#dom/sub relationship

[dandy-boy]

when hes so rough when grabbing your thighs he leaves bruises>>>>>

[fishwithtitz]

A Simple Existence (a Papa Emeritus IV x f!reader one shot)

A/N: This one was written specifically for my sweet cheese, my main babe Jen (@copias-juicebox). Her birthday was on Wednesday and this is a very belated present created with her in mind. Girl, you wanted subby sweet Copia, you got him! Love you so much and I'm so happy I met you. Alles Gute zum nachträglichen Geburtstag!

Also, special shout out to @anamelessfool, @eyeslikelilith, and @portaltothevoid for beta'ing and feedback <3

If you'd like to be on my tag list, please comment!

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Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Papa Emeritus IV x f!reader / 5.1k words

Warnings: dom/sub relationship, hints at dub-con (if you squint?), oral sex, piv, language, cock worshipping

ao3 link

Over the past few weeks, it had become more commonplace for Papa Emeritus IV to be sitting at his cherry wood desk, pen in hand as he rifled through various Ministry tasks late into the night. 

To many, Papa was a figurehead of the church — both through his leadership in the spiritual sector of the Ministry and as frontman of the Ghost project. But so many didn’t realize the influence he had within the planning and implementation of the church and its projects as a whole. 

It was almost as if he breathed much-needed oxygen into the lungs of the abbey and transfused his own lifeblood into the theatrics of the band. The Ministry was, to put it simply, his everything. It was something you had come to love and loathe about the man.

Tonight was no different than any other night the past few weeks. Copia sat perched in his worn office chair (the one he’d taken with him from his stay at the abbey in Venice during his time as a bishop), papal paint smeared somewhat from the occasional swipe of his palm against his cheeks as he thought through a complex task. A banker’s lamp and the starlight were the only sources of illumination in the office space — a tell of how late into the evening it had become. 

You’d sat up night after night waiting for your Papa to come back to his chambers at a reasonable hour. Most nights ended with you falling asleep as you sat  against the headboard in your shared bed or lounged on the loveseat in the sitting room. Tonight, however, you’d had enough. You were worried that the ministry was taking advantage of the Satanic pope’s hardworking and passionate spirit and the last thing you wanted was for him to spiral into burn out. Tonight, you would put your foot down. 

It was a short walk from the Papal chambers to Copia’s office. You’d made the trek what felt like hundreds of times and this specific time, it was as if the route had been cut in half. Perhaps that was the speed at which your bare feet carried you, or perhaps it was the simmering frustration you had bubbling in your chest. Nevertheless, you didn’t bother to knock before you pushed on the oaken double doors to Papa’s workspace. 

As soon as you shut the heavy door behind you, Papa’s head sprung up in alarm as if he had been shaken out of a trance. You walked into the spacious office, nightgown flowing behind you like an estuary, and stopped a couple of meters away from where he sat. 

“Il amore mio, what are you doing h-”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” You found yourself cutting off his tired greeting.

Copia pressed his thumb and forefinger against his temples, gently rubbing them as he closed his eyes in defeated frustration. “I haven’t looked at the clock in a while.”

“It’s nearly one in the morning,” you answered for him, taking a step towards the cherrywood desk. “Come to bed.  It’s not doing you any good burning the midnight oil.”

Copia’s hand dropped from his temples and on any other occasion, you would smirk at the sight of the smudged paint on his fingertips. “I assure you that I have plenty of fuel left for this candle’s flame, amore mio,” he said. 

“But you’re burning it at both ends!” you retorted, voice raising in a mix of sympathy and frustration. “Copia, it’s not a matter of if you’ll drive yourself into the ground but when.” You moved to round the large wooden desk, and as you approached him, your expression softened. “All of this can wait until tomorrow,” you said, voice slightly calmer now.

You shifted behind him and snaked your arms around his shoulders, resting them on his strong chest. Your lips pressed to the hair atop his head.  The salt-and-pepper streaked strands that once were combed back on his head but had since begun to fall into his eyes and around his temples. “Just, come to sleep. I miss you. I miss my Papa.”

And you realized that this man, this hopelessly devoted man beneath the cloak of your arms was the picture of leadership. A perfect blend of authority and quiet strength. Measured. Loving. Dedicated. And when necessary, absolutely ruthless. 

Papa sighed at your admission and reached up to place his non-dominant hand over one of yours, his pen still gripped tight in the other. “Il mio amore,” he began, voice apologetic and oddly tinged with dampened annoyance, “you must understand that I am everyone’s Papa. The work I do is necessary to maintain and grow the ministry — our outreach, our education, charity — the very diffusion of our beliefs lies within my leadership.”

