#d/s fic

[space-writes]

wip wednesday

tagged by @aalinaaaaaa, thank you! wip wednesday on an actual wednesday. a miracle of our times, surely. anyway, im hard at work in the extremely belated kinktober mines, so here’s a soft little snippet from the fic i’m writing for the aftercare prompt, ft Obedience Husbands.

(cut for light nsfw, tags and taglist under it also)

[ID - a purple decorative divider]

At length, Rizeth set the washcloth aside, and was then treated to a production of complaint as he persuaded Ashenivir out of the warm bath to be dried. “Cease making a nuisance of yourself,” Rizeth admonished, swatting him on the freshly-bathed backside. Eyes glinting, Ashenivir stuck out his tongue, then quickly fled further reprimand. Listening to his feet thumping down the hallway, Rizeth couldn’t help but smile as he rolled his eyes. Brat. He tracked his wayward husband to the bedroom, where he was knelt by the bed in apparent contrition. Rizeth pulled a black, silk robe from the back of the door and fastened it around himself as he motioned the lights down to a soft, amber glow. “You know exactly what you’ve earned with that little stunt,” he said, collecting a brush and comb from the dresser. “More bruises?” Ashenivir guessed. “A good deal more bruises.”

[ID - a purple decorative divider]

no-pressure tagging @olliexwrites @oh-no-another-idea @sarandipitywrites and @mjjune

Obedience taglist: @foxboyclit @belovedviolence @thegreatobsesso (ask to be +/-)

[embersinashes]

Tarlos Prompt

Tarlos is in a d/s relationship, Carlos is the Dom and TK is the sub. TK is being punished for something he did (or didn’t do and it’s a misunderstanding, I’ll leave that up to you), and he wants to use his safe word but is afraid of angering or disappointing Carlos. Carlos is a good Dom and would never fault TK for using his safe word. TK does eventually use his safe word and is really upset and panicked by it. Happy ending only please.

[grace-williams-xo]

The Bridgerton fandom vs writing consensual abo or d/s fics 😭 abo does not mean dubcon please get help

[shepscapades]

[dbhc flavored] Hermit a Day May: Day 20 — Gem!

[starry-eyes-love]

Let's Make a Memory

Main Masterlist

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader, AU, One Shot

Summary | Joel takes you out to dinner for the first time and you wind up having sex in their bathroom.

18+, Minors DNI

Warnings: smut, vibrator use, sex in a public bathroom, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), language, cute and fluffy moments, a touch of d/s lifestyle.

Word Count: 1.7K

A/N:  I don't know where the heck this one came from, but I’m back out of my fanfic writing funk of no inspiration. Sorry guys, I got so burnt out with writing that I needed to take a huge break and was doing some other things for a while. This story is a little different from my other stories that I’ve written, but let’s just say I (being the writer/artist) had a muse that inspired me so we ran with it. I will slowly release other fanfic writings over time. I have no timetable for when fanfic stuff will be out.  I just want to enjoy writing again and not feel pressured. As always…enjoy :)

His hand immediately went around her neck as he pulled her back into him. His other hand went under her dress and touched her where she needed him the most. He growled in her ear, "You're mine; now come for me." She exploded for him when he said those words, which she always craved to hear.

Joel sat and ate slowly at dinner, laughing and discussing life with the beautiful woman before him. She was divine, a gorgeous woman, not just on the outside but what was found on the inside.  In the middle of all their laughter, she felt the buzz and the vibration's hum deep inside her. He never once flinched or gave anything away. He controlled the remote, the ability to start it and stop it, her pleasure he owned.

"You were saying?" He said, looking at her straight in her eyes. The challenge for her was to keep talking like nothing was happening. A test of strength, at the ability to follow the command he gave her. "Control your mind, and you'll receive my pleasure."

So she calmed her mind as she squeezed her thighs together, fighting the orgasm that she knew was coming. And as she fought it back, she burned with a fire deeper than anything, trying to remain composed through it all. She wanted him to stop this torture and to give her what she wanted: him.

For 45 minutes, this continued, and she didn't remember anything he had said. "Please," she whispered, almost begging him. To continue, to stop, to let her come, to fuck her hard. She wanted all of it and none of it at the same time. The sweet torture of the tease and the hold off of the release. A game she came to love and hate all together with him.

"Please, what?" He whispered, turning up the intensity again, knowing she was seconds away from release.

"Please, I, I—" she begged, and the vibration stopped before she tipped over.

"Shit," she growled, low and only for her ears. But he heard, and now the wolf was smiling, knowing he would soon devour his prey.

"What was that?" He asked, "Do you have something you wish to say? Something you wish to ask me?" It was a reminder of who played the game better.

"No, Sir. I- may I please excuse myself to the bathroom for a moment? I have to pee."

As he sat back in his chair, he looked at her intently. He knew it was a lie; he knew she was wet for him and wanted him.

Finally, after a moment, he motioned to the bathrooms, saying low, "You may, but don't you dare touch."

A silent nod she gave and whispered "thank you" as she stood.

She was almost to the bathroom door when she felt the vibration rise. She quickly gripped the door, opened the bathroom, walked in, and put her hands on the side of the counter. She was breathing hard and fighting the orgasm that was coming. She completely forgot to lock the door in her fight for composure; she didn't hear Joel Miller, the man who was giving her this sweet torture, enter.

His hand immediately went around her neck as he pulled her back into him. His other hand went under her dress and touched her where she needed him the most. He growled in her ear, "You're mine; now come for me." She exploded for him when he said those words, which she always craved to hear. 

He quickly turned her around and slammed his lips onto her mouth, drinking up all her cries of pleasure as he lifted her on the counter and shoved himself in.

"Fuck me," she moaned, trying to grind up against him, seeking the friction that she desperately needed.

"Patience, my love," he said, voice low and with his own primal need.

He was struggling to keep his head about him, not wanting to give over to the pleasure he was feeling. After all, he was still a man, and the harder she clenched down around his cock, the harder it was not to give in to his sexual urges and empty himself into her right then and there.  But Joel prided himself of being a man that never lost his control. 

“Fuck me,” he commanded, urging her forward with his words.  When she didn’t respond, he got right in her face and whispered in a commanding voice, “I said, fuck me.”

And she did; she found herself giving herself over to him completely.  Meeting him thrust for thrust while sitting on the bathroom countertop, one leg pinned up and away from her body by him and the other around his waist.  They were like two dogs in heat, rutting hard into each other and trying to sate the urge of being separated for as long as they have been: a lifetime, her lifetime.

“Baby, harder, please,” she begged. Those statements were like the liquid gasoline to their already raging inferno.  Every moment from the time she first talked with him, she had envisioned their first moment together.  She never imagined it to be here, in a restaurant full of people, but she didn’t care.  She was finally answering the hunger deep inside her, which had driven her mad for a long time, and he knew it.  That was the problem in their relationship; he knew every hidden desire she had without her ever opening her mouth.  Some say it is pure luck; others find it a curse.  But to her, it was like the most beautiful symphony ever played; he was her muse for once.  

In the creative artist’s world, a muse is a source that inspires an artist.  Though he never showed it, except for glimpses of it occasionally.  She thought he stopped seeing and loving her at one point, but that was just the mask.  The mask so she couldn’t see what she was doing to him inside, how much she was changing his soul as he changed her for the better.  Artist and muse.  It happens only once in a blue moon, something as fierce as this. For an older man named Joel Miller, this was the perfect recipe he needed—someone younger than him yet could still breathe life back into his soul.

A long time ago, Joel thought the world had turned its back on him.  Tommy had found happiness, his brother, after Joel had lost his child and wife, two people he had forever cherished.  Sarah, his daughter, died far too soon in life, and his wife left him because of many reasons.  She never said, but he knew.  Joel’s most significant problem in life was communication sometimes. He struggled to tell the person he was with how much he appreciated them and how much they mattered.  He said it through other means, telling them to drive safely, eat, and be careful.  Those phrases mean nothing to most people, but to Joel, they meant “I love you.”  You see, sometimes Life happens, and people struggle to express how much they care about someone.  How deeply they do.  And that was Joel’s problem before he met her.  Even now, as he takes what is his, what she has given up to him, he still struggles to communicate how much he cares and wants her forever in his life. But she knows.

You see, this woman he has pinned to the countertop and is thrusting hard inside of sees his soul for what it is.  Someone who felt like most of his life he didn’t deserve love, so she decided to give him the one thing that she knew he’d never ask for: love.  Yes, they sometimes disagree and have had moments where she hurt him with words.  But he meant more to her than what she’d ever say.  So maybe they both had a problem communicating that to the other. Or maybe right here in this moment of Joel pining her up against the counter, she could show him, just like she did every second of every day, with comments of “Hello cutie” and “You know you’re cute, just a little bit.” Her favorite was asking him how his day was. All those sayings said the same thing: she cared about him and his happiness.  All she ever wanted was for him to find peace and joy in life, no matter what.  That’s why this was different; they both felt that way but never said it out loud. 

“Joel, shit, I’m gonna-”

“Come for me, baby, show me.”

As she finally tipped over the edge for the first time with him like this, she felt the Earth shift on its axis, and her soul left her body and attached itself to another human in outer space. Joel soon followed behind her. When it was all over, and they were both spent, panting into each other’s ears as he held her, she understood that Joel knew what he was doing. He knew exactly what she would experience.  He made her wait to ensure she was ready for this experience.  The orgasm comes from the soul, not the body, and that’s what he wanted her to feel, their souls merging as one. 

