#Dom sub dynamics

[penvisions]

gone to the dogs {masterlist}

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader ; brief mentions of Boston QZ! Joel Miller x Tess Servopoulos

Summary: What happens when the world ends in such a violent way that it robs you of your very humanity? Do you submit or raise your hackles and fight back? The answer is obvious to Joel Miller, known for being someone to not to cross even in the most dangerous corners of the Boston QZ. The answer is obvious to you, too, who transformed in his likeness.

Word Count: 52.2k - ongoing

Warnings: canon typical violence, canon typical language, canon typical gore, outbreak fic, dark fic, dark joel miller, mean joel miller, joel miller is uptight, reader wants to change that, sub! joel miller, dom / sub dynamics, degrading language, violence, heated interactions, adult language, fighting, references to injuries, blood, sexual content, rough sex, p in v, smut, unprotected p in v (it's the end of the world, y'all), sexual propositions, oral (m and f receiving), more to be determined!

A/N: this is a little different than my typical fic style and characterization!! but it's been so fun to explore the meaner / take no shit counterpart of this reader character to olive in {by the grit of sandpaper}. they both mean so much to me and this particular one really came at me out of nowhere! ♡♡

-> ao3 link || navigation || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi

fic teaser || fic teaser no.2

chapter one || chapter two || chapter three || chapter four || chapter five

chapter six || chapter seven || chapter eight || chapter nine || chapter ten

extras -> underbelly || packing || fanart *NEW

[soft-persephone]

People Pleaser

SoftDom!Seth Milchick x Sub!GnReader

E // MDNI // WC: >1k // BDSM dynamics and themes // masterlist

No Spoilers for the show included

AN:// I’m not an expert or the best at dom/sub dynamics in fics but Milchick brings it out of me, so this is my version/first attempt of that. I hope you enjoy!

It should have been ridiculous. 

The frilly pastel purple apron he bought specifically for you adorned his broad shoulders, the comically large rubber gloves he insisted you to wear when you cleaned the kitchen but never do, on his hands. 

But he was anything but. 

Dutifully, as if on a mission, he cleaned the kitchen while you watched. 

The smell of bleach and every chemical in the house stung your nose, but not one drop sullied an inch of his clothing, not the fitted black sweater that clung tightly onto his skin, his matching slacks, nor the sturdy patent leather of his boots, faced danger of discoloration. 

“I can’t comprehend how you achieve perfection like this each day” He mused down at you, flashing his teeth in a dazzling smile. The velvet lilt of his voice rang in your ears and hummed through every sense of your body. 

In clean precise movements he removed each glove and carefully discarded the apron, folding it into a pristine square before putting each item back in their dedicated space when they were not being used. 

Your chest expanded as you slowly exhaled, straining against its restraints, the delicate ribbon binds snuggled deeper into your skin. Your lips parted in a slow and soft in a silent pant. 

“Don’t move too much.” He tilted his head ever so slightly. His brilliant warm smile remained firm on his face, but the silent bite of the threat rang true in his words. It wavered in the background of his voice. It showed as a hint of a shadow casted over the usual warm glow in his eyes. “Remember,” he bent down lowly to where you knelt bare on your knees, wrapped and bound in ties of lilac ribbon, “today's your day.” He thumbed your cheek, raising your head up towards him. Gently, he brushed it along your bottom lip before slipping it into your mouth. 

You will yourself to stay still, to not move as he dragged it across your tongue. 

“You aren’t allowed to lift. one. finger.” His voice remained warm, save for the last word. Your sole and final warning. 

He pulled his thumb out of your mouth.

“Yes, of course,” you managed to say in a soft voice, “thank you.” You fought the shiver that threatened to run  down your spine. 

He knelt down in front of you, and looked you in the eye. 

Your breath hitched.

Thrilled to study his face up close, it never failed to take your breath away. How he could manage a shave so smooth, save  for his mustache, you would never know, but the deep cool tones of his skin was your favorite. Something about his face awakened that love within you, eliciting feelings and deep desire to rub your mouth along his skin, to taste every inch your mouth could reach.

He ignored the sound, the way you slightly leaned forced, and even the way your mouth parted, lost in thoughts of tasting his skin. 

A mercy you could not register, too lost in your thoughts of him. 

Large warm hands settled lightly onto your skin, not enough.