At his dismissal, you felt your grip around him loosen, your hands sliding from around his shoulders as you stepped away from him. “You think I don’t know that? You are one man, Copia. You can’t do it all,” you began as you ran your hand through your hair in frustration. You stepped to the side to better face him, hoping to see him — even just a glance at the mismatched eyes you were growing to love. “I’m tired of watching you run yourself ragged trying. And quite frankly, I’m tired of being left behind while you choose your work over everything else in your life.”

Copia’s eyes finally rose to meet yours. His voice changed from his more understanding and apologetic (possibly even patronizing) tone to one of seriousness. “My work is my duty…my oath to the lightbringer, to his infernal majesty.”

The earlier simmering of frustration in your chest came to a roaring boil at his retort and you moved to face him, arms crossed over your chest as you leaned just slightly over his desk. “Well, I suppose it’s good to know where your duties lie.”

With that, you left the office, leaving Copia to ruminate in the reverberating slam of the heavy oak door and the ringing of your words repeating in his head.

Copia tried his best to finish up the task he’d been in the middle of when you’d stopped by his office at the end of the clergy wing, but no matter how much he attempted to focus, he couldn’t drag his mind away from the argument you’d just shared. Perhaps you were right. Perhaps he had been neglectful in other areas of his life. After a light yawn escaped from his lips, he decided to pack up his work and return back to your shared room. Afterall, he probably owes you an apology.

He didn’t even remember walking back to the papal chambers, the weight of his exhaustion being so heavy that it dulled his sense of time. Despite this, when he entered your shared room, he still had the wherewithal to show slight shock that you were still awake and waiting for him on the sitting room chaise. 

“Tesoro,” he started, walking around the loveseat to approach you, “I am sorry for the way that I spoke earlier—”

His apology was cut off, however, when you held up a hand as if to nonverbally signal for him to stop. His eyebrows creased just slightly in confusion.

“Go to our bedroom and get undressed,” you said, voice devoid of any emotion yet strangely demanding given your usual countenance. As he opened his mouth to protest, you raised an eyebrow, holding your hand up again to silence him once more. With this, Copia’s eyes adopted a slight glimmer and his lips fought the desire to curve into a smirk. He knew what this meant. 

He took a step closer to you and his voice lowered as he spoke. “You want to play Papa tonight, dolcezza?” As he approached you, you fought the desire to conform to him, to allow him to take hold of the reins that he so often gripped. 

You steadied your countenance and gave him a simple nod in retort. 

This time, his lips made the final curve into the smirk he had tried to withhold. As he made his way into the bedroom, his gloveless hand reached towards his neck to loosen his blue cravat (a favorite of yours, he remembered), and unfasten the buttons lining the center of his shirt. He shrugged both of them off and set them on the bench at the foot of the bed before working to remove his pants, belt, shoes, and socks. Soon enough, he was left only in his boxers, and he began to move towards the bed, assuming your insistence that he get some rest.

Instead, you nonchalantly walked by him as you rounded the four-poster bed. “I said undressed, Papa,” you remarked coolly.

He turned to look at you, eyebrows raised once more, before his expression crinkled slightly. “As you wish, amore mio,” he said. Your face remained stoic.

The truth was, as you waited for him to return from his office after your discussion, you realized that you had two choices. You could be angry with him for the neglect he’d shown to your relationship. It would definitely be well-founded, and you had every right to give him a prolonged cold shoulder in retaliation. 

Or, you could approach the situation with the empathy you had craved from him. You could help him realize that his ascension to papacy did not require him to work himself to the bone. On the contrary, it should allow him to revel in the devotion that others craved to provide to him.

You’d decided on the latter.

Papa slid the silken fabric of his boxers down his toned legs (oh, how you’d love to worship those legs) and let them pool on the floor below as he stepped out of them. You motioned to the bed with nothing more than a flick of your gaze, and he sat against the edge. 

“Back against the headboard, Papa.” Your voice felt weirdly not your own. Not that you were complaining, by any means. You felt a surge of confidence and power prickling through your body and you couldn’t help but wonder if this is what he felt like when he presided over Mass. 

Copia scooted his body back to the headboard, back flush against the aged wood, and set his palms down against the pillows. After reaching down to grab his discarded cravat (to which you internally smiled as you noticed the blue hue), your feet carried you towards him, padding softly against the carpet in the papal suite, and you pulled up the sheer organza of your nightgown to reveal the thigh-high stockings you’d adorned while waiting for him to finish in his office. His pupils widened. 