Joel didn’t want meaningless sex; he’d had a lifetime of that when he was married.  He wanted a genuine connection, one out of this world, one where two people felt it together. There was no going back from this moment, and Joel knew it.  So, with a slight smile, he cleaned her up and helped her down.  Standing up on wobbly legs, she said in a sassy tone, “Wipe that smirk off your face, old man; my legs are wobbly because I was sitting on the counter, not because of what you did.”

With a deep laugh, Joel shook his head and said, “Okay, whatever ya gotta tell yourself, sweetheart.”  But he knew, just like she did too.  

With a tender kiss to her lips, she smiled and said as she opened the door, “I’m still ordering dessert with a ton of sprinkles on it.”  Joel gave a huge belly laugh as he exited the bathroom with her and took her hand into his.  

Sprinkles—the sweet treat on top of the best dessert—was a private joke they had together. Sex was the sprinkles on top of the dessert, the dessert being Life's journey together. You still had to create the dessert together, which he has always focused on—making the best foundation to enjoy those sprinkles. 

As they sat back down and ordered dessert, both had something with sprinkles on it.  As they ate, they silently chuckled and smiled at each other, at the memory they just created together.  Getting to this moment felt like a lifetime, but it was the best wait possible, and they both wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

[ink-perfect]

enough.

## request!

─ about: animanga luffy x gn!reader ⋆. fluff, 2nd person ⋆. post-timeskip, friends-to-lovers, playful banter, reader insecurities, reassurance + communication 🥹 ─ synopsis: you've been having issues grappling with not only your own insecurities, but potential feelings for the guy who's been your best friend since what feels like forever. the dilemmas both seem like lost causes, but a single conversation with a certain captain might just prove you wrong on both fronts…

the wind tugged at your hair as you leaned against the railing of the thousand sunny, lost in your thoughts. the sun was beginning to set, casting warm hues of pink and gold across the sky, but you barely noticed. you had always loved sunsets, but tonight, you felt distant, detached from the beauty around you.

it had been two years since the straw hats had separated, each of you training, growing stronger in your own right. you’d been through so much together before that, and reuniting had felt like finally coming home. but even now, with your friends with you again, something still didn’t feel quite right. you had gotten stronger physically, yes - strong enough to stand your ground against anyone who threatened the crew. but there were other battles you weren’t sure you could win. battles within your own head.

and most of these battles revolved around him.

luffy.

the carefree, reckless captain who had somehow become the centre of your world without you even realising it. you and luffy had always been close, ever since the beginning of the grand line. “the bestest of friends”, as he liked to put it. you were the one who could keep up with his energy, who laughed at his dumb jokes, who didn’t hesitate to dive headfirst into chaos alongside him, yet kept him grounded throughout all of it. you balanced his wild spirit with your own level-headedness, and it just worked.

and as the years passed, the bond you had only grew stronger - in ways you couldn’t describe. all you knew was that it wasn’t just friendship to you anymore. it hadn’t been for a while.

and that scared you more than anything.

how could someone like you be anything more than a friend to someone like luffy? he was always so simple, so direct, living in the moment without a care for deeper emotions. it wasn’t that you thought he didn’t care - he cared fiercely about his friends, about his crew. but you? the idea that he could feel anything more for you than friendship seemed impossible. you didn’t fit the picture of what luffy needed.

you sighed, the tension in your chest tightening as doubts began to creep in again.

“oi!”

luffy’s voice cut through your thoughts, and before you could even turn, you felt him hop up onto the railing beside you. he was balanced effortlessly, hands resting behind his head as the wind tousled his dark hair. his hat tipped back on his head as he jumped down to wrap his hands around your shoulders, face plastered with a goofy grin.

“found you!” he said, his voice full of energy as always. “i’ve been looking for you all over the ship!”

you couldn’t help but smile a little despite yourself, his infectious spirit pulling you out of your own head, even if only for a moment. “you could’ve just yelled, you know. i would’ve heard you.”

luffy laughed, tightening his grip on you. “yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

he was fully bear hugging you now, his weight resting on your shoulders, but you’d gotten used to that over the years. luffy had never been one for personal space, and he’d always clung to you like a koala whenever he felt like it. it was comforting, in a way. but lately, that comfort had began to stir something deeper within you, something you were too afraid to acknowledge. you frowned as this conflict enveloped you again, an all-consuming tornado of worry.

“you okay?” luffy asked, his voice suddenly quieter, as if sensing that something was off.

you tensed. he was always good at reading you, even when you thought you were hiding your emotions. it was both comforting and terrifying, especially now.

“yeah,” you lied, your voice a little too quick, a little too forced. you were trying to sound casual, like everything was fine, but you weren’t fooling anyone. not him, at least.

“you sure?” luffy released you from his embrace, not convinced. “come to think of it, you have been acting weird lately.”

your heart skipped a beat. luffy didn’t often notice the subtleties in situations, but with you, he always seemed to pick up on them - you loved and hated this at the same time. you loved how it was a mark of your connection, an unspoken indicator of just how close the two of you were, but you hated how exposed you felt under his gaze, like he could see right through you into things you weren’t ready to admit to even yourself.

you took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. “i’m just thinking, that’s all.”

he puffed out his cheeks in exaggerated confusion. “you? thinking? that’s new!”

you couldn’t help but laugh. “wow, rude.”

“i’m serious, though!” he insisted, peering at you like you were some sort of puzzle. “you’ve been super quiet lately. it’s freakin’ me out! you’re not, like, planning a mutiny or something, are ya?”

you feigned shock, giggling as you spoke. “oh no…who told you about my plans to take over your precious ship? eh, too late now to care - i’ll just begin ‘operation: overthrow captain luffy’ early!”

“start whatever operation you want, but you’re not getting my hat,” luffy shot back with a grin.

you shook your head, laughing under your breath. “relax, captain. i’m not after your hat.”

“good,” he said, eyes softening. “but seriously though. whatcha been thinking about?”

you sighed, turning back to face the horizon. the sky had darkened, the deep oranges and purples now melting into the sea. your fingers tightened around the railing. “i’ve actually been thinking about…us.”

“us?” luffy repeated. while his voice carried that familiar carefree lilt, you could feel his eyes boring into you, watching closely. it made your cheeks heat up even more than they already had, something you didn’t think was possible. “what about us?”

you swallowed hard, your chest tightening as you struggled to find the right words. he was your best friend, and yet here you were, doubting whether you were even good enough to be by his side. you had never been good at this - at opening up, especially when it came to your insecurities. luffy wasn’t like that. he didn’t worry, didn’t overthink. he was bold, carefree, always chasing what he wanted without a second thought. sometimes, you envied that about him. sure, you would always accompany him on his adventures, take shots that many others would shy out of - but your overtly-logical internal monologue would always be raging while you did it. so, was it really even enough?

“i just…i’ve been thinking about the past two years,” you started, keeping your voice as steady as possible. “and how everyone’s…changed. how everyone’s gotten stronger. how you’ve gotten stronger. and i know i have too, but…” your voice broke off.

“but what?” luffy asked, leaning closer, his voice softening in that rare way it did when he sensed something was wrong.

“i’m just me,” you whispered, hating how weak the words sounded, how small they made you feel. “i overthink everything. i get scared. i doubt myself all the time. i’m not like you, luffy. i’m not fearless. i’m...i'm not enough.”

there. you said it. the thing that had been eating at you for so long, that had turned your chest into a knot of anxiety every time you saw him smile or laugh or throw himself into danger without a second thought. you weren’t like him, all brave and cool - and you couldn’t imagine how someone like him could ever see you as anything more than just a friend.

your words hung heavy between you. you stared ahead, at the horizon, afraid to look at him, afraid of what you might see on his face - pity, confusion, maybe even indifference.

but then, suddenly, you felt luffy’s arm grab yours, tugging you around to face him. his eyes, usually so bright and carefree, were serious, focused in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

“that’s stupid.”

his words were so blunt, you almost thought you’d misheard him. “what?”

luffy’s grip on your arm tightened, and for the first time, there was something in his expression you couldn’t quite read. “i said, that’s stupid. you’re not ‘just’ anything. you’re my nakama. that’s more than enough.”

his words hit you harder than you expected, but they weren’t enough to quiet the doubts swirling inside you. you pulled your arm free, crossing it with your other over your chest defensively. “you say that, but…why would someone like you even want me around? i’m not fearless like you. i-”

“who cares?” luffy cut you off, his voice rising slightly. “i don’t even want you to be like me.”

you stared at him, your heart pounding. “but-”

“you’re you,” he interrupted again, words coming out quietly, almost like they were something precious he didn’t want to break. “and i like that. i like you.”

he looked up at you as he said the last three words, eyes searching yours, and for a split second, the world shrank down to just the two of you, standing on the deck of the sunny with the warm breeze brushing past. his face was uncharacteristically close, and you could see every flicker of emotion pass through his dark eyes - determination, warmth, a hint of vulnerability. his words kept replaying through your head, an oh-so-sweet broken record.

“you…like me?” you repeated, breathless.

luffy’s gaze held yours, unwavering, but there was something more delicate about it now - less like the determined captain you knew and more like a boy confessing something he had never quite figured out how to say until now.

“yeah, i like you. like…more than my nakama,” he added, his words slow and deliberate, as if he was trying to explain something he himself was still figuring out.

your mind went blank, the wind all but knocked out of you by the simplicity of it - how easily he said the words that sent your heart spiralling into chaos. you had known your best friend for so long, fought beside him, laughed with him, even faced death with him. but this? you had never imagined this.

