#sub and dom dynamics

[jaebeomsbitch]

Not Just A Boy (R.R.)

Summary: You've been dating Roman Roy for a while now when one day he decides he's ready to try. Maybe he's mad about something or one of his siblings said something but tonight is the night he's having sex.

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, humiliation kink, degradation, verbal abuse, and Roman feeling guilty/self harm after. Female reader

A/N: I've had this in my notes for weeks. I have so many half written fics right now. Also I don't think you can write smut about Roman without addressing his intimacy issues which is why I included him feeling disgusted after but he's always comforted.

“Woah easy there tiger,” you say, holding Roman’s shoulders from approaching you any closer. His face a couple inches from yours.

“What? Just trying to fuck my girlfriend, isn’t that what you've always wanted?” He says, a certain harshness to his tone but his face looks like he’s joking. 

“A-are you okay? Did something happen?” You ask concerned. He was out of it clearly, I mean he would’ve said if he was ready to try. His brother must’ve said something to him again 

“Oh suddenly I want to fuck and I have a problem? ,” he rolls his eyes. 

“Roman… you never want to. Not that I’m complaining just- what brought this on?” You ask, confused.

“I want to fuck the shit out of you, what’s the fucking problem?” He’s growing more and more annoyed you won’t even let him try. Roman can be very...aggressive when he wants something.

“If that’s what you want…” you feel weary. Knowing he’s probably in an emotionally precarious state. 

“I wanna fuck my girlfriend is that so hard to ask?” He throws his arms out in frustration but he’s got pending nerves stewing away in his gut. Maybe he wanted you to say no but he knew that you never denied him anything. You always gave into his stupid requests even at your own expense.

“Okay, turn off the lights then,” You sigh, knowing he won’t be able to do anything if he sees a shred of his skin. You knew he’d probably wouldn’t go far and he’d get mad at himself but you were willing to try. 

He leans over, turning off the lamp. His grip harsh on your hips as he pulls your shorts to your knees. 

“Calm down,” You try to say but he ignores, his heated hips pressing to yours quickly. Like he doesn’t want you to see. As if you’ll be able to see in a pitch black room but there’s no arguing with Roman. He gets what he wants, he always has. Being the son of a billionaire certainly afforded him that luxury. 

“Just- just let me,” He says breathlessly trying to do it himself but you know he’s near a breaking point. You decide to take charge, you flip him over onto his back. 

“I told you to calm down, can’t you listen?” You say annoyed with his pressing. 

“What the fuck?” He says, his voice coming out with a certain lilt. You keep your eye contact with him, knowing he doesn’t like anyone looking down at his cock. You grab it, watching as his eyes widen at your touch. He’s only ever been used to the pressure of his own hands so this is a big change. 

“Spit,” You command him, holding your hand to his mouth. He just looks at you, his brain foggy as he’s trying to keep up with this change in dynamic. 

“W-what?” His eyebrows pinch

“You want to be disgusting, let’s be fucking disgusting or would you prefer me to take over? Can’t use your cock, gotta have your girlfriend do it for you” you taunt, already upset that he thinks he can do whatever he wants. You've spent countless nights with Roman's insistent hips pressed to your leg, his hands bruising the skin he grabs onto. Enough was enough.

“Okay if you want to stop, I'm stopping” You start pulling away from him but his hands grip onto your forearm. He can’t say it, the embarrassment washing over him as his arousal sets in. He likes seeing you like this, your smart mouth being used to put him in his place. 

“N-no,” He finally says. 

“Look a you, can’t even ask for what you want," You taunt, his big doe eyes looking up at you as he bites down on his lower lip to keep himself from whining. A mewl leaves the back of his throat, his eyes big and desperate.

"You say all those disgusting things to me, send me photos of your dick multiple times a day, and I have to fuck you myself? You’re useless Roman, just a little fucking toy for me aren’t you? That’s what you want?” You sneer, face an inch from his. God he looks so cute like this.

He nods, “Y-yes, m’disgusting,” he says breathlessly. You tease his cock, tapping it at your entrance. 

“Yeah, you’re pathetic. You’re nothing but a filthy little piece of shit,” You say, watching his face. He’s lost in your words, his mind foggy at the way you grip his thigh harshly. That familiar pain creeping in mixed with you pumping him dryly at his insistence.  A bead of precum spilling out as you move to rub the head of it. He hisses at his sensitivity. You decide to relent, giving him just a moment of sweetness that he doesn’t deserve. You lean down, hot spit spilling onto his cock. You pump faster with the new lubrication, small moans spilling from his mouth. 

His chest reddens, Roman could be vocal during phone sex sure but it was always breathless sighs. This was different, the reverberation of his whines pressing into his chest making him feel like a gong. His head pounding with the noise. He tries not to think about it, about this. About how you’ve crossed this line for the first time as more insults spill through your mouth. 

“Never gonna be good enough to be anything but my fuckdoll,” You say, looking at the faint outline of your hand working at the skin. The mixture of spit and precum shining under the moonlit night. He feels that familiar heat in his belly, his stomach twitching as his voice climbs. You pump him faster, the skin between your thumb and index finger running up the vein. His breath is ragged as he shudders.

“Shi-it, yeah.. nothing but your fuck toy,” He whines, his head thrashing on the pillow. The heat growing and growing as he loses himself in the feeling. Just as you feel his hips start to twitch you let go. He whimpers at the loss almost crying as he begs for you to touch him again. 

“Please— please don’t stop,” He mewls, hands coming to grip your forearm again. 

“You take what I fucking give,” You say, your lip curled in disgust as you shake his hands off. 

You let him stew in the loss of his orgasm, his dick is painfully hard and spasming as you remove your shorts. You slide his sleep pants off, moving in between his legs so his thighs crowd your knees. Your hands latch onto the meat of his thighs as you hook the back of his knees to your hips. You grab his cock tapping it against your entrance again. 

“F-fuck, m’ple—“ He chokes, not getting the full word out. 

“Yeah?” You try to make out his face in the darkness, the sound of his head nodding against the pillow mixed with his pants not enough. 

“Y-yeah,” He agrees, his voice smaller than normal. 

“I’ll stop Rome, I’m serious,” You say a little more sternly. 

“Just… fuckin’ put it in already,” He says, embarrassed but whiny at the idea. You give him a second to back down as you line up your hips with the tip of his cock. 

“Please,” Finally slips through his gasping lips. The tension in the room crackling as you slowly push into him. Your walls stretching as he slides into you. His hands grip onto the sheets, head thrashing at the sensation. This was much newer and tighter than his soft fist. 

“Look at you, so pathetic,” You say choking on your spit. It’s been too long since you’ve felt this, you’d sacrificed your pleasure for your relationship with Roman. One that you were semi-happy with, especially now that he’s moaning under you. 

You drag your hips, “Nothing more than a dildo to me,” You say as your hips slap against his ass.  

“Ye- yes,” He nods his head, his eyes scrunched closed. You start moving faster against him, the sound of skin slapping filling Roman’s apartment for the first time. You pound into him using him like the most expensive dildo in the world. His mouth hangs open, broken sounds leaving his pink lips. 

“So fucking eager for me, no one can fuck you like this, huh? So pathetic look at you moaning under me like a fucking slut,” You breathe as you lean over, your hand next to his head as you use him. You move your hips until you feel him hit that familiar part of you, a grunt leaving your lips. 

“Fuck’ disgusting, imagine your dad seeing this. Watching you get fucked, he’d be fucking revolted by you,” You say. 

“If only he knew his youngest son likes being treated like a common whore, just a pathetic little fuck toy,” Your voice lowering at the exertion of your movements. 

“Thank you thank you,” He mumbles, small droplets of tears in his eyes threaten to spill at his overwhelming pleasure. His moans growing louder and louder, that familiar heat building in his stomach again. 

“Please- please don’t stop,” He pleads, a moan hitching at the back of his throat as your hips buck wildly against his ass. The heels of his feet pressing into you to pull you closer. You chase your own release, the familiar fluter of your walls clamping onto him as you grow closer and closer. Grunts spilling from your lips faster, the thought of insulting him flown out the window. 

“So fucking perfect,” You gasp, leaning the rest of the way down to suck on whatever exposed skin you can find trying to quiet yourself. Your teeth grazing at the tendon on his neck, tongue gliding against the prominent vein as he clenches his jaw. His hips twitch, chasing his own release. His mind hazy at the feeling of you pressed all over him. He tries to will himself to focus on your words but when your teeth bite down a little harder he feels his eyes roll back. The threatening of his skin breaking at your mercy bringing him closer and closer to the edge until he’s careening over it. He whines and gasps, his face twisting in pleasure, mouth hung open. He sounds more like a rabid animal as broken sounds leave his lips. 

“Fuuuck” You gasp as you pummel his abused skin. His ass red with your repeated force and his cock already sensitive but his cum provides an easier glide as you use him. Tears spill down his cheeks at the overstimulation until you feel yourself free fall over the edge. Your hips bouncing against him as your thighs shake. Your face digging deeper into his neck, your mouth left open as you press it harder against his clenched muscles. 

You catch your breath before you lower his legs, soothing his aching muscles as he shudders. You try to warm him up, he’s probably not used to subspace. You try to pull him close as you finally lie next to him but he pushes your hands off. The disgust setting deep into his skin until it’s almost consuming him. You recognize that look in his eye, as you forcefully pull him toward the shower. You hand him the loofah, letting him rub his skin until its red and then yank it out of his hand. You’d only ever seen him like this a couple times before, when he decided to touch you on those rare occasions. You fear that this will break your relationship. That maybe you went too far with Roman. You turn around as he dries himself, you hand him a bottle of calming lotion. 

“For your skin, you rubbed it pretty raw,” You whisper afraid he’ll somehow runaway at your voice like a street cat. He tries to protest, “Put it on or I’m turning around and doing it myself,” You instruct. Making him feel like a kid again. 

“Okay buffalo bill,” He grumbles, slathering himself in the lotion as you put on your pajamas. He walks ahead of you fully dressed again, silently climbing into the bed, you lie next to him afraid he’ll try and run away but he does the unexpected. His head joins your pillow, his hand around your waist, as he breathe in your scent. For once in his life he stays held together, just slightly tattered and bruised because he's just a boy and you're just a girl. He sighs contently as you hug him back, your touch makes all the voices go away as he dozes off to sleep.

[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 🥰

[jaebeomsbitch]

Puppy (R.R) Smut

Pt.I

Summary: Sending Roman a present turns into a sexy phone call

Warnings: MINORS DNI! Masturbation, degradation, phone sex?, guided masturbation, dom/sub dynamics.

Authors Note: God was so fun to write this. The virgin Eddie fic is like 90% done!

Roman was used to meeting the world with witty quips and that smug smile on his face. He never registered it as awkward as it is. Everyone around him could see how he was shouldering the pain away. Shoving against it like a football player during practice. 

He doesn’t see you again until the day of his fathers funeral. Until you’re getting the police to open up the fence and drag him up off the floor, pulling him into his Escalade and sitting in complete silence as his driver takes you both to his penthouse.