Slipping them off with deliberate purpose, you gathered them both in your hands by their length and reached to grab his right wrist. Without hesitation, you looped the black nylon fabric around him and began securing him to the headboard. “You better than anyone know the values of our church,” -the nylon tightens- “the importance of self indulgence” -pull- “practicing the sin of lust” -loop- “showing our devotion to the one below through celebration of carnal desire.” He watched as you tightened the knot, testing its strength, his eyes deeply curious as he allowed this scenario to play out. You then brought forth his cravat and secured his left hand to the other side in symmetry. 

You backed away and admired your prize. There he sat — the leader of the Ministry of Satan, Papa Emeritus IV, his Unholy Eminence, looking back at you while restrained against the bed with his infernal eye burning. With what? You wondered. Curiosity? Anger? Lust? Annoyance? Intrigue? He opened his mouth to speak, and you reached forward to press a single finger to his lips. 

“You’ve spent so much time speaking on behalf of the church that I think you’ve forgotten how to listen.”

And it was true. All of his duties hung heavy on his shoulders. His ascension to papacy only seemed to increase the workload, and in recognizing his competence, the other senior clergy members dumped task after task upon him that he knew were not required of his predecessors. But, he’d wanted this. He’d yearned for it for so long. How could he stand up against the very ministry that he vowed to serve eternally?

Once more, you lifted up the flowy nightgown to reveal a pair of white satin lace panties. A symbol of purity, innocence — a stark contrast to your actions and the wicked man in front of you. Your thumbs hooked under the waistband and you slid them off, before neatly balling them up in your fist. “Open,” you directed. Surprisingly, Copia obeyed. You smirked and pushed the fabric past his lips and into his mouth, effectively silencing him. 

Your attention turned to his legs splayed out before you. His strong thighs sat parallel to one another as they rested against the pillow-top mattress. Stretching forward, you began to run your hands along each thigh, enjoying the feel of the muscles beneath your palms as they lightly flexed under your touch. “I love these thighs,” you murmured, almost to yourself. You moved to straddle him, climbing just above his knees with your legs on either side of his. Lifting your arms slightly, you loosened the front tie to the bodice of your nightgown, then pulled both breasts out of the scoop neck. They sat directly in front of his painted face, and your eyes watched his as they traveled across the expanse of your chest, his kohl-colored lips barely parted. You swore you heard a noise escape from them. 

You leaned in, breasts brushing against his bare skin as you hovered your mouth by his ear. “Patience,” you breathed, a smirk evident in your tone. As you pulled away, you licked your lips and continued. “You’ve proven that you’re very good at doling out orders. Now,” you trailed your finger down his chest, pausing at the bottom of his sternum, “let’s see if you know how to follow them.”

You knew at this moment that your attention, your affection, was what he craved. However, you also knew that for him to learn to let go, you couldn’t give him what he wanted so easily. Not just yet. So, you leaned back slightly and hovered your bare crotch against his own. You could feel the heat of the both of you and you smiled, pushing down just barely to push your mons against his length. It involuntarily twitched against you and you used this moment to pull back further, earning you a near whine from him (which you purposefully ignored). 

As you sat back against his legs, you looked back down at them, biting your lip. “Fuck, touring has done so much for you. I can’t get enough of these,” you spoke, running your hands along the skin of his quads. “You never have time to let me feel them against me. How sculpted the muscles are, how strong they feel…”

With that, you shuffled your body so that you were straddling his left thigh, your own heat ghosting against the skin of it. You began to press your core down against him, putting pressure against your clit. Looking up, you locked eyes with him. “Do you feel what they do to me?” you asked, beginning to move your hips just slightly, just so, so that he could feel your wetness slipping against him. “How wet it makes me just thinking about touching you?” 

Copia groaned against the fabric of the panties in his mouth. It was muffled but audible, which made you realize just how loud it would be without the gag. 

“And yet…you deny me? All for your work?” Your voice took on a tone of inquisitive mock innocence and hurt, and you creased your eyebrows for effect. Forgetting about the restraints, Copia moved his arms to grab onto you, but groaned again as he realized he was secured into place. 

“What was the saying? ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy?’” At this, you reached down and grabbed onto his erection, trapping it between your leg and his as you ground down on the top of his thigh, pussy pushing down much more forcefully. You let out a moan and tilted your head back at the feeling. He was nearly shaking beneath you. 