“i- luffy-” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “do you mean you…like like me?”

he tilted his head slightly, that familiar grin slowly pulling at the corner of his mouth. “yeah. i thought that was obvious,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “i’ve like liked you for a long time! even zoro knows!”

your heart was hammering in your chest now, his words sinking in slowly, like waves lapping gently at the shore, washing away the walls of doubt you had built around yourself. the warmth in his voice, the honesty in his eyes - it was almost overwhelming.

you opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. you didn’t know what to say, how to express the whirlwind of emotions flooding through you. luffy, sensing your hesitation, smiled - an easy, genuine smile that made something in your chest relax. “i really do like you, and i don’t care if you’re different or if you worry about stuff. i just…i want you around. that’s what’s enough for me.” he said, his voice quieter again, but full of that unshakable sincerity.

you stared at him, your heart full and aching all at once. he didn’t care about your doubts, your insecurities, or the things that made you feel small. he just wanted you. the realisation was almost too much to bear, but at the same time, it was exactly what you needed to hear.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. the sound of the waves lapping against the sunny and the breeze filling the sails filled the silence between you. you took a deep breath, feeling lighter than you had in months, maybe even years.

“luffy…” you started softly, your voice no longer shaky but filled with something else - something warm and grateful. “i…i like like you too.”

the words came out easier than you expected, and as soon as they were said, luffy’s grin widened even more, his eyes lighting up like he’d just heard the best news in the world.

“really?!” he exclaimed, stepping closer again, his energy bubbling up as if he couldn’t contain it.

you laughed, the last of your tension melting away. “yes, really.”

without warning, luffy grabbed your hand, lifting it into the air as if you’d just won a battle. “yes! i knew it!” he cheered, his excitement so genuine, so luffy, that you couldn’t help but laugh along with him. his joy was infectious, lighting up the world around you like the bright sunlight that still clung to the horizon. you felt lighter, freer, standing there with him, his hand in yours.

but then, in one of those rare moments when luffy broke from his usual happy-go-lucky nature, he stopped cheering. his smile softened, and before you could process what was happening, the straw hat tugged you closer, his grip on your hand tightening just a bit. you could feel the warmth of his skin against yours, your heart thudding in your chest as the distance between you disappeared.

and then, without any warning, luffy leaned in and kissed you.

it was simple and sweet, a brief press of his lips against yours that left your head spinning and your heart racing. there was no extreme buildup, no dramatic tension - just luffy, as straightforward and honest as always, sharing the moment with you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

it was perfect.

your breath caught in your throat as you looked up at him, surprised, but he was already grinning, his usual goofy smile back in place as if nothing had changed. but everything had changed, and you could feel it in the way his hand stayed interlinked with yours, a steady warmth grounding you in the moment.

“so,” luffy said, smiling as he tilted his head slightly, his eyes twinkling with excitement. you leaned in, so ready to hear whatever he had to say.

“have you seen any meat around?”

you threw your head back in laughter, your heart full as you squeezed his hand in pure happiness. you had just kissed, and that was the first thing he thought to say. “you’re impossible, you know that?”

“yeah, but now i’m your impossible,” he said with a wink, still grinning ear to ear. it was such a witty comment for him you couldn’t even complain. instead, you kissed him again, earning yet another adorable, trademark-luffy grin.

and in that moment, as his joy mixed with yours, the doubts that had weighed you down for so long didn’t seem so overwhelming. they weren’t gone completely, but they didn’t matter as much anymore - not with luffy standing there, beaming like the sun itself and holding your hand like he’d never let go. somehow, with him, it all felt…right. simple. like the sea stretching out endlessly before you - full of possibilities, but no longer so daunting when you knew you weren’t facing it alone.

“let’s go find you some meat then, loverboy.”

── ౨ৎ masterlist

[butdaddyilovehimmm]

Patrick: "Liechtenstein funnily enough became Gabriel and I's word for-" Sarah: "Your safety word?"

- Sidebar, S1 E8 Identity Crisis

[thetrinitytest]

[spicycinnabun]

@galladrabbles for thank you

~

“What do we say?” Ian asked, expectant.

“Thank you,” Mickey said. The response was automatic, knee-jerk, and his cheeks heated in mortification as Ian slowly paused.

“I was talking to Fran.” His eyes were twinkling, the motherfucker. He went to serve himself a plate. “Uncle Mickey has good manners today, doesn’t he?”

“Yes!” Franny agreed. “Thank you, Uncle Ian!”

Mickey shoved a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth to stop any more stupid shit from escaping, but when Ian passed him to sit down, his hand caressed the back of Mickey’s neck, and it felt like good boy.

[maikhiwi00]

transformers + fave ships [x] [x]

[space-writes]

Chapter Two

In which I give you a hot springs episode, yet more pining, and tasty tasty Rizeth Angst >:)

Crystal Hot Springs, the town was called. A cavern of twisting rivers and wide, dark pools criss-crossed with stone bridges, all scattered around a vast central geyser whose heat had been palpable since the moment they’d arrived. Copper pipes sprouted from the water to run like metallic vines from building to building, hissing with irregular gouts of steam beneath the slowly pulsing amber glow that emanated from great clusters of crystals embedded in the cavern ceiling.

“It almost feels like home to have light above us again,” Ashenivir said. Rizeth could practically hear his mind whirring away, trying to solve everything he saw—or at least to find the right question to ask about it. He was greatly enjoying seeing his apprentice’s wide-eyed curiosity in full colour again. “Oh, what’s that?”

He darted to the side of the bridge they were crossing, and Rizeth had to grab his arm to keep him from going over the edge.

“If you are that desperate for a bath, apprentice, I am certain we can find you one.”

Ashenivir made no attempt to pull out of his grasp and simply pointed down at the steaming water. “There are merfolk here!”

Sure enough, there were. Three of them sculled along under the bridge, apparently unaffected by the near-scalding water. Ashenivir leaned out over the edge again, precarious. Rizeth hauled him back.

“You will have ample time to interrogate the townsfolk later,” he said. “We have a few days here whilst the caravan resupplies.”

“A few days in an inn?”

The flush on Ashenivir’s face was more than heat. With the Arcanum long miles behind, and the surface a good two tendays of travel away yet, four walls and a door sounded very close to paradise. Rizeth realised he was still holding Ashenivir’s arm. He released it, quickly clasping his hands behind his back.

“I am certain we can find one.”

Keep Reading - AO3 / Dreamwidth / Neocities

Obedience taglist: @foxboyclit @belovedviolence @thegreatobsesso (ask to be +/-)

[georgiapeach30513]

With Your Touch, Part 8

Summary: There's some things that need to be discussed

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, D/s dynamics, teasing, fingering, degradation, praise kink, humiliation kink, toy play, slight voyeurism, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of cum play, bit of breeding kink, mentions of spanking, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 6.1K

Previous

Series Masterlist

Lloyd leans into Lyla’s bedroom, smiling at you unable to leave her. You don’t say anything, or even move, you just stare at the precious Lyla Bee. A soft smile turns your mouth up. So often you show your love for her. It isn’t something you have to do, it’s something you choose to do daily. It’s the sexiest thing you can do. You love an extension to him.

He’d have to make it official. Eventually give Lyla a sibling. He’s enjoying playing with your body, but he seriously can’t wait to see you swollen with him. To see you around your father and he understands the love that the two of you have. And he knows what a good girl that you are.

Lloyd fully intends on exploring your sweet obedient ways. He wants to push you to your limits, with your complete consent as well. “She’s so beautiful,” you coo down at your daughter. You don’t want anything in this world to ever harm her. If you could keep her this little you would. Freeze time so everything stays this sweet always.

It’s an odd thing to accept that she wants you to be her mom, but also Lloyd. There’s no way that you could love her any more than you do, even if you birthed her. You could spend hours just looking at her. Watching how her lips pucker up, and she even makes smacking noises with her mouth when she’s extra tired. She learns something new everyday, and you don’t want to miss a second of her life.

Lloyd walks up behind you, wrapping both arms around your front. He settles his chin on your shoulder to stare at this beautiful angel with you. “She really is. She’s spectacular.”

“I don’t think her wants her daddy to go back to work,” Lloyd knows exactly what you’re trying to pull. You’ve been laying it on thick all week about his returning to work.

“I think her mama is trying to guilt trip her daddy into not leaving.”

“But it’ll be lonely out here,” he doesn’t have to look at you to know that you're pouting. He doesn’t want to ignore your fears, but also doesn’t want to let you know that this is fully working on him. He’d almost choose to never go back. But you need boundaries. And he has no problem giving them to you, and also enforcing them.

He inhales swiftly, turning his head to kiss on your neck, “I’m going to make it a point to come home every night. Sometimes maybe every other night,” you groan, pushing your ass into his back, and your eyes go wide. His soft kiss turns to a nibble on your neck as he walks you out of her bedroom.

“Why are you hard?”

Groaning, he cups your covered mound, and you whimper. His hands are so large. You’ve had them in you. You still haven’t gotten used to that. Lloyd Hansen has been inside of you. Swimming inside of you. “Lloyd?” You whimper, and he drops his arms from around you, sitting on the couch with a plop, and you see his tightened jeans. “Lloyd!”

“Oh, shut up,” it’s playful, he grins at you. He rubs his hand over his bulge, smiling, “You know, when she goes to sleep, it’s time for mama and daddy to have fun,” the sinful bastard, “But first, we need to establish some boundaries.”

