbled for a retort. 

“That’s just a shitty excuse for unacceptable behaviour, and you know it,” Joel said, and you felt yourself get angry at how calm he was. 

It was embarrassing; your cheeks burned bright like a flame, and it fueled a deep pit of annoyance inside of you, one you didn’t even know existed as your jaw bit down in a clench. Lifting your chin in a defiant scoff, you’re not proud of the next words out of your mouth.

“You’re full of shit,” you said with a shake of your head, “You’ll barely last a week and you know it... you love it, love putting me in my place like this.”

“Sure I do,” Joel said with a nonchalant shrug, “But I sure as shit didn't sign up to deal with your antics... that’s a job for your real Daddy, sweetheart.”   

That last comment felt like a slap in the face. A job for your real Daddy. In your chest you felt something cave in, as a paralyzing shock swept over your body. You went cold, so cold as your eyes drifted past Joel, and swiveled into the wood walls. He was right, Joel was right, but you never imagined he’d slap you in the face like this with the truth. 

“So, listen up now, this is what you’re gonna do,” Joel said as he stepped towards you, looking you straight in the eye, ”You're gonna take your shit, ‘nd your shitty attitude, ‘nd you're gonna quietly slip outta here ‘nd pretend like you were never even fuckin’ here in the first place. ‘s that clear?” 

You were barely able to nod before he stepped back and turned his back on you. When his hand found the doorknob, he threw you one last look. 

“You better not be here when I get back.”

part four -> here!

hopefully this was okay? please let me know what you thought of the new part! a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[bunniehrtz]

would u maybbeeeee write abby spanking reader and then fingering her <3 brat tamer abby thoughts rn….

i love love love ur writing!! + hope ur having a wonderful day/afternoon/evening wherever u are :3

cw: daddy kink, spanking, fingering, daddy abby goes crazy btw

thank u so much !!!! hope ur having a good day/night too !! i love u !!!!

“stay fuckin’ still,” abby spits through a clenched jaw, holding your hips down across her lap, her other hand landing harsh slaps that sting, leaving a handprint.

“i’m trying! it hurts!” you turn to look at abby over your shoulder, gasping when she grabs your jaw to turn you back around. “oh, it hurts? too fucking bad. shut up and take it.” she lands another slap on each side, smirking at your gasps and moans. “please, daddy. please,” you beg. you don’t know what you’re begging for. it feels good, you don’t want her to stop. but you need more. abby scoffs, her hand coming round to hold your throat, pulling you up to look at her. “the fuck did you call me? dirty fuckin’ girl,” she smirks, looking down at the darkened patch on her grey sweatpants. “you’re fucking soaked. god, you’re a slut. you want me to fuck you? you think you deserve it? you think you deserve me inside you after the shit you pulled today?” abby holds your throat tighter, pulling you in, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek to keep you grounded. you nod quickly, your eyes closed. “yeah, that’s right. you’re daddy’s girl, aren’t you?” she whispers, moving her hand from your throat to your hips, her other hand slowly trailing down your back, pushing you back down across her lap. “open those legs for me, baby. i’ll give you what you want, come on,” she encourages, your legs opening, your back arching as abby pushes three fingers into your soaked cunt. her thrusts are vigorous, and don’t show any sign of stopping. your moans echo through the house, your hips pushing back against abby’s hand, your bedsheets clutched in your hands.

abby sighs, pulling away, leaving you empty. “turn around, baby. gotta see your face. need to see your face, come on,” abby picks you up by your waist, placing you against her pillows, spreading your legs again, resuming the fast paced thrusts of her fingers. “messy girl. soaking my fingers. daddy’s best girl,” abby says into your neck, her fingers moving brutally fast. your mouth hangs open, clawing down abby’s back as you gasp. “gonna cum, baby? gonna cum for daddy? yeah, i know, baby. let it out. come on, give it to me. cum on daddy’s fingers. such a good, messy girl.” abby encourages as you let go around her, your mind blank as you hold onto abby’s broad shoulders, your face up and in the crook of where her neck meets her shoulder.

after catching your breath, abby pulls her hands away, tapping your lips with her messy fingers. “open up.”

[gabbytbll]

❦ love and deep space💫

❄ ~𝒁𝑨𝒀𝑵𝑬'𝑺 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑺~❄

♡ Zayne x MC/Reader ♡

masterlist 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭

⇜As I just started love and deep space this might not be right or not close!⇝

MDNI!!! 18++

Warnings!: P in V, Creampie, Rough sex, Bratty MC/Reader, Making out, Spanking, Deepthroat, Choking, Punishment, Orgasm control, Forced orgasm, BDSM, Shibari, Ice play, Phone sex, Nudes, Public, Breeding kink, OOC Zayne!♡

SFW!

❧ Zayne is the type of person who would hate PDA in public but if he sees another guy flirting with you he will walk up behind you to kiss your check to show that your taken.❣

❧Zayne is one of those guys that is barley home because of work but he will call you and face time you a lot more whenever he's free.❣

❧We all know he barley takes days off, but since he started to date you, he has taken more days off then normal just to hang out with you and to chill.❣

❧He loves to have coffee dates with you whenever he can, especially at that cafe you love.❣

❧He loves to surprise you with small gifts frequently because he loves to see your pretty smile as he said in his words.❣

❧He loves to take care of you in any way he can for you.❣

❧Zayne sets up an extra alarm every day before he gets up to work so he can cuddle with you before he leaves even if you are asleep.❣

❧On the days he can't spend his lunch with you he buys you lunch and makes his assistant drive to you to give it to you.❣

❧We all know he is a gentle boi but when you make him mad, he ignores you for an hour exact (he can't spend much time away from you or he feels bad).❣

❧When he has to stay overnight in the hospital he tries to call you before you go to bed or he just sleeps on call with you.❣

~SEXUAL CONTENT MDNIII!!~

NSFW!

❧ Zayne is a brat tamer 100% so whenever you're acting up and go against him or talk back to him, he will make you bend over his knee and spank you 15 times or more until you use a safe word.❣

❧He loves to leave a small vibrator in your pussy and tease you with the settings and watch you squirm as you try to hide you sounds when the both of you go out to dinner or lunch.❣

❧He loves when you deepthroat his dick, he loves how you let him take control and fuck your face fast or slow he can't choose.❣

❧He loves your mouth it doesn't matter if you're sucking his dick or having a sensual make out session with him he just loves how your soft or rough lips feel against him.❣

❧Zayne LOVES!! your sounds so he hates whenever you try to cover your sounds from him that will just result in a punishment from him.

❧He loves to tie you up to the bed post for he can admire you slowly while he has complete control over you.❣

❧He loves to practice shibari with you, he loves the red rope against your skin he thinks it makes you more beautiful he loves to take pictures of you tied up so pretty for him.❣

❧When Zayne has to stay in the hospital overnight in his office, he loves to call you sometimes to tease you over the phone and make you play with yourself with your camara on so he can see.❣

❧He loves when you send him nudes but is easily embarrassed when you send him nudes when he's in front of people he later punishes you for acting out in front of people.❣

❧Whenever he is fucking you missionary or doggystyle , he loves to put his hand on your neck and squeeze lightly he loves your reaction to him doing that.❣

❧He loves whenever you ride him, he loves having control in the bedroom but once in a while he's too tired, so he wants you in control for once.❣

❧He definitely has a breeding kink 100%.❣

❧Zayne loves to finish inside of you, he loves how you tighten up around his dick as you both come together, and he loves the thrill of you getting pregnant.❣

❧He is rough whenever he's mad at you or someone else but the aftercare after is just top tier, he will give you cuddles, kissed, and snacks you need or drinks and he will run a bath with your bubbles you love.❣

❧He loves to make you cum with long his fingers or tongue 2 or 3 times before he fucks you, he loves how sensitive you can get.❣

❧After two rounds of him fucking you he forces one more orgasm from you before he's done with you.❣

❧Something the both of you love is when he plays with his Evol in bed, Zayne loves to make ice cubes and drag them down your hot skin slowly or press the ice cube against your clit while he fingers you open for him.❣

OK THAT CONCLUDES ZAYNES HEADCANNONS I did kinda rush it so it's kinda all over the place but hopefully its good!!♡

❆Feedback is appreciated!!❆

[ennabear]

i love the mean abby with reader finding a kitten i really dont know how to do requests this is my frist one buuut, how do you feel about mean!abby headcannons🙏😏

hi!! ^^ thanks for the req i loved writing this. mean!abby is a true softie she just needs to be reminded of it sometimes. :3

she’ll 100% ignore you if she feels like you’re being too clingy. sorry but if she’s trying to get a workout in and you text her more than twice (and it’s not an emergency), she’s blocking you for a few hours. 😭

not that she’s mean mean, she just wants what’s best for you. you have an exam to study for? she’s making sure you get it done before you get to hang out with her. a little tired but you have to go party with your friends? you’re not going at all, you need to rest.

she’s also definitely a brat tamer. if she ever senses attitude or you talk back she’s gonna make sure you’re sorry and that you can’t walk the next morning.

abby love love loves to spoil you but you always have to say please and thank you. sometimes she’ll snap at you for having too much clutter in the house (she’s a neat freak and it overstimulates her) but she’s the one who buys all that junk for you. <33

same goes for having too many clothes. she has like 10 pieces of clothing total and always complains that it takes up too much closet space, but if you ever ask her to buy you something she’ll say yes without a doubt.

about the kitten, she’s one of those people who swears she hates it and didn’t want to keep it, but she and the cat are bonded like no other!!! she loves playing with it and making it chase a laser pointer, and sometimes you’ll come home to them cuddling together. she loves to act like she hates the cat but cmon they’re best friends.

another thing about the cat, she does that air jail thing where she just picks the cat up and lets it struggle in the air a little bit before putting it down as a punishment if it gets in trouble.

also we all know mean!abby has a mega resting bitch face. her sharp eyebrows paired with her naturally pouty lips always make her look so >:(

and she always volunteers to be your personal bodyguard. no matter where you go, she’s looking out for you. if there’s something bothering you trust she’s gonna get to the bottom of it.

[thetriumphantpanda]

she a bad lil bitch, she a rebel | joel miller

Summary | Joel has to teach you a damn lesson, just like always.

Pairing | Brat Tamer!Joel x F!Reader

Word Count | 4K

Warnings | brat tamer!Joel, softdom!Joel, praise kink, implied age gap, spanking, use of rope restraints, hair-pulling, edging, orgasm denial, squirting, (1) singular pussy slap, unprotected PiV sex, rough sex, oral sex (M&F receiving), face-fucking, fingering, dirty talk, breath play, biting, cum play/cum eating, reader is a bratty menace, aftercare(!), no use of y/n.

Authors Note | All I'm going to say is this came to me in a dream and I had to get it down on paper. Mostly written on my phone with very little proofreading, so any mistakes are my own and I will live and die by them. This is basically just pure filth. Enjoy, and happy birthday to that old man. I love him but I would give him the hardest time, just like reader.

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

If there was one thing that you lived for, it was pushing Joel Miller’s patience. The poor man had wandered into Jackson, little girl in tow, looking worn and weary almost a year ago, and from the moment you set eyes on him, you just knew you had to give this old man a run for his money. 

You’d started subtle, flirting with him on patrol, taking his distaste at your attempt to talk to him at every second as a personal challenge to break him, to work him down just enough to make your move. After a couple of weeks, he’s started talking, mainly in single word answers, but you’d managed to slowly chip him down. 