Your hips found a slow yet strong rhythm as you gyrated against him. With every forward movement, your leg squeezed against his cock and he let out a series of noises — muffled whimpers and moans — and eventually, his eyelids tightly pressed shut. 

“Is…is pastoral care one of your duties, Papa?” You breathed out, your own voice becoming more lust-dipped as you moved against him. “When you’re taking care of your flock…all of your flock…does that include their desires?” You reached up and grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at you. “Aren’t I not part of your flock, Papa?”

He nodded in your hand, eyes nearly ablaze as he all but came undone beneath you. He was so hard it was almost painful, and as you moved above him, riding his thigh like a fucking mechanical bull, your own visage was morphed into one of powerful pleasure. Your tempo increased and you let out a shaky moan at the pressure building low in your abdomen. You were close to feeling the release you’d craved from him for god knows how long. This, along with his own impending orgasm, caused him to spit out the panties from his mouth. 

“Dolcezza, please, do not tease me like this,” he whined, words dripping with need. His papal paints were smeared around the mouth and chin from your touch and you bit your lip at the sight. He pulled on the wrist restraints. “Need you,” he choked out. You smirked and immediately ceased your motions against him. His face fell.

“Let’s see if you can use your mouth for something more useful.”

You moved from his thigh, leaving his cock unattended as it dripped for you, hungry and red, nearly pulsating. Suddenly, you stood up and straddled him, bringing your core directly to his face. His increased breath danced across the slick of your pussy and you held back a groan of your own. “If your duties lie only to the church, then maybe you should prove your devotion to honoring the one below.”

Without warning, you slid your hand into his hair and brought his mouth to your wet heat. A strangled groan erupted from him and he immediately dove in, nose against your mound as he fervently moved his tongue between your impossibly slick folds. You reached out with the hand not currently lost within his hair and gripped onto the top of the headboard to steady yourself. 

Copia flattened out his tongue and you began to buck your hips against his face, riding him as he broadly licked up and down your clit and to your entrance. You were certain you were making some sort of pleasurable sound, but at the moment, it was as if the world and all of its stimulation paused. The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of his skillful mouth against you, his eyes shut as he ate you out like a starved man. 

His tongue moved to flick against your sensitive bud and he wrapped his lips around it before sucking harshly. It was a move that he knew drove you crazy, and the burning in your thighs as you tried to stabilize yourself heightened the pressure. You could feel your own legs shaking, but you continued to grind against him, and for the first time, you wished his hands weren’t restrained so that he could fuck you with his fingers, too. 

“You are so good at this,” you hummed out, looking down to watch him as you rode his face. The previous tension from your near orgasm on his thigh was back, and your own reserve was faltering. He flickered his eyes open and growled against your cunt at the sight of you above him, trembling and absolutely wrecked from arousal, and the combination of the vibration of his noises and intensity of his stare sent you reeling over the edge.

You cried out his name, head snapped back as your hand gripping onto the headboard turned white-knuckled. He continued to move his tongue up and down your folds, occasionally flicking his tongue against your oversensitive clit as he helped you through your orgasm.

Eventually, you pulled away sea-legged and released your grasp from his now messed coif, sinking down onto your knees. Your own breath was ragged and you gripped onto his shoulders as you tried to steady yourself. He looked directly ahead at you with a prurient expression, the paint of his cheeks and nose and chin smeared and saturated with your arousal. In a normal situation, he’d make a racy or teasing remark, but he remained silent. It was as if he had finally learned his place. 

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you placed a solitary kiss to his sternum, relishing in the feeling of his chest hair against your lips and chin. You then moved south, mouth lightly kissing and sucking on the skin of his abdomen, the angular hip bones that framed his cock, and the trail of hair right below his belly button. 

His neglected length twitched as your face brushed against it and you smirked, sitting up just barely to look at it. Reaching out, you grasped onto him, grip firm, and began to languidly stroke. 

“How could I forget about you?” you cooed, thumb pad pressing against his frenulum before you continued your pace. “You deserve to feel good.” He groaned at the contact and his head jerked back against the solid headboard. You chuckled darkly and licked your lips at the sight of him below you. “The lightbringer would be disappointed if their chosen figurehead didn’t properly spoil in self-indulgent sins of the flesh? Wouldn’t he?”