You gently clean up his wounds, undress him, hand him some pain killers and water then tuck him into bed with a kiss to his forehead. He doesn’t understand it. Why would you randomly come back to take care of him like this? You’d just left like it was nothing, it really was nothing. It was some flirting at best but here you were toeing off your heels and digging through his closet for a sleep shirt. 

You knew he’d never have the courage to ask you to stay. So you slip off your dress and put on his shirt sliding into the cool sheets of his bed and pressing him against your chest like a mother would to a child. It’s not long until he’s uncontrollably sobbing in your arms. He babbles incoherently as you rub his back. You hold him for what seems like hours until his tears are dried and the shirt you borrowed is full of snot. The bandaid on his face falling from his face. 

You stand up pulling a bandaid out from your phone case. You’d have it there for emergencies, in case your heels cut up your ankles. He sits there sniffling trying to push your hand away as you place a blue bandaid on him. It’s got a fat puppy all over it, like snoopy but different. 

You let him tucker himself out until he’s passed out on his bed, his fingers clutched to the shirt you’re wearing, red nosed, and puffy eyed. 

When you wake up he acts like nothing happened but he’s dressed differently. He’s no longer adorned with opulent suits but instead in baggy shorts and a T-shirt. He sips his coffee, that same smug smile adorning his face as he asks “ So how’d you sleep last night?”

You smile, seeing past his façade, seeing that scared little boy from last night. “Better with my kitten” you say in an annoying tone slipping back into teasing each other. You hug him tightly, almost spilling his hot coffee onto your arm. He’s trying not to laugh. 

“Well I’m not a kitten, I’m a tiger if anything. I’ll fuckin’ rip you to shreds” he scoffs sipping his bitter drink, pushing you off of him even though he craves the heat of your skin. 

“Fine, you’re my puppy then” you laugh, opening his refrigerator and grabbing an orange juice. He doesn’t say anything, he eyes you wearily. Sipping his drink but internally his heart pounds against his ribs.

You sip your drink watching him as he watches you like you’re in an old western movie ready to draw your guns. You silently finish your juice washing the cup as Roman makes a comment about how only peasants wash their dishes. 

Before he knows it you’re dressed and ready to slip out of his apartment and probably out of his life again. A part of him wants to beg for you to stay but his fragile ego won’t let him. He’d begged Gerri to stay and she threw it in his face. He couldn’t risk being hurt again and yet as you leave reminding him to call a doctor to stitch him up, his heart aches. 

He didn’t get to ask your name again. Miss Business and Pleasure… He wants to know who you are. Even if you’re just some low level employee at Waystar trying to kiss ass to climb the ladder. He sits on his his couch like Bella in Twilight, memories of the funeral, of his fuck up eating away at his soul. Any obligation to follow your orders and eat breakfast is long gone since you left. He feels that ache in his stomach and welcomes it. He deserves the pain for being useless. Everything was bullshit but most of all Roman was bullshit. 

He was always a pawn in a game he could never win. The court jester sent to fuck clients like a common whore despite his inability to get hard. 

Then there’s a package at the front desk. His mind racing, what could it be? Maybe another condolence gift, fuck em. Who cares? His father was dead and he was finally free of the cage and yet he could feel the familiar press of metal against his skin. He can practically see his siblings taunting him for being a weakling, dog bowl full of chow and water ready for him to dig in. 

The Gojo deal goes through he feels empty and free but chained… to what? Who knows. Like he'll never truly be free of the dog cage he grew accustomed to. The package sits in a pile until he finally decides to open them. Most of them have cards obviously written by personal assistants by rich fucks who can’t take the two seconds to write ‘sorry your dad died :/’ followed by bottles of expensive booze. Like that’s cured the crater in his chest. Maybe they wanted him to become an alcoholic. “34 year old Roman Roy found dead, choked on his own vomit,” he could almost imagine it. Taste the bile in his throat and the burn of the liquor in his chest. 

He gets to the last package opening it without a care. He rips through the tissue paper, the unfamiliar feeling on his fingertips before he registers what it is. It’s a blush pink collar. Why would someone send him a dog collar? Wait, this one was bigger and thicker… there’s a golden name plate that hangs from the middle of it, “Puppy” it reads. The metal jingles as he holds it up closer to his face.

“What the fuck?” He mumbles. 

Fingers searching through the packet until his index finger hits a corner of a paper. He pulls it out, a pink letter addressed to Roman well… to Puppy. He rips open the paper. There’s nothing on the paper, well no words it’s a phone number. 

Before he can think he’s dialing the number like he’s just a normal schmuck. He should probably at least Google search it but the phone is ringing and his heart pounds in his throat. He knows who this is from. 

“Romulus, to what do I owe the pleasure?” You say picking up on the third ring. 

“It’s you” he says, taken aback. 

“So it is. I take it you loved the present” you say, smirk on your lips. That familiar smug tone in your voice. 

“You want me to bark and sit on command too?” He asks, joking around with you. 

“I take it you didn’t see the back of the card” you reply. His hands go back to the note flipping it. 

“Sex dwarf by Soft Cell” it reads and then “send me a photo of it on, Puppy” all in your hand writing. 

“As if I’d do what you told me” he scoffs.

You laugh, “Why do I have a feeling you’re already hard imagining yourself on your knees for me? Crawling around your kitchen on all fours all pretty for me” 

“Seems like someone’s got a sick fetish. You’d like to break me down or something? Too bad I’m more emotionally stable that your fucking Psychologist,” Roman says. 

“We’ll see,” You say smugly over the phone before hanging up. Roman’s heart pounds, what the fuck did that mean? Would he see you again? Would he really have to wear the collar?

Weeks go by, his fingers itch to call you again. To hear your voice even over the shitty receiver of his pissed on phone. He doesn’t though, there’s a certain challenge between you going on. Like whoever contacts the other loses and yet, he knew if you reached out first you’d still somehow be winning. It was Roman who had all to lose in your invisible competition. Maybe it was all in his head?

There’s another box brought to him, this one a matching leash to his collar. His body can’t help it. He flushes with color imagining your red bottomed heels digging into his back, pressing his face to his tiled floor as you call him sick names, the leather biting at his skin on his neck. Before he knows it he’s walking over to his bedroom taking out the collar and matching leash and touching himself imagining it. His head tipped back, imagining the curl of your lips, that look of disgust on your face and then he’s coming all over his sheets. The collar and leash dripping with cum. He takes a photo and sends it to you waiting for a response like a puppy waiting for his owner. 

“See, I knew you liked it” you text, and then it's radio silence. Until his phone is ringing through the silent room. His fingers shaking, pants still down his thighs. 

“If it isn’t my owner,” He says sarcastically, fingers smudging the cum into the leather. 

“Put it on Romulus,” You say sternly over the phone. 

“That’s fucking-” He tries to protest. 

“Put the collar on like a good boy or I’ll have to punish you,” You say. 

“Oh I’m fucking trembling, what could you possibly do?” He says sarcastically. 

“I’m not asking again. Put the collar on or you’re never hearing from me again Romulus,” You say with a finality. He gulps, weirdly turned on by your threat despite jerking himself off less than five minutes ago. He puts the phone down, hands grabbing the collar and tightening it on his neck, his cum smearing all over his throat. 

“I’m not doing it,” He says, trying to sound stern, hand already playing with himself as he grabs the phone. You don’t say anything, his hand grabbing his hard cock and stroking himself slowly. 

“Mhm sure you're not,” You say condescendingly. 

“I’m holding it in my hand,” He quips back, fingers teasing the head of his cock before going back to stroke himself. He tries to keep his voice steady and breath even but the collar is doing more to him than he’d like to admit. 

“I know you Puppy. I know you’re touching yourself right now, imagining me telling how fucking disgusting you are. You’re a sick fuck Roman. Touching yourself while wearing my collar, you want to be owned don’t you? Want me to force you to admit how much you like this,” You say seductively. 

You hear him shudder as he hears those words. You hear him moan as he imagines you towering over him. Calling him your filthy and disgusting puppy. 

“Shit” He says, trying to hide the lust in his voice. 

“How’s it feel to touch yourself with your puppy tag bouncing on your throat? You’re my fucking toy to play with Rome. Let me hear how good it feels to fuck your hand while thinking of me,” You say. 

“You’re disgusting,” he says, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s now wearing the collar. You can hear as he tries to hide how much you’re turning him on, his face flushed.  You can hear the jingling of his collar and a puff of breath with his every movement.

“How did you know I was wearing it?” He asks you.

“Cause you want to be called a good boy,” You chuckle. Chills trickle down his spine, his face red as he strokes himself faster, teeth clenched trying to hold back his moans. He can’t hold back for much longer. You know you can just keep driving him further and further and he knows too. He’s at your mercy, has been since the first night you met. 

“You’re right,” he says. His voice is shaky and weak and he’s breathing very heavily.

“You’re disgusting Roman. You’re a sick fuck, God if you’re father knew you were jerking off with a dog collar on he’d smack you in the face,” you say into your phone. You knew he liked degradation from the way his breath hitched over the receiver.

“Let me hear how good your hand is making you feel Puppy,” You command.

“F-Fuck,” He moans, the jingling becoming more aparrent. His moans are mixed with the squelching of his hand on his cock. His precum dripping out, stomach tensing as he feels the burn in his belly. 

His eyes are closed. You can almost hear the blood coursing through your veins as his breaths get heavier. God what you wouldn’t do to see him right now. Cock in his hand, thighs quivering, head tilted upward trying to hold onto a semblance of himself as he fucked his fist as you tell him what to do. 

“Oh God,” is all he can manage to say. “Fuck- Fuck– m’disgusting,” He pants, the tingle at the base of his spine feeling electrifying. 

“That’s it pup, you’re close aren’t you? Let me hear you. Fuck, wish I could see those big puppy eyes begging me to let you cum” You say breathily. The jingle of his collar ringing in your ears.

His orgasm builds and builds until his thighs are trembling like he just ran a marathon, a mixture of moans and curse words spilling out his lips. He’s in pure heaven, hand stroking over himself as he spills onto his thighs, eyes rolling back, mouth open as moans spill out. 

“F-fuuuck” he pants as he relaxes against his bed. His phone pressed to his ear. 

His phone still pressed against his ear, he struggles to catch his breath. He listens to his own heavy breathing. He can feel the chills going down his spine as his chest rises and falls. His breathing is shallow, short and fast as his brain is completely fried. He can’t think about anything other than the pleasure he just felt. 

“Oh God,” he says again, trying to find words to show how he’s feeling. But he can’t say anything else. Not after what you just did to him.

“Good boy, Romey” you coo. 

“Fuck you,” He pants. 

“You wish,” You chuckle. 

“Now, follow your commands and send me a photo,” You say not letting him answer as you hang up immediately. Roman’s brain is complete mush. Fuck you, who did you think you were demanding a photo? A part of him also wanted to comply. The deep rooted feeling of wanting approval gnawing at him. Why did those two words from you send a shiver down his spine? God was he doing this? What if you sent this photo to someone else? 

Nonetheless ten minutes later your phone buzzes with a text. It’s a photo of Roman, his face cropped out but his neck adorned with that pink collar covered in his cum, his torso covered with a dress shirt, slacks down just enough for his cock to be free. He completely ruined his expensive suit, it’s all painted in his cum. 

