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So I've been wondering how the nightbrothers would possibly react if you (accidentally) called them "Master" in bed, like it slipped out or something. How would they proceed, how would they react?
Damn guys, your requests are on fire lately! Such a creative idea. Well done! And thank you :â) I really appreciate your kind words so much, they genuinely fuel my writing. Really hope you like this!
The Nightbrothers - when you accidentally call them âMasterâ in bed :3
includes: Maul, Savage, Icarus, Scorn, Feral
note: guys I love this request so much, I love Maul and I think he would genuinely die to be someones Master. He would be the best Master too. A little unstable? Maybe, yes.. But do we care - no.
This is a big thing for Maul. He doesnât take the title lightly, not in any context.
For as long as he can remember, he has wanted to be someoneâs Master, not in a romantic or sexual sense, but in the sense of guidance, mentorship, and teaching.
That desire was never truly fulfilled.
So being called Master in bed strikes something deep within him. It brushes against an old wound, awakening a need he has carried for years.
First time you say it he loses control a little bit.
Youâre sucking his cock, struggling to take the full length of it with his hands firmly settled at the back of your head, you start to choke around the sudden depth of it. Your throat tightens around it, a strangled cough breaking through. He pulls you back by your hair immediately, giving you a moment to catch your breath.
âYouâre too eager, my dear. Do take it slowly. I donât want you to choke any more than necessary.â Tapping his cock gently against your cheek.
In that moment, youâre not thinking straight. Youâre just trying to breathe, tears rolling down your cheeks, you blurt out,
The grip on your hair tightens instantly, his cock giving a slight involuntary twitch near your mouth.
Immediately, you realize what you just said.
âI mean- uh⌠I donât- I..â
But he doesnât let you continue. He pushes his wet tip against your lips, parting them.
He doesnât mean to, but now the way he fucks your face is rough and fast, desperate in a way, as if he has completely lost every last ounce of composure. His muscles tighten at each little gasp and stifled gag you make.
âSay it to me again, pet.â
He pulls out of your mouth, yanking your face upward and stroking his cock against your lips.
âWho am I to you?â he asks darkly. âHm? Who am I?â
After that, he becomes completely obsessed with the idea. Not with the title itself, but with what it represents. If you are going to call him Master, then he wants to be worthy of it. He wants to be the best Master he can possibly be.
He throws himself into it with the same intensity he applies to everything else in his life. He studies the psychology behind TPE relationships, wanting to understand your needs, boundaries, desires, and thought processes on a deeper level.
The first rule, however, is simple. - You will address him as Master from now on. Not just in private or in the bedroom. Always.
At first, he pretends it is merely a preference. A harmless little rule. Yet every time the word leaves your lips, he visibly softens. There is a quiet satisfaction in it that never seems to fade.
And the more he embraces the role, the more his feelings for you deepen.
He starts calling you pet names more often. Finds excuses to praise you. To check on you. To make sure youâre comfortable, safe, and cared for. Somehow, he ends up cherishing you far more deeply than he ever thought possible.
âI want your things here. You spend most nights with me anywayâ He murmurs softly one day, more intimate than commanding.
The protectiveness comes naturally after that.
Suddenly, he finds himself watching over you even more closely(If thatâs even possible) Becoming fiercely defensive whenever he feels someone has treated you unfairly.
You have placed yourself in a vulnerable position with him, handed him something precious, and he understands exactly how significant that is. He would never betray that trust.
For all his life, Maul wanted to be someoneâs Master. What he never expected was how much he would come to treasure the person who chose him.
Savage never really thought it was necessary to say it out loud. In his mind, it was already painfully obvious who was in charge in bed. He was enormous, possessive, and strong enough that there was never any confusion about who was doing the manhandling. Calling him Master on top of that felt excessive.
Maybe all he needed to cross that line was hearing it from your own mouth.
The air is thick with sex, his grabby hands roaming over your ass as skin crashes against skin, the sounds echoing through the room while he takes you mercilessly from behind. Your face is buried in the pillow, soft cries and moans slipping from your lips at the same time.
At one point, it all becomes a little too much. You lose yourself for a moment and glance back over your shoulder at him, a sad little look in your eyes.
âMaster⌠it hurts.â
The words catch him completely off guard.
He immediately slows inside you, suddenly unsure whether he should be reacting to the fact that youâre hurting or the fact that you just called him Master.
âFuck- baby, you okay?â he manages through heavy breaths, trying to compose himself, his cock throbbing inside you, aching to move faster.
Still looking back at him, you push your ass against him and roll your hips in slow circles, your ass cheeks brushing softly against his skin.
âMmh, I justâŚâ You swallow. âCould we go slower?â
You shy away from using the title this time, but he digs his fingers into your sides, barely managing to keep himself together. The need to hear that word again is immediate.
âSure, baby,â he says. âAsk me nicely again, though.â
You add it with a small smile, your face completely red now.