Copia whined beneath you, but you paid no mind, continuing your slow movements. You lowered your head, breath tickling against the end of him, and began to rub his shaft and tip against your cheeks and lips. “I love your dick,” you said, voice barely above a sultry whisper. You began to press kisses to every inch of his cock, savoring him, worshiping him. 

He squirmed beneath you, and unable to restrain himself, he groaned out, “Cazzo, please.”

You stopped and peered up at him. His eyes were shining with tears of frustration and you were sure that the mix of submission and denial was pushing him to his limits. But despite the look of exasperation on his face, you knew him well enough to know what he truly desired in this moment. And he trusted you completely, fully, to deliver him to reverie. 

“Let me take care of you,” you said, pressing a kiss to the very tip of him before laving your tongue over him slowly. Copia moaned loudly and his hips twitched up into your mouth, requiring you to hold him down with your other hand. “You don’t need to control everything,” you responded, mouth still pressed against his length. 

Had you been looking up, you’d have seen him nod in response, but you were too focused on what was throbbing in front of you to pay him any mind. Lips parted, you descended down his length, taking him as far into your mouth as you possibly could. Copia hissed in response and you smirked around him. You knew that the sudden sensation of warmth would be nearly unbearable, too much, and you delighted in being the one controlling his fire. 

You hollowed out your cheeks and slowly popped off of him. With a swift readjustment of your frame, you straddled his thighs (marveling at the drying slick on the left one), and took his chin in hand. “Look at me,” you murmured, and he obliged. Your non-dominant hand traced the contour of his jaw, fingertips now glazed in white and grey paint, and you dipped your index finger between his lips as you positioned yourself over his cock and sunk down. 

The Satanic Pope’s mouth dipped open and a low groan slipped past your finger still perched on his lip. Your own center was still sensitive from your recent orgasm and the sensation of fullness was almost overwhelming, so you stilled your movement to allow for the both of you to adjust to the feeling. For the first time, you dipped your head forward and rested your forehead against his own, your hand cupping his jaw. You could feel the sweat slicked between the both of you and you closed your eyes as a soft, shaky breath escaped you.

After a moment of blissful stillness, you opened your eyes to look at the man you currently had caged in by your arms and thighs, and you carded your fingers through his hair. His gaze held a knowing fire that you recognized as one of silent permission, of need, desire, of his own restrained dominance. With that, you gripped at his hair near the scalp and tipped his head back as you lifted yourself almost completely off of his length. 

“Out there, you might be the leader of our congregation. You might proselytize to millions of siblings and fans. But right here,” your grip tightened, and you leaned in to whisper against the shell of his ear, “right now, you answer to me. How badly do you want it?”

“Merda, badly, so badly,” he growled. You pulled away and your telltale smirk returned to your features. He looked positively sinister. His face flushed beneath his skull paint and sweat was beading across his brow. Both of his eyes nearly black from lust-blown pupils. A manifestation of evil incarnate. 

“Then take it. Take everything you need.”

And take he did. His hips canted up into you and he slid in to the hilt, flesh pressed against flesh, and you fell forward into his shoulder with a near-howl of your own at the fullness. Your hands found purchase against his pecs and you matched his movements as he pumped into you frantically. Every movement stretched you further, licked flames against the sore muscles of your legs, but you ignored the pain and moved with purpose. Your lips found his and you kissed him for the first time this evening, pouring out your loyalty into the action as his tongue pushed greedily into your mouth. 

As you shifted your position atop him just slightly, his cock brushed against your g-spot and you cried out in euphoria. The corners of his lips curled against yours as he panted through his movements, knowingly hitting that spot with every single upward thrust. 

You swallowed back another moan as you tried to speak. “Fill me so good,” you nearly slurred as you pulled from the kiss. “Look at me,” you said, voice less commanding and more sweet. You knew your release was imminent and you wanted him to visualize the effect he had on you. How he made your body implode as he dragged you down to hell himself.

Your own words were rushed, nearly babbled as you continued. “Look at how good you make me feel.” His eyes locked with yours and you rested one hand on his chest, the other snaking to grasp onto the nape of his neck, while moonbeams erupted in your skin as your climax took hold. Your jaw dropped just slightly and although your mouth threatened a moan, no sound came out as he fervently bucked up into you. 

Your shared motions sped up and you could feel how close he was by the sloppiness of his thrusts as he helped you ride out your release. “Take what you need,” you repeated in a pant. “Take everything you need from me.” 

You pushed through the overstimulation and watched as his hands balled into fists in the restraints and he planted his feet firmly onto the bed, fucking up into you like he never had before. His eyes shone with unsprung tears and he was spitting out a slew of curses in Italian, with affirmations of love peppered in throughout. 