Your body stiffened. 

You had to stay still. You could not move, you wouldn’t dare disobey, not when he was being so nice.

“You’ve  been so good this week.” He slightly loosened the ties once more, allowing the soft ribbon to stop digging into the softness of your chest. “You dedicate everything to taking care of me and our house. You cook, you clean, and tend to me whenever I’m home.” 

You didn’t know how tight the binds had gotten on your skin until your body relaxed to its natural state, the supple expanse of skin of your thighs relaxed and were no longer protruding through its temporary cage, your chest had fell back down into place, and your posture was no longer strained. 

“Now it’s my turn to take care of you.” He kissed you on the forehead then rose to his feet. 

“So,” he addressed you directly once more, looking down at you with a wide smile, “what’s the next chore on the list after cleaning the kitchen?”

“I vacuum the living room.” You pant.

He frowned disapprovingly, but only momentarily. 

“That is information I wish I had prior to having you reside in this particular manner.”

Wrapping his fingers into threads of ribbon at your back, he lifts you with ease, “no matter, the past shall remain aft and we shall persevere through this minor inconvenience.

He places you deftly on a couch cushion and turns to grab the vacum from the hallway closet.

You arousal pools beneath you and fight another shiver and your body’s natural inclination to move once more. 

“After all,” he calls over the too silent cry of the vacuum, a splurge in his never ending  pursuit of order, “it is your day.”

[shamrockqueen]

Tell me more about In my Employ : Ransom Drysdale x reader and April Fools Lloyd Hansen x Reader !

Thank you so much for tagging me. It was really nice to revisit all of this again.

For In my Employ it’s inspired by the movie the secretary. Primarily the punishment and power dynamic between Ransom and the reader.

Another thing I wanted to explore was something once discussed on CSI and something similar that occurred in the secretary. A concept that the person in a sub dom relationship that holds the most power is the sub. The submissive having the power to end a session if too much but the dom is expected to always serve their purpose.

In CSI the Sub Killed her Dom’a wife so they could be together, and in the secretary Lee showed defiance even when following orders to sit at the desk and never move.

Snippet : ⬇️

“We can’t keep doing this.”

You didn’t respond to his absurd statement, standing instead stunned and rigid as he continued.

“…our little fling has gone too far. I don’t need my private business invading my public persona, so it’s best we break off this arrangement.” He spoke so coldly; chilled, and sterile as it burned your ears.

Your lungs ache as you cease to breathe, nearly coughing against all informed and misshapen words you want to throw at him. The corner of your eye seemed to twitch, the muscles pulling back repeatedly and involuntarily as he called your time together a little fling.

Your teeth ground together, your body tightening into a defiant stance he’d never seen from you before, followed by something he’d never thought he'd hear you say.

“No”

He stepped back, your coat slung over his arm and your shoes gripped by one of his hands as he gathered your things to coerce you out of his house.

“Excuse me?” He asked

“No!” It erupted from your burning lungs, shaking against his eardrums and echoing down his vast halls.

You never once denied him, all for mutual benefit. That was how the dynamic was supposed to be; he’d give, and you’d take all he'd lay upon you. You wouldn’t allow him to abandon you like an animal at the side of an empty highway. Not without you biting at him first.

[lemon-shortbread]

Thinkin bout a dom calling me cute n dumb while I cum around their fingers ☺️🥺

[corazondebeskar-reads]

Learning to Forgive Myself

I got punished yesterday.

We have, in essence, three rules. Do as I’m told. Be respectful. Don’t cum without permission.

We aren’t 24/7 and most of the time, I can’t and won’t follow the first two. I have control issues and a wry, sarcastic tongue. So there’s only one rule I’m expected to follow all the time.

So it’s probably obvious which rule I broke.

So it’s Monday and it’s already been a rough week. I’m running on a handful of hours of sleep with waves of menstrual cramps on the third full day of a migraine and sixth 16-hour work day in a row.

Nothing is helping.

But the bedroom air conditioning is crisp and the lights are out. I am caught in the pull of cool satin sheets and strip down to luxuriate for a few stolen moments.

I know I can’t fall asleep, and I begin idly playing with my pussy. No urgency, just languid strokes, heel of my hand brushing my clit.

I am not even desperate. There is no frantic grinding. Just a slow coil, heat rising like the sun stretching up the sleepy horizon.