Then came the weekly drinks at The Tipsy Bison, everyone on patrol usually went, apart from those scheduled to be out that day, but he’d started laughing at your jokes and had even opted to sit next to you on occasion. Then one night, he’d walked you home, you’d had one too many glasses of whiskey, kissed him on the porch but agreed it wasn’t right to fuck right then, but he’d come back, that next night, both of you sober, and you’d kissed him again, and the rest really was history. 

It’s late afternoon when he comes through his front door, toeing his boots off as the door slams behind him. You’ve been led on his couch for most of the afternoon, reading a book you’d plucked from his shelf – some nonsense Western that did nothing to keep your attention, but was enough to keep you occupied whilst you waited for him to come home. 

“Afternoon,” You sing to him as he shrugs his jacket off, hanging it on the coat stand near the door, “Good patrol?” 

“Was fine,” He grumbles, just like he always does, he swats at your legs to get you to move them enough for him to sit down, “Scoot,” You lift them up just long enough for him to ease himself onto the couch, before you put them back down on his lap, abandoning the book on the coffee table, “You sort the stuff in the kitchen like I asked?” 

“No.” You say simply, shaking your head, subtly digging the heel of your foot into the front of his jeans. 

His big palm circles your ankle, gripping in warning, “What about the sheets, you wash ‘em?”

“Did you see them pegged out when you came home?” You ask, sweetly, using your other foot now to dig into his jeans. 

“Will you fuckin’ quit it?” He seethes a little, other hand gripping your other ankle to still you, “What have you done all day, huh?” He implores, “I don’t keep ya around to lounge about lookin’ pretty.” 

You chuckle, “That’s exactly why you keep me around, old man.” 

“Shut up,” He squeezes at your ankles, “I asked you a question, you gonna answer me?” 

You shrug, “Woke up late,” You hold up one finger, “Felt horny so I got myself off,” Another finger, “Had a shower, used the last of that nice soap,” Another finger, “Made lunch,” Another finger, “And then led here reading one of your stupid books until you came home.” A final finger raised so you’re holding up and entire hand, palm facing towards him. 

You’re looking at him, all scowling face and dark eyes as his fingers wrap even tighter around your ankles. If you didn’t know him like you did, you’d be frightened, but you know he’s just thinking about the best way to deal with you. You wonder which of his lessons he’s going to bring out today as the look he’s giving you shoots straight down to your core. 

“I ask you to do two things,” He sighs, like he’s tired, “I ain’t exactly expectin’ slave labour from you, and you sit here and treat it like the Hilton?” 

“What’s the Hilton?” You ask, genuinely curious, thinking it must have been something from the times before all this, the times you were too young to remember. 

“Forget it.” He growls, and you think any minute now he’s gonna move to drag you off and show you just how bad you’ve been, but he doesn’t move, just sits with your ankles clasped in his hands, staring at the wall in front of him. 

“I’ve been so bad Joel,” You goad, trying to wriggle your ankles free, “Aren’t you going to teach me a lesson?” 

“No,” He spits, “I ain’t, because you like it too damn much, ain’t teachin’ you anythin’ because you never learn.” 

You pout a little, looking up at him through your eyelashes, “Promise to listen real hard this time Joel,” You promise, “Try and learn and much as possible.” 

“No,” He speaks, stern tone, with a warning squeeze to your ankles again, “Been a long day, don’t have the energy to bring you into line.” 

“Ah, I see,” You muse, “You’re feeling too old today.” 

“What did you just say t’me?” He’s incredulous now, good, you’ve got him just where you want him. 

“Oh, nothing,” You giggle, “Don’t worry.” 

It seems to do the trick though, because he’s pushing himself up from the couch, gripping at your wrist now to pull you up as well. He pushes you gently by the small of your back to get you to walk in front of him, “Upstairs.” Is the only instruction he gives, along with a playful swat to your bottom as you start up the stairs. 

He’s crowding behind you, always following just one step behind as you make your way to his bedroom, suddenly aware that you didn’t make the bed when you rolled out of this morning. That’s surely another black mark to your name, you think, as he sits down on the edge of the bed. 

“Get undressed.” 

This is new, normally Joel liked to be the one to unwrap you, but you start working on the buttons of your shirt, undoing it and dropping it to the floor, followed closely behind by your jeans, leaving you standing in front of him in your underwear, “All of it.” He demands. 

Your hands shakily reach behind you to unclasp your bra, dragging it from your body to land with the rest of your clothes. You drag your panties down your legs and step out of them, wrapping your arms across your chest to try and cover yourself a little. Joel reaches out a hand to you, which you take timidly, expecting him to pull you into him so he could put his mouth on you, anywhere, but instead, you find yourself pulled to him and folded over his lap so quickly you let out a surprised yelp. 

“So fuckin’ naughty, all the damn time baby,” He speaks softly, running his fingers down the length of your spine, “Don’t ever think you’ll learn how to be good.” 

His hand trails down to your bare ass, gripping the skin with his hands, using his other arm to press you down into his lap, rough material of his jeans rubbing against the sensitive peaks of your tits and the soft skin of your tummy. He rubs his rough palm over the globes of your ass, anticipation building in your body. Then, he pulls away, bringing his palm down onto your ass with a satisfying ‘smack’ ringing through the air. It takes a while for your brain to catch up with what’s just happened, but then the stinging sensation settles across your skin and has you wriggling to get away. 

“Keep still,” Joel chastises, free hand digging further into the small of your back to keep you from moving, “That’s one, how many do you think you deserve baby?” He muses, “Fifty?” 

“W-what?!” You exclaim, “N-no Joel, that’s too much.” 

“Forty then?” His palm is cradling at the skin he’s just spanked. 

“T-ten?” You offer feebly. 

“Oh baby girl,” He tuts at you, “Aim higher.” 

“Fifteen?” 

“How about we settle for twenty, baby?” He asks, all soft and sweet, “Twenty seems reasonable to me.” 

He doesn’t give you time to agree, it would seem the bargaining time is over, as he brings his palm back down onto your ass, harder than before, but in the same exact place. It jolts you on his lap, makes you cry out. The front of your body dragging against his denim. 

“How many?” He asks, rubbing his hand over the skin he’s just spanked. 

“Two.” You reply quietly, trying to keep the whimper you want to let out to yourself. 

“Good girl,” He praises, raising his hand again, “Keep count for me, okay?” 

Smack.

“Three!” You shriek, as his palm yet again connects with that same patch of skin. 

Smack.

“F-four.” 

Smack.

“Oh fuck,” You groan, trying to wriggle away unsuccessfully, it’s already too much, “Five!”

Smack.

This one doesn’t hurt as much; Joel’s shifted the assault of his palm onto the virgin side of your ass for you. You suck in a deep breath, try and blink away the tears that have formed in your eyes, as his hand massages where it’s just struck. He gives you another four on that cheek, and then switches back to the original, bringing his palm back down onto the skin that you’re sure is reddening by now. 

“Joel!” You cry out, tears dropping from your eyes now, but your body betrays you and arches your back for him, pushing your ass up like you’re asking for it, “E-eleven.” 

It carries on like that, five spanks to each cheek until you’re practically sobbing over his lap. You count the twentieth spank and a feeling of relief washes over you as he bends over you to press a light kiss to the sore skin he’s left. It makes you hiss, the contact, no matter how gentle he is with it. Then, he’s shifting you off his lap and onto the bed, letting you scurry away to the top of the mattress as he stands. 

The stinging of the skin of your ass is still making you sniffle as Joel shuffles to the bedside table, digging around in it. You’re not quite sure what he’s looking for, focusing mainly on trying to keep the red raw skin of your ass off the sheets, when he stands, throwing what he was looking for onto the sheets next to you. You turn your head and see the length of rope that he keeps in his drawer just for moments like this. 

“Arms up.” He short with you, sitting on his knees next to you. 

You do as you’re told, raising your arms above your head, still pushing your ass off the bed, but knowing soon enough you’ll be focused on something else that isn’t the stinging sensation of your ass. He takes your wrists and binds them together deftly, like it’s a walk in the park for him, like it’s something he does all the time. Then, once he’s sure your wrists are safely encased in rope, he takes the other end and ties it to his bed frame. He tugs slightly to make sure the way he’ll have you thrashing soon means that you won’t be able to pull yourself free. 

“That okay?” He asks gruffly, to which you nod, “Words, baby.” 

“Y-yes,” You stammer, “It’s okay.” 

“Remember your word?” He asks, stepping off the bed to partially undress, shucking his jeans and flannel off, but keeping his t-shirt and boxers on. 

“I remember.” 

He hums in approval, settling himself on the bed between your thighs, using wide palms to spread you open for him. You’re absolutely soaked, pussy dripping with slick from his palms and the way he’s trussed you up to his bed. 

Joel lets out a low whistle, letting his thumb rub up the length of your folds, “See,” He murmurs, using his thumb to gently spread the lips of your pussy to reveal your clit, already swollen and begging for attention, “Told ya that ya liked being punished too much,” He lets his thumb make a single swipe over that bundle of nerves, chuckling as you cry out, hips bucking to try and follow his finger, “She’s already fuckin’ soaked for me, baby.” 

You let out a high-pitched mewl, a begging sound that you hope tells him that you need him to touch you, you need to feel the pleasure you know he’s capable of after the pain he’s just inflicted. Mercifully he obliges, pressing the calloused pad of his thumb back to your clit, slick gathered there from before, as he starts rubbing in fast, precise circles. You’ve been so worked up that you can already feel the coil tightening in your tummy, and you know Joel can sense it as well, the way your hips are moving in time to his movements and the way you’re arching your back off the bed are a dead giveaway. 

You can feel yourself reaching that peak, so fucking close to tipping over the edge when he tears his hand away from your core and sits back, watching as you try and move back towards him, moaning in frustration at being left high and dry. You’re wriggling about, trying to close your thighs to rub them together to get yourself off, when he pushes a wide palm into your belly. He’s so powerful in the best way, stilling your movements immediately as you look up at him, face serious. 

“Remind me what the second thing on your list was this mornin’, baby?” He asks, voice as innocent as pie. 

You’re wracking your brain, lust making you more confused about what the fuck he’s even talking about. Then it dawns on you, what you’d told him downstairs. Felt horny so I got myself off. 

“You’ve got a big brain baby,” He coos, one palm squeezing your thigh, “I know you remember, so go on, tell me what you did.” 

“I g-got myself off.” 

“And is that what good girls do?” He asks, hand ghosting back to your pussy, knuckles of his hand brushing over your skin there. 

“N-no?” You question. 

“That’s right,” He hums, fingers slipping between your folds once more to gather some of the insane amount of slick that’s pooling at your aching entrance, “And besides, gettin’ to come is a reward, and I ain’t sure you deserve that right now.” 

His thumb is back on your clit now, moving in exactly the same way as before, with just the right amount of pressure to be building you back up. It feels so fucking good already and you know the way it feels when he tips you over the edge, you know how delicious it is and God, you want it so bad. 

“Please Joel,” You beg, all throaty and lust-filled, “I’ll be so good, I promise.” 

“Maybe ya should’a thought about that earlier,” He growls, “Before you came without me, thought you could do it better than me, huh?” 

“No!” You exclaim, because that’s definitely not true, you could never make yourself feel the way he does, “Oh God, please Joel.” You’re so fucking close, just a few more passes of his thumb and you could do it, you know you could, but so does he, which is why he’s tearing his thumb away from you again. 

You actually cry now, tears of frustration building in the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill over as you thrash around on the bed, hissing when the rope around your wrist digs in but not caring all that much. 

“Quit your cryin’.” He chastises, hand on your hip to keep you still. 