Your brow raises, while you look at him inquisitively, “Dolly, it’s just to make sure that I never take advantage of your trust. You have no idea the ways I want to play and use your body, but you have to give me permission.”

“You have it,” you earnestly answer. Your feet swish back and forth, eyes going glassy as you stare at him. Naturally going into a submissive state, Lloyd has a deep urge to destroy you like this. Just so he can lift you back up. He can’t take advantage of something your body naturally craves.

“You truly don’t understand. Sit,” listening immediately, Lloyd grins, “Good girl. You listen well,” you preen, leaning towards him. “You do well with praise. Noted,” he hums, staring over your body a moment. You’re so reactive to him. Sitting up straighter, and shoulders shimmying. That slight smile tickling the edges of your plump mouth.

“I have very distinct — needs,” that didn’t sound bad. “I haven’t done relationships, and I fear that I could be too much,” that could be putting it lightly. He’s extremely needy, and is prone to stress. He needs you to unwind.

“Why’s that?”

“There’s this bit of a humiliation mixed in with degradation that I enjoy,” inhaling sharply, you find yourself staring at the fabric of the couch. You didn’t know how to press him for more information. “Do you want to be my slut?” You tremble, but nod your head. “Why?”

“I’m just yours?”

“Just mine.”

“That’s why,” Lloyd smirks, “If I asked you to stop, would you?” He makes a weird noise with his mouth, looking up at you, “What does that mean?”

“Sometimes in intense sessions, you say stop because you feel it’s what you should say, but you desperately don’t want me to stop. Hence, the need for a safe word, and the need for me to read your body language. Safe word?”

You think long and hard. You know it needs to be something you wouldn’t normally say out loud. Something easy to remember, easy to say, easy for him to understand even if you whisper it. “Nightingale,” Lloyds eyes blink rapidly, and you’re afraid you said something wrong.

“It’s beautiful,” the smile that lights up your face has him feeling all fuzzy in his stomach. The way your body reacts to him is too addictive. You’re more dangerous than he ever thought about being, “The nightingale is often associated with Venus. I think that’s perfect for you.”

“What do you mean by humiliation?”

Lloyd hisses between his teeth. His hands drag up his thighs, that one is a bit more complicated, “When my fingers are buried so deep into your cunt, do you want me to tell you that you’re taking my fingers like my sloppy little slut?” You look just like a puppy. Nodding your head, and scooting closer to Lloyd. “Do you want me to make you clean up your mess with your tongue for my own enjoyment before I let you fuck yourself with my cock?”

Gulping you nod, “Yes.”

“What about what I mentioned last night? Put the toy version of my cock inside of you, pulling your panties up, and asking you to pour me some bourbon. Maybe ask you to get on your knees to wipe something out of the floor, and I can stare at that toy puckering out your lingerie while you crawl around?”

“My god, yes,” you’re such a slut. Maybe it’s a slut for him. Possibly a slut for the praise, but regardless, a slut. “Yes. I want to play with the little Lloyd toys.”

He chuckles. Reaching over to a drawer, and retrieves out the little toy. He’s bright pink. “Ooh! I want to call him LJ,” it didn’t take a genius to know why you wanted to call the toy that. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to behave, and listen. Stop pouting,” his voice is still soft, but the command is obvious. “I want you free use,” you furrow your brows, staring into his eyes. “Anytime I want you, I can use you. With discretion of course. I will never fully share you. I will never let another man look upon your body if you don’t want it. I-I,” he stutters, “I want you to explore your sexuality. If you want someone to join us, I would consider it, but everything is with your say so.”

“Wait another man in the bed with us?” he watches your face intently. Making note of how you’re not disgusted, you’re curious.

“Or woman,” you scrunch your nose up, shaking your head no, “It’s not that bad.”

“I just don’t want to share you.”

“I know you don’t, sweetheart. But sometimes we just have to get it in when we can, and if you’re dripping with my seed, you’ll just have to suck it up, even if people are around,” you are a peculiar and funny little thing. Trying to work out different scenarios. “Let’s say that there is a visitor here, and we’re in the middle of something. We finish up as much as we can. But maybe I can’t fully clean you up. I get off on knowing that you're soaked in my cum, while we have company.”

“Yes,” one simple word is all that he needs to hear. You are truly a slut for him. For wearing him. He reaches over towards you, tugging at the hem of your shirt, and you pull it off with so much enthusiasm. Lloyd leans over just a bit for an open mouth kiss on each nipple. Kissing and sucking on the tender flesh until they’re peaked and pebbled up.

“Take off your bottoms,” you listen. “Such an obedient little one. Now, turn around. I want you laying back on my thigh,” this time you don’t move as quickly. Stubbing up and pouting at him. Refusing to listen to his command, and he slaps at the side of your rear. “Behave, and do as I said, so I can play with you and LJ.”

You may huff, but you listen. Laying back on him, and he taps on your thighs to spread your legs wide open. “What other colors of the little Lloyds are there?”

He leans over your body, gazing intently at your split before he barely flicks your sensitive pearl, “One is blue, and the other is purple,” he is too enthralled in your clit, and you’re becoming too aroused to pay attention. “What are their names?”

“Umm…”

Waiting too long, he squeezes your bundle of nerves between his thumb and forefinger, causing you to arch your back in surprise, “What are their names?”

“L-L-Leonard,” that isn’t what he was expecting. “The blue one, he’s Leonard. The purple is — he’s,” you look down your body, watching as Lloyd plays with you. Comparing the thickness of his fingers to your body. But it’s not overtly sexual. He’s having fun exploring your folds. “His name is — Lennon.”

All L names. You would do that. “You do realize I could have you airtight without me ever being inside of you? I could have LJ in your tight little pussy, Leonard in your ass, and Lennon in your mouth. Watching you go dumb on three cocks that might be shaped like me, but they’re not. And then if you get extra desperate, I could push myself in your cunt. Right beside LJ. Do you think you can handle four of my cocks?”

“No,” he plunges a finger into your warmth, and you try To capture his eyes. He didn’t look disappointed, but he does seem less animated. You don’t like seeing him like that. You want him to look proud, “But I would try.”

“Such an eager little whore. That’s why I like you, you know. You would do anything to please me, wouldn’t you?” Breathlessly you answer him. Nodding your head as he dips another finger into your body. Having you spread out, naked, and vulnerable is his favorite. He’s fully clothed, but he gets to look at the work of art that is you.

Venturing deeper into your cunt, he watches your face with every small movement he makes. Learning what makes you tick, and what you enjoy. Listening to the change of your breathing, and the slight differences in your sounds. And then pulls out of you too soon. He caresses your lips with his fingers, making the pillows look glossy with your essence. And then his meaty fingers go into his mouth where he sucks off the rest of your honey, “Hmm, you taste so sweet.”

He licks his lips, reaching over to grab LJ, and brings it to your mouth, and you suck on him enthusiastically. Trying to show him how much of the toy you can take, but he pulls it out of your mouth, and lowers it to your entrance. Lloyd teases the toy around your hole, and without commandment, you spread out further. Angling your body for easier entrance. He slowly breeches through your walls.

His mouth falls open right along with yours as he studies your body opening up, and accommodating him, LJ. The sounds that your body makes is a symphony, ringing in your home. He becomes obsessed with you. Pushing and pulling out the hot pink toy. Your slick coats the fake version of him. Each push into you, he goes deeper.

Deeper.

Deeper still.

Until he can push it in balls deep, and he holds it there. You took every inch. Every thick veiny inch of the fake him. His free hand cups your breast, and he pinches on your swollen nipple. Perfect. You take him so well. While you may have your toys, he has you as his toy. The things he could do to you. It’s not even innately about sex with you as much as giving you pleasure. He finds pleasure in that.

You’re so reactionary to being filled with him that it nearly makes him weak thinking about you waddling around the house with this stupid dick inside of you. Have you get on all fours while you simulate backing up on him. God, your body is immaculate.

“Lloyd,” you pant out, looking between him, and the immobile toy. You need something else, and he’s not giving it to you. It’s both frustrating, and hot as fuck, and it confuses your brain, “Lloyd? Daddy?”

“Yes, baby?”

“I want to come.”

“You’re such a sweet girl. Can I just play with you?” Your body needs some release. It needs anything besides this torturous nothingness. “Why don’t you play with your clit, and let me just watch you get yourself off.”

His eyes look over to the clock, and he smiles. Still holding that stupid toy fully in you. The depth of it gives your belly a funny feeling. An ache you can’t explain. It doesn’t hurt, it’s not fully uncomfortable, but it is different. “Use both hands. Spread those lips far apart, and let me see that cute little swollen clit of yours.”

You follow his instructions. Letting him see the button before creating tight circles on your body. Your hips start to buck up as you imitate sex. Rocking on the couch just to make your tits bounce. Putting on a show for him so he will want to fuck you. Will want to at least let you come.

Your body climbs with pleasure, and you close your eyes. Envisioning that he is hovering over you. Pushing his length as deep as he can, and a lewd moan escapes your puckered lips. He feels so good deep in your body. He feels good with his weight over you. Filling you up with every inch of him, and with his load right in your belly. “Daddy, I’m so close.”