Maybe that’s where it started. Maybe I was caught unaware by my own pleasure muffling the pain and tension.

But it doesn’t matter. I found myself on the crest and whimpered “no, stop” aloud around the fingers I slipped between my lips. I never seem to take my own advice.

It gets worse.

I didn’t pause, didn’t pull my hand out of my cunt, but I did realize I should. Instead, I choked deeper on my fingers and came again. And again. And again.

Things were tense, at home. Too many moving parts and no privacy, no time or space for us to enjoy each other. So I didn’t say anything because there was nothing that could be done about it. I vowed to tell him at the first real opportunity.

It didn’t come that day or the next. And Tuesday I found myself more desperate, more careless, reading porn and grinding my pussy against a pillow. And again, I helped myself to not one but multiple rolling orgasms.

After, I swore loudly and brushed the sweaty hair off my forehead and neck. What the fuck was I doing? What had I done?

We don’t do “funishments” and I like to be obedient. I submit easily and willingly to him, and punishments are not commonplace.

And I’m a good girl.

Our arrangement is that I can edge whenever the fuck I want. It relieves stress and benefits my mental health. But I am not allowed to cum without permission. My orgasms are for him. They are for his enjoyment (and he does very much enjoy them).

He’s a pleasure dom and almost never says no. But I have to ask.

All I had to do was ask.

When he came to see me later that night, he put his hand firmly on the back of my neck. I usually melt, but I stilled and said “I don’t think this is a good idea right now.” I didn’t want to confess. I didn’t want to face his disappointment.

But he could tell where my headspace was at and that I was floating the line between falling into submission.

He acquiesced, but asked me if I was sure. It didn’t seem like I was in a place to pull myself out of it.

I wanted nothing more than his hand soft against my cheek, but felt sick with sin.

Then yesterday came. And with it came a rare moment of peace. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. We were laying on the bed together, his arms around me, my face buried so far into his shirt that I couldn’t breathe and I confessed all of my transgressions.

He was quiet, for a while. He does not move in anger or on impulse. “I don’t like to punish you when you’re trying to manage your stress,” he said. He did not, however, say he wasn’t going to.

I began to cry, not in fear, but in deep relief. He firmly rolled me over onto my back, foot knocking my legs apart.

I twisted my shoulders over to bury my face back into him and cling to his shirt just as he brought his hand down on my cunt. Hard. Again and again. I don’t know how long it lasted or how many times he struck me.

I bawled the whole time, a refrain of “I’m so sorry” between gasps. It wasn’t the intoxicating sting I usually love from a beating. The motions were the same, the intensity was the same, but my body refused to find pleasure in it.

I’m thankful for that. Feeling his intent through each hit, letting the discipline overwhelm me, it brought me to a different place.

When it was over, and he was holding me tight, crooning forgiveness and praise, and I had cried all the tears I could, I felt horrid guilt churning.

“I want to be good,” I said.

“You are so good. You’re my good girl.”

“I was so bad.”

“But you told me. You told me and you took your punishment so well. You’re always my good girl.”

In the past, I’ve spiraled. I’ve begged for more punishment, I’ve begged to be denied orgasms. I insisted I hadn’t suffered enough.

But this time, something happened. That self deprecating voice inside my head spoke out still but it did not say martyr yourself. It said “why are you doubting him? He forgave you. Who are you to refute his forgiveness?”

It’s all part of the trust. It’s the only way this thing works. If I hand him that power over me and then question his decision, am I really submitting? Am I still trying to fucking control things by determining my own consequences?

Anyway, this is all to say we had one of those moments where we were both reminded why this is important to us. Why we find comfort in this dynamic and how it strengthens us.

(But rest assured, I will not be repeating my mistakes any time soon. After all, if I want to get spanked, all I have to do is ask.)

[flootzavut]

For all your arguing about who does what to whom needs 😘

[hiimnothere1]

Birthday sex except it’s you tied up all pretty for me when I get home with a red ribbon around your wrist, ankle, and eyes. In your mouth with jobs the leash to your collar and a toy deep inside you on a nice low buzz that you’ve been keeping nice and warm as you waited for me to get home and use you.

It would be such a shame to not enjoy my present wouldn’t it? So that’s why I’d make sure to enjoy you throughly with your cute little whimpers as I press my cock against your face. Should I add more toys to you so I could hear your whimpers? It’s my birthday after all. You wouldn’t deny me would you?