“Good boy,” You reply. 

Roman had found himself in a completely different dog cage. One without his siblings cackling at him and forcing him to bark on command. Now you were outside the cage, images of your body clad in lingerie, insults passing through your lips, taunting him from outside of his metaphorical cage. Roman was your wholly devoted Puppy even if he wasn’t willing to fully admit it. 

[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💜🖤

[boysr4breaking]

my type of carrying on

[tsunaso]

“OH MY SWEET SUMMER CHILD”

pairing. Omega!Mikey x Omega!Sanzu x Alpha!male reader

synopsis. karma reduced Sanzu Haruchiyo to nothing and took another omega down with him. — 5.7k words part one.

warnings. mdni, nsfw, amab reader, dead dove, drugging, bitching, degradation, dubcon (due to altered state), dark omegaverse, humiliation, feminization, overstimulation, breeding, knotting, forced submission.

Sanzu didn’t know how much time had passed.

Minutes? Hours? It didn’t matter.

The heat was settling into his bones, wrapping around his spine like a slow, venomous snake. His body felt wrong—too hot, too needy, too fucking weak. He hated it. Hated the way his scent grew richer with every passing second, filling the room with a sickly sweetness that made his stomach turn.

It wasn’t his scent. Not the scent of an alpha.

The realization sent a fresh wave of rage crashing into his ribs, but it was a hollow kind of anger—desperate, useless.

The door creaked open, and Sanzu barely lifted his head before the thick, heavy presence of M/n’s scent filled the room. It should have been oppressive. It should have made Sanzu bristle with defiance.

Instead, it just made his stomach twist.

M/n strolled in leisurely, the smirk on his face downright amused as he took in the pathetic sight before him. “Well, well,” he mused, crouching beside Sanzu. “It’s setting in faster than I expected. You must have had a lot of suppressed omegan traits for it to be hitting this hard.”

Sanzu clenched his jaw, refusing to acknowledge him, but he knew—knew—M/n could hear the way his breathing had changed. Shallow. Unsteady. Desperate.

“Still in denial?” M/n hummed, his voice dropping into something lower, darker. “That’s cute.” He reached forward, barely ghosting his fingers over Sanzu’s jaw.

A violent shudder wracked Sanzu’s body. His own skin felt wrong, hypersensitive in ways he didn’t understand. He wanted to pull away, to snarl, to bite—but the moment M/n’s fingers brushed over his scent glands, his body froze.

Felt good.

No. No, no, no, no.

Sanzu jerked away with a choked noise, his breath coming out uneven. His entire body was trembling, his muscles twitching like he was going to rip himself apart. His scent thickened with frustration, humiliation, and something else—something darker.

M/n clicked his tongue. “Pathetic,” he muttered, standing up. “You should be grateful we’re keeping you. If I let you go now, you’d be torn apart by the first alpha that caught your scent. Maybe that’s what you deserve, though.”

Sanzu’s stomach twisted violently. His instincts recoiled at the thought—exposed, helpless, left to fend for himself in a world where he was nothing.

No pack. No status. No protection.

He needed—

Sanzu stopped breathing for a second.

He needed protection.

His body was crying for it, his instincts clawing at his mind, screaming at him to find someone stronger to keep him safe. He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood, but it didn’t matter—the panic was already setting in.

He needed—

The door opened again.

A sharp, unmistakable scent flooded the room, cutting through the haze in Sanzu’s mind like a blade.

Omega.

But not just any omega.

Him.

Sanzu’s body reacted before his mind even caught up. His scent spiked—needy, desperate, craving.

Fucking disgusting.

He felt bile rise in his throat, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the unbearable pull in his gut. The part of his mind still clinging to reason was screaming—raging against the betrayal of his own body, but it was already too late.

Because the omega had already noticed.

He stepped into the room without hesitation, his black eyes locking onto Sanzu with something close to boredom. His scent was sharp, unwavering, and infinitely stronger than what Sanzu remembered from that alleyway.

And Sanzu—

Sanzu leaned toward him.

It was so fucking small—just a shift in posture, the way his breath caught slightly in his throat—but it was enough.

The omega’s lips curled. “Are you serious?”

Sanzu swallowed thickly, his throat too dry, too tight. He wanted to say something, anything, but his body was moving on its own, drawn toward the closest source of comfort.

The omega took a step forward. Sanzu flinched.

Not from fear.

From restraint.

From the unbearable, crawling need under his skin.

A sharp scoff cut through the thick air. “That’s fucking disgusting,” the omega muttered, his voice filled with pure, unfiltered disgust.

Sanzu trembled violently. His breath stuttered, his scent betraying him even more, turning unbearably needy. He wanted to scream, wanted to rip off his own skin, wanted to run—but he couldn’t.

His body was begging.

And the omega could smell it.

M/n chuckled darkly from the doorway. “Ah… seems like he’s really starting to feel it now.”

The omega barely acknowledged him, his gaze still pinned on Sanzu like he was something rotten stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

Sanzu wanted to hate him. Wanted to spit in his face, snarl, demand that he wipe that fucking look off his—

But all he could do was stare, trembling, desperate, as his body betrayed him more and more with every second.

The omega sighed, voice thick with irritation. “What a waste,” he muttered. Then, after a moment, he tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing.

“…Does he even know my name?”

Sanzu stiffened.

A slow, cruel smirk spread across M/n’s lips. “Oh,” he exhaled, amusement flickering in his voice. “He really doesn’t, does he?”

Sanzu’s stomach dropped.

The omega—the omega he had tried to take—stepped closer, just enough that Sanzu could feel the ghost of his pheromones press against his skin. He crouched down, leveling Sanzu with a blank stare.

“You really don’t know?” he murmured.

Sanzu’s mouth went dry.

The omega’s expression barely shifted, but something in his gaze sharpened.

“Sano Manjiro,” he said flatly. “But you—” His lips twitched up in a cruel, humorless smirk.

“You can call me Mikey.”

Sanzu’s heart pounded in his chest.

Mikey.

That name—he knew that name.

The second in command of Bonten. The most dangerous omega in the city. The untouchable king of the underworld.

The one fucking omega he should have never, ever laid his hands on.

Mikey stood up, rolling his shoulders like this conversation had already bored him.

“Keep him,” he muttered to M/n, already turning away. “I don’t care.”

The door shut behind him, and just like that—his presence was gone.

Sanzu barely heard M/n’s chuckle, low and dark in the back of his throat.

“Well,” M/n hummed, stepping closer, reaching down to cup Sanzu’s trembling jaw.

“Now you know.”

　　　　　　　　· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Sanzu was losing.

His body was drenched in sweat, slick and trembling, heat curling through every inch of him like a wildfire he couldn’t put out. His breathing was ragged, uneven, little whimpering noises slipping from his throat no matter how hard he tried to choke them back.

Everything hurt—his stomach ached, his thighs shook, his hole clenched around nothing, desperate for relief that wouldn’t come.

It was so wrong—so fucking wrong—and yet, no matter how hard he fought it, his body was needy in ways he couldn’t ignore.

His pussy—no, not pussy, not that—his hole was aching, fluttering open and empty, making his hips twitch against the mattress.

And worse?

His dick—his useless, pitiful dick—was soft.

No knot. No hardness. Just a sad little thing, sticky with leaking slick, resting against his stomach, completely ignored by his own heat.

His body wasn’t asking to be fucked like an alpha. It wasn’t even acknowledging that part of him anymore.

It was begging to be bred.

Sanzu bit his lip so hard it split, blood mixing with the embarrassing, syrupy sweet scent pouring off him. His thighs pressed together, trying to rub some kind of friction against his swollen, puffy entrance, but it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

The door creaked open, and Sanzu’s entire body froze.

A thick, powerful scent flooded the room—alpha.

His body reacted immediately, thighs tensing, hole fluttering pathetically. His head snapped up, and through the feverish haze clouding his mind, he registered M/n standing in the doorway, watching him with pure amusement.

“Tch.”

M/n stepped forward slowly, hands tucked in his pockets, completely unbothered by the thick, humiliating scent in the room. His sharp gaze flicked lazily over Sanzu’s wrecked form—his sweat-drenched skin, the way his legs shook, the pathetic mess of slick and shame pooling beneath him.

His lips curled.

“Look at you.”

Sanzu trembled.

M/n crouched beside him, resting an elbow on his knee, tilting his head. “What happened to all that attitude, hm?” he murmured, voice low, mocking. “You were barking so loud before. Now look at you—”

His eyes flickered lower, to Sanzu’s shamefully soft dick.

A slow, wicked smirk spread across M/n’s face.

“…Well. That’s disappointing.”

Sanzu’s stomach twisted into knots.

M/n reached out, gripping his chin, forcing Sanzu’s dazed, glassy eyes to meet his own. “Not even hard?” he murmured. His thumb ghosted over Sanzu’s lower lip, pressing down slightly, smirking when Sanzu’s mouth parted automatically.

“So useless.”

Sanzu let out a shaky breath, his fingers digging into the sheets. His entire body was burning, every nerve screaming for relief, but the humiliation coiling in his stomach was just as unbearable.

M/n hummed, tilting his head slightly. “I wonder…”

His free hand drifted lower, over the curve of Sanzu’s waist, his soft, pathetic belly, down to his thighs, which tensed beneath his touch.

Sanzu stiffened.

No. No, no—

But M/n ignored him, pushing his thighs apart effortlessly, exposing the soaked, puffy mess between his legs.

Sanzu whimpered.

“Awww,” M/n cooed, mocking, watching the way Sanzu’s slick dripped down onto the sheets. “All swollen and puffy. Poor thing. No wonder you’re suffering so much.”

His fingers ghosted over the sensitive, twitching entrance, making Sanzu’s entire body jerk violently. A choked, humiliating little gasp escaped him, before he could even stop it.

M/n’s smirk widened.

“Sensitive, aren’t we?”

Sanzu’s chest heaved, his thighs twitching, trying to press back together, but M/n’s grip on him was iron-strong.

The worst part?

His hole fluttered, clenching around nothing, desperately sucking in the air, trying to get something—anything inside.

M/n chuckled.

His fingers dragged lower, tracing the slick-drenched, swollen mess between Sanzu’s legs, his touch so light it made Sanzu’s breath hitch violently.

“Such a cute little pussy.”

Sanzu’s eyes went wide.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

“No,” he rasped, shaking his head, voice wrecked, barely there. “No, I—”

But M/n tapped a finger against his twitching, leaking hole, and whatever Sanzu was about to say vanished in a broken, needy little sob.

His body betrayed him.

M/n grinned.

“Ohhh,” he exhaled, mocking delight dripping from his voice. “You like that?” He pressed a little firmer, watching the way Sanzu’s entrance fluttered around the touch, how his body instinctively tried to take him in.

Sanzu’s breathing stuttered.

Tears burned at the corners of his eyes.

M/n leaned in, voice dropping to a low purr.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Say it.”

Sanzu shook his head, lips parted, breath coming in ragged little pants.

M/n’s smirk turned ruthless.