“There you go, princess. You’re right there aren’t you?” Giving him a head nod, he takes his hand off the toy. Bringing both of them to your tits, and he tweaks, and pinches them. Watching as your swaying body creates the friction with the toy you needed. Sucking the hot pink rod into your body, and lifting up so it pulls out. Little desperate slut, “Such a needy little slut. You’re taking every inch of that pretty little cock. But…”

Lloyd doesn’t get to finish his sentence. His fingers let go of your tits, and he pulls your hands off your body. Keeping them spread so you can’t touch yourself, but your body still searches for movement. “Shh,” he says, but you’re too busy trying to jump over the edge of euphoria. “Dolly, don’t you hear the doorbell ringing?”

“What?” You halt. Listening with haggard breaths, and the doorbell rings again. “Lloyd, no!”

“Don’t pout. Just get dressed. Leave the dick inside of you,” you gawk at him. “I said what I said, Dolly. Dressed, with the dick still inside your body. “It’s just Ari. He arrives almost directly on the dot when I ask him.”

You sit up, starting to pull the wretched pink toy out of your body, and Lloyd tsks you. “I don’t want this in me when Ari is here.”

“Do you remember what we said just moments before?”

“Yeah, but you tricked me. You knew he was coming tonight.”

He actually rolls his eyes at you before grabbing your chin, “What’s your safe word?” You shake your head no, “Either say it, or put your fucking clothes on,” you stare at him a moment, unmoving. “Each second I count is how many spankings you’re getting. One,” you don’t dare move. You can be just as stubborn as him. “Two. Three. Four. Five.”

You cross your arms over your chest. Trying to ignore him. “Six. Seven.”

“Fine!” Your voice is a bit raised as you reach for your shorts. Leaving the panties in the floor, and hope they embarrass him. And you grab your shirt. Asshole. He sits there with his legs crossed looking awfully proud of himself. “Aren’t you going to open the door?” You ask him. He got too comfortable, and now you’re dressed, and still aching to find some release that is just right out of your grasp.

“Nope. You are,” your mouth falls open. “Go on, princess. Let daddy’s friend in. He’s been waiting on you to act like the good girl I know you are,” fucking tease. Standing up. You wince. Not in pain but because the movement sends an odd sense of pleasure through your body. “Ari’s waiting. Go on, waddle for me, baby.”

You aren’t going to waddle. You won’t give him the satisfaction. You’re going to walk very oddly, sure. But you hold your chin up high. Refusing to let him know you see his cocky little smile as you make your way to the front door. Smiling up at Ari as you open the door.

His eyes drift down your front with a smirk before he walks past you and into the living room. And you stand at the front door, trying to regulate your breathing. You aren’t going to let him see you struggle. “Sweetheart, Ari and I would like something to drink.”

The fucking asshole. This is so wrong, and still there’s that part of you that enjoys it way too much. A sexual secret that you and Lloyd share, while you have company. Knowing that Lloyd knows what is inside of you. Wonder how he’d feel if Ari knew. If Ari saw. You get the most devilish grin on your face. You didn’t care if people knew that Lloyd could destroy you with his dick. And Ari is bound to know all the sick twisted ways Lloyd gets off.

“Did you mean for her to answer the door with her nipples hard as a rock?” Ari motions his head toward the discarded panties on the floor. Lloyd would get you all worked up right before Ari came here. Edging is his favorite hobby.

“You should see my dick,” Ari rolls his eyes as he settles back into the couch, and then he makes a face of disgust before moving to the chair. “Why did you do that?”

“You’re on a couch with a hard on. Your girlfriend is walking around in short shorts, bra less, and nipples protruding. And that spot was warm,” chuckling, Lloyd pops his fingers into his mouth, moaning, “You’re truly sick. You know that?”

“Have you seen her?”

“I think you’ve seen enough of her,” Lloyd scoffs. His crystal eyes roam down the hall, trying to listen to hear what you’re doing. He hopes you’re fucking yourself. Knowing how frustrated you are, he hopes you’re doing something to get yourself off. He’ll watch the footage when Ari leaves.

“Lloyd, everyone is getting restless. You either need to take an extended break, and let me resume power, or come back. But the mercenaries need to know what’s going on. You can’t hole up here with your slut forever.”

“You’re not saying that in a derogatory way are you?” Ari shakes his head no. “I mean, she is my slut. She’s my girlfriend, Lyla’s mom, my future baby mama, future wife,” Ari clears his throat, “What?”

“That’s another thing. Someone got wind of Candy sniffing around. Me thinks she knows how much you’re worth, and either she’ll hold Lyla over yours and her head, or you’ll have to pay her off.”

“Write her a check,” Lloyd grunts suddenly. The idea of that woman coming and taking Lyla from you is sick. She didn’t even give her daughter a name!

“See the problem with women like her, she’ll always come back for more. You need it legally settled that you and Dolly are her parents. The lawyers are drawing up a petition for adoption. You know, it’ll need to be legal. She will come back.”

“Then I’ll put a bullet through her head,” he’s so annoying and ridiculous that Ari can’t even comprehend his little tyraid. “She won’t have our daughter. Lyla doesn’t even know her. Do you know who puts her to bed every night? Who bathes her every day? Pushes her in that stupid expensive pram? Goes to mommy and me classes for singing and yoga? Who is teaching her to walk? And who has been planning a first birthday party for her? Not some fucking whore who wasn’t worth the money I paid, and who poked fucking holes in the goddamn condoms.”

You flinch walking back into the living room. Getting an apology from both men. You take a deep breath, handing Ari’s bourbon on the rocks to him, and definitely not waddling to Lloyd to give him his. He pulls you nearly into his lap. Leaning you so far onto him, your ass is pointing towards Ari, and you playfully look towards him. He sees it. See the outline of Lloyd’s little dick inside of you.

His lips curve up into a devilish smile, and he raises his brows. Holding his cup up as if to cheers you, and you wiggle your as a bit. Smiling right back before Lloyd smacks over the protruding toy, and you lift up, moaning so loud that Ari chokes on his bourbon. Your face heats up with the most delightful embarrassment and you hide it in Lloyd’s chest.

“Stop looking,” he warns Ari, who still refuses to look away.

“Stop putting it out on a platter for me to stare at,” Lloyd is too fast. Reaching into your shorts, he tugs out the toy, and drops it onto the coffee table. Leaving Ari to stare at something besides yourself. Now it’s a hot pink replica of Lloyd’s cock, shining in the light, and soaked with your honey, and…

“I knew it,” he whispers more to you, even if Ari hears it. “Now that everyone can get their mind out of the fucking gutter. Dolly, Ari tells me we may have some issues with Lyla Bee’s birth mother. It seems she is pushing for leverage, and she’s using our daughter.”

You sit up immediately. Going into mama bear protective mode, despite the soaked dildo on the table. “She won’t take my daughter.”

“Ari doesn’t seem to think paying her off is enough.”

“It won’t be,” Ari raises his cup towards you. “No, it won’t. Women like her know that you would pay anything to keep our daughter with us. She’ll know your weak spot, our weak spot.”

“So she needs a bullet in her head,” that isn’t at all what you meant.

“No!” Ari bursts out laughing, but you’re serious. “I know what you do. But maybe — I think we need, I mean if you’re okay with it, but maybe we should do something legal. I mean what if I adopted her. If she’s legally mine there’s nothing that woman can do, right?”

“Thank you!” Ari raises his hands up, and looks at Lloyd, “She gets it. So, I’ll talk to the lawyers and get the ball rolling. We’ll tell them the address of Dolly and Lyla are to be held off as long as possible. You know you’ll have to go through a background check, and,” he grimaces, looking at the stupid forgotten toy again, “It’ll probably be easier if you’re married.”

“Oh,” you answer in surprise, looking up at Lloyd who remains emotionless. his control on his emotions can be frustrating, “That will be something we’ll have to discuss. But — whatever it takes. I need my daughter,” it’s amazing how quickly you accepted her as yours. With as much time as you spent with her, it just made sense. And now you also get to share her dad. “Is that why you came by?”

“Yeah. And Lloyd promised me a show of you fucking yourself with the dildo,” you’re stunned. Unable to look at either one of them, and Lloyd is no help. He’s completely frozen in place.

“Maybe next time.”

“I was only kidding. I know he has a weird little obsession with his dick, and his toys,” the toys of his dick, or you as the toy? You aren’t sure how Ari means, or if he means both. Doesn’t matter. “I’m sure I’m going to leave, and he will make you perform for him though, and I suppose he’ll want to look and see how wide your cunt is spread,” Lloyd clears his throat.

“Have the two of you watched a girl do that together?” Ari answers yes quickly, while Lloyd groans. “Oh. So you’re really close?” The two seem close. Possibly more than colleagues because who watches a girl masturbate with their best friend with them?

“We didn’t have sex with her at the same time. It was more or less entertainment, and you’re not a paid for show. Anyways,” leaning forward, he places the cup on the table before lifting himself up. “You two have fun with that conversation,” and he leaves.

You swallow deeply, keeping your eyes on LJ. Contemplating how you want to start this conversation. “Do you want to share me?”

“I want you to be happy, and I’ll do whatever experiences you want to keep you that way. If you don’t want Ari to see you riding the toy, or just playing with yourself, you don’t have to. It is not a requirement, and I’m perfectly satisfied with that. Your pleasure is my pleasure. I do enjoy watching you pleasure yourself. I enjoy staving off my own arousal to watch you get off. I like that desperate feeling when I finally sink into you.”