What’s next? You begging for me to use your pathetic little body to send you over the edge and make you cum? It’s like you’re reading my mind. You deserve a treat honestly.

Why don’t you go ahead and start cumming for me pretty doll.

[mommysplacce]

“Mmm, do you want these fingers, baby? I'm going to fuck this needy cunt so good, so hard, until the only thing you can think about is having me buried inside you.

Can you feel how deep I can reach, sweetheart? How I can touch places no one else can? That's because this pussy belongs to me, completely and utterly. I own it, I control it, and right now, I'm using it for my own twisted amusement.”

[sugusatodyke]

Big fan of scary and intimidating femmes turning into big crybabies when they get fucked by their butch! Poor femme getting so strapdrunk they can only reply with the words "Mhm," "more," or "please" because they're too stupid to speak without wailing or whining. They don't trust themselves to form words because they know they'll sound like a dumb, needy mess, and their butch will make fun of them and mock them and call them a stupid girl! The poor femme wouldn't even be able to defend themselves, and they'd have to agree that they are a stupid girl!!

[thinkingthotsx]

picture them sitting in your lap, back to your chest with your arms around them. you hold your vape pen in one hand, bringing it to their lips often as something plays quietly in the background.

“oh, you are high aren’t you, sweetheart?”

a pathetic nod, eyes bloodshot and glassy, pupils dilated as they stare back.

“it feels good, doesn’t it?”

a bashful whimper as they try to drop eye contact.

“aw, no reason to be nervous. i just want to make sure you’re enjoying yourself properly.”

after a pause, they look back up at you, eyes wide.“yeah, it feels good.”

“do you know what would feel even better?”

not waiting for a reply, you start drawing caresses along their body with your free hand. down their arms, back up. the soft drag of your nails down their back. a hand in their hair to pull them to rest back against your shoulder as you lift the vape to their mouth again.

“that’s it, angel. suck for me.”

every hit lowers their walls another inch. the tension has slowly been melting from their body, they’re laughing a little more, leaving thoughts unfinished.

this is the perfect position to whisper in their ear - “you look perfect like this. pliant and sweet in my arms, right where you belong.”

you can watch the goosebumps roll across their skin as your lips brush their ear. another hit, and you use the distraction to close the distance and trace the shell of their ear with your tongue, nipping at their lobe. a full body shiver, this time. your teeth on their neck are rewarded with a gasp that shifts into a smoky moan when your teeth sink in.

satisfied that they’ll stay put, you can resume your other hand’s journey. trailing your hand across their chest to trace along their nipples and sternum and collarbones. digging your nails in slightly along their ribs to make them sigh your name. grasping their hip and grinding them down into your lap as you suck and bite along their throat.

they buck their hips slightly in your lap, silently requesting your hand move to where they clearly need it most. you make them take a hit at the same time that you deliver a light tap between their legs in punishment. lungs full, they can barely let out a noise in response, eyes glistening wide and cheeks pink with lust.

“ah ah ah, dear. i’ll be doing the thinking for both of us tonight, and you’ll take what i give you.”

[softistdom]

subtly groping them in public to show your possessiveness 🥰

[hoosurdaddy]

Nest.

Pairing: Joe Goldberg x reader x Love Quinn.

ummary: You’ve been in their home for weeks now. Maybe months. Time’s slippery when you’re kept warm, fed, worshipped. You should feel like a pet. Like a prisoner. But all you feel is wanted. Needed. Maybe even… loved.

Warnings: NSFW (explicit sex), obsession, unhealthy dynamics, possessive/controlling behavior, manipulation, dubcon-adjacent (reader is drugged lightly for “relaxation”), voyeurism, dom/sub undertones, pet names, praise kink, mild biting, dark romance themes.

You have been warned.

Not taking requests.

⸻

The sheets smell like vanilla, linen, and Love’s skin.

You stretch slowly, the silk blindfold still warm against your eyelids. There’s a buzz in your limbs—not quite sedation, not quite arousal. Something between. Something intentional. You know the tea Love gave you an hour ago had something in it. You’re past questioning it. You always feel good afterward. Calm. Soft. Docile.

Joe’s voice cuts through the haze, low and careful.

“You look perfect like this.”