You whimper, lip wobbling, trying to keep your cool. All you want is to reach out to him. You think if you could touch him, he would give you what you want, so you’re pretty sure that’s why he’s got you tied to the damn bed, to keep himself in check, to see this through, because Joel Miller always folds to you when you put your hands on him, weak man that he is. 

“You’re being so mean.” You cry out as he shifts, lying flat on his stomach so you can feel his breath on your aching pussy. 

“You were the one beggin’ to get punished baby,” And it smarts because it’s true, “I’m only givin’ you what you wanted.” 

He leans forward, tongue licking a stripe through your pussy, all the way up to your clit where he sucks the little bud into his mouth, rolls it between his lips and then lets it pop from his mouth like an ice-pop. He flicks it with the tip of his tongue a few times and you suck in a breath, your fingernails digging painfully into the palm of your hands as you focus on trying to reach the cliff edge and fall over it this time. 

You’re holding your breath, hips working in time with the movements of his mouth, eyes screwed shut just trying to focus on how good it feels. You can hear the rustling of sheets, which means if you were to open your eyes and look down at him, you’d find him grinding himself into the bedsheets for his own relief. He pulls off you, and you’re about to curse him out when he speaks. 

“You wanna come, baby?” He asks, punctuating it with a flick of his tongue. 

“Oh please Joel,” You beg, and even to your ears it sounds wrecked and pathetic, “Please let me come.” 

Then, you’re shrieking because the palm that has dealt so much damage to your ass this evening, has now swatted your aching cunt, “No.” He says simply, pushing himself back up and onto his knees. 

He pulls his t-shirt over his head, throwing it somewhere behind him. You’re squirming as he shucks off his boxers, moving awkwardly to kick them off, before he’s mounting your body, those strong thighs straddling your chest as his throbbing cock rests just millimetres from your mouth. He reaches down, let’s his fingers tangle in your hair as he pulls your head forward roughly. Your mouth, like muscle-memory takes over, opens, and the head of his cock slips over your tongue. You can already taste the salty beads of pre-cum as he shuffles forward a little, easing his cock into your mouth until it’s hitting the back of your throat. 

He holds your head steady with the fingers tangled in your hair as he fucks your throat. The sound is obscene, practically pornographic, the wet sounds that come as the head of his cock meets the back of your throat on every thrust. He pulls out of your mouth every now and then, when he’s thrust too hard and makes you gag on him, but fucking hell it’s turning you on so much. You can feel yourself literally dripping onto the sheets, you don’t think anything has ever made you this wet before. 

He pulls his cock out of your mouth one last time, a string of saliva connecting him to your mouth until he pulls away enough for it break, laying wet across your chin and down your neck. Joel shuffles back down your body and you think finally, you’re going to get some relief. 

He hooks your knees over his arms, pushing them forward to your chest as his throbbing cock slips through your folds. He rocks his hips a few times, the bulbous head of him swiping over your clit, before he unexpectedly buries himself into your soaked cunt in one go. 

You actually sob at the feeling. You’ve been so empty all night, and now you’re so full of him, so crowded by his body, that you finally feel some kind of relief. He’s still for a moment – once it would have been to get you used to the heft of him inside you, but right now, you know it’s because he’s just as fucked as you are, and he wants to make sure you’ve truly learnt your lesson. 

Once he’s collected himself, he sets a bruising pace. Cock dragging out of your slick heat and slamming back into you. He revels in the way your tits bounce with every thrust, so much so that he leans forward and bites at the flesh, sucking bruises into your skin as he pounds himself right into the very depth of you. 

“Doin’ so good for me baby,” He groans out against your skin, sucking your nipple into his mouth, letting it go with a wet pop as he pushes himself back up for me, “Takin’ your punishment so well.” 

The angle he’s got you folded into means the head of his cock is brushing against the spongy spot inside you every time. Your pussy is clenched so tightly around him that it’s a miracle he’s held on for this long. He finally brings his thumb back to your clit and you’re begging this time that he’ll let you finish, because if he doesn’t you’re pretty sure you might actually die. 

“Joel,” You mewl, “I’m g-gonna – holy shit – m’gonna come.” 

“Go on baby,” He finally relents, you let out a sob of relief, “Come on my cock for me, like a good girl.” 

It’s so overwhelming when it finally happens. Your vision blurs and blood rushes to your ears, blocking out any sound that isn’t the beating of your pulse. Your pussy clenches impossibly tight around him as pleasure finally floods through every inch of your body. You feel yourself literally gush on his cock, soaking his skin, your skin, the bedsheets beneath you. You think you might even scream his name as your body convulses and shakes, arches up into him. 

You’re slightly aware of him pulling his cock from inside you, letting your knees drop. You can hear the slap of his fist on his skin as he fists his cock, and then he’s growling out your name, his cum spattering over your tummy, lying hot and thick on your sticky skin. It’s silent for a good few moments, the only thing you can focus on is the sound of you both sucking in breath to your lungs and the burn of the rope around your wrists. 

“Look at me.” Joel demands, and you do, your eyes meeting his, which are almost black with lust, his face flushed, sweat pooling at his hairline. 

He drags a finger through the pools of his cum, bringing his fingers to your mouth. He presses them into the flat of your tongue, letting you swallow, which continues until you’ve cleaned every inch of him from your skin. He then works quickly to untie the knots that have you bound to the bed, freeing your skin from the burning feeling that’s settled there. 

“Stay still,” It’s still demanding, but it’s softer now, as he gets off the bed, dropping the rope to the floor, “I’ll be right back.” 

He comes back moments later with a glass of water and a cool cloth. He rolls you over onto your tummy, pressing the cool material to your ass, trying to soothe the red welts of his handprints that have already started to form. He presses soothing, open-mouth kisses to the skin before he rolls you back over onto your back. 

He moves you because you’re pliant now, to rest against the pillows, handing you the water to drink as he runs the last of the cooling cloth over your lower tummy and through the folds of your spent cunt, then it’s discarded to the floor with everything else, and you’re being pulled to his chest, kiss pressed to your forehead. 

“Too much?” He asks quietly, checking to make sure he hasn’t crossed some line with you. 

“Just perfect.” You reply, eye-lids heavy with sleep. 

He brings one of your wrists to his mouth, letting his tongue lick soothing stripes along the reddened skin there, kissing every now and then, but keeping you pressed tightly to his chest, you own arm draped around his waist.

“You learn your lesson?” He asks then. 

“Probably not,” You hum against the sweaty skin of his chest, “I don’t think you’re ever going to fuck the attitude outta me, Miller.” 

[sticky-sugar]

ask you something. (iwaizumi hajime x reader) chapter three

>> the floodgates have opened, and you're both a little more desperate than expected <<

tags/cw: very suggestive, innocent reader, possessive iwa/reader, slightly perverted iwa (he will in fact get worse <3), brat tamer!iwa

chapter two || masterlist || chapter four

he tastes like black coffee, bitter and sharp.

‘will you show me?’ you’d asked, waiting with bated breath for him to fill in the blank. 

he hadn’t, and you’re convinced even now that he’d done it on purpose. ‘show you what?’ is all he’d muttered. but he’d shifted closer to you on the couch, his thigh burning against yours. 

‘what happens at parties.’

he’d angled his body toward you, and you’d leaned closer. you could feel his breath on your skin, the heat radiating from his bare chest. 

‘all of it?’ he’d whispered. your heart has lurched into your throat then, beating uncomfortably. ‘or just a little bit?’

your breath had caught, and your face had warmed to the point of being impossible not to notice. 

you hadn’t answered him. 

he hadn’t needed you to. 

‘just a little bit, then.’ 

his hand had cupped your face, hot from the mug, and he’d turned you toward him. you’d closed your eyes, unable to meet his.

his kiss feels the same as it had a year ago.

you don’t know what to do with your hands, so you leave them in your lap, trembling as they fist the fabric of your pants. he’s careful with you, mouth gentle and sweet, just like you’d known he’d be. 

his voice may be rough, but that’s all it is. you still wonder — what if — but you don’t think this is the time to push it. you don’t think this is the time to do anything but try not to faint. your head is staticky and light, and your body tingles as your limbs go numb, so it’s a non-zero possibility. 

he angles his head, and you lean into it, settling your shaking hands on his chest. his lips are patient, pushing and then pulling back just a little, just enough to make you chase him. you try to keep your wits about you, but iwaizumi hajime’s mouth is warm, soft, and tastes like coffee, so your wits are the last thing you’re willing to hang onto. 

when his teeth nip at your bottom lip, a test, your breath catches and then falls out in a stuttered mess. he tries again, pulling your lip between his teeth and running his tongue over it. you gasp, starting to pull away. he doesn’t let you, sliding his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck, keeping you there.

“open your mouth,” he whispers against you, loud in this dark apartment. 

“what?” you squeak, feeling his heart pick up under your palm as he scoots closer. his tongue slides across the seam of your lips, and you recognize that you were right — it hadn’t felt good at the party, but it feels good now. 

“open.” 

your heart skips, but there’s a fire burning in the pit of your stomach, lighting up when he talks to you like that. when he’s not so careful with you. 

and when he groans quietly because you’re listening to him — because your lips part for him, because you do as he says — you know that listening to iwaizumi hajime is something you’re good at. you can do that, for as long as he needs you to. 

his tongue swipes across your lip again, a warning, and then it dips hesitantly into your mouth, his head angled and his hand — searing hot — pressed against your spine. your breath stutters and stalls when his tongue brushes against yours, and he retracts it quickly, his own breath labored in your mouth. 

when you return the gesture, slipping just into his mouth and then retreating to safety, you feel something shift with him. he has your permission now, your invitation to keep going. 

he pushes his body against yours, and your hips are being grabbed and pulled in his direction. you’ve got your knees on either side of his thighs before you can put together that he’d lifted you into his lap. 

you gasp again but don’t pull away, too caught up in your own heartbeat and the heat of iwa’s hands on your hips, seeping into your bones. he leans up into you, mouth hard on yours and breath heavy in between every rough push of his lips. you latch onto him, letting him nip and bite and suck. letting his tongue slide against yours, hot and wet and effortlessly good at provoking the addicting pulse of your own heartbeat between your thighs. 

you whine and moan, too overwhelmed by these new sensations to have a sense of how loud you’re being, how loud your noises sound when they echo off of his walls. you’re wriggling without realizing it, your body reacting to him and wanting more. you shift your hips this way and that, and you push your chest flush to his, mindlessly craving the feeling of him. 

he doesn’t laugh or comment or give any indication that you’re too much for him. he just holds you down in his lap while you move and swallows as many of your moans as he can. he just belts his arm around your waist tighter when you whine his name, that needy ‘haji’ echoing off his walls, too. 

he just lets you pull away when you do, only steadying you so you don’t fall, because you’re gasping and burning with things you’ve never felt before when something hardens against your inner thigh. 

“sorry,” he says roughly, his breathing uneven and forcing his chest to rise and fall in jagged pants. “can’t really help that part.” 

you stare down at him with wide eyes. his cheeks are burning red, and his eyes are hazy and he won’t look at you properly, and his lips are wet and swollen and pink, so pretty in the dim light of the room. he’s got both hands on your body, still but firm, and his head is leaned back against the couch while he catches his breath. 

“can i stay here tonight?” you just ask, quiet and nervous. his eyes fly to yours, alarmed and surprised, and you rush to explain. “my roommate asked me not to go back…” 

“oh,” he breathes, relaxing a bit. “i thought you meant-“ he swallows. you try not to piece together the rest of his sentence, but it’s hard not to. “yeah, that’s fine. you can stay.” 