His thumb dragged down, slick gathering on his fingers, pressing just barely against Sanzu’s puffy, twitching pussy, pushing in just enough to make Sanzu’s entire body jerk violently.

A sharp, broken cry ripped from his throat.

M/n hummed, amused.

“There we go,” he murmured. “Just like a good little omega.”

Sanzu’s chest heaved, his entire body trembling as the heat twisted deeper, spreading through his veins like molten lava. His fingers dug into the sheets, his thighs quivering, still trying—weakly, uselessly—to press together, to hide himself from the hungry, amused gaze drinking him in.

But M/n wouldn’t let him.

“You’re still fighting?” M/n mused, tilting his head, his thumb dragging slow, lazy circles against the puffy, leaking mess between Sanzu’s legs.

Sanzu twitched violently, a humiliating, sharp gasp tearing from his throat.

It was too much.

The heat had already wrecked him, stripped him of everything, made his body hypersensitive—and now M/n was toying with him, pushing against the swollen, fluttering entrance just enough to make Sanzu’s instincts claw at his mind.

His body knew what it needed.

It was begging for it.

But M/n wasn’t giving it to him.

Not yet.

Sanzu bit down on his lip, his vision blurry, heat pooling low and deep in his gut. He wanted to scream, wanted to curse and fight, but the moment M/n pressed his fingers in a little deeper, a broken little sob escaped him instead.

M/n grinned.

“There we go,” he murmured, voice sickly sweet, mocking. “I knew you’d sound cute when you finally stopped pretending.”

Sanzu whimpered, hips jerking forward against his will, chasing more, desperate, needy—

M/n’s fingers vanished.

A sharp cry ripped from Sanzu’s throat, his body arching off the bed, his hole clenching around nothing, sucking in the empty air.

M/n laughed.

“Awww,” he cooed, reaching out to cup Sanzu’s jaw, tilting his flushed, tear-streaked face up toward him. “Poor little thing. Did you want something?”

Sanzu’s lips parted, breath hitching, his entire body burning. His scent spiked, thick with helpless, desperate need.

But he still wouldn’t say it.

M/n sighed, shaking his head, disappointed. “Still acting tough?”

Sanzu shuddered.

Then—

A sharp slap landed against his inner thigh, stinging, making him flinch and jerk.

M/n’s tone darkened.

“Say it.”

Sanzu’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his pulse pounding in his ears. His pride was dangling by a thread, fragile, barely holding on—

M/n’s fingers dragged lower again, teasing over the slick, messy folds, his thumb pressing against the sensitive, twitching entrance.

Sanzu gasped, thighs trembling, his body trying to sink down onto it.

But M/n still wouldn’t give it to him.

“Beg.”

Sanzu whimpered, fingers clenching into the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white. His mouth opened, but no words came out, just ragged little breaths, humiliated, broken noises.

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

Another sharp slap to his inner thigh made him jolt violently, and M/n grabbed his chin again, forcing their eyes to meet.

“Be a good girl,” M/n murmured, his smirk widening, voice dripping with cruel amusement. “Tell me what you need.”

Sanzu’s vision blurred. His body ached, twitched, desperation clawing at his mind. His heat was devouring him, instincts screaming, pleading, demanding—

The words ripped from his throat before he could stop them.

“Please.”

M/n’s eyes gleamed.

Sanzu shuddered, tears spilling down his flushed cheeks, humiliation burning through him hotter than the heat itself.

M/n hummed, dragging his fingers lazily over Sanzu’s needy, dripping hole, making him whimper, squirm, gasp.

“Please what?”

Sanzu bit his lip, his throat tight, chest heaving. He couldn’t say it.

But his body was screaming it for him.

M/n sighed in mock sympathy. “Such a dumb little thing.”

Then—

His fingers pushed inside.

Sanzu gasped, his entire body arching off the mattress, a sharp, wrecked moan tearing from his throat.

It felt too good.

The stretch, the fullness, the way M/n’s fingers curled just right, pressing against something deep inside him, making his hole clench down, sucking his fingers deeper.

His useless, pathetic d*ck twitched against his stomach, leaking slick and precum, but still—still—not even half-hard.

His body had no use for it.

Only his soft, soaking-wet pussy mattered now.

M/n groaned, watching the way Sanzu’s swollen entrance clenched greedily around his fingers. “Ohhh, you were made for this.”

Sanzu let out a pitiful little whimper, his entire body trembling, his hips rolling down into the touch, chasing more, more, more—

M/n’s fingers slid out.

Sanzu sobbed.

“No,” he choked out, his hole clenching around nothing, slick dripping down his thighs, making a mess of the sheets beneath him. “No, no, please—”

M/n chuckled, his fingers coated in slick, watching the ruined, broken mess before him.

“Look at you,” he murmured, amused. “So desperate. So empty.”

Sanzu’s entire body shuddered.

M/n shifted, undoing his belt, pulling his pants down just enough to free his aching, heavy cock, already slick with precum, flushed, throbbing.

Sanzu’s breath hitched.

M/n’s fingers curled around his soft, dripping pussy, giving it a slow, teasing rub, making Sanzu cry out, his hips jerking forward.

“Want me to fill you up, sweetheart?” M/n murmured, mocking, taunting, rubbing his thick, leaking tip against the sensitive, twitching hole.

Sanzu nodded weakly, panting, lost, his body begging for it.

M/n’s smirk widened.

“Use your words.”

Sanzu’s breath came out in a ragged sob.

“Please, Alpha—”

M/n’s hands gripped his thighs, spreading him wider, holding him open and exposed.

Then—

He thrust in.

Sanzu’s back arched off the mattress, his entire body seizing, a sharp, broken scream ripping from his throat as his aching, swollen pussy was finally, finally filled.

It was too much.

It was perfect.

M/n groaned. “Oh, you were made for this.”

Then, he started moving.

Sanzu screamed.

It was too much—too deep, too good, the stretch burning hot and perfect as M/n’s cock forced him open, shoving inside with a single, brutal thrust.

His pussy clenched down immediately, desperate, needy, sucking M/n’s cock deeper, like his body knew exactly what it was made for.

Sanzu’s thighs trembled, his breath stuttering into a wrecked sob, and when M/n pulled back, only to slam in again, even harder, his body arched violently off the bed.

“Ohhh,” M/n groaned, hands gripping Sanzu’s hips hard enough to bruise, holding him still, pinned, completely at his mercy. “So fucking tight.”

Sanzu let out a broken whimper, his hands scrabbling at the sheets, his mind fogged and empty, drowned beneath the overwhelming, unbearable pleasure.

His useless little dick was still soft, twitching against his stomach, dripping helpless little beads of slick and precum—completely forgotten.

His body didn’t care about it anymore.

His body only wanted cock.

M/n’s hands slid up, gripping Sanzu’s waist, before he slammed him down onto his length, forcing him to take it all.

Sanzu screamed.

A sharp, wet slap echoed in the room as M/n’s hips smacked against Sanzu’s, stuffing him full, over and over, his pussy gushing slick, making a mess of both of them.

“Fuck,” M/n grunted, forcing Sanzu’s legs wider, watching his puffy, swollen little hole stretch around his thick length, sucking him deeper with every thrust.

“You like this, huh?” M/n mocked, snapping his hips forward, watching the way Sanzu cried out, his breath ragged, gasping, desperate. “This cute little pussy was made to be fucked, wasn’t it?”

Sanzu shook his head weakly, whimpering, but his body betrayed him completely.

His hips rolled back automatically, chasing each thrust, his insides clenching down, begging to be filled, bred, ruined.

M/n laughed.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice dripping with pure amusement, watching the way Sanzu’s hole clenched greedily, slick dripping between his thighs.

“You’re just a fcking pussy now, aren’t you?”

Sanzu let out a choked sob, humiliation burning through him, but he couldn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop taking it.

Couldn’t stop wanting it.

Couldn’t stop needing it.

M/n grinned, leaning down, his breath hot against Sanzu’s ear.

“Say it.”

Sanzu’s breath hitched violently, his body shuddering, overwhelmed, his vision blurred with tears.

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

But then—

M/n’s fingers slid down, rubbing over his slick, swollen little dick, sending a white-hot spark of pleasure straight through him.

Sanzu screamed.

His entire body jerked violently, his pussy squeezing around M/n’s cock, soaking both of them in even more slick.

M/n chuckled, low and dark, his pace picking up, fucking into Sanzu even harder.

“Say it,” he growled, gripping his throat, his other hand still toying with Sanzu’s soaked little dick, stroking it in tight, warm palm.

Sanzu’s mind broke.

“I’m just a pussy!” he sobbed, screaming it, his body convulsing, drowning in mindless, unbearable pleasure.

“Good girl.”

M/n slammed into him one final time, shoving his cock as far as it could go with out catching on his knot, holding him there as his release spilled inside, filling Sanzu with hot, thick cum.

Sanzu let out a wrecked, broken moan, his back arching, his entire body shuddering violently as his own release ripped through him.

His pussy clamped down hard, milking M/n’s cock, desperate to be bred, his heat finally satisfied.

For now.

M/n pulled back slightly, watching as his cum dripped out, running down Sanzu’s thighs, pooling on the ruined sheets.

Sanzu was wrecked.

His breath came in ragged, choked sobs, his thighs twitching violently, his entire body overheated, soaked, ruined. His puffy, abused little hole was still fluttering, gaping, leaking M/n’s cum onto the sheets beneath him, his body still crying for more.

But his heat wasn’t over.

His instincts weren’t satisfied.

His pathetic little clit—his soft, useless excuse of a dick—twitched against his stomach, dripping slick, ignored, forgotten, completely useless to the heat wracking his body.

And then—

A new scent flooded the room.

Sharp. Cold. Omega.

Mikey.

Sanzu’s entire body tensed violently, his breath catching, his dazed, glassy eyes barely able to focus as he turned his head.

Mikey stood in the doorway, his dark, empty eyes dragging over Sanzu’s ruined form, his lips curling into a slow, disgusted smirk.

“Still in heat?”

Sanzu shuddered, a fresh wave of humiliation burning through him.

Because Mikey was right.

His body was still aching.

Still needy.

Still empty.

And Mikey could smell it.

M/n hummed, casual, lazy, watching as Mikey stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate, his scent curling around Sanzu like a noose.

“I was wondering when you’d give in,” M/n murmured, tilting his head. “Figured you’d be too disgusted to touch him.”

Mikey’s smirk widened. “I am disgusted.”

His sharp gaze dropped to Sanzu’s trembling, slick-drenched thighs, his ruined little clit twitching uselessly, and a low, mocking chuckle slipped from his lips.

“But he’s already dripping for me, isn’t he?”

Sanzu let out a soft, broken noise, his shame and desperation mixing into something unbearable.

Mikey stepped closer, the mattress dipping as he crawled over Sanzu’s body. At some point Mikey must off taken off his clothes because Mikey was pressing down against him, his own useless dick rubbing against Sanzu’s stomach, leaking precum.

Sanzu’s entire body tensed violently at the skin-on-skin contact, his instincts screaming at him to submit.

Mikey’s lips brushed against his ear, his voice a cold whisper.

“Little bitch,” he murmured.

Then—

His teeth sank into Sanzu’s scent gland.