“Cazzo, dolcezza, I-” And just as hard as he had climbed, he crashed down violently. He came roughly with a sound that sounded like a mix between a groan and a sob, hips jerking as he pumped his spend into you with wild abandon. He filled you so deeply that you could feel him beginning to leak down your inner thigh as he pistoned through his orgasm. 

“So good for me,” you purred, pressing a kiss to the place where his hairline began at the top of his forehead, ignoring the sweat-soaked strands that fell into his tear-filled eyes. As you pulled away, you saw one of those tears fall and you quickly swiped it with your thumb. And with that, it was as if the dam had been broken, and both eyes began spilling rushed streams down his cheeks. 

You moved to quickly untie his wrists from the headboard and as soon as he was set free, his arms wrapped around your middle and his head fell to your chest. “So good for me,” you repeated, more of a coo this time, and you pressed another kiss to the top of his head as your hands lovingly traced up and down his back. 

You sat like that for a while, holding him as he softened inside of you, his tears and quiet sobs the backdrop of your denouement. He almost surprised you when he lifted his head to properly look at you. 

“Mi dispiace, tesoro. I don’t know…I’m not sure where this is coming from,” he admitted, thumbs rubbing against the curve of your spine. 

You smiled softly, reassuringly, and brought one of his wrists to your mouth. A red mark had formed from the friction of the cravat, and you kissed at it soothingly. “You have needs too, Papa,” you said as you continued to kiss at the sensitive skin. He hummed in response and you smiled again, this time a little wider. 

“Thank you for letting me love you.”

And in his eyes, you saw a dawning realization, a comfort of sorts that came to flood his mind. He had known this had been an exercise of shared power, of course, of allowing you to express your needs in a way that the both of you enjoyed, even though you hadn’t previously explored the swap in control. However, as you took the reins, you’d gifted him with something he hadn’t anticipated — you’d guided him to liberation, encouraging him to release his expectations (the ones he’d built up of himself and the ministry) and just be. 

Your permission for simple existence was the best thing he hadn’t known to ask for.  

image/gif credit: imgur

[holylulusworld]

Walkered (2): Revelation

Summary: You’re getting on his nerves. Right?

Pairing: August Walker x fem!Reader

Warnings: sub/dom, implied mentions of subspace, light spanking, groping, possessive August, pet names, sir kink, tension, teasing, pre-smut, dirty talk

Catch up here: Walkered (1): Frustration

Walkered masterlist

The underground garage seems to be miles away when you slowly make your way toward your destination. Or is it fate? 

You always had this odd feeling close to Walker. He made you feel uneasy but aroused you at the same time. He’s breathing dominance and you were naturally drawn to him.

Until he spoke it out loud, you didn’t have a word to describe what you wanted from him. Walker is what you have been craving for years.

Most of the guys you had sex with tried to show off dominance but were weaklings or inexperienced in the end.

No one was able to fulfill your wish to give up control. You didn’t trust these men to not use their power over you against you or to ignore your needs.

Walker seems to be different. He’s a calculated risk. A professional with perfect impulse control. August won’t lose control and hurt you or go too far. You just know it.

“There you are, princess,” Walker walks toward you, eyes trained on your face as you clutch your bag to your chest. “I made sure that you got the rest of the week off.” He casually declares. “I don’t want you to hobble to work after I’m done with you.”

That fucker grins like the devil while you shrink into yourself. Damn him, he turned you into a puddle of insecurities and want.

“Speak your mind as long as you can,” he cups your face with one big hand and tilts it to force you to hold his gaze. “I expect you to thank me for being so thoughtful, princess.”

“Thank you,” you knit your brows together. “Sir.” You try.

“Hmm…I like it when you call me Sir, princess.” His face is only inches from yours when he looks at you. You’re not sure what he’s up to. Does he want to kiss, or taunt you? You never know when it came to August Walker. “We will talk about a few things on our way to my home. But first things first. You’ll tell me where you live, and we will grab a few things.”

“What?” You swallow thickly when a deep guttural growl escapes his throat. “Uh-yes Sir.”

“I won’t accept any lapse from now on, princess,” he whispers in your ear. “I know having someone to take care of you is new to you, but you’ll follow my orders without questioning me from now on. Got it?” 

He quirks a brow. “Yes…Sir,” you shudder and press your thighs together. “I just don’t know why you want me to grab some things…”

“Well, you are mine from now on,” he presses a searing kiss to your lips, taking your breath away. “I want you to grab everything you will need for the next few days. We will get the rest later.”