“i can take the couch,” you offer. it’s empty, and he knows it’s empty, because he just smiles to himself and looks off into the kitchen. 

“oh, you’ll take the couch?” he teases, snorting under his breath. 

you purse your lips, ears burning. “if you want me to.”

“and if i don’t?” 

silence stretches between you, and that burning feeling in your gut returns. your breath runs shallow, and your hands press just a little harder into his chest.

“then i guess i won’t.” 

his eyes dart to his bed, still ruffled and warm, and then back to you. that olive green is heated — it melts you to your core, and you stand from his lap shakily. his eyes graze over you, landing on your trembling thighs and the way you press them together. he smiles to himself, clearly satisfied, but doesn’t say anything about it. 

you do. 

“uh-“ you stumble back when he stands, nearly tripping over his coffee table. he just grips your arms tight and pulls you back to him, chest to chest. “i’m not sure… what i’m-why i feel so-“ 

“you’re not sure?” he asks, quiet and dangerous against you. when you shake your head, unable to look him in the eye, he just grins, a little wicked. “none of those boys before me made you feel like this?” 

none of those boys before me. 

not quite friends, not quite more. not willing to specify, not willing to talk about it. 

“no,” you breathe, eyes screwed shut. “first time.”

his inhale is sharp, sharp like the harsh tug of nerves in your navel. 

“maybe you should sleep on the couch,” is all he says in response. 

you don’t feel rejected, oddly enough. 

—

things are back to normal. things are finally back to normal. 

when hajime wakes the next morning, you’re still curled up on his couch. the small part of him that had worried that you would leave while he was asleep is appeased, and he makes you both fresh coffee and breakfast. he tries not to jump when he feels your forehead press between his shoulder blades, your body warm from sleep against his back while he cooks. 

“can i shower?” you mumble sleepily. “got class at ten, and i look like a stripper.” 

hajime snorts, glancing at the clock on the stove. it’s a quarter to nine. he nods. “grab whatever you want from my dresser.” 

“thank you,” you breathe, and he thinks he feels your fingers ghost over his waist when you push off of him. 

when you emerge from his bathroom, steam spilling into the room with you, he has to remind himself that you wearing his clothes isn’t new. he has to remember that he’s seen you like this before, that it’s normal. 

you’re fixing a pair of his athletic shorts, adjusting the material on your hips and shifting his t-shirt around on your shoulders until it falls right. you smell like him, he thinks, when you sit beside him on the couch and pull the plate of eggs and bacon into your lap. 

“thanks, haji,” you say sweetly, digging in. 

god, your skin looks so good when it’s moist like that. he wants to run his tongue over your throat, to lick away the condensation and drops of water still lingering there. he wants to push his hands up against your torso and grope you while you whine his name, fingers hidden and doing terrible things under his own t-shirt. he wants to-

“haji,” you breathe, and he blinks hard, snapping out of it. you’re pursing your lips, your little smile overtaken by the warm rush of heat in your cheeks. “why are you staring at me?” 

“i’m not,” he says immediately, lying straight to your face. “you smell nice.” 

“i smell like you,” you giggle. 

“well, then, i smell nice,” he barks, snatching his plate up and turning away from you, not even bothering to acknowledge how stupid he sounds. “what time’s your class?” 

“ten,” you say, leaning forward with a teasing grin. “like i said earlier.” 

right. you had said that earlier. 

“well,” he snaps, hearing the edge in his own voice. he was right — you aren’t sensitive to it anymore. he doesn’t know why he doesn’t like that. “hurry up, then. i wanna go to the gym before my class.” 

“okay,” you chirp, humming while you eat. “what’s your schedule today?” 

that’s the first time you’ve asked since you got here. 

“uh-“ he stutters, trying to remember his plan for the day. “class until two. clinic hours until four.” 

“i’m busy until four, too,” you mumble. “i was thinking of going to that hiking club organizational meeting.”

he snorts into his coffee. “you hate exercise.” 

“well, maybe i wanna branch out. try new things.” you say it jokingly, but he still cuts a hard glance at you. 

if you’d said that to him yesterday, he would have thought you’d meant trying new things aside from him. away from him. try new people that aren’t him. he would have hated it, would have panicked.

today, he only watches you shrink under his gaze, embarrassed and shy and swallowing hard as you try not to be seen by him. he watches you come to understand the implications of your own words, alone in his apartment with him. 

“never hurts to try new things,” he says simply. you meet his eyes, wide and laced with something he wants so badly to place as desire. 

“yeah,” you mumble, nodding and fiddling with the string on his shorts. your breath is short, almost a pant, and hajime is only a little embarrassed to realize he’s half-hard in his sweats. “wanna try new things.” 

everything’s back to normal. 

—

at noon, he gets a text from you, asking if he wants to eat lunch with you and your friends. 

his heart surges with excitement, because you really aren’t avoiding him anymore, and he responds that he would if he weren’t stuck in lab. but that he’ll pick you up and walk you to your next class if you want. 

another test, just to make sure. 

‘you don’t have time to eat??’ you say, and hajime can’t tell if this is a worried text or an accusatory one. if you’re upset he’s not eating or upset he’s not spending time with you. 

he thinks of you being a little irrational, a little needy or angry with him for something he can’t control. pouting up at him with those pretty little lips, calling him ‘haji’ with a little attitude.

he has to turn away from his lab partner so he doesn’t see how hard hajime’s getting. 

‘no time,’ he texts back, vague and offering nothing else. just to see. just to check. ‘but i’ll pick you up. is that fine with you?’ 

‘i guess.’ a minute passes, and then— ‘ill bring you some food, okay?? you gotta eat.’

you’re just worried, sweet and soft and pretty as ever. not giving him attitude. but, if he ignores that last message, he can pretend you are. he can pretend you’re as needy as he wishes you’d be, that pout sitting in front of his eyes while he finishes running the bio lab. 

he makes it to the dining hall by 12:45, texting you quickly. you come outside with your friends, holding a tupperware of dining hall food, and he turns away, steadying his breath and trying to make it look like he hadn’t just run across campus for you. you introduce him to your roommate, and he smiles handsomely down at her. he doesn’t need to impress her —  he’s been your best friend since you were learning to walk — but he knows girls talk. he wants her to think he’s good for you. 

she shoots you a look of approval and whispers ‘so this is your man’ when she thinks he’s too busy opening the tupperware to notice, and hajime knows he’s cleared the bar. you nudge her, and he makes a point of getting distracted by the chicken stir fry you packed for him, just so he can hear you mumble ‘shut up’ in that embarrassed way he loves so much. 

“thanks,” he says plainly, capping the plastic container. “i would’ve had to subsist on clinic granola bars until dinner.”

you pout, and he laments that it’s sweet but not the one he craves. “that’s no good,” you say, stepping close — too close to be friendly — and tugging on his sleeve. “don’t they teach you about nutrition in the exercise major?” 

“sports science,” he corrects with a mocking edge, and then he flicks his eyes to your roommate. she’s watching the two of you with her arms crossed, a knowingly smirk spreading across her face. she can see something you can’t, something hajime wishes you would. “and the clinic granola bars are nutritious.” 

“i’ll get you something from now on,” you say with finality, so deliciously close to demanding, and he just lifts his brows with a smirk.

“yes, ma’am,” he whispers, forcing a grin down when your face starts to radiate heat. 

“okay,” your roommate says, clapping. “i’m leaving.” 

you turn to her, eyes wide. “we’re going to the same class.”

“yeah, but-“ her eyes find his, and he knows she can see how badly he wants to be alone with you. “-i’m not in the mood to third wheel. that guy from last night is ghosting me.” 

“third wheel-“ you protest, mouth open dumbly, and she just kisses you on the cheek.

“see you in ten, babe.” 

you turn to him once she’s gone. he doesn’t bother to hide the smug grin on his face. 

“coffee?” he says innocently, checking his watch. “i can make it happen in three minutes.” 

you flush, but you don’t do more than mumble ‘jerk’ under your breath before following him. he laughs, picking at his new lunch while he walks you. 

neither of you address why he’s so smug, why you’re so embarrassed. 

why the air between you is so charged, something so very acknowledged and unacknowledged at the same time, something so obvious that it’s left unsaid. 

—

you find him in the library after your club meeting. ‘third floor stacks’ is what he’d texted you when your meeting had gone over time, and you’re wandering the dark aisles of the empty stacks now, searching for him. 

“third floor stacks,” you mutter to yourself. “couldn’t be more specific?” 

“did you need me to be?” 

you scream, the sound sharp and echoing, and whirl around. iwa’s poking his head out of one of the aisles, one you’d already looked into. you must have missed his shadow in the dark. 

“haji, no one uses the stacks.” you stomp over to him, huffing in annoyance as you drop your backpack at your feet. “it’s creepy and dark and full of spiders in here.” 

“it’s also where the books are,” he teases, and you realize he’s got a small stack of health sciences textbooks at his feet. “how was hiking club?” 

“good,” you say, surveying the shelves around you. “there’s a retreat in a couple weeks. getting to know each other or something.” 

he hums, crouching and scanning the titles. “sounds fun – if you like hiking, i guess.” 

“i could like hiking.”

“you could, yeah. but do you?” he chuckles when you sniff in annoyance at him. “let me know when you figure it out.” 

“there’s a meeting this weekend,” you offer. “going to a trail nearby, something for beginners, apparently.” 

“take enough water. and food. and a hat and sunscreen.” he rattles the list off distractedly, and you get the feeling he’s reading out of a mental textbook.

“i’m asking if you wanna go,” you sigh, standing over him and digging the toe of your shoe into the linoleum. he blinks away his to-do list now, his eyes clearing as he looks up at you. 

when he stands, towering over you now, it takes everything in you not to wither. because he’s got his short sleeves rolled up to his shoulder, a habit since high school, and his jeans are dark and fit him just right. and there’s writing on the inside of his left forearm, the call numbers for books he needs scribbled impatiently in black pen. 

and he smells good and is standing close and has eyes that make you want to fold like a lawn chair. and he’s smirking, those stupid lips curling in a way that makes you ache for him, and his warmth — the heat he always radiates without trying — is washing over you. making you feel drunk. 

drunk, still hoping uselessly that he can’t tell. hoping he can’t see the fog in your head, reflected in some traitorous haze in your eyes. hoping you’re not drooling, because it feels like you are.

hoping you’re not imagining that he’s stepping closer to you, his gaze cast down his nose and burning right through you. 

“i dunno about that,” he says, barely above a whisper. “it’s not really my thing.” 

“you’re athletic,” you argue weakly, hearing your own words slur in your ears. “be athletic.”

“i play club volleyball twice a week.” 

“but you don’t hike. different muscle groups.”

“is that right?” he chuckles. the sound goes straight between your legs. “you got a source for that?” 

“haji,” you whine. you know how you sound, but you’re starting not to care. you’d been desperate to hide your feelings for him before — your attraction, spilling off of you in thick waves. now you’re just desperate for him, and he’d shown you last night that that’s okay. that it’s allowed.

it shouldn’t be allowed. you’ll stop trying to control yourself if it’s allowed. 

“yeah?” he asks, and you know for sure this time that he’s stepping closer. 

“please?” you say, tilting your mouth up toward his, an invitation.

he doesn’t take it. you wait a moment, just in case, but he just stares down at you expectantly. you frown. 

“haji,” you ask again — beg, really. 

he just lifts his eyebrows. “you haven’t told me what you want.” 

your frown deepens. he watches it happen. “you know what i want.”