Sanzu screamed.

His whole body arched off the bed, his clit twitching violently, slick gushing out of him, his heat kicking up even stronger as Mikey’s dominant omega scent poured into him.

Mikey licked over the bite slowly, savoring Sanzu’s pathetic little sobs.

“You’re so fcking weak,” he whispered, his hand dragging down Sanzu’s trembling stomach, his fingers ghosting over his pathetic, useless little clit.

Sanzu flinched violently, letting out a wrecked little whimper, because Mikey was touching it like it was a real pussy.

Mikey grinned.

“Awww,” he cooed, mocking, rubbing his fingers over the soft, twitching flesh, watching Sanzu’s entire body jerk uncontrollably.

“Look at this cute little clit.”

Sanzu sobbed.

Mikey’s fingers pinched it, rolled it between his fingers, rubbing tight little circles, and Sanzu’s breath hitched violently, his legs trembling as his body reacted against his will.

“Doesn’t even get hard anymore, does it?” Mikey murmured, his voice pure condescension.

Sanzu whimpered, shaking his head weakly, his body fighting him, his hips rolling into Mikey’s touch despite himself.

“Poor thing,” Mikey purred. “Bet it feels even better when I play with this messy little pussy, huh?”

His fingers dragged lower, teasing Sanzu’s drenched fluttering little hole, and Sanzu sobbed, his thighs twitching open even wider.

“Such a cute little thing,” Mikey whispered, mocking, taunting, pressing a single finger inside, watching Sanzu’s wrecked expression twist in unbearable pleasure.

Then—

M/n grabbed Mikey’s chin, yanking him up.

The omega snarled, but M/n just smirked.

“You’re awfully worked up for someone who wasn’t interested,” M/n murmured, his fingers dragging over Mikey’s entrance, rubbing over his slick-drenched hole.

Mikey’s breath hitched.

A sharp, violent shudder ran down his spine, his thighs twitching, pressing together instinctively, but M/n’s hand was already there, keeping them spread wide.

“Fuck off,” Mikey snapped, voice low, biting—but it wasn’t as sharp as it should’ve been.

Because his scent was changing.

It was subtle at first—just the slightest shift, something thicker, sweeter, mixing with the overpowering heat-heavy scent already filling the room.

M/n inhaled deeply, his grin widening.

“Ohhh,” he exhaled, his thumb brushing over Mikey’s slick entrance, feeling the way it fluttered under his touch.

“You’re feeling it now, aren’t you?”

Mikey tensed violently.

Because he was.

It had started the moment he walked into the room. The moment Sanzu’s ruined, heat-heavy scent hit him, the moment M/n’s thick alpha pheromones wrapped around him like a noose.

His body had reacted instantly.

He’d felt the tug in his gut, the slow, creeping burn pooling low in his stomach, the way his own slick started leaking out of him before he could even process it.

Sympathy heat.

He wasn’t even in his own cycle—his body was just responding to the scent of another omega in distress, to the dominant alpha presence pressing down on him.

It was natural. Instinctive.

And completely fucking disgusting.

Mikey clenched his teeth, his thighs trembling, his body fighting itself—but it was too late.

M/n chuckled darkly.

“You walked in here thinking you were better than him,” he mused, pressing his fingers against Mikey’s twitching, slick hole, watching the way it clenched down, desperate for something to fill it.

Mikey let out a sharp breath, his back arching slightly, his useless little dick twitching against his stomach.

M/n leaned in, his lips brushing against Mikey’s flushed, overheated ear.

“But now you’re just as bad,” he whispered.

Then—

He pushed a finger inside.

Mikey gasped, violently, his entire body jerking, his hole clenching down tight around M/n’s finger, sucking it deeper.

Sanzu watched.

Watched the omega who had mocked him, who had called him pathetic, who had looked at him with nothing but disgust—

Now writhing, panting, falling apart just as fast.

The realization sent a fresh pulse of slick out of Sanzu’s swollen, puffy little pussy, his thighs shaking, his own heat spiking again.

Mikey bit his lip hard, his breath ragged, his fingers gripping the sheets beneath him.

“Still trying to act tough?” M/n mocked, crooking his finger, pressing against that deep, sensitive spot inside.

Mikey let out a sharp, wrecked noise, his hips jerking forward, chasing the touch against his will.

Sanzu shuddered.

Because he recognized it.

That exact moment.

The moment when your body stopped listening to you.

When instincts took over completely.

M/n grinned.

“There it is.”

Mikey let out a ragged breath, his thighs twitching, his hole clenching hard around M/n’s fingers.

M/n leaned in, voice low, teasing.

“Do you get it now?”

Mikey trembled.

M/n dragged his fingers out slowly, leaving Mikey’s wet, clenching hole twitching around nothing, before pressing his slick-coated fingers against Sanzu’s entrance instead.

Sanzu gasped, his entire body arching, his soft, dripping little clit twitching uselessly against his stomach.

Mikey watched.

Watched as Sanzu’s puffy little pussy clenched around M/n’s fingers, his pretty little hole sucking them in greedily, instinctively.

Watched as Sanzu sobbed, wrecked, broken, completely lost in heat.

Watched as his own body reacted.

Slick dripped down his thighs, his entrance fluttering, aching, needing.

M/n smirked, watching both of them now.

“Two desperate little omegas,” he murmured, dragging Sanzu closer, grinding his slick-drenched pussy against Mikey’s dripping dick.

The contact was electric.

Both omegas let out a sharp, broken moan, their bodies trembling, reacting, needing more.

“Aw, fuck,” M/n chuckled, watching them twitch and whimper, their little cocks rubbing together, leaking slick.

“You’re both fucking ruined, aren’t you?”

Mikey growled weakly, trying to pull away—but the moment he moved, his dick dragged against Sanzu’s swollen pussy again, sending a sharp, violent pulse of heat through both of them.

Sanzu sobbed.

Mikey gasped, eyes wide, breath ragged.

M/n groaned, gripping Mikey’s hips, his hands strong, bruising, keeping him still.

M/n lined himself up.

Pressed the thick, leaking tip of his cock against Mikey’s twitching little hole.

Mikey’s breath caught.

He tensed.

M/n leaned in, voice low, rough, cruel.

“Since you think you’re so much better than him…”

Then—

He thrust in.

Mikey screamed.

His back arched violently, his hole clenching down around M/n’s cock, trying to suck him deeper, his heat finally, fully taking over.

M/n let out a low, satisfied groan, burying himself to the hilt, feeling Mikey’s tight, desperate little hole twitch and squeeze around him.

Sanzu watched, shaking, helpless.

Watched the strongest omega he knew finally submit.

And M/n?

M/n just grinned, grabbing Sanzu by the waist, forcing him forward, pressing their bodies together.

“Now,” he murmured, dragging his thick, hard cck out of Mikey’s soaked hole, lining himself up with Sanzu’s ruined, twitching pssy instead.

“Let’s see which one of you can take me better.”

Then—

He f*cked them both.

And neither omega stood a chance.

Sanzu’s wrecked little pussy clenched down greedily as M/n’s thick cock slammed into him, shoving him forward onto Mikey, their sweaty, slick-drenched bodies grinding together, their soft, useless little dicks rubbing with every brutal thrust.

Mikey’s mouth fell open, a wrecked, choked moan spilling out, his entrance fluttering pathetically, still slick with M/n’s release from the first round.

And now—

Now, he had Sanzu’s heat-soaked body pinned against him, rubbing against his aching, twitching, desperate little hole.

“You two are so f*cking filthy,” M/n groaned, his grip bruising as he slammed into Sanzu harder, faster, forcing the other omega’s body to grind against Mikey’s.

Sanzu sobbed, whimpering, broken, his legs shaking violently, his hole so swollen and abused it could barely hold M/n’s thick length inside.

But his body refused to let go.

Every thrust forced slick out of him, drenching both omegas in his heat-drunk mess.

Mikey hissed, his own body reacting, his entrance clenching, his hips bucking forward to meet the friction.

M/n grinned.

“Awww,” he mocked, watching Mikey’s wrecked expression twist in unbearable pleasure. “I thought you hated him?”

Mikey’s breath hitched violently.

M/n dragged Sanzu off his cock, watching his swollen, puffy little pussy clench around nothing, his slick dripping onto the sheets.

Sanzu whined loudly, his entire body jerking forward, desperate, needy, lost.

And just as quickly—

M/n shoved into Mikey instead.

Mikey cried out, his back arching, his hole stretching wide, swallowing M/n’s cock so deep his entire body shook.

Sanzu watched helplessly, watched as M/n buried himself to the hilt, stuffing Mikey full in one sharp thrust, watched as Mikey let out the most wrecked little whimper, his slick gushing around the thick length inside him.

“Alpha—” Mikey choked, voice wrecked, humiliated, needy.

M/n’s grin widened.

“Ohhh, you’re calling me Alpha now?” he taunted, grabbing Mikey’s throat, forcing him to look up.

Mikey’s legs twitched violently, his face flushed, his breathing ragged.

M/n fucked into him harder, dragging another broken moan from the smaller omega’s throat.

Sanzu whimpered, his thighs clenching together, his own pussy throbbing, aching, his slick-covered clit twitching against his stomach.

“Look at you,” M/n murmured, watching as both omegas trembled beneath him, their bodies writhing, leaking, begging for more.

He reached down, gripping both of their chins, forcing them to look up at him.

“You’re both nothing but little cock-drunk whores now, huh?”

Sanzu sobbed, his body too far gone, his heat too overwhelming, his mind too ruined to do anything but nod.

Mikey squeezed his eyes shut, his lips trembling—but his body betrayed him too.

Because he nodded just the same.

M/n groaned, dragging himself out of Mikey, grabbing Sanzu, shoving back into his soaked little pussy instead, watching as the pink-haired omega collapsed backward, his entire body trembling, shaking, his pussy fluttering, welcoming every brutal thrust.

Mikey was panting heavily, his hole clenching around nothing, his body aching for more.

M/n smirked. “See, Mikey?”

He reached down, grabbing Mikey’s hips, lifting him slightly, positioning him over Sanzu’s heat-soaked body.

“Since you’re both so desperate, why don’t you fuck each other for me?”

Mikey’s breath stuttered.

Sanzu let out a wrecked, soft little sob, his body already moving on instinct, his hips rolling upward, rubbing against Mikey’s swollen, slick hole.

Both omegas gasped.

Mikey twitched violently, his fingers digging into Sanzu’s skin, his heat-soaked body grinding down automatically.

Slick poured out of them both, mixing together, making a disgusting, messy pool beneath them.

M/n groaned at the sight, gripping both of their waists, forcing them to grind harder.

“Fuck, look at you two,” he muttered, watching as they writhed together, slick-drunk and heat-crazed, rubbing their little pssies against each other, whimpering, gasping, too lost in need to care about anything else.

“You were supposed to hate each other,” he chuckled, his fingers digging in, keeping them moving, making them chase the pleasure.

“But now you’re nothing but my desperate little omega toys.”

Mikey let out a wrecked moan, his body shaking violently, his hole clenching down around nothing, his heat consuming him.