Inhaling deeply, you take off your shirt, and step out of your shorts. Grabbing up the dildo of Lloyd, you suction it to the floor, and stand over it. Keeping your eyes on Lloyd, and he scoots the table to the side, and leans back on the couch. Your knees slowly bend as you sink to the floor. You’re not performing. You’re just watching him. Seeing what it is he truly likes.

Getting to your knees, you hover over the nine inches that make up Lloyd before sinking over him. He stares so hard at the toy splitting you open. He doesn’t even touch himself. He just watches as you slowly bounce over it. “Would you want Ari to see me like this?”

“Would you want him to?” He answers a question with a question, so you pinch your nipples. Trying to make him squirm, but it does nothing.

“Possibly.”

“Then maybe,” infuriating. He can’t even fully answer.

“Would you would want Ari to fuck me?” Straight forward is the best way.

Lloyd sucks in a beat of air, “I’d prefer he didn’t.”

“Would you want Ari to watch you fuck me?”

“I wouldn’t mind it, but only if you wanted it, and were comfortable,” at least he’s being honest. Lloyd’s kink isn’t about sharing you. It’s about showing off what he has.

“Would you let Ari touch me, while you’re fucking me?”

“You know Ari is a bit of a cuck, right?” Your brow raises as you look at him. “Ari enjoys watching people have sex. He enjoys fingering a woman when she’s filled with cum so he can make a mess of her used hole. He enjoys writing on her body how much of a slut she is before he watches a man fucks a load into her. Or him. He doesn’t care who is getting fucked. He likes watching. He enjoys cleaning cum out of her pussy. He enjoys fucking women, and men fucking him. Ari enjoys the art of voyeurism that turns into participation. He enjoys the art and beauty of sex and pleasure. It’s not about love as much as it is about enjoyment. So tell me Dolly, do you want Ari to finger you while eating my cum out of your swollen pussy?”

You don’t know how to answer that. It’s so much information all at once. It’s raw and vulgar. It’s hot as fuck. But to have someone do that to you, you just don’t even know. It’s too much happening at once. Way too much. “You don’t have to answer now. But now that you understand Ari’s odd little choices in sex…”

“Have you ever fucked Ari?”

There’s a bit of a hesitation before Lloyd shakes his head, “No. It’s not like that. He participates, yes. But…”

“Your love has remained platonic?”

“I think you think he’s a third. Ari has no problems finding partners. But he enjoys the ways that I can degrade, humiliate, and praise a sub all at once. You couldn’t handle him,” you didn’t know what that meant, and you no longer have a desire to discuss Ari. You want Lloyd inside of you immediately.

“Fuck me,” he cocks up an eyebrow, smiling. “Fuck me like you love me,” he stands. Removing his shirt, and pulling down his pants and underwear at the same time. The pretty cock springs free as he walks out of his pants and towards you, and lifts you right off the toy, and onto his own cock. Wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you into the bedroom.

He crawls the two of you onto the mattress, and lays you down gently. His body weight lowering on top of yours. Lloyd uses his nose to pet around your face. Smoothing his skin across the perimeter of your jaw, inhaling your scent as he lifts your arms above your head. Weaving his fingers in yours before he rolls himself in and out of you.

A steady rhythm of thrusting. He’s so soft and deliberate with his movements. Continuing to trace your face with his nose. Whispering your name, “I love you. We don’t have to invite anybody into our sex life. You’re more than enough. And I need you to understand that. If you don’t want Ari to ever see you in the position he did tonight, I need you to vocalize that, okay?”

“Okay,” you pant out. Arching your back to take more of him. You want him all over you.

“You can take all the time in the world to decide that. You can change your mind at any time,” the idea of Ari is exciting to him, but not necessary. Especially if it meant losing you. That is what mattered; you and Lyla. Not some kinky sex and cum play.

“I know,” he knows this is the worst time to try and get you to comprehend what could be a difficult sex life. But he isn’t lying. It isn’t a performance. You’re his obsession. Just you. You are more than enough for him. “What did you know earlier?” your chest heaves as you try and get the question out. “When you took LJ out of me.”

“You left your cream on the toy,” he laughs up against your neck. His mouth and hips are both a work of art, and the most sinful parts of him. “You got yourself off before you came back into the living room didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” he bites your neck, starting to suck on the skin hard. “You’re going to leave a mark!”

“Tell the truth,” he demands before sucking even harder. Sending every synapse in your brain into overdrive.

“Yes! Yes, I was leaning over the counter, and — and I was — I was — Lloyd!” He stops his movements, and you squeal. “Stop!”

“Then answer me.”

He starts a steady pace again, and then pounds into you so hard you see stars. His pace changes to slow, but rough jabbing movements, “I was just playing with my clit, and — and humping air. I was pretending it was you. Daddy!”

You’re wrecked. His movements are so slow, but they hit every right spot. Maybe it’s the blinding stabs into you that has every muscle in your body tightening up. He fucks into you so hard that the hairs on your body stands up, your toes curl, and your fingernails dig into his hands. You wish you could touch some other part of his body. You’re a goner.

Each thrust becomes harder. Deeper. Just. Right. There.

In. The. Perfect. Spot.

“Daddy!” Everything blurs. Lines disappear, and your body is numb with pleasure. Breathing so erratically as stars light up your vision. “Daddy!”

Jolting your body up the bed higher. Until your hands hit the head board, and he drops them. Slamming his hands above you, and he rockets himself into you. Pounding you so hard that your body lurches higher on the bed. Your head starts to knock against the padded board, and you start speaking in tongue to the heavens above as pleasure so deep in your body locks your bones into place.

Lloyd grunts, gritting his teeth as he remains pistoning into your clenching cunt. Your body is locked down, and this high lasts so long that you forget how to breathe. How to even be a human. Bright light floods into your mind, and then a loud, “Fuuuck,” before warmth spews inside of you, and your walls pulse around his cock. Milking him dry.

“My god, if you want me to marry you, I’d do it tomorrow,” you hum as he settles over you. He kisses around your neck. Using his fingers to trace the delicate lines on your neck and collarbone. Something is missing, and now he knows, “We’re going to have to fix this before I go back to work,” he still has to deal with The Verb, and your disgusting father. But he’s going to make sure everyone knows that you belong to someone. Even if you didn’t understand the significance, others would. He’s sure the neighbor down the street that stared at you when you dropped the keys to your car too long would understand exactly what it meant.

He had to make it be known that you were claimed, and unavailable. In every way possible. “Yeah, you’ve got a nasty little hickey on your neck.”

“What?” Your hand feels around your neck where he bit you. Thinking you could see with your eyes before you roll over on top of him. He sighs when he feels himself drip out of you. He doesn’t even care that you’re giving your own mark on him because you’re also grinding your greedy little twat on his stomach. You’re just as insatiable as him.

You nip on his creamy skin. Sucking and kissing over him. You want this ugly thing to last. Moving lower to give him another hickey. And another. If he’s going to leave you, you’re going to make sure everyone knows that he comes home to you. Home to fuck you. And home to his family.

You sit up on him, smiling at your handy work. “There. Now you can go back to work, and show everyone how you have a slut living with you.”

“Yeah yeah. Just keep grinding, and get yourself off on my stomach. I’ll walk around with this stupid thing if that makes you feel better. And I’ll worry about those seven spankings another day,” you forgot about that threat. But he didn’t.

In some weird way, you like knowing that he’ll walk around with red bruises all over his neck. Not that you didn’t trust him. It’s just fun to think that everyone knows he’s getting laid on a regular basis. That he can come home to his Dolly. Home to you. Home to your daughter. And his family.

And you have every intention of letting him use you.

Next

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Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

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@saranghae012 @rogersbarber @tas-renee @kmm-fluv

[heartstringsduet]

In this Sweet Surrender

Part Eight of the Let Me verse. A series exploring the canon relationship of Carlos and TK, while adding a slowly devoloping Dom/sub dynamic to it. Summary: A vacation is what both of them need to recalibrate after tragedy and as with everything, Carlos is prepared. The bags are packed, his mind filled with every scenario of how to unravel TK completely within three days. Thank you @herefortarlos and @lightningboltreader for being my betas for this multi-chapter beast. 💓

“Will you wrap me up like a present?” TK had asked when Carlos unveiled the ropes from his bag. He’d draped himself against Carlos back, his voice betraying the arousal behind his tease. “Or one of those porn magazine covers? Suspend me up by my feet?”

“Not today,” Carlos replied. “Today is about showing you what being in rope feels like, figure out what you like and what you don’t. And to show you what I can make you do with it.”

“Make me do? Why does it sound like you’re handling one of your family’s horses?”

It wasn’t a comparison Carlos would have made, but as the ropes form another diamond over TK’s ribs and he can pull at him from the connection at the center, he can see how it’s not totally wrong. TK’s body follows with the tiniest tug. 

As a teenager, Carlos had earned a bit of pocket money by breaking in foals and skittish horses at Tía Lucy’s ranch. He’d never liked how his uncles did it, pain the only motivator, when Carlos could prove that building trust with the horse first, consistency and unwavering firm grip but gentle body language would make any horse trot behind him within the week. 

Gentle tugs. TK follows. A little shove to show TK that the rope will hold, and TK tumbles like there is no resistance. A tap to his thigh and he spreads them as Carlos leads his upper body down between them onto the mattress. TK’s knuckles are white around the natural position he took as he folded them behind his back. He releases it at the hint of Carlos’ fingers brushing against them. 

[1/4] [2/4] [3/4] [4/4]

[anonymous-dentist]

On April 25, Cellbit finds himself crashing onto a tropical island filled with the weirdest goddamn people he's ever met in his life.