“do i?” he smiles, tilting his head to the side and pretending to be confused. your impatience grows. “i’m not sure i do.” 

you can’t help it. you stomp your foot. you stomp your foot like a spoiled princess and glare up at him. “don’t be mean-" 

and then you gasp, loud and echoing in the aisle, because he’s grabbing you by the hips and pinning you roughly to the shelf. 

“h-hey,” you stutter, laughing nervously up at him. he’s staring down at you with molten eyes, excitement dancing in his gaze and making his hands tighten on your waist. a shock of nerves courses down your spine. you don’t know what this is, but there’s a tug in the pit of your stomach that tells you you don’t hate it. you don’t hate it at all. 

“who're you talkin’ to like that?” he asks, laughing quietly in your face. “you’ve never been the bratty type.” 

“‘m not bratty,” you argue. the tick of light in his gaze makes it clear that you’re making it worse. “i’m telling you what i want-”

“mm-mm,” he argues, dipping his head low and brushing his nose against yours. his eyes drop to your lips. “you’re really not. but you’re free to remind me.” 

“haji,” you complain, feeling embarrassed. embarrassed that he’s pegged you for what you are — desperate. 

when his lips brush against your ear, you latch onto his biceps to keep yourself upright.

“you’re never this shy, you know,” he whispers. “you’re usually a little too honest.” you pant against him, arching your back and pressing your chest against his. something hard pushes against your hip, but you know now that that’s a good thing. that it’s good when iwaizumi hajime feels like that. 

“ask me,” he breathes, dropping his lips to a spot under your ear. his breath makes you shiver. “ask me what happens in the stacks.” 

your breath catches audibly, and you shift unconsciously against him, all too aware of the quiet grunt he lets out when you press your hips against his. 

“h-have you ever been here with a girl?” you ask, your face on fire and your eyes pricking with humiliation. “in the s-stacks?” 

he smiles, irritatingly pleased. you realize that the rough edge doesn’t need to be in his voice for you to feel pushed around by him. bullied by him. 

you don’t know how to tell him that this is the feeling you’ve been waiting for. 

“no, i can’t say i have,” he mumbles, shaking his head. your heart jumps at the admission. “do you wanna try it out with me?” 

“yes,” you breathe, immediate and wanton and embarrassing. “yes, please.” 

his lips are so rewarding, brutal and rude on yours. he forces his tongue past the seam of your lips without warning you, but you open up for him gratefully, and he moans into your mouth, praise to your ears.

“haji?” you ask when he breaks away, breathless and unable to think about much except for the searing hot line he’s kissing down your throat. 

“hm?” he asks distractedly, and you realize only when his teeth scrape against your skin that he’s marking the same place that the blond guy had last night. covering any trace of another man on your skin. 

“you’ve really never been in here with anyone?” he shakes his head, and shivers start at the crown of your head and spill down your body when he passes his tongue over the spot he’s just bitten down on. “then—how many girls have you been with?” 

he snorts when you ask, but you can feel his arms tense under your fingertips. he sets one hand on the shelf behind you, caging you in. “you really want me to answer that?”

he’s nervous. he doesn’t want to tell you. 

you definitely want to know now. 

“yes,” you say, your voice wavering — because he’s sucking on a spot that makes your knees weak — but you say it with certainty. “tell me.” 

he sighs, rough and a little frustrated, and pulls away to look you in the eye. his brows are furrowed.

“four. but you can’t be mad.” you are mad. your chest swells with jealousy, green and ugly. he must see it, because his mouth — pretty and swollen from kissing you — sets into a hard line as he stares down at you. “you dated after i left, y/n. you can't be mad.” 

he’s mad, too.

that shouldn’t make you as giddy as it does. 

you lift your brows, leveling him with a smug smile. your nerves flip in your stomach, strong and swooping over each other in uneven turns, but you lean up into his face, anyway. “not mad.” he scoffs in disbelief. your heart dances when he glares down at you like that. “just want you to teach me.”

his eyebrows fly to his hairline, clearly surprised with the turn this conversation’s taking. but there’s something in his eyes that conflicts with it. something that makes you think he might have been wanting you to ask. 

when he looks at you like that, asking doesn’t seem so hard. 

“please, haji?” you whisper, holding out against the heated look he’s giving you. “teach me?” 

he looks devastatingly interested, eyes stuck on your mouth, but he still protests. he still protects you, still keeps you innocent. 

“if you cross that line with me, you can’t take it back,” he murmurs, almost like he's reluctant to say it. 

you just lean into him, arms around his neck and fingers tangled in his hair. “don’t wanna cross it with anyone else.” 

“christ,” he breathes, his sigh warm and promising on your skin.

footsteps sound behind him, only a few aisles away. iwa steps away from you, eyes hot on yours as he leans against the opposite shelf. your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you glance at it quickly. your roommate’s asking about dinner. 

when you look up again, he’s trailing his eyes down your body shamelessly. you just bend and scoop up your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. his eyes find yours, brows lifting curiously.

“bye, haji,” you whisper teasingly, grinning when he narrows his eyes at you.

you hear him sigh loudly when you turn the corner, his breath coming out in a sharp ‘fucking shit’. your face burns with nervous excitement the entire walk to dinner.

taglist: open! add yourself here

@gangsterthomasbrodie @feiwelinchen

[crimsonbubble]

I’m BEGGING you more reader being the barracks bunny for the shadow conpany, but this time reader acting all tough and bratty towards them but deep down she just wants their attention after they’ve been ignoring her and focusing more on their missions:(

brat tamer!graves??? brat tamer!shadows???

cw. nsfw, gn!reader, brat!reader, brat tamer!graves & shadows, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mandhandling, oral, masterbation, slight choking, dacryphilia, spanking, fingering, edging, overstimulation *not proofread, just pure horny

[IM SO HAPPY YALL ARE LOVING THE SHADOW COMPANY X READER STUFF SJSKSBSJ] special tags for @waltzthegenderfluidpan @smmy-winchster

MINORS DNI!!

you're sitting by the shadows as they get their mission briefing except no one is trying to finger fuck you into oblivion

you know that their line of work isn't the easiest but they usually spend any and all moments of their free time with you

so when they're all getting ready for missions, they reduced you to an errand bunny

asking you to get things for them, drop things off for them to other people and only being rewarded with kisses to your cheek or forehead

going to bed cold and alone bc all of your fav shadows are out on field

once the mission is done and they're all back, you've resorted to minimal contact with all of them

doing the bare minimum, sneaking off after mumbling snarky remarks and giving them all the cold shoulder

it's only a few days into the cold shoulder treatment and all the shadows are getting more and more irritated as you deny their advances

a shadow finally speaks to their commander about it, who advised them to let him handle it

graves corners you when you're alone in the common room, his stare is stern yet gentle

there's no real need to ask what was wrong, graves knew what was wrong

without any thought, another snippy remark leaves your lips. you froze as soon as you processed the words that fell from your lips

as graves manhandled you over his lap, he all but ripped your shorts and underwear down your legs

not a second later and you feel a hard smack to your ass

it was just one after the other, leaving your cheeks red and sore with handprints

you were shaking in graves' lap, tears soaking into the couch cushions

feeling something cold drip onto your aching hole before fingers were pushed into you, immediately curling them up against your sweet spot

you tried to squirm away, the harsh and quick pace he set was overwhelming

graves simply held your hips down, continuing his onslaught on your slicked hole

a few shadows decided to stay and watch the show, watching how easily their commander gets reactions out of you

there's too many sensations you're feeling, it's all muddling together

just as quickly as the pleasure built, graves had pulled away

the fullness of his fingers leaving you empty and aching

the process repeats for god knows how long, the hours started blending together

bringing you to the edge of sweet sweet relief before all of it was snatched from under you

it left you squirming, needy and sore in your commander's lap, pleas falling on deaf ears

there's noises of shifting around you but you don't have the strength to look

before you know it, you're being placed on the now empty coffee table

your shirt is tugged off of you, hands immediately honing in on fondling and groping your chest

your pushed up on the table, your head hanging off the edge

you peer up at the shadow in front of you, eyeing the way their cock twitches mere inches away from your face

they tap their tip against your cheeks before slipping through your lips, their hand on your neck as they used your mouth

your hands were led to more cocks, their hands encasing yours and they fuck into your fist

graves' hand is still between your legs, rubbing against your sweet spot

with a quick whistle, graves moves, his position filled by another shadow

it took mere seconds for the emptiness to be filled again, filled with a thick and heavy cock

each thrust made you gag and sputter around the cock in your mouth

the ones fucking your hands, encasing yours with theirs, squeezing your hand around them tighter

they fucked into your fist even faster, nearing their release as they watched you choke around the cock in your mouth. their release coated your hands in a sticky white gloss

the shadow fucking your mouth, held your head up as he spilled in your mouth

swallowing without a second thought and sticking your tongue out like you always do

the shadow that's situated between your legs, uses the moment to his advantage

holding your thighs up and apart as he spears his cock into you, he twitched twice before painting your walls white

as you tried to process what just happened you were moved from the table to rest against someone's chest

you felt it before you saw it, two cocks pressed against your hole

sandwiched between two of the biggest shadows to take both of their cocks at the same time

one quickly slipped in, holding your hips down as the other shadow slipped in beside him

the stretch burned, making you shiver and arch your back

they moved in opposing rhythms, never leaving you empty

each moan was breathier and whinier than the last

you could barely keep your eyes focused long enough to see the shadows that still have yet to have their turn are hungrily stroking themselves

you're beyond fucked out by the end of the night, clinging onto whoever is in front of you

[dollfacefantasy]

hi! 🙂 i was wondering if i could request something with kento nanami spanking reader? i don’t have any specific plot in mind, it could just be straight up porn lol! with daddy kink included? thank you! 💗

mhm mhm cause nanami is just so brat tamer daddy like 😵‍💫😵‍💫

kento nanami x fem!reader

cw: nsfw (18+), spanking, daddy kink

Another smack echoes between the walls of your bedroom when your fiancé's hand collides with your ass again. A whine follows it and you squirm a little over his thighs. You'd only gotten a few lashes so far, but Kento knew what he was doing. He knew where to hit and how hard.

"Count," he states flatly, paying your whimpers no mind.

"T-three," you stutter out.

"Good."

Again, his response comes out simple and curt. Technically it was a word of praise, but it didn't feel like one. When Kento really praised you, there was no doubt of his intention. It came out as a coo with an affectionate touch to accompany it. Right now, the only touch you got was another spank.

"Ow," you whine. Your bottom lip puffs out in a signal of your displeasure.

His own mouth remains in a thin, flat line. His palm comes down on you again, leaving your skin stinging.

"No pouting, little brat," he chides, "You were being so bad earlier it must be what you wanted."

"I wasn't being bad," you huff.

That earns you an even harder slap.

"Well you are right now because I know you know better than to talk back," he says.

In truth, you had been trying to rile your boyfriend up earlier. The two of you had been out with some of his friends. You were bored since most of the conversation didn't involve you, so you tried playing with Kento a bit. Brushing your hand over his lap beneath the table, dragging your foot up his calf, giving him your best fuck-me eyes.

"Keep it up and you won't be sitting comfortably for the next few days," he'd said to you under his breath. But you didn't heed the warning.

It reached the boiling point when his friend Satoru noticed how tense he was and cracked a little joke about it. Less than ten minutes later, he excused the two of you and practically dragged you by your arm back to the apartment.

"I'm sorry, daddy," you whimper.