A proud smirk spreads across his face.
âYes, princess. Iâll take care of you.â
And with that, he begins rocking in and out of you at a gentler pace.
Already considers himself your owner, your Master. Though, he has never really insisted on hearing the title out loud.
What he enjoys is the authority itself. The intensity of it.
Giving orders. Watching you struggle to follow them, and yet still managing to follow through for him. Seeing the way you immediately obey before your brain has time to question why. It quite literally sets him on fire.
Sometimes he enjoys having power over you in the most random situations imaginable. When you least expect it,
âFace the wall. Hands behind your head.â
The order comes without explanation, his voice cold. A firm nudge from his knee against the back of your thighs encourages you into position.
He calls these - inspections. In reality, theyâre mostly an excuse to watch you follow his instructions without question, even when they seem completely pointless.
Crouching beside you, his hand drifts along the inner side of your thigh, teasing, trailing higher and higher. He is clearly testing you now, seeing if youâll move, if youâll fidget, if youâll break position.
And when his fingers finally slip beneath the fabric of your underwear, a quiet,
escapes you before you can stop it.
The reaction is immediate. He straightens at once and turns you around to face him. For a moment, he simply studies you.
Your expression. The embarrassment spreading across your face.
He savors every second of it.
Yet there is something warm in his gaze too, something unexpectedly soft beneath all that possessiveness.
Slowly, he reaches up and lowers his mask. His lips hovering close against yours.
âWhat did you just call me?â
The answer comes out small and nervous.
A low chuckle leaves him before he finally closes the distance, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your lips. When he pulls back, there is a warm look of satisfaction on his face.
âNew rule,â he says with a pleased smile. âYouâll be calling me Master from now on.â
He enjoys this far more than he ever thought he would.
Fucks you the way he always does -rough, intense, but never careless.
He takes a certain pride in knowing you. In catching every little reaction. Every twitch, every breath, every shift in your expression. He likes knowing exactly how much you can handle and where your limits are long before you ever have to say a word.
The word slips from you, soft and unsteady, and something darkly pleased flashes in his expression. His pace slows,
âMm, thats hotâ He exhales a little too sharply, almost a pant.
ââŚsay that again, that was hot.â His voice drops, amused.
âI.. want you to be my Masterâ
The moment the words leave your mouth, embarrassment crashes over you.
You hide your face against his chest immediately, unable to look at him, your pussy tensing around his cock involuntarily at the attention.
For a few seconds, he stays still inside you.
His fingers drift through your hair in slow, soothing strokes, giving you all the time you need to stay hidden there.
âThatâs okay, my baby.â The reassurance comes easily.
He eases into you again, rocking in and out of you at a steady pace that gradually builds. Not rushing you. Giving you space to settle into it.
Every so often, he asks little questions. Giving you the opportunity to say it again if you want to.
âYou like this, baby?â
The answer comes out shy and quiet. His arms tighten around you immediately, pulling you closer as he buries his face against your hair.
âThatâs my good pet.â
The praise is low and affectionate, spoken with unmistakable pride as he holds you tightly against him.
Youâre straddling him, moving your hips in slow, deliberate circles as you watch him squirm beneath you. His hands tied to the headboard above him.
Feral lets out the occasional whimper, clearly struggling. Every instinct in him is urging him to move at his own pace, to chase the rhythm he wants, but you already gave him an order.
Heâs not allowed to move.
In the heat of the moment, you lean down close to him. Your lips brushing against his ear. The warm breath against his skin sending a shiver through him.
âDo you like this, Master?â you whisper.
The reaction is immediate. Heat spreads across his face, and a soft smile tugs at his lips, as though youâve finally said something heâs been secretly hoping to hear for a very long time.
âUntie my hands,â he asks quietly.
You simply shake your head.
âNo, Master. Let me please you the way I want.â
The words draw a low chuckle from him.
You continue moving your hips, slower than before now, almost cruelly patient as you tease him. Beneath you, he trembles with the effort of staying still, trying his best to obey despite how desperately he wants to break the rule.
Hearing âMasterâ from your lips makes it infinitely harder.
More often than not, heâs perfectly happy being the softer one, letting you take charge. He enjoys being challenged, enjoys the feeling of having someone strong enough to handle him. Of course, only on his own terms, but still.
What he truly wants isnât physical dominance over you. Itâs emotional devotion.
Because while he might let you pin him down, tease him, or take the lead, there is a possessive part of him that desperately wants something much deeper.
He wants your trust, your loyalty. Your affection. Your heart.
To him, âMasterâ is less of a title and more of a promise. A confirmation that he matters. That he has a permanent place in your life.
He wants to be your Master, your Prince, your favorite person, your safe place.
The one who owns your heart, not through force, but because you willingly placed it in his hands. Completely and forever.
And that is exactly why hearing the title from your lips affects him so deeply.