(On one side of the glass is Cellbit. On the other is a man in a red hoodie who takes one look at Cellbit and winks before rushing to talk to the other trapped Brazilians.

For a moment, Cellbit swears there's a spark- a literal pink spark in the air directly between the two of them where they had locked eyes, and he swears that the man's eyes glitter the same pink just for a second.

But that's ridiculous. It's probably a concussion. Or something.)

On April 26, Cellbit wakes up to a heavy pain in his chest and back and a foreign weight to his limbs as he tries rolling over in bed. There's a pressure behind his eyes, all... all two of them.

Cellbit's eyelids twitch unhappily as a ray of incoming sunlight hits them from the window.

He hisses, and that's when he notices two very important things:

He doesn't have two eyes. He knows the familiar discomfort of keeping one's eyes closed when they're ready to open, and he can recognize the fact that this discomfort is multiplied by goddamn two. That makes... four eyes.

He isn't in his own bed. He went to sleep without a blanket or a pillow, just his hat and his jacket because, big surprise, spending most of the day in a cave didn't get him any luxuries besides a sore back and a definitely-not-dead child.

Cellbit opens his eyes, all four of them, and he's only a little surprised to see that he is not, in fact, in his own house.

"What?" he croaks.

He grimaces. Sore throat, almost like he'd been screaming in his sleep. Nothing he isn't used to, but it doesn't feel right in this body. In... whoever's body this is.

He pushes himself so that he's sitting up and against the wall. His chest pulls with every movement of his arms, muscles twinging in pain, and it almost reminds him of the War, almost. (He caused wounds like this, anyway. He didn't get hurt like this. He was too good.)

He looks down. Spider-Man boxer briefs. Naked chest, huge scar cut across the middle of it over his heart. Hairy legs, bruised arms and knuckles.

Vaguely, he thinks that he recognizes the house. Kinda. Sort of. Maybe? But he'd only seen the outside, and it would be crazy if his soulmate turned out to be that guy.

But, well. There's only one spider hybrid on the island that Cellbit knows about. Maybe there are more, but he's pretty sure that he met everyone yesterday. (He thinks; he was pretty distracted by the whole what the fuck I have a child now??? thing.)

Cellbit should be happy. And he kinda feels like it, in a distant way. But it's with a sense of numb fear that he grabs Roier's communicator off of the bedside table and opens a new message with... himself? His comm. That Roier has. Because he's in his body. At his house.

[iRoier whispers to Cellbit: I think we have a problem]

-

When Cellbit had finally officially turned 16 years old, Bad sat down in the middle of a warzone and told him that, one of these days, he might wake up in the body of one of his enemies.

"What?" Cellbit had grimaced, blood coating his face and crusting under his nails. "Why? Is that a new origin or something?"

Bad shook his head. "No, you goof. It's a soulmate thing. You know. Soulmates."

And that's when he realized that Cellbit's amnesia really was, in fact, amnesia. Of course he wouldn't have remembered his parents giving him the Soulmate Talk, Cellbit- at the time- didn't believe that he even had parents. ("I was born from blood, and to blood I shall return," he said when Bad tried asking, so Bad stopped bothering after a while.)

And so it fell to BadBoyHalo to give Cellbit the Soulmate Talk.

"When you turn 16, the universe assigns you a soulmate," Bad had explained. "And when you meet that soulmate, you'll both switch bodies with each other overnight. It'll only last 24 hours, though, so it should be fine if you meet your soulmate out here."

Cellbit had blinked, confused. "What? Ew, no."

Because, as romantic as the idea of soulmates sounds, Cellbit was a 16-year-old boy. Why would he give a shit about his soulmate when he could be thinking about, like, blood and violence and stuff.

By the time Cellbit was arrested, he had finally warmed up to the idea of having a soulmate if only because having someone assigned to him by the universe meant that there'd be someone on the outside willing to break him out of prison and help him get his revenge on all the fuckers who had dared try and mess with him while he was in there.

But then, after prison- after everything, Cellbit had realized that maybe he wasn't meant to have a soulmate, after all. Why would he? Why would the universe be so kind as to give him someone to care about who would actually love him back? Who would like him back?

Whoever his soulmate might've been, Cellbit had always hoped that they were dead. They'd be better off dead than stuck with a monster like him.

-

By the time Roier makes it to his own house, the sun is high in the sky and Cellbit has managed to find a a shirt and a pair of shorts to throw on on top of his underwear. (On top of Roier's underwear?)

Bobby is still asleep upstairs, Cellbit thinks. At least, he hasn't heard anything from him. Should he be worried?

But then Cellbit looks out the window and watches his body trip over itself on the dirt and faceplant, and, well, Bobby can wait.

Roier's body is... heavy as Cellbit pulls a pair of shoes on. It doesn't want to cooperate, but that can't be right, it's supposed to be natural. Or something. Cellbit thinks. Maybe.

So he doesn't actually know how soulmates work, but it's supposed to be natural, right? That's how he remembers Bad explaining it, but he also remembers Bad having as much emotional awareness as a rock.

Vaguely, he wonders if the problem isn't with the fact that it's Cellbit being in Roier's body but that it's because it's Roier's body and that this is just how it is for Roier all the time. But that's none of Cellbit's business.

(Yet.)

(Maybe.)

(Eventually?)

(Turn the detective brain off, fuck.)

Whatever!

Cellbit runs out the door and goes to help Roier up. He isn't hurt at all as Roier swears at him and grumbles and pushes himself up onto his knees.

"I'm fine," he insists. "See?"

He gestures towards himself with a sharp-toothed grin, eyes squinted shut, and, wow, it's weird for Cellbit to see himself smile. His body doesn't really... do that. It's unnatural. Kinda creepy, like looking into a fucked-up mirror.

Cellbit offers an awkward smile in response, and it hurts. Not his face, no, his soul. Well, not his soul, because that would be silly, but some weird little part inside his Everything stings and pulses with a dull, throbbing pain so sudden and harsh that his throat chokes up and tears threaten to well up in Cellbit's eyes.

With a shuddering breath, Cellbit drops his smile and his eyes. He looks at the ground, and he says, "Uh. We should talk inside, maybe?"

He doesn't wait for a response before turning on his heel and walking back into Roier's house. He does hold the door open, though, remembering that Roier's house has that weird security thing on the door that keeps everybody but him out.

"Your legs are too short," Roier complains as he brushes past Cellbit and walks into the house. "I keep tripping over shit."

"...I'm sorry?" Cellbit offers. (He internally smacks himself. No, stupid, why is he sorry? He can't control his genetics, fuck!)

Roier waves him off. "Nah, it's fine. It's just for today, right?"

He sits at his table with a groan, eyes slipping shut and head tilting over the back of the chair. He looks so... calm. Which means that Cellbit's actual real normal face looks calm, and that's weird. He doesn't do calm.

Hesitantly, Cellbit joins him at the table. He sits directly opposite him, leg bouncing nervously, hands clasped in his lap.

And then? Silence. Absolutely nothing but the slight rattle of the table as Cellbit's (Roier's?) knee bumps against it and the quiet sound of snoring from upstairs. (So Bobby is still asleep. That's normal, right?)

Cellbit glances at the goggles still firmly on his body's head.

"Thanks for keeping them on," he lamely says.

Roier hums a question mark and cracks an eye open, following Cellbit's gaze. He smiles, then, small and clearly fake.

"Hey, man, it's fine," he replies. "It kind of hurts, but it's fine."

Cellbit winces. "I mean, you can take them off! It's fine, it's just us."

Roier shrugs, but he doesn't move to take the goggles off.

Quiet again.

This is... fine. It's fine! Cellbit's soulmate is just a guy who probably maybe dislikes him, that's all. It's nothing he wasn't expecting from his soulmate, he knows how he is as a person. Roier is probably just disappointed, that's all.

"We don't have to do anything, you know," Cellbit says after a moment.

He looks back down at the table as Roier sits up to look at him.

Cellbit wrings his hands together, fingers hooking together and pulling-pushing and they throb from the bruises, and where did Roier get them, anyway? From the pattern, Cellbit would say Roier had punched something, but here are also small cuts indicating the involvement of glass, and-

(Detective brain. Off.)

"I mean, it's crazy, right?" Cellbit laughs weakly. "Us, soulmates? We don't even know each other."

"I mean, yeah, but that's normal, I think. You don't know your soulmate until you meet them, that's how it works."

"I guess? But-"

"And!" Roier interjects. "I know you better already! You sleep with your sword and you have cat ears, that's more than I know about half of my dates!"

Cellbit winces at the mention of his ears, but he manages to huff out a quiet laugh. He even feels himself smile, though it hurts bad enough for him to force it away after a moment.

"Okay," he breathes, and he looks up to meet Roier's (his own?) eyes. "So... it's fine?"

"What the fuck do you think I've been saying, pendejo?" Roier exclaims. He reaches across the table and lightly taps Cellbit on the forehead between his top set of eyes. "I know my body isn't deaf, so start listening."

He sits again, continuing speaking before Cellbit can say anything:

"I don't know you, and that's fine. You don't know me, and that's fine. You threatened my son yesterday, and that's fine. I'll threaten your son to make it even."

"Hey!" Cellbit protests.

Roier ignores him and keeps talking. "We're stuck on this island, Cellbit. We aren't allowed to leave. If we try, Osito Bimbo shoots us. So that gives us plenty of time to get to know each other."

Cellbit's eyes widen in alarm. "We're what?"