“I-“ You blink, dumbfounded. Did he just tell you that he wants you to move into his home? No…this is impossible. August Walker is not the man settling down. 

“No overthinking things, Y/N,” he sternly says. “You agreed to become mine by following my first order. You could’ve said no or stayed away. So, what will it be?” 

August steps away stealing his warmth and safety. He’s surveilling your wrecked state with pride as you stand on wobbling legs, and whimper at the loss of his closeness.

“I…” You don’t know what to do. He’s all you ever wanted in a man to fulfill your desires and kinks. But does that mean you want to submit to him completely and let him rule your life?

“Princess, it’s easy,” he steps closer again to hold out his hand. “You will submit to me in any way, and I’ll give you what you need and protect you from this world. I promise to not hurt you.” He smirks when you whimper. “Unless you want me to make it hurt…”

“Can we talk about the rules first?” you take his offered hand and bask in his attention. Walker wraps his arms around you to nuzzle his face in your hair. “I never had a real dom…”

“I know, princess,” August murmurs soft words. “I’ll go easy on you during our first session.” He taunts you with a deep chuckle. August grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing hard. You squirm and whimper, already on the edge. “Or not. You seem to be a needy little thing.”

“I’m not needy,” you whine.

“Rule number one,” he slaps your ass hard. “You never lie to me. NEVER! What will it be? Are you going to tell me the truth or do you want your first spanking right here for everyone to see?”

“I’m…needy…” You try.

“You can do better,” he grunts and slaps your ass again, with a little less force. “NOW!”

“I’m needy for you, Sir.”

“Again,” he pats your ass. 

“I’m a needy slut for you, Sir. I need your cock so bad and for you to take control,” you gasp at your admission. 

“Perfect,” he hums while rubbing the pain out of your ass. “See, that wasn’t too hard. Was it?”

“No, Sir,” you murmur and hide your face in his chest to calm down. 

“Good.” He kisses your hair. “I’m proud of you. That was the first step on the road to submission. We will get you where we both want you to be soon.”

He allows you to nuzzle your face in his chest for a moment and pats your head. 

August can’t believe his luck. Within a day he turned the annoying thorn in his side into a sweet submissive princess. His princess. And he’ll be damned if anyone gets the chance to take you away from him. 

“Here it is,” you whisper and point at the building. “My apartment is A5.”

“I don’t like the neighborhood, princess,” August says while unbuckling his seat belt. “You’ll come with me. I won’t leave you alone in this area.”

“It’s a friendly neighborhood,” you argue. “My neighbors are nice.”

“Yeah, because they want a taste of my princess. I bet all of them are lusting over you.” August gets out of the car to open the door to the passenger seat for you. He holds out his hand and helps you get out of the car.

You don’t argue. August seems to be adamant about his opinion, and you don’t want to get your ass slapped in front of your neighbors.

He possessively slings one strong arm around your shoulders and guides you toward the building.

“You’ll need clothes and toiletries for the rest of the week. If you have a favorite plushie,” he pecks your ear and smirks, “grab it too. I want to watch you ride it like you always do.”

Swallowing thickly, you try to find your voice but fail. How can he know you love to ride your plushie or a pillow? 

“Oh and leave your toys at home. I got all the nice toys to use on my princess,” he kisses your temple. “I can’t wait to watch you squirm and moan for me.”

“This one, and the red one,” August thumbs through your underwear. “Only the cute and naughty ones for the next days.” He dips his head to watch you sit on your bed, your favorite plushie clutched to your chest. “No pouting. If you are a bad girl, you’ll run around naked.”

“Why are you so different now?” You cock your head. “Not hours ago, you yelled at me.”

“Aw, my sweet princess,” he throws the panties into one of the suitcases he placed on the bed and crouches down in front of you. 

August moves one hand up your leg, slowly creeping between your slightly parted legs. “I didn’t know you could be so sweet for me. Now that I know, I’ll always be nice to you.”

He smirks darkly, making you shudder. His fingertips reach your soaked panties to toy with you some more. “This sweet pussy is mine from now on. You are mine.”

“You said something about rules,” you breathlessly moan and spread your legs wider when he quirks a brow. “I-I don’t know if this will work out. We barely know each other and…”

“Stop thinking,” he grunts while running his index finger up and down your panties. “Just give up control and let me have you in any way. You won’t regret it.”