You hear the click of a camera. Not a phone. A real camera. The kind he used back when he said he “wanted to capture the truth of things.”

“You’re taking pictures?” your voice is hoarse, half-curious, half-sleepy.

“You’re art, baby,” Love whispers from the foot of the bed. “We can’t keep you all to ourselves and not at least look when you’re not here.”

You feel a kiss on your knee. Then your thigh. Then teeth.

Your breath hitches.

Love climbs up between your legs like a predator, hands sliding up your sides, her tongue darting out to taste your skin. She’s naked. You can feel her heat against your leg.

“She’s wet already,” Love purrs to Joe. “Just from hearing your voice.”

There’s the sound of something being set down. The camera. Then the rustle of clothing. Joe’s taking his shirt off. You know the sounds now. You know the feel of him when he presses against you—sharp hipbones, calloused hands, thick and patient where it counts.

“Of course she is,” Joe says, now closer, breath hot against your ear. “She knows she belongs to us.”

The words make your thighs press together involuntarily. Love pushes them apart again, chuckling. “Uh-uh, sweetheart. No hiding from us.”

They don’t ask for permission anymore. But somehow, you never feel forced. It’s like they’ve trained you—slowly, lovingly, breaking you down until this became your sanctuary.

Joe’s hands slide beneath your back, lifting you slightly so he can kiss along your collarbone. His voice is gentle. Too gentle for how rough he can be.

“You’re our pretty little pet, aren’t you?”

You nod.

Even blindfolded, you can feel their smiles.

Love licks a long, slow stripe from your navel to your chest. “Say it.”

“I’m yours.”

Joe’s fingers wrap around your throat—not to choke, just to hold. “Good girl.”

You feel Love’s fingers first. Then her mouth. Joe keeps whispering—dirty things, loving things, terrifying things. You lose track of where one of them ends and the other begins. You’re breathless, aching, unraveling under four hands, two mouths, one obsession.

They don’t stop until you beg.

Even then, they keep going just a little longer. Just to hear you cry.

[ropebyx]

[thegnomelord]

Lads listen

Daddy sub Price

Daddy sub price who pushes you against the desk and breathes out against your lips how much daddy missed his boy and his boy's pretty cock, then begging you to let daddy help his boy relax as he goes to his knees.

Daddy Sub Price who will happily bounce on your cock when you're too tired to have sex, whispering in your ear how good you are for daddy and to just let him take care of you. He will make you cum so many times you pass out, unable to tell between being awake and asleep with his warm cum filled hole clinging to your cock and his rumbling voice moaning about how good you are for daddy.

Daddy Sub price but he's drooling around your cock and every breath he's able to take he spends it on begging you to use daddy's throat harder, he can take it, you earned a nice reward and he wants to spoil his boy rotten.

Daddy Sub Price who never corrects the kinksters when they assume he's the Dom in your relationship, even goes so far as to agree and hold you close when he says so, because the look you give him and the way you pound him in the nearest storage closet is so worth it.

Daddy Sub Price in the leather harness and assless black leather chaps.

Daddy Sub Price in a leather harness and assless chaps with a riding crop. But the crop is for his boy to spank his ass with when he gets too loud because the sight of him in those leathers are for your eyes only.

Daddy Sub Price wants to feel more of the sting of the riding crop on his skin so he shaved his ass. And you lament the loss of all that hair, going to show him how daddy's boy wants to be treated.

God his ass is pretty all red, not from spanking him no, because good daddy's don't shave - but because you're groping his cheeks so damn hard, spreading and gripping ass so you can eat him out. You found some sort of lube that left him all sensitive and tingly, each scrape of your tongue on his hole or balls like a miniature orgasm that's not enough, leaving him shaking and leaking like a busted tap as he tries to tell you daddy learned his lesson; but you don't stop until he's so deep in subspace all he can do is drool into the pillows and moan about how good his boy is

Just. . . Just Daddy Sub Price

[beccawise7]

A woman who feels safe & secure in your physical, mental, spiritual & emotional presence will open herself fully to you.

Her mind, body & soul... Yearning to be explored in ways she's craved, yet never known.

Your touch & confidence in leading her.

Your Hands against her skin. Firm but gentle.

Your eyes admiring her beauty. The way your voice leads & encourages her as she comes undone for you.

Perfection.

Rare but exquisite when witnessed.

~beccawise7💜🖤