"I'm sure you are now that you're being punished," he says. His hand rains down on your backside in rapid succession, striking the center hard and fast.

Your eyes screw shut, and you kick your feet at the pain. More squeaks of discomfort fall from your lips. Your thighs shift against each other too as arousal blooms in your belly. He gives your hips a rough yank to secure you in the position he wants.

"If you keep thrashing like that, I'll have to move onto something more severe. Maybe you're wanting the belt," he says, letting the threat hang in the air.

Your head hangs forward, and you make a noise that's a mix between whining and sighing.

"I'm actually really sorry, daddy. I'm sorry for back talking and being bad around your friends. I don't know what else you want me to say," you plead.

"All I want is for you to learn your lesson," he says, "How many times have I had to put you over my knee for the same reasons? You can say your sorry all you want, but you're staying like this until I feel I've gotten it through your head."

"That could be like forever," you complain.

Kento smirks a little at the remark, but he doesn't let you know it amused him. He continues to smack your ass, relishing the way you fight to keep still.

"I've learned," you mewl as your resistance comes out in little twitches. You were getting antsy now not only from your aching cheeks but also from the increasingly intense throbbing between your legs.

"That's what you said last time," he says.

"But I actually have this time," you defend, "I know I'm not supposed to be like that around your friends. I just wanted my daddy's attention."

"That's always what you want, baby, but what has daddy taught you? What's the rule?" he asks.

"I have to be patient," you whimper, "I have to wait till daddy gives me permission to touch."

"That's right," he says. He takes a break from spanking you to soothingly rub your burning skin. "I know you can be a good girl. You choose not to be. That is what I have to train out of you."

"I'm gonna be good after this. I promise," you assure.

"Are you sure? Because you know you won't get to cum for a month if you break a promise," he taunts while gently kneading your battered cheeks.

You bite your lip before revising your statement. "Ok maybe not promise, but I'll still try super hard."

"Alright, I'll accept that," he says, "Since you're so committed to being good now, only fifteen more, and I'll let you up."

"Fifteen?" you whine incredulously.

"Yes, fifteen. And I don't want to hear anything about it. I'm already being lenient with your half-promise. Don't make me change my mind," he says.

Your head hangs again and you huff, but you don't say anything. His hand spanks you first on your right cheek and then on your left. You then get a few towards the center for good measure. You count out each one like the good girl you're trying to convince him you are.

His eyes flit between your head and your backside. He can tell the pain is starting to build up for you by the way you're shifting. Your noises are getting higher pitched too. He can almost hear the tears starting to brim your waterline.

After another round of spanking, you finally whimper out the last number just as a few tears slip down your cheeks. His hand goes back to rubbing your skin a few times before he flips you over and cradles you to his chest.

"That's my girl. You took that so well," he murmurs and kisses your forehead.

"Thank you, daddy," you sniffle and look up at him with your tearful eyes.

He nods and brings his fingers up to swipe away your tears. His thumb glides down your jaw and then slips between your lips. He watches you gently suck on it for a moment before he slides it out and leans in to kiss you. When he pulls back, he looks down at you.

"I'm proud of you, sweetheart. Let's just see if you can remember your lesson this time, hm?" he says softly as he boosts you to your feet and squeezes your hips, "We'll get you cleaned up and then maybe, I'll try to use my hands to help you feel better. Only if you can keep being good."

[eccentricallygothic]

Crosshairs

Description: Trying to get Robb's attention is one thing, but when you have successfully landed yourself in his crosshairs is another.

Pairing: Brat Tamer Prodigal Son!Robb Stark | Spoilt Brat!You.

Warning(s): Brat taming, jealousy, spanking, punishment, unprotected p-in-v, doggy style (it's me), claiming, manhandling (it's Robb), power imbalance, degradation, light misogyny, Robb's BDE because I live for that shit, corporal punishment ig, boob play. MDNI.

Type: Request, here. 

. . .

“You do realize you will land us both in trouble if you keep this up, yes?” Jon does not look up at his older brother's betrothed half out of respect and half out of the playful annoyance he feels for the spoiled girl batting her eyelashes down at him with faux coyness.

“What trouble?” The male rolls his eyes as he works away at his sword. “I haven't the slightest inkling of whatever you mean, Jon” he resists the urge to scoff at your obvious innocence. 

The uncharacteristic nature of your actions makes you stick out like a sore thumb. The forced lady-like smile that holds your features in an uncomfortable shift due to lack of experience, the way you hover above his head in a flirtatious side hang even though you never behave in this manner around the opposite sex save one, the overdone grace with which you tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear and the little tilt of your head that is accompanied by a confused and senseless giggle fitting to women, the pains with which you put this effort forward is painfully obvious. 

“Right” the object of his discomfort -something you have in common with said object, at times- appears on the horizon of his vision and Jon sighs. 

Well, there goes his hope of not becoming the collateral today.

“No, tell me what you meant” though you aren't used to or too comfortable with leaning into men, you do so because you have also caught the quiet figure in your own peripherals and unlike Jon, you welcome the circumstance like the fool you are. “I want to know, Jon~” the dark haired male uncomfortably shifts away from you who puts an extra swing in your sway towards him. He lets out a suppressed scoff and glares at you. The two of you have been friends long enough for him to know exactly what it is that you are doing. 

“Stop” you know each other too well to be affected by any proximity with each other but Jon's older brother who is an advocate of propriety has taught his younger brother that this distance with a lady one is not related to seldom fares well and thus his teachings show in his behavior. “You—” though he decides not to beat around the bush for any longer, it is too little too late.

Alas.

“Father calls for you, Snow” the male in question releases a breath he was not aware he was holding and jumps to his feet abruptly with a gladness he is still cautious of since his brother likes to get unfair at times despite being well acquainted with your personality. 

Jon departs, or rather flees the scene without another word.

A smirk makes its way onto your face so you turn your ‘unsuspecting’ back to the hairy giant, bending to pick up your upper coat that you had shrugged off in a bout of confidence. Though you aren't the sharpest and certainly don't possess the perception of your betrothed, you hear him approach you in his manly and wise silence as you clear the haystacks of your coat in one swift movement and resume an upright position.

“Oh!” You exclaim with a surprise so artificial that the impurity nearly cuts Robb because of how he always dons the gold of honesty and valor. “My heart!” You use your endearment for him for Robb neither likes to hear you refer to him by name in public nor does he prefer you call him by his titles. “When did you get here? You were not a moment ago!” 

The coolest, most small smile spreads over his rosy lips and Robb tips his head back an inch to grant himself a better look at your audacity. The milky skin under his eye slightly twitches in response to him narrowing his eyes at you. Though he says nothing, you can still hear his rhetorical inquiry in that sarcastic way of his that you are well familiar with due to how long you have known him. 

“Whatever’s the matter, my love?” Robb has to resist the urge to scoff at the extra pitch in your voice because of the pretentiousness you are putting into your performance. 

He just stares at you for a good while, studying you, perhaps giving you a chance. So much so that there comes a point where you feel yourself gulping down a bile from your rising nervousness. But unlike many other times, you refuse to give in today. Like husband, like wife. After all, you rebelled against your nature today to end up here, in this ‘predicament’. Giving up now would be to waste all your effort and turn your bold attempt futile.

“Come” he says after you know not how many minutes pass but before you can say anything, Robb’s hairy claw has already seized your smaller hand within it. It is unlike his nature too, for usually he is the effortless victor in a battle of wits between the two of you.

“Oh!” But you are used to being treated like the most delicate and valuable thing to ever exist. You have been raised in a manner which has accustomed you to everyone giving in to your demands and wishes. The firm manner in which Robb balances all things with a just foresight is most undesirable to you, fancy for him or not. Things should always go your way in the design of your desire, and not in a way that is mindful of safeguarding the welfare of other people too, unlike your dearest. If it does as a byproduct, jolly. If it does not, well, then that is simply not your pain to bear. And whilst you underwent this stunt to provoke Robb and his attention, the way your smaller body is being dragged somewhere through the dark hallways of the estate with a rigidity typical to your betrothed, it is hardly the conclusion you planned.

Not like this.

“Oh, my!” Your brutish man's ironhold is beast-like as you try to free yourself of it. But what good is a mere pip against a wolf out for blood? “Stop, stop!” You huff and puff half out of your liking to test him to the best of your ability and half because your scheme was not to be so quickly overthrown with such ease!

No, he was supposed to get jealous and sulk in the envy your behavior was aimed to stir in him due to your treatment of his brother. Then he was supposed to fight for your attention and give in to all demands bestowed upon him by you and fulfill any and every need you may have. Robb was to kneel down to you like everyone else in your life did and strike conversation to get you to shower the blessings of your company upon him. He was to say the first word and you were to act like he usually did; with a teasing indifference to make him haste harder for your notice. Except, your little mind failed to realize that you yourself had broken the very first rule of your own game not too long ago when you had spoken.

And now as you are pushed into a little room for the stored animal feed and other domestic necessities before your smaller body is pushed like a delinquent babe's to bend over hay forming a stack half your size, you whimper and pout as your pampered elbows itch from the dried grass. This outcome is far from what you had expected of your contrivance. This is not supposed to be it. 

“We are not wed yet, my Lord!” Your mouth runs its senseless attempts in vain. “Oh no!” You try to worm your body free from his elbow that he settles between your shoulder blades to nail you in place as the rest of his arm lays down along the length of your back, the tips of his fingers pressing against the twin dents in your tailbone. “This—”

“All that fuss to have my attention, dove” when he does speak, the guttural quality of his throat shushes you into silence. “Only to raise mayhem and put up such fight when it has been granted to you” you feel the fingers of his free hand dance along the plump, clothed cushions of your buttocks and your eyes widen as though the position he had put you in was not telling enough. 

No, no, no!

He is supposed to get on his knees and worship you! 

Not discipline you like a guardian does a misbehaving child! 

“Perhaps they are correct in what they say about a woman's eternal uncertainty in what she wants herself” not entirely true. You do know what you want. But if you confess it to him this will get even worse for you! He must not know! You shall conceal it like your life depends on it!

Or so you scheme in your naivete, for you have behaved in similar ways more times than one.

But trying to flirt with another man? That is new. 

And Robb is very determined to find out the source of that course of action.

“Ugh,” you shake your shoulders in a futile attempt once more. “Do not be a cruel brute!” You order the future King of the North like you are in any position to bark at a man of his stature. “I am not one of your savagely bannermen! I— ah!” A furious hiss shoots through your lips when his free hand comes down upon the midpoint of your cheeks that jiggle feverishly from the impact. You whine at the sting that goes all the way down to your pucker and though Robb is wordless, he curses under his breath when he realizes that you are not wearing adequate underclothing despite his constant advice and request that you do.

How typical of you.

The young man brings another strong hand down upon your rear at the thought and you let out such an exaggerated sound -in his opinion, as he is scarcely aware of the extent of his own strength- that it mimics a cackle. Only, it is one of woe. Your hips desperately try to find solace in swerving the endangered half of your body out of his line of devastation but your wolf-man is far too strong. 

“Aaaa!” You furiously wail like a delinquent puppy being set straight, digging your elbows into the hay and your head in your arms to withstand the thunderous rain of your betrothed's hand on your buttocks. “I demand you stop this immediately, Robb!” Your whines are muffled and pathetic in their contrast to your words. 

“It will not be until you tell me whose plot your little performance was” you gulp and bark out a wheeze to respond and it is like he senses the lie that goes to bud on your tongue and he swats it away with a foreseeable slap to the underside of your rear. “And you best think twice before giving me a false answer,” you shake your whole body and your head in protest and pain when he spanks you again. “Or so help me gods.” 