“I-for now,” you lick your lips and watch August get a knife out to cut your panties open. “If I don’t want this, I’ll just go.”

“Of course, princess,” he murmurs while burying his face between your legs. He sniffs at your pussy, humming as your fingers itch to tug at his hair. 

August doesn’t touch you; he only inhales the scent of your cunt to expand the anticipation. He cannot wait to sink his massive cock into you, and make you scream his name.

“After I’m done with you for the first time, you will never think of leaving me again princess...” 

DC Tags

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[mysafewordisjumanji]

Being a feminist who is into bdsm is like:

Im a strong and independent woman and I chose to do whatever you say daddy.

[lovable-lily3]

Send me all your naughty thoughts. I am needy at work and wanna play

[rexismycopilot]

Rating: T

Words: 10.3k

Summary: Anakin was in a former relationship with a bad Dom. Then he meets Obi-Wan.

[powerful-niya]

Domination oneshot is soo good! I really like the understanding dynamic between naruhina. But also can you write more in that au like hinata or naruto getting jealous or toneri tryna flirt with hinata or maybe angst?👀That au was amazing and your writing style make it even more wonderful!🔥

❤️Omg, Anon!! 😭😭 You're so wonderful, but oh so naughty, haha!! ❤️🖤 Thank you for your love and support!

🖤If you couldn't tell already, (haha), I really enjoyed writing the Domination short story for the Kiss Me, Thrill Me anthology. I just can't get enough of writing about Naruto unleashing his inner zaddy and being a true dominant! 🖤 I have to admit that he was so ughhh!!! Hot hot hot!! 🥵🔥

🤍I even found myself drooling over Naruto's sheer existence in the oneshot. He has the ability to melt a soul, I tell you. I've read his dialogue so many times, it's ridiculous, hehe! I have to say, I love it. Even if it is my own writing. 🥴🥴

❤️Hinata being rebellious was also so much fun to write—with her denying her dominant husband's demands, to go party and get drunk. I enjoyed writing a different side of Hinata, ya know, with her straying away from her usual 'good girl' persona. It was different and it felt different. But deep down, she's still a good girl at heart: a true submissive. Just she occasionally enters the "good girl gone bad" stage, haha. 🌚

🖤I absolutely love it when readers identify the little details I add in my stories. 😌 I add so many and I always wonder if my readers are able to connect the dots or notice the signs, haha. It makes me so happy when they do. Writing this oneshot, was hard at first, I didn't know where to begin, but after a while of planning, I was able to write an idea that I enjoyed and I am quite pleased with what I ended up with. 😌

🤍In their kinky dom/sub relationship, Naruto and Hinata enjoy a common ground—they both know where the other stands in their marrage, what rules to adhere to, and what is expected of them—and their both comfortable with those aspects. It's mutual/consensual both ways, and Naruto and Hinata can't get enough of one other, no matter what troubles they encounter together, I.e, this entire smutty oneshot, haha. I had a great time writing their kinky relationship, and I'm pleased you enjoyed reading it, anon!

❤️I wil DEFINITELY write more of this wonderfully kinky au, with daddy Dom Naruto and submissive (but at times) naughty Hinata, hehe. I already had some ideas in mind, but I really like the ones you provided! I can absolutely ramp up the heat and add more angst and characters to the mix. I've got you! 🔥

🖤Thank you so much for the ask! I have literally reread your comment over and over again. It has truly made my day! 🥺🤍 Please, don't be shy to send more love in my inbox, anon(s). 🫶🏽❤️

🤍If anyone is interested, the naruhina oneshot that I wrote and was mentioned in this ask can be accessed here: Domination.

[dandy-boy]

sometimes its okay to take care of your dom instead. straddling him, kissing him, pulling his hair. caressing his chest and biting and sucking on his nipples while scratching his back with your nails. leaving bites and love marks on his neck. and maybe sliding your hand inside his boxers to feel how hard he is for you, how wet you made him, stroking his tdick lightly while twisting his nipples. feeling empowered by every sigh and whimper as his hips rock against your fingers asking for more and smiling because after all you know he will fold for you

[hauntmexxzx]

Let’s commit the perfect murder together <3

[mysafewordisjumanji]

Its so annoying when you are acting all bratty and confident, insulting your dom and being an absolute asshole only for them to completely ignore you and not giving you the punishment you wanted.

[dark-sarcasm]

Been gone again for a while. But I'm back for now.

Life is a bitch. I wish I could fuck someone as hard as life is fucking me atm

How are my whores doing?