He thinks he remembers somebody mentioning that to him and the others yesterday, but there was so much going on that he didn't really register it. Prison, again? At least it's open-air this time...

Roier shrugs his concerns off with a literal wave of the hand. "So see? It's fine. We'll figure each other out, and then we'll kiss and have sex and stuff. Right?"

"Um," Cellbit stammers, the tips of his ears going red. "Maybe just the kissing part."

"Sure, sure. Point is..." Roier stands out of his chair and leans across the table, reaching down and pulling Cellbit's hands out of his lap. He holds them and looks Cellbit in the eyes and gravely asks, "...Cellbit, will you be my soulmate?"

Cellbit rolls his eyes and gently pulls his hands away. "I don't think I get a choice."

"Aw, come on! You're no fun," Roier pouts.

"There, that's a third thing you know about me."

"Shut up, what the fuck?"

And as the argument continues, the weight in Cellbit's heart slowly starts to lift. Just a little, because it's just the beginning, but maybe... maybe having a soulmate won't be that bad, after all.

-_-_-_-

A/N:

Thank you so much for reading! Please reblog maaaaaaaybe with a comment or a tag and tell me what you think! Or send an ask, I'm fine with anything!

[ghostgirl-22]

18+ !NSFW!

Pair: Artrick (mostly) Patashi mentioned

Patrick is a brat actually. So Art edges him relentlessly.

—-

Something, something. Art gets recognized at a gala and brings Tashi and Patrick as his plus ones to pick up the award. The world just thinks it’s his wife and best friend and they’re supposed to act accordingly. But Patrick is tired and horny and annoyingly bratty the whole night. He spends all night teasing them and trying to provoke them, pushing all of their buttons in public where they can’t do anything. He’s relentless, begs Art to fuck him in the bathroom before his speech, gives him blue balls whispering dirty things and then laughing about it.

He flirts with half the waitresses and a couple of waiters. Tashi wants to get back at him but she tends to lose control so easily when it comes to him. They just end up fucking in a random office one floor below before the galas even over. She comes back flushed, hair looser, makeup slightly smudged and he shows up a few minutes after, suit jacket wrinkled, buttons mismatched. The ruby of her lipstick still visible on his throat.

Art grabs him by the shoulders and fixes his tie. “You’re so sloppy. I hope you’re having fun,” he says quietly.

“It’s a lot of fun,” he grins.

—-

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Patrick shrugs in the limo on the ride back to their Brooklyn townhouse. “I mean it worked… I got what I wanted anyway.” He grins at Tashi.

Tashi glares at him and then whispers in Art's ear. “He’s so fucking annoying. Can you punish him?”

Art smiles, nodding as he gazes at Patrick. He doesn’t do it that night. Not even that week. It’s a random afternoon when Tashi’s away at a gymnastics meet with Lily and Art’s got all day.

“I’m not being mean. I just want you to say sorry,” Art says softly. They’re in the guest bedroom where Patrick pretends to sleep when they have company. He’s teasing himself along Patrick’s entrance. He’s been doing it for nearly an hour now. He slowly starts jerking himself off and Patrick looks up at him, flushed all over, he’s covered in a sheen of sweat, his muscles are taut, his cock is upright resting against his stomach, it’s swollen purplepink, and leaking. Patrick can't look away from him, fists clenching, he ends up thrusting against the air probably just out of habit as he tries to grab for him.

“Mm, I didn’t say you could touch,” Art breathes. Patrick pulls back, he’s desperate, but not desperate enough to misbehave. Not right now at least. He’s so frustrated though, Art can see it in his eyes how fucking bad he wants him and it’s so hot he ends up coming all over Patrick for the third time (accidentally of course).

“Fuck,” Patrick says breathlessly watching him.

“Mm, it feels so good,” Art moans making sure his come spills on new and different parts of Patrick’s body… he’s got so much near his entrance already.

“Fuck, I said I was sorry sweetheart. Come on, please,” Patrick begs, mindlessly.

“But Patrick, you don’t sound sorry.” Art says softly. “Honestly, you sound like you’re just saying it because you want me to fuck you. sweetheart.”

Patrick groans.

Art smirks, watching him try to focus when he’s clearly so overwhelmed with need. “Or is it that…” He moves, crawling over Patrick so he’s straddling his thighs. “You just want to fuck me.”

“Fuck, yes,” Patrick groans. He bucks his hips right away, eager for the friction.

Art grins, and shoves him back down. Patrick pulls his knees up behind him, trying to get Art to settle on his lap but Art keeps away, pressing down on Patrick’s hips so the only contact is brief and very slight.

“You’re such a slut.” Art sighs, looking over him. “Dick so big you don’t know what to do with it, huh?”

“Yes I do… I promise please, please lemme fuck you,” Patrick whines.

“It’s okay,” Art continues as if he didn’t say anything. “I know you can’t help yourself… it’s so big and so sensitive you’re hard all the time, need to be coming all the time. Can’t sit still. Can’t stop flirting. Teasing. Anything to get off.” He’s ghosting his fingers idly along the base of Patrick’s swollen cock. Patrick’s thighs are quivering behind him. Art feels himself beginning to get aroused again.

“Art please,” Patrick whimpers. “Tashi is… Tashi’s a liar. She was the one teasing me… and it’s not like we… like we got caught. ”

“Mm calling my wife a liar? Are you sure you want to do that?”

“Fuck, Art I— I’ll do anything—please, please I just need to come... it hurts….“

“But isn’t this what you wanted? Didn’t you say you wanted me to fuck you till you couldn’t think, hm? Doesn’t it feel good…when I fuck you?”

“Mm, not like this,” Patrick groans.

Art rubs his cheek where he’s got that scruffy beard that Art actually really likes. His fingers are still wet with jizz and Patrick turns to lick them. Art smirks letting it slide. ”Say you promise you’ll behave next time we’re in public and maybe I’ll let you come.”

“I’ll behave, you know I will.” He lies. “I’ll do whatever you fucking want. Please. You’re so fucking pretty. God, look at you. I just—I wanted you and I couldn’t wait. Please, please, is that so bad?”

Art bites his lip. “Okay Patrick, you can stop whining now. Put this in your mouth till I get really hard again, okay?”

“Can’t I just…can’t I just fuck you?” Patrick says weakly.

“Aww It’s almost like you’re not sorry and you want me to start this all over…” Art says gently. “Is that what you want?”

“No, no, I—okay,” Patrick says eagerly. He sits up and moves between Art's legs, switching their positions.

Art lays back on the bed revelling in the feeling of Patrick taking him in so greedy and desperate. He runs his fingers through Patrick’s hair and smiles.

[sarahowritesostucky]

Sexuality Profile: Bucky

Mature Content below the break. Consume Responsibly.

Bucky Barnes is the biggest sweetheart, not only of your five daddies, but of ALL the clients you ever had in the past.

Your other daddies all assume positions of dominance and power, whereas Bucky is largely submissive.

But more so than submissive, you think of him as needy. He needs a lot of tender affection, reassurance, and care.

Bucky's one of those guys who goes to his sex worker in lieu of therapy. He's been through a ton of trauma and needs the comfort and safety you offer.

He's the shyest and most guarded of all your guys, it took a long time to get him to open up to you.

He has a massive service kink.

He brings you fresh flowers every. single. time. he visits you.

When he visits you, you always have him kneel and offer up whatever guns and knives he's carrying to you. It's more an act of trust and submission than it is about true safety.

He calls you "Doll," "Sugar," and "malyshka."

When he's feeling very submissive he'll call you "ma'am," and when he's even more submissive and open, he'll call you "mommy"

He can tend to regress during sex, though you'll never bring it up because you know he would balk at being told he exhibits any sort of "little" behavior.

You call him James more often than you call him Bucky.

Of all your guys, he makes the sweetest whimpers, whines, keens and mewls. It's equal parts sexy and adorable.

He was forcibly castrated during his time with Hydra, and has no scrotum or testicles, just a slightly looser bit of skin where they were.

He is extremely self-conscious about this.

When you first met him, he was impotent and only hired you to snuggle and have non-sexual intimacy.

Once you found out what the problem was, you told him about testosterone replacement patches. He was so happy, he cried.

He's been the most vulnerable with you out of all five guys, and as a result you feel the most tender towards him.

He first hired you right after his friend Steve left him. He was in a very bad place, at the time.

You play with his hair a lot.

He likes to have his arm off during sex. It's almost like a kink or ritual, for you to specifically take it off of him.

He's the only one of your guys who is uncut. And you love it. P in V sex with him feels better than with any of your other guys.

Bucky cares much more about your orgasm than his. He likes being told that he's making you feel good and that he's being a good boy.

He's often very desperate, needy, and flustered during sex, just whining and humping you like a puppy.

You give him a lot of oil massages, both for his back from how much the arm pulls on his muscles, and prostate massages.

Because of the serum, he's capable of having multiple orgasms with almost no refractory period. You love edging him until he's trembling and begging.

Lloyd and Kemp don't mind a finger during blowjobs, but Bucky really loves anal play. Pegging is something you two do fairly regularly.

And his one fantasy that he hasn't yet confided/fulfilled? Having you say his trigger words and controlling him but not hurting him at all, just taking care of him (He's already been "deprogrammed," he just imagines that as the ultimate level of vulnerability and intimacy with you).

If there's something you want to know about Sugar Baby and any of her five daddies, feel free to shoot me an ask!

Five Daddies Imagines Masterlist

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