But you remain faithful to your nature and preserve your brain's unutilized state by choosing to, after all, lie. “I- I have not the slightest idea what you mean!” Robb releases a cool, mirthless scoff and shakes his head at you, his palm now taking turns on each of your cheeks as it comes out in strong, powerful hits that he lands with well paced delays so you can fully feel the ache of one strike before the next lands. “O- Ow! T- There was no- ah— p- plot! Nevermind a- any performance!” He sighs as if to lament what is about to happen to you next. 

“Fine” your eyes widen and you squawk in shock like you aren't accustomed to this or you were not hoping to arouse a more ideal variant of this outcome anyway. “Have it your way then, my dove” oh… that never fares well for you. 

And Robb proves your suspicion true when he lifts your skirts out of the way and tucks them under the hand that sits on your lower back like a menacing serpent with unkind intentions. “Tsk,’’ a strong strike is given to your barely secure intimates before he tugs your poor excuse for undergarments down. 

What?

They are uncomfortable!

It is not your problem if the man of your future household is too pedant and fastidious!

He always laughs at it and just ruffles your hair but you are unyielding in your belief that he is the way he is because your betrothed is adamant on reaching bachanalness three times faster than other people his age. 

“Ouch, my heart, please!” You cannot help but whine out an endearment though you absolutely do not want to because you are just as cross with him as he is with you! Ugh! He never falls in your traps! Why is he so clever?! Is this what your mother meant when she told you that you were finally going to have someone who would handle you like you ought to be the day Robb asked your father for your hand in marriage? “It hurts!” 

You gasp in realization.

The pieces fall into place.

It does make sense.

Gods, the world conspires against you!

This is not fair at all!

Robb's cruel palm is unrelenting even when it begins to tingle upon coming into contact with your bare and blushing skin over and over. “Tell me the name, my angel, and I will cease this immediately” he spreads your legs with one strong jerk of his hand and your whole body undergoes a turbulence. “You know I hate this just as much as you do” before you can feel any warmth for your cruel lover for he always tells you that he does not like to punish you, his lowered hand comes upwards in a vertical hit and collides against your drenched petals. The impact reverberates through your whole being and your mouth falls open at the way your folds shake. “Make haste, sweet one.”

Your eyebrows come together in a tight, angry knot and your cheeks puff at his condescending tone. “N- No name!” You bark out of spite and clutch at the hay angrily. “There was no one!” The compressed dried grass comes loose in your hold and you add. “You have gone completely mad, you hoary troll!” The way Robb audibly chuckles at that causes the arm that he has on your back to buzz into your spine.

You gulp because he is a man of a few words and even lesser noise. So this cannot mean anything good. Although you are quite determined in your resolve, you still have to bite your lip to suppress the whimper that you let out when his offending hand now begins to softly caress the blemished skin of your buttocks and sit spots. For you know his touch and it is not this when he means to be genuinely affectionate.

Just what kind of a predicament have you landed yourself into?

“I see.” You hear the zip of harnesses coming undone and the thump of coats hitting the floor. “Then nevermind the actions of a mad man precisely how we will the name of your fellow conspirator, my dear” you are confused by his words but the feeling of his tip aligning against you when he gets behind you and takes your sore thighs -for Robb never punishes your buttocks alone but all the spots in their vicinity- in his strong fingers that are decorated in scars which bear testament to his experience in conquest, causes a tumult in your determination-taut brain from the burst of sensation and the upper half of your body relaxes as result of all tension shifting to your nether regions. 

You mewl as you feel the delicious burn of your entrance that your beloved had deflowered some time ago stretch around the thick tip of his cock that makes love making feel like the first time whenever your balmy cavern is made to accommodate his manhood. “Oh! I can't take it!” You throw your head back and moan, forgetting everything else and getting lost in the flutters of pleasure you have been taught to find in the strain his cock causes on your flesh band. “You're too big, love!” Robb curses under his breath when the leaking apex of his cock is met with resistance against your folds that he feels quivering against him. “P- Please help me take it!” He just has to give a sharp strike to the underside of one of your buttocks to accompany with his scoff.

You are such a fox.

Saying all the agreeable things in that obedient tone of yours that he knows better than to trust. 

He shakes his head at the surprised squeal you whimper out as though the events of the last quarter did not happen. 

“Whoever said anything about you taking it, my sweet dove?” Horror creeps down your spine in the form of an ice cold shiver. 

No. 

“B- But— aaaah!” You are stinging, aroused, open but not filled and inching closer and closer to mindless, undignified desperation. “But!”

“Hm?” Robb seems to be enjoying himself, ever the master of restraint and self control, as he penetrates you only to the wide hilt of his tip before he sloshes it right out of your entrance only to repeat the tortuous action where your walls clench and bathe with slick in anticipation of his cock only for their buzzing excitement to be denied satisfaction. 

“W- What…” You rarely ever misbehave once he has you like this. But your wanton frustration makes you kick one foot as you huff. “Why would you— oh!” You bite your lip because of the shoddy pleasure that sparks but fails to ignite, leaving your body on a trembling edge that brings you to heaven's door each time he fishes his way past your swollen folds and plops into you never to let you sheathe him thus denying you the paradise beyond. “W- Why are you doing that?!” You finally break from your pretentious rhetoric as you try to push yourself down on his shaft but strength has never been grounds for competition between the two of you. 

Robb's nearly inhuman hold keeps you detained exactly where he wants you. “Doing what?” It's his time to display faux behavior and you huff although you know deep down in your mind that it would not do much to move him and would rather only land you in more trouble. 

“That!” You cry when you feel his cock release more precum right at the threshold of your cavern because of how he fucks your entrance with a warm, torturous gentleness that scorches both of your insides alike. “Why w- won't you put it in, cruel ogre!” 

A satisfied smirk suppresses Robb's breaths that grow heavier with the passing moments. “Why, I am a mad and cruel ogre-troll, my dove” he enters you again and this time both his hands come down on your cheeks in the form of slaps at once and you howl. “And creatures of my like have queer ways beyond the comprehensive abilities of pretty little things like yourself” you whine and your toes curl at how the frustration morphs into a dull ache in the mound between your legs. 

The painful twitching of your sex makes you croak and you try to move your hips once more. “No! No!” You gurgle on your own spit as you vehemently shake your head.

“No?” Robb's inquiry is nice, somewhat kind even… unlike his heartless actions. 

“No!” You affirm as you feel your knees ache and sore thighs quiver. You are a sensitive little thing. Rough handling is not a domain you are much acquainted with beside the brief encounters you have with it sometimes during spells of passion with your dearest betrothed. “No, the light of my life, you're not! You—” your back arches and you cry and pout like an entitled juvenile not getting their way, your frivolous unrest and feverish jittering making his great form that looms behind you like the silhouette of doom itself to shake in silent mirth. “You're perfect! Please, you're the most perfect Stark heir! You are the best Lord Winterfell can ever hope to have!” Your praises make him curse under his breath and he gropes your thigh harder to withstand his impulsive urge to thrust all the way in.

No.

He is the man and the responsible one.

No can do until you learn and acknowledge his authority.

That is the way.

Of men, and Lords.

“The name, my love” though he masks his words with nonchalance quite well, there is a disguised urgency in them. You light him up just as unbearably as he does you. “Tell me the name and I will give you all you need and desire.” He gives you one rough jerk just past the band of your entrance and the momentary friction you feel in the drenched velvet just above your entrance snaps the thread of your determination. “Just like that, it is that easy. But you choose the fruitless path of torment and frustration.” There is a hypnotic lull in his words and that is enough for you to gush out a part of your impending confession. 

“It was—!” You finally confess the name of your lady friend and Robb decides that it will do for now, rest you will tell him yourself with your own free will in your sensitive and emotional post orgasm state when you will be securely tucked in his arms and against his chest. 

“There” your eyes and mouth widen at the same time and a guttural grunt crawls out of your throat when he doesn't pull his tip out this time around and instead slots himself inside you until he is hilt deep. “There is my bonnie lass” the upper half of your body goes lax and appears as though your bones have dissolved into your blood. You go to collapse face first into the hay to lay down and get fucked into oblivion but Robb's territorial paw finds a hold on the underside of your jaw and he rams you onto his cock and continues to curve your form until the crown of your head is touching his shoulder. “Tsk, such havoc just because I could not attend to you right away and requested you show some patience.” His fingers find one of your nipples and you shiver.

“S- Sorry, hubby!” You finally use for him the odd yet heartwarming endearment he loves most and that is how he knows he has you netted in.  

“Who loves you?” You shiver as you feel his girth stretch out your insides even though you were more than prepared for him. 

“Y- You—” he pulls at your nipple before giving both your breasts punishing swats. Your waist further curls outwards at the feeling. 

“Say it properly” you clench around him because of the way his baritone voice grinds against your eardrums and Robb cannot help but twitch right under your cervix. 

You do not need to be told twice. “Robb Stark!” 

He hums in satisfaction. “Who knows better?” 

Your bubbling loins tighten. “Robb Stark!” 

“Who takes care of you?” His hands roughly fumble to throw your skirts out of his way. 

“Robb Stark—!” Your answer turns into a shivering moan when his fingers find the trembling gem under the hood of your sex. 

“Who do you trust with everything?” The minute crevices on the tips of his fingers rub against the sensitive nub and your vision falters. 

“R- Robb Stark!” His hold on your jaw is the only thing that keeps it in usable shape. 

“Who will you obey when he tells you that you will no longer be friends with—” you whine when he takes the name of your dear friend but it is not a complete surprise. 

Robb greatly dislikes and condemns for you any influence he deems indecent or bad.

“R- Robb Stark!” You whimper as you move your hips along to his cock that now fucks you so fast and rough that you lose your footing with each thrust, the fingers he has on the nub of your womanhood only adding to the flutters of pleasure that narrow the knot around your hips with each snap of his hips. 

“Who do you belong to?” This time, his mouth comes to press against your ear and his coarse beard irritates your sensitive skin. His words carry a wolfish ferocity and you hear him gnash his teeth in as much clarity as your thumping ears will allow. 

“R- Robb—” your teeth begin to chatter from the intensity of your orgasm and your body flexes against his much bigger one to withstand the explosion in your abdomen. “S- S- Stark…” Your words melt into hissing whispers and you shudder and hiss when he continues to rub, fuck and fondle you even when the ecstatic feeling has subsided and your mound demands solitude. 

“That is correct” he pounces onto the stacks that you face with your smaller body underneath him like a depraved wolf having trapped in its hold a helpless little lamb. The action causes for his tip to collide against your cervix and your body thrashes defensively but it is in vain. “Do not forget that.” Robb whispers in your ear before he regains his footing and his hairy claws tuck under your thighs from the front. Your betrothed easily lifts your legs off the floor and begins his annihilation of any remaining misconduct perchance still shrouded in some unwise crevice of your little mind.

MASTERLIST 

. . .

I… can swear I thought this was like 1K at best… 

[aurorawritestoescape]

So i couldnt sleep so my mind went rambling abt bad blood tommy fucking reader while on facetime w joel. (Like yk filming reader if that makes sence.) And tommy MAYBE brat taming her a little bit or smt and joel telling him what to do or smt. (You can ignore that last part lol)

Xx

BAD BLOOD extra || Tommy’s visit || 2,1k happens after part 6 | can be read alone

Pairing: step uncle Joel Miller x f!reader x stepdad Tommy Miller

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, fluff, step-cest, age gap (reader is 22, Joel and Tommy are in their late and mid-40s), brat tamer!Tommy, mean!Joel, voyeurism, exhibitionism, unprotected piv, consensual ass spanking, creampies, degradation, praise kink, daddy kink, ass play, swearing, smoking. The pics are for the mood only. Reader has no specific physical descriptions.