Sanzu was already gone, too deep in submissive omega bliss, his thighs trembling, his slick-covered clit twitching, completely, utterly broken.

M/n groaned.

“Since you both worked so hard—”

He grabbed Mikey, slamming him back down onto his cock.

Mikey screamed, his entire body arching, his hole sucking M/n’s length so deep his stomach bulged slightly.

Sanzu watched, panting, twitching, his own pussy clenching around nothing, jealous, needy, wrecked.

M/n fucked into Mikey harder, his pace brutal, merciless, making the omega collapse forward onto Sanzu’s chest.

Sanzu could feel the way Mikey trembled, the way his body shook, could feel the overwhelming heat radiating off of him.

And then—

M/n slammed in deep, biting down on Mikey’s scent gland, filling him, stuffing him full of thick, hot cum.

Mikey screamed, wrecked, mindless.

His hole clenched around M/n’s knot, locking him in place, milking him, his own release spilling out of him, mixing with the slick covering both omegas.

And then—

Sanzu whimpered.

Still empty.

Still aching.

Still needing.

M/n grinned, looking down at his ruined little omegas.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmured, dragging his fingers through Sanzu’s dripping slick.

“You’re next.”

And Sanzu?

Sanzu knew—

He would never escape this.

And worse?

He didn’t want to.

[2neaky]

.⟡ ֺ 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘔𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘔𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦? 𓂂 ˚.

Part 1

MDNI (seriously) -> dom/sub dynamics, m*sturbation (male), edg*ng, denied/controlled *rgasm(s), minor feet pl*y, p in v s*x, dubious consent, technically forced penetration, rough s*x, mindless f*cking, cr*ampie, talking through it, male sub, female softdom, unnamed female character, descriptive language, use of nicknames (baby, Mama, & Papa)

He’s trying to stay on the right path. Be good for her while she’s gone.

Just before she left, she squeezed a couple more drops out of him. Right in the middle of their kitchen, on her knees, before him.

At the time, only about thirty minutes separated then and the first time she used him, back in the bedroom. Between then, he was sure he could recover. But that last session, before her departure, knocked him off his game. 

It’s been almost forty minutes since she left. It still hasn’t gone down.

He’s tried distractions: making a snack, watching a show, checking his socials. No distraction was distracting enough.

Because no matter what he does, she’s at the back of his mind. She’s always at the back of his mind.

Sunken into the couch, he stares down at his phone, watching her Instagram story. 

She’s at one of those influencer events. It’s far from her first one, the life of a content creator and all.

Her hair pulled back shows off her beautiful face, and how amazing she did her makeup. She’s so good at doing it. It makes him proud that she’s able to get paid off of doing something she loves. 

God, he’s so proud of her.

She’s all dressed up, too. In his humble opinion, this is her best look. It tops every one she’s ever done (but, that’s what he says about every new outfit she puts together). 

A black, lace-y jumpsuit from Outcast is her choice of outfit. It shows off too much, and not enough at the same time.

The top squeezes her boobs together so nicely. She used her favorite body oil tonight—the scent wafts off of her when she’s near—causing the nearest light source to bounce off of her supple skin. 

And her ass—watching her leave was the best and worst thing to see. Her body had him by the throat with every step she took.

For a while, after she left, all he could think about was the last time they had sex; how she had him keep still while she fucked him, reverse cowgirl. Just making him take it.

He wasn’t mad about that at all.

He had perfect memory of the way her ass clapped over him while her pussy swallowed every inch. 

Sensation and sight alike made him feel like he was losing his grip on reality. And even then, he knew he couldn’t finish that way. He had to see her face.

That beautiful face that was just below him almost an hour ago, coaxing a few more drops out of him. All for her lips to shine. He could’ve finished right then and there—busted all over her face, ruin her perfect makeup. 

But he couldn’t do that to her. She wouldn’t allow it. That was the only thing stopping him.

Speaking of allowing … she’s not home. Who’s going to stop him now that she’s gone?

He stares at his phone, thumb holding down on the screen so as to not let the story post end. It’s only her in the Uber ride. The flash bounces off of her beat face, highlighting her lips.

Her glossy lips.

So pretty, he thinks to himself.

The gentle pass of his hand over his front makes his breath hitch. He starts the post over from the beginning.

As he watches, he wipes his hand down his front again, the heel of his palm pressing just a little bit harder.

His grasp on the phone grows shakier by the second. Gentle passes turn into more as he feels on his dick through the thin sweats.

The friction is just what he needed, and it’s making him dumb. His eyes threaten to roll back until the whites of them are all that show.

His lips part, mouth open wide enough for any sound to slip through. He swallows thickly, pushing himself up higher on the couch. 

When his hips stutter or his stomach dips inward out of sensitivity, he keeps going. His heart is beating so fast, he can hardly hear.

What if she comes home soon? What if she walks in on him getting off?

It wouldn’t be the first time. But, it’ll be different. She might get mad, think that he’s trying to finish in secret. Then she’ll give him a real punishment.

Probably deny him of a release for even longer. She might even make him wear the ring. Or … she’ll do what she’s been plotting to do for a while now: sounding—

He twitches in his pants, head falling back against the couch cushions. He squeezes himself harder.

“Mmh—”

Picking his head up, he sees the small wet spot in his sweats. 

“Shit—” He sits up straighter.

He didn’t finish … but he was close. Too close.

Weakly, he pulls himself together. Pocketing his phone and fixing his pants, he makes his way to their bedroom.

Their bed is where he takes his new spot. Without another thought, he tugs his pants down. A wave of relief crashes over him as he finally frees his dick.

The cool air kisses his skin, making him hiss softly. His lower lip is caught between his teeth and he looks down at his “problem” in contemplation.

He’s not even sure what to do. It’s not like he’s trying to actually finish. He just … wants a little bit of relief. He won’t let it get too far, of course not.

But, he’s already so sensitive. 

In the pocket of his sweats, his phone buzzes with a message, cutting his train of thought short. It makes him freeze. Blinking out of his daze, he rushes to pull it from his pocket.

❤️ — I miss you

It’s her, he knew it. 

The message almost makes him breathless. With a quick swallow, he collects himself before typing back.

However, before he can send a message, he receives one instead. It’s an image of her posing in the venue’s bathroom. She’s so fucking cute, so pretty. Her smile is big and joyful, like she’s truly having fun.

And he’s glad, really.

But … he hates that he has to ruin this innocent moment. Because, unfortunately, her joy only turns him on.

You — I miss you so much

You — You’re so pretty

❤️ — Ty Papa <33

There’s the faintest smile on his lips as he stares at her replies. While doing so, his other hand busies itself, rubbing up and down his thigh. 

A message bubble with bouncing ellipses appears on her side of their chat. It doesn’t for stay too long. 

You — I miss you so much

↳ ❤️ — How much do you miss me?

His chest fills with air as he prepares to make a deep sigh. God, why is she doing this to him?

❤️ — How much do you miss me?

↳ You — A lot

You — Thinking abt you since you left

He looks straight past his phone at his dick. It’s heavy against his thigh, pulsing against the warm skin. He wets his lips and looks back at the phone, just in time for another message to come through. 

You — A lot

↳ ❤️ — Show me

He could moan out. She knows him too well.

His hand slides around the underside of his dick. He tries not to squeeze too hard. 

Before getting with his girlfriend, he’s never been too eager to take nudes. Of course, he’s snapped a couple before, but those were an in-the-moment kind of thing. Not much thought was put into them.

However, since being with her, he’s taken more than enough pictures, videos, and audio messages to last a lifetime. 

It’s caused him to pay a bit more attention to the details of things. For instance, the angles he chooses and the lighting. It has to be perfect, damn near artistic—the way she likes it. 

So, when he snaps the photo and sends it, he expects nothing but praise from her. He awaits her response with bated breath. Three dots appear on his screen. 

You — [Attachment] 

↳❤️ — I should be the one calling you pretty

❤️ — Hope you’ve been following the rules

You — Yes

You — I always listen to you

He knows she’ll like that one. As much as she likes to believe that she can read him so well, that she can push his buttons so easily, he can do the same. They’ve been together for too long, now.

The dots disappear and reappear about twice. She’s thinking.

He tries to stifle a smile.

❤️ — So touch yourself

❤️ — I wanna hear it too

Does this woman know how much he loves her? 

He doesn’t think twice about opening his camera.

The soft, warm light of her vanity gives the video perfect lighting. Not too dark or too bright.

At first he only shows himself off, giving her a good view of his dick. After a couple of seconds, his hand slips away.

Without being held up, he’s hangs heavy, too hard to stand freely. Just a little, he makes it slowly bounce for the camera.

He wraps his hand back around it, pulls a shaky exchange from him. She’d have to have the volume all the way up to hear that. The slow pumps start as he drags a loose fist over himself.

“Mmh … Missed you, Mama,” he breathes out.

His eyes fall closed. That picture she sent is clear in his mind.

“You look so good tonight.” A soft groan was interlaced with his words.

His fist tightens as his strokes get harder.

“So pretty … Wish you stayed home with me—“

Thick droplets of precum dribble down his length. They don’t get to linger, as he rubs it into his skin. The creamy sound it makes is surely picked up by his phone’s mic. 

In the camera, his skin is shiny and smooth. The light sheen over it highlights every vein that lines his dick.

“F-fuck,” he whispers with a shiver, eyes barely rolling back. “Shit, I just …” He sniffs. “Just wanna … wanna f-finish in you—“

He stops abruptly to grip himself at the base. His balls jump and his dick twitches as he stops himself before a big orgasm.

“Fuck … augh—fuck,” he pants. Lazily, he slaps his dick, watching it bob stiffly. “Tell me … just tell me you want me to cum.”

He holds himself at the base again, feeling a strong pulse. He can barely keep his head up or his eyes open.

“Tell me … please, baby.”

He’s breathing heavy behind that camera. After he had practically begged for her, he cuts the video off and sends it without another thought.

As he waits for her response, he throws his phone down. He tosses an arm over his eyes, shutting out any light as he tries to calm his racing heart.

His phone buzzes only a minute after.

❤️ — My poor baby💔

❤️ — I think you need the ring 

❤️ — That was too close

He groans out, though he can’t pretend that the idea of it doesn’t make his dick twitch.

❤️ — I think you need the ring 

↳ You — I need you .

He stares at the screen for minutes. Her bubble doesn’t even appear in the chat. The longer he waits, the more disappointment creeps into his heart.

What’s taking her so long?

He wants to groan, whine—double text, even. As he picks up his phone to do so, it buzzes with one last message.

You — I need you . 

↳❤️ — I’ll be home soon

The sound of the door closing is what wakes him up. Lazily he pulls himself out of bed.

The soft clatter of movement in the kitchen teases his ears as he heads towards it. He rubs one of his eyes, shaking himself of sleep.

Pulling his hand away, he finally sees her—the light of his life—at the kitchen island. She must’ve just put down her bags on the counter. She’s half bent over, reaching down for something.

“Hey, baby.” Fatigue is laced with her smile. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

He hums, lids still heavy. “A lil’ bit, yeah. S’cool, though. I was waiting on you.”

“Awe,” she chuckles.

Though, her smile falls shortly after as she blows out a sigh, giving up to stand straight. Both her hands brace the countertop.

“Could you help me take these off?”

She kicks out a leg from behind the island so he can see her heel-clad foot.

He nods. Pushing forward, he moves to the island as she rounds it herself. Just when they meet each other halfway, she throws her arms around his shoulders and pushes up onto her tippy-toes.

He meets her halfway for three-quick smooches, both of them too tired to do anything more than that.

“Missed you,” he mumbles against her lips.

“Mmh, missed you, too,” she smiles.

Finally, she pulls away to sit at the first bar stool in the row. 

“How was the party?” He stands before her, picking up one of her legs.

“It was fun,” she says simply, watching as he holds her gently by the ankle to unbuckle the strap of her heel.

“Yeah?” He’s focused, his big hands unloosing the skinny, delicate material.

“Mhm … but, I wish you were there with me.”

He glances up just to see the playful pout on her lips. He does a half-hearted laugh. “You didn’t invite me.”

Not too long after does he get her shoe off.

“I know, it was no plus-ones allowed.”

He begins to massage the soft, reddened sole of her foot.

“Feels so good,” she groans as he presses his thumb right between the junction of her big toe and the others.

“They give you anything?”

“Yeah, um—“ she hisses, almost pulling her leg back after he had pushed his thumb too deep. It felt so good it almost caught her off guard.

“My bad,” he frowns, voice soft with regret.

But the sound she had made stirred something within him, even through his fatigue.

She gives him an understanding smile. “They gave me some perfume and … m-makeup.” 

The hitch in her breath and the way her face twitches gives him something to live for.

“Show it to me later?”

She nods as he carefully places her leg down to pick up the other foot.

This time when he takes off her shoe, he’s quieter. He pays the thud of her heel against the ground, no mind. He isn’t so quick to massage her foot, either.

Holding it, he takes the time to notice the fine details of it. Like the faint indents the straps made in her skin, and the square-shaped acrylic on her toes. 

The nails are decorated in gemmed French tips, rhinestones glistening underneath the kitchen light. They’re so pretty. He’s always loved how she keeps them done.

This time, when he massages her foot, he’s sure to take his time. He kneads the muscles with care, caressing the back of her foot as he does so.

All the while, she takes in his silence. It’s obvious that he’s focused on the task at hand, too focused. And very likely for his own reasons, too.

Chewing at her bottom lip, she uses her other foot to rub the inner-calf of his left leg.

“What’d you do while I was gone?”

A quick glance at her face is enough to catch the phantom smirk on her lips. He recenters his focus back on her foot, kneading a particularly tough spot.

“Oh—“ 

The tiniest moan slips out of her mouth.

“Y’know what I was doing.”

When she finally looks up, his gaze has her nailed to the seat. She swallows, remaining silent.

He looks back down at her foot and gently raises it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the soft sole. Gently, he puts her foot back down.

“M’done,” he mumbles, looking elsewhere as he weakly adjusts his pants.

Outstretching her arms wide, she wears her best puppy-dog eyes. “Take me to bed?” 

Without an answer, he gently grabs at her thighs, pulling her off the stool and picking her up. Immediately, she wraps her legs around him and throws her arms over his shoulders.

With an ease that has much more of an effect on her than it should, he hoists her up higher on his body. Their noses almost brush as he bounces her. Her lips are parted and her eyes are low as she focuses on his face only.

As he holds her, right above his waist, all he can think about is slamming her down on his dick. It’ll be so easy. If only she’d let him.

God, she doesn’t know what she does to him. She just doesn’t know.

His lower stomach swoops as he stares up into her low eyes. They practically suck him in, consuming all of his attention—he doesn’t even notice the tiny smirk on her lips.

Or maybe she does.

“Bed, Kenny,” she reminds.

He stalls, eyes flicking between hers. And then his senses come back to him and he’s shuffling towards the bedroom. His hands slowly make their way from the underside of her thighs to her ass, gripping soft fat. 

When they finally reach, he rests her gently on the messy sheets, earning a sigh straight from her lips.

She turns onto her stomach. “So glad—to be home,” she stretches, raising her ass as the arch in her back deepens. It’s a smooth, downward slope into to her shoulders. The way her ass spreads, stretching out the lace is just too good of a sight.

She moves slow, like the pull of a bow. Though, the arrow is released quick, and her body collapses like a bag of bricks into the sheets. The soft impact makes the fat of her ass jiggle slightly, and of course he stares.

“Just undress me,” he hears her say, her small chuckle is muffled by her folded arms.

Her legs hang over the edge of the bed, and she makes no attempt to correct herself. And refusing to ruin her peace, he simply moves over them.

A single knee digs into the mattress beside her hip while his next foot remains planted on the hardwood flooring. With a strong arm, he holds himself above her body, hovering as he reaches for the zipper at the top of her back.

Carefully, he plucks up the black metal and drags it down. The back of her jumpsuit is pulled open, parting further and further and the zipper reaches closer to the end of its track.

The smooth, shiny skin of her back is bared to him. With the inked flowers decorating the dark skin and the blur of leftover sleep still in his eyes, he has to concentrate to find the shallow ditches of skin right above her ass.

“Mmh—you’re so good t’me, Kenji.” She turns her head, the bottom half of her face still obscured by her arms. But, those siren eyes leer at him, batting at him with luxurious lashes.

He swallows, feeling just a bit of control slipping from him.

In an attempt to reel it back in, he pulls back to stand up, his knee still implanted in the mattress and effectively leaving his leg straddling one of her sides.

Blowing out, she slowly turns her body. Lying on her back, she peers up at him, seemingly oblivious to the way her boobs spill out of the suit now that it’s unzipped and loose.

His eyes immediately fall to her nipples. He’s got no shame about it. He’s dying to get one in his mouth.

“Pull it off,” she says gently.

His hands shake when they pull the lacey garment down her top half. When he gets to her legs, he finds himself gravitating closer to her body. 

That body oil she used earlier wafts off of her as he reveals more of her skin. The material stretches wide around her hips. His face is close to the triangle of skin her panties hide. He pauses, glancing up to see her staring back at him, watching closely.

He licks at his drying lips and continues.

When the jumpsuit is finally off, he throws it down on the floor somewhere behind him. It’s none of his concern anymore.

“Thank you, Kenji.”

He thinks she going to ask him to take her underwear off next. It’s something she’d do. And he’s waiting on it. Silently begging her for it.

She can tell by his demeanor. His body is tightly coiled, waiting for the chance to spring into action.

So she makes him wait, just a little bit. 

His hands press into the sides of his legs, desperate to keep busy. A tiny breath of amusement leaves through her nose.

“You want me to take it off?”

She actually smiles, almost laughing.

“Sure.”

Slowly, she lifts her knees to her chest and he’s moving without hesitation.

The thin fabric is rolled down her hips, up her thighs, and down her calves. When he discards of that too, her legs remain bent, toes pointed on their own accord.

He doesn’t look anywhere else but the plump set of lips squeezed between fat thighs. The pressure pushes her labia out, and he’s never been more entranced.

Without thinking, his hands land on the underside of her thighs. Fingers spread, feeling against smooth, supple skin. He pushes his hands up and up until they hook underneath her knees. He parts her legs. 

Her pussy opens up like a flower to show off a heated pink center. The prettiest flower he’s ever seen, a deep brown on the outside.

“Ken,” she says affectionately.

He blinks slowly. It’s a fight against himself to tear his eyes away from her cunt to look into her eyes. A fight he loses.

“Huh?”

“My clothes,” she reminds.

“A-ahuh…”

He’s still looking, seeing how her pussy winks back at him.

“Kenny…”

He pushes her legs further apart. Another clench. Her clit just barely pokes out from under its hood, waiting for his tongue to drop on its head.

His hips get closer to her. He licks his lips again.

“Kenji.”

Her tone tears his attention away from between her legs. He finally looks her in the eyes.

“You’re just gonna leave me like this?” Her voice is softer now, like she isn’t really all that concerned with such a fate. 

“My bad…” His eyes slowly sink right back to their previous spot. “M’sorry,” he mumbles, not even hearing himself.

“You hungry?”

It takes him a second to catch the joke. But he doesn’t smile, he doesn’t even laugh.

“A little.”

His hands grip the undersides of her knees just a bit tighter. She clenches just from the action.

Her eyes leave his face falling to the real star of the show: the outline of his dick through the pants. It’s too big to be ignored.

And she finds herself regretting this challenge again. Tired isn’t even the word, but she can’t lie, tired sex sounds really good right now.

Maybe they don’t have to really do it. She trusts herself not to mess up, just as long as she keeps him in line.

“Take it out.”

“Mh—what?”

“Take it out.”

He looks into her eyes, her words finally getting through to him. She sees the sobering look pass over his face.

“Don’t make me say it again.”

He snatches a hand out from under her knee to wrestle the hem of his sweats down his hips and thighs.

It’s almost like she watches it happen in slow-motion—how his dick bounces as it’s freed from its cloth-prison. So thick and heavy, it hangs between his legs. 

She almost moans when he grabs himself, doing a weak drag of his fist over it. 

His eyes are on his target. His heart is beating out of his chest with the thought of plunging headfirst into her oasis. It’s been so long, too long.

He shivers, squeezing the tip.

“I don’t want it.”

His gaze cuts to her face. It almost hurt her to lie like that. She had to keep strong.

“Just wanna feel you.” She can see the frustration in the twitch of his brows. But he keeps quiet. “Just don’t put it in.”

Whatever tension was visible on his face seems to melt away.

Dragging her closer, his body lights afire. Her ass is pressed to the front of his thighs. He’s dizzy as he takes himself in hand, giving one last tug before laying his dick against her.

He exhales with relief. She’s so warm, he shivers again. And she can feel his pulse against her clit. Her pussy flutters. He’s so heavy against her, a weight she’s missed. She aches to feel it inside of her.

He does a slow drag of his fist down his length, stopping just before the head. Then, he lifts it, not too far. 

She gasps softly with the light taps against her clit. Her legs twitch. But he leans more weight onto his arm, pushing her leg further back.

The taps get heavier, harder. The pudge of her pussy jiggles as he smacks her with his thickness.

A low hiss leaves him. “Ssshiiit…”

She swallows. “S-stop playing, Kenji.”

He does one last smack, particularly harder than the others. But, he keeps his hold on himself, pressing down as he does a slow, heavy glide through her lips.

Her hips stutter as he rolls over her clit. The entire length slides against her, all the way down to his balls. When he gets that far, he keeps his hips pressed to hers, watching how his dick lays against her tummy. 

Her belly button is hidden from view, and they’re both reminded of how deep he can get whenever he’s in it.

“I still can’t put it in?”

She shakes her head, eyes lower than before. Her chest is frozen as she stops breathing.

“Why?”

“‘Cause…”

“‘Cause what?” He’s staring intently at where they collide.

“‘Cause … I don’t want it.”

He licks his lips. “Mhm.”

He pulls his hips back and she feels like she can finally breathe again. 

“Hold me?” she asks.

He buffers for a moment before ultimately lowering himself. Once again, his dick slides tortuously against her lips as he presses his chest to hers.