A/n: thank you for the delicious thots and inspo, lovely nonnie!💖😘I’m not gonna ignore the last part bc it’s hot af! Hugs to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 Love you all!❤️ dividers by @saradika-graphics

Part 6 || SERIES MASTERLIST || MASTERLIST

Tommy’s visiting you while you’re at college and he got a hotel room for you two for a whole weekend, starting Friday. After a few weeks apart and numerous phone sex sessions you couldn’t take your hands off each other. You lost count how many times Tommy made you come on his tongue, his fingers, his cock.

Fucked out of your mind, you’re lying naked on your front in the bed, nibbling on some French fries that you ordered to the room.

“Let’s call uncle Joel,” you offer, smiling at Tommy who’s resting next to you, leaning against the headboard, drinking water and stealing your fries from time to time. He’s naked as well and you marvel at his golden skin, glistening with sweat, his long dark curls, some stuck to his forehead and neck.

“You miss him?” he asks, grabbing his phone off the nightstand.

No way you will admit it so you answer with a shrug. Over the weeks apart Joel and you phoned each other too. Your calls were much shorter than with your stepdad and consisted of him making you come by degrading you over the phone, while your vibrator was pressed to your clit or your fingers were playing with your pussy. He never jerked off though. ‘I ain’t a fucking teenager to jack off over the phone like that,” he always said. But you could bet that as soon as he hung up, his hand darted to his throbbing cock.

When Joel picks up the phone, you hear music and people talking loudly. It’s Friday night so of course he’s at some bar. Tommy greets him and the noises get quiet when the older brother apparently steps outside.

“Hey, uncle Joel,” you purr, when Tommy passes you the phone. Joel gives you a trace of a smile, his face illuminated by the dim street light. He’s looking handsome and smug as always, with a lit cigarette hanging off his lower lip.

“Tommy, why is this little slut still talking?” he raises his voice so his brother could hear. “You’ve been there all day, she shoulda been in a cock coma by now.”

Tommy shakes his head, mumbling ‘Jesus’ and you roll your eyes.

“Stop it, daddy’s made my pussy very happy.”

Joel hums in disbelief and you pout your lips.

“Why haven’t you come with him?”

“I have work this weekend, angel. Need to get some dough so when you visit us I can spoil you like a princess.”

“Really?” You beam at the screen.

“Hell no! Ima spend it on hookers and blow,” he chuckles.

“Fuck you,” you curse at him and throw the phone back to Tommy.

You turn over on your back and with your brows furrowed, start angrily chewing on a fry.

“Second, Joel,” Tommy mumbles, crawls to you and slowly gets between your thighs, the phone still in his hand.

“You know he’s joking, right? We can't wait for you to visit us in Austin.”

Tommy’s warm smile softens your attitude and you slide lower to wrap your legs around his hips, pressing your cum filled pussy to his already hardening cock.

He takes it as an invitation, which it absolutely is, and glides his pink tip between your slicked up pussy lips, massaging your clit and drawing needy whimpers out of your half-opened mouth.

“Look at this, Joel,” Tommy smirks, turning the phone and directing the camera to your cunt, hugging his stiff cock.

“Damn, angel,” you hear your step uncle respond.

Then Tommy slowly changes the phone's angle so your step uncle could see your naked body, squirming against the messy sheets.

You look at the screen, eyes already glossy with lust and bliss, and bite your lip, hearing a loud growl, coming out of Joel's mouth at the sight of your puffy wet folds, being used by his brother, your heaving belly, your hickey-covered tits and pebbled nipples.

“Looking hot, baby,” you hear him compliment you and almost come at how rare and thus more delicious it is.

“Thank you, uncle,” you breathe out and suddenly cry out when Tommy roughly pushes his cock into your weeping hole, taking you by surprise.

“Daddy!”

“Yes, my love?” Tommy gives you a naughty smile, rolling his hips into you and you smile back. The way he fills you is so satisfying, it makes your pussy greedily clench and gush more around his cock .

“How is she?” Joel asks, and you hear him take a drag of his cigarette.

Tommy turns the camera back to himself and talks to his brother, while his cock is languidly sliding in and out of your soft cunt.

“She’s heaven, Joel. You’re missing out.”

At this point you’re not sure if they’re talking about you or your pussy, which turns you on even more.

“Yeah, fuck, ya know that we need to get that contract. I’m meeting them tomorrow morning.”

To your shock they start discussing the upcoming deal and your jaw drops in astonishment.

“Hello! Your dick’s inside me! Can you talk shop later?” you grunt at Tommy and hear Joel’s gruff voice.

“Shut it, angel. Grownups are talking.”

Tommy gives you an apologetic smile but then continues speaking to Joel.

Anger boils up in your stomach and you plant your foot on Tommy's chest and push yourself off his cock. The man hisses, apparently in pain from your sudden movement. But you couldn’t care less. How dare he? you think, feeling hurt and offended.

You roll over on your belly, grab a handful of fries and shove them into your mouth.

“What the fuck, babygirl? Ouch,” Tommy growls behind you.

“Whatever.”

“Come on, sweetheart. I’ve just asked him a couple of questions. It’s important.”

“Fucking brat,” Joel comments on the phone and you grind your teeth.

Trying to soothe you, Tommy rubs the back of your thigh with his warm hand.

“My cock’s hard and waiting for you, my love.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” you bite back and Tommy throws the phone on the bed next to you.

Suddenly he plops down on top of you, pressing you into the mattress with his heavy body.

“He’s right. You are a fucking little brat,” he hisses in your ear and grabs your arms with his strong hands, when you try to lift your torso to push him off. “I’ve been railing this needy cunt all day and you can’t give me a few seconds?”

He bucks his hips against your ass and you moan, feeling his huge cock dig between your asscheeks.

“Daddy,” you whimper in defeat.

“Bitch needs to be punished, brother,” Joel’s modulated voice is egging Tommy on.

“Ain’t he right, sweetie?” Tommy grunts, his hot breath fanning your cheek.

Your mischievous smile tells him everything he needs to know and he commands, lifting his torso off you and sitting up.

“Ass up, babygirl!”

He slaps your asscheek and you whine, when the vibrations pleasure your sensitive pussy.

You do as you’re told and grab the phone with a naughty smile, before placing it against the headboard, letting Joel see what your stepdad is about to do to you.

“Should I spank this minx, Joel?”

“Fuck yeah! This brat’s begging to be disciplined. Right, little slut?”

“Yes, please, daddy, uncle,” you obediently breathe out, wiggling your pushed up ass.

It immediately earns you a slap from Tommy and you moan.

“Shall I keep going, sweetie?” Tommy asks and you hastily nod.

Another slap lands on your ass and then another and another.

“Fuck, wish I could join you, brother,” Joel groans. “I’d give it to her good.”

Tommy spares you, his hits are not that hard, but after having the same spot spanked a few times, you feel heat and ache spread over your skin.

“Daddy,” you whine and he glides his palms over the globs of your ass in a soothing gesture.

“Will you interrupt me again, babygirl?” he asks and slaps your burning asscheek.

“No, daddy!”

“Good girl,” Tommy praises as his hand runs over your spine and squeezes the back of your neck.

“And never get off this cock until I’m done with you. Understand?”

You nod your head, noticing Joel smirk on the screen.

“We should punish her more often, brother. Pity that the slut loves it too much.”

You stick your tongue out at Joel and turn to Tommy.

“Fuck me, daddy. Please.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Your hole’s been clenching the whole time I’ve been slapping your sexy ass. She’s so needy.”

“She is daddy—ahhh,” you purr and moan as he inserts his fat cock into your cunt and begins thrusting into you hard and fast.

“Pussy’s already full of my cum. So wet. Gonna give you more, sweetie.”

“Yeah, ruin this cunt, Tommy,” Joel growls and you stare at his handsome face with half-lidded eyes, reveling in the sensation of Tommy’s cock massaging your walls, and Joel’s black gaze, watching you getting railed.

“Angel,” you hear his voice, calling you. “Can you do something for your dear uncle?”

“Yeah?”

“Stick two fingers into your ass for me.”

You curse, getting more turned on.

“Good idea, Joel,” you hear Tommy’s strained voice as he must be close to coming.

“Get the phone,” Joel says to his younger brother and soon he has a perfect view of your ass and pussy, stretched around Tommy’s cock.

You bring your hand to your asshole and mewl,

“Daddy, help.”

“Of course, my love,” your stepdad coos at you and spreads your asscheeks with his thick fingers, giving you a better access to your tight hole and then spitting right on it.

You jerk at the sensation of his saliva hitting your puckered hole and sliding down your crack. You spread the liquid over and slowly push the tip of your middle finger inside.

“Relax, baby,” Tommy says, slowing down the pace of his cock inside your cunt. Your ass is tight but you take a deep breath, follow his advice, and soon your whole digit sinks into your asshole.

“Yeahhh. Good little slut,” you hear Joel and smile, your cheek pressed to the bed.

Your loud moans fill the room when you begin moving your middle finger at the same speed that Tommy picks up, fucking your pussy.

“Angel, add another one, c’mon,” Joel grunts. “Tommy, faster.”

Joel is directing his brother, who’s fucking his ex stepdaughter. Your juices are sliding down your inner thighs, your eyes roll back while your asshole is getting filled with two fingers. Tommy begins rutting his manhood into your cunt relentlessly, chasing his orgasm, while you are self-fucking your ass.

“Like that, open up that tight hole, angel. Get it nice and ready for your uncle’s fat cock. What a good little slut for us.”

Both of your holes clench hard at his words and it sends Tommy over the precipice.

“Oh yeahhh,” he moans and starts spilling his hot cum into your pussy. The warmth of his load and the squirts, hitting your walls, make you explode on his cock and your fingers. You scream and whimper, while your pussy is getting flooded with Tommy’s thick seed, and your asshole is clamping tight around your fingers.

Tommy finishes emptying his balls into your pulsating cunt and pulls out as your fingers leave your asshole too. You both collapse on the bed, panting and smiling at each other.

“Guess my work there ‘s done. Bye, lovebirds,” you hear Joel’s voice, coming from the phone, lost somewhere in the sheets.

“Wait, wait!” You hastily search for it and when you succeed, ask Joel, your eyes glinting with mischief,

“Are you hard right now, uncle Joel?”

The older brother narrows his eyes at you.

“What d’ you think, angel? I jus’ watched you fuck your own ass like a cock hungry slut.”

You smile proudly, imagining his huge bulge, straining his jeans all because of you.

“Have a nice jerk off session, uncle,” you mock but Joel smirks.

“Don’t think so, baby. Gonna go find a nice wet pussy to fuck in the bathroom.”

With that he ends the call and jealousy burns deep in your belly.

As always attentive to your mood, Tommy swiftly scoops you into his arms and holds you close, while you’re nuzzling his neck.

For a few minutes you two are lying in silence. Tommy’s heartbeat soothes you, floods your soul with affection for the man but you sigh, feeling a pang in your heart that Joel isn’t here.

“He really wanted to come, sweetheart,” Tommy says, as if having read your mind.

You hum, faking indifference, but your heart feels lighter and you tilt your head up to kiss his soft lips and mumble, “I love you, daddy.”

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💖

Part 6 | SERIES MASTERLIST I MASTERLIST

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