Shorter arms fall around his neck and just as he had let go of her leg, both tighten around his waist. His hips are heavy against hers, pressing his dick between her lips.

“Mmh,” she moans out, eyes falling closed as she moves her hips against him.

He’s between her legs, weighing into her pussy and pressed against her stomach. It all leaves her dizzy. She almost tells him to put it in.

Almost.

She keeps her mouth shut…

Until he starts kissing on her neck. 

Her lips part as she starts gulping down air.

His hips starts to move in short, inch-by-inch strokes. They’re weak, but it’s enough for right now.

“K-Kenny—“ She gasps.

“C’mon, baby,” he says against her neck. His hands hook underneath her knees again, holding her open as his strokes get stronger and longer. “C’mon,” he whines. “Just the tip … please?”

She’s breathless as she shakes her head against him.

He kisses his teeth but doesn’t stop nor pull away. “You playin’ … you playin’ and you know it,” he rasps. “I won’t even move. C’mon, please?”

“N-no, Kenji.” Her voice waivers.

“Please, baby. Please—”

She gasps as his tip catches against her hole for the longest second of her life, teasing intrusion.

“Won’t move, I promise,” he moans in her neck. His hands grip her legs tighter. “Just want you to feel it … just the tip.”

His voice is breathy, full of desperation.

As he rests over her clit, he circles his hips and her back arches.

“Ohh, fuck,” she whines softly.

“Won’t even cum, just wanna feel you around me, baby … c’mon.”

His thoughtless babbling is running her crazy. She feels like she can’t breathe.

“Know it’s wet f’me. She misses me.” He drags his hips against her harder now. The collision of their hips is loud as he slams against her. 

She’s getting wetter, he can hear it. He can feel it.

“He misses you, too, baby,” he pants. “Misses you so … so bad—“

His hips freeze. He twitches against her. And she’s quiet as her wetness trickles against him.

“She’s leaking.” His voice is wrecked. “Lemme plug her.”

With a whimper, she shakes her head.

He lifts his head to look at her face. It’s clinched as she tries to hold back. He presses his lips to hers and she goes thoughtless as he kisses her all soft and slow. The soft smacks of their lips gets her wetter.

“Lemme give her what she wants,” he says against her lips. “C’mon.”

Her brain is mush, she can hardly see straight. And he takes advantage of her haze.

Twin gasps leave them, both melting into moans as his tip breaks past her lips and plunges into her walls.

“Ken—“

His hands leave from her legs. They pulls her arms from around his neck to push them onto the bed. He laces his fingers inbetween her own.

“S’good, right?”

She moans.

“Know you missed it,” he groans. His hips tremble as they hold back. “Missed all this dick…”

She flutters around him, desperate to pull more of him in. And she’s so tight, so wet.

“I-I’ma give it to her—“

A loud moan rips from her as he pushes all the way in, hard and sharp.

“K-Kenji!“

“I’m sorry, baby,” he pants. “M’sorry. Can’t stop myself. I can’t … can’t—“

He cuts himself off as he pulls out halfway, just to slide back in. His hands squeeze hers tighter as she tries to pull them away.

All of his weight he puts on her, trapping her beneath him as she drives his hips into her.

“M’sorry,” he moans out, not even pulling out at this point. He only ruts into her, knocking his dick against what feels like her cervix.

“K-ken!”

“Fuck, s’good … it’s s-so good!”

Mindlessly, he fucks into her, only chasing after his own pleasure. His eyes roll back into his head as he gets lost in the way she squeezes him so tight and floods around him.

“W-waaait—I—“

She’s creaming around him. Her pussy’s so sloppy, it squidges. 

“Don’t hold it,” he grunts, knocking into her harder. “Cum on my shit, cum on it, baby. S’yours! All yours…”

Her body trembles with overstimulation. But, he doesn’t stop, still rolling his hips. 

“Oh, fuck… Oh fuck!” His moans get louder as he feels his own orgasm approaching quickly.

Her body withers beneath his, only able to accept what’s being given to it. It overdoses on him, cream becomes squirt. She splashes around him, drowning him. 

And it triggers him; Ribbons of his cum splash against her cervix. All of the buildup from these last few weeks, he empties into her. And it’s so much, he feels like he’s going to pass out. She can only moan out as he fills her.

He’s pulsing in her and she’s clenching around him. They’re both lost in the throes of their orgasms.

Her limbs are heavy with fatigue (and the weight of his body against hers). It takes several minutes for them to return to a state of function.

When he finally pulls out, he watches his cum ooze from her stretched hole. And it just keeps going.

“Fuck,” he groans, so turned on by the sight of her filled with his release. It puts him in a trance, watching his nut decorate her pussy. 

When he can finally pull his attention away, he looks down at himself. His dick and inner thighs are full of their release.

“This shit so messy,” he says, still holding her open.

“Didn’t … listen,” she mumbles, weakly kicking at him.

“I know,” he pants. “I’ll take the punishment … I don’t care.” He swallows, his throat feeling dry.

She doesn’t say anything. Just as long as he knows.

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[madamejadex]

Understanding the Spectrum of Dom/mes and Subs

In BDSM, we often speak about Dominants and submissives like they’re puzzle pieces that naturally click into place. But the truth is not every Dominant is right for every submissive, and not every submissive will thrive under every kind of Dominant.

There are many "flavors" of Dominance and submission, and understanding these differences is essential to forming dynamics that are healthy, empowering, and aligned with your needs.

And why does this matter you might ask?

Well too often, people enter relationships thinking that just being a Dominant or submissive is enough. But labels alone don’t create connection, alignment does. When two people have different needs, communication styles, or emotional rhythms, even the most well-intentioned dynamic can become uncomfortable or even harmful.

So let’s explore a few types, not to box anyone in, but to help you recognize yourself, your needs, and who you might naturally align with.

Types of Dominants

The Nurturing Dominant Soft-handed, emotionally in tune, focused on growth, healing, and care. May use gentle language, patience, and affirmation as tools of power.

Often pairs well with: service-oriented subs, little/submissives needing emotional safety, or those recovering from harm.

The Sadistic Dominant Takes pleasure in consensual pain, control, and edge play. Emotional care is present, but not always the center of the dynamic.

Often pairs well with: masochistic submissives or those who enjoy degradation, humiliation, or fear play.

The Directive Dominant Goal-driven, structured, focused on obedience and accountability. They thrive on discipline, order, and control, with clear rules and expectations.

Often pairs well with: obedience-driven submissives, or masochists craving structure.

The Brat-Tamer Enjoys power play through playful resistance, challenge, and teasing.

Often pairs well with: brats, mischief-driven subs, or those who enjoy pushing buttons within limits.

The Sensual Dominant Erotically charged, intuitive, and focused on pleasure and sensory control. They command through desire, rhythm, and presence.

Often pairs well with: pleasure-seeking subs, exhibitionists, or those craving slow intensity and connection.

The Psychological Dominant Mind-focused, intense, strategic. May love consensual manipulation, power play, humiliation, or total surrender of mental control.

Often pairs well with: submissives who enjoy psychological surrender, mind games, or consensual degradation.

The Mistress / Owner (TPE) Desires full control in consensual Total Power Exchange. Must be ethical, experienced, and steady.

Often pairs well with: high-surrender submissives like slaves, those seeking long-term surrender, or power exchange as lifestyle.

The Spiritual/Devotional Dominant Sees the D/s connection as sacred, rooted in trust, intention, and often ritual. Power exchange is emotional, mental, and spiritual.

Often pairs well with: devotional submissives, those seeking long-term surrender, or power exchange as lifestyle.

*It's possible to be a combination of different types of Dom/mes

Types of Submissives

The Service Submissive Finds joy in giving, whether through acts of service, protocol, or support. May be less erotically focused and more fulfillment-based.

Often pairs well with: Dominants who value contribution, protocol, or lifestyle power exchange.

The Brat / Playful Submissive Playful, mischievous, often testing boundaries in safe ways to invite correction or attention. Their resistance is a form of affection.

Often pairs well with: Brat tamers, directive Dom/me's, playful or sadistic Dominants.

The Little / Middle / Age Regressor Craves softness, structure, and often age-regression elements. Not inherently sexual, littles seek safety, warmth, and nurturing care.

Often pairs well with: Caregiver Dominants, nurturing Dom/me's, or those who understand emotional attunement.

The Masochist Finds fulfillment through pain, intensity, and endurance, physical or emotional. Their surrender lies in what they can take and still offer.

Often pairs well with: Sadistic Dominants, impact players, or psychological Dom/me's who negotiate carefully.

The Slave / Total Power Exchange (TPE) Submissive Desires or thrives in total power exchange (TPE). Prefers a more encompassing, identity-based power dynamic.

Often pairs well with: A highly ethical, deeply grounded Dominant with clarity, stability, and trust.

The Devotional Submissive Gives themselves not just in action or obedience, but in heart. Worship, loyalty, and deep emotional connection are central.

Often pairs well with: Spiritual Dom/me's, nurturing Dominants, or any Dom/me who craves true devotion over performance.

*It's possible to be a combination of different types of Submissive

Remember compatibility isn’t just about the label, it’s about the fit

You can be a perfectly good submissive and still not align with a perfectly good Dominant. It doesn’t mean you’re broken. It means your energies don’t match. And that’s okay.

Think of it this way: A brat won’t thrive under a stoic, silent Mistress who doesn’t enjoy banter. A spiritual submissive might feel lost with a Dominant who sees kink as purely physical. A nurturing Dom/me may feel unfulfilled with a submissive who only wants pain, not intimacy.

This is why open communication matters. This is why negotiation matters. This is why patience matters.

So keep in mind that knowing what kind of submissive or Dominant you are can help you protect yourself, to help voice your needs, and seek dynamics that feed you instead of draining you or belittle you.

You’re not too needy. You’re not too intense. You’re not “not submissive enough” or “not dominant enough.” You’re simply unique. And you deserve a connection that fits the way you were built to bloom.

And last but not least for those out there in Romantic relationships where the love is real, but the Dynamic does not align.

Sometimes the deepest heartbreak does not always come from abuse, but from misalignment.

You love each other. You want it to work. But when it comes to power exchange, emotional rhythm, or kink compatibility… something feels off. You try to bend. You try to shrink. You try to stretch yourself into a shape that fits, because love is there.

If your submissive soul craves structure and ritual, and your partner doesn't enjoy leading, it’s not about failure. It’s about mismatch. If you long for nurturing dominance and receive only play-based sadism, that’s not betrayal. That’s incompatibility. If you're a Dominant who aches to guide and protect, but your partner resists surrender, it doesn’t mean they don’t love you. It means the dynamic doesn’t feed them.

You can love someone deeply and still realize that your kink paths don’t align. And yes, that realization might break your heart, and sometimes you can overcome that heartbreak and make the relationship work.

But please hear this: Needing something different does not make you selfish. Outgrowing a relationship does not make you cruel. Letting go does not mean you failed.

Sometimes the kindest thing we can do for ourselves and the ones we love is to stop trying to force a connection that no longer fits. Or that never did.

Letting go with respect is not abandonment. It’s an act of love. Sometimes love means releasing someone and yourself to find the alignment that you both deserve.