#domme!reader

You knew about the money, or lack there of, before Ben ever brought it up. Which, to be fair, he never actually did. You had overheard your father talking about it in the kitchen late one night with a drink in hand and disdain in his voice. Something about Soldier Boy hemorrhaging money on parties, pills, pointless flexes, defaulting on obligations, still thinking he could throw his weight around while sitting on a financial crater.

“The prick acts like he runs the damn place,” your father said, and you remember the way he scoffed. “And he’s too dumb to realize we’re all watching him drown.”

You made a mental note. You didn’t judge him for it—you just filed it away as leverage. Something to keep in your back pocket. A crack in the armor that you could oh-so-easily wiggle your fingers into.

And you see it play out exactly as expected.

He’s not poor—not really. He’s still a legend. Still a name that gets doors opened, drinks comped, rooms silenced. But he can’t keep up anymore. Not with the way he used to live. Not with the lifestyle he built, not with the image he sells. He used to throw money at problems and crawl out of the wreckage with a scar and a story. Now he just throws the stories and hopes no one asks to see the receipts.

You don’t take him out—you let him take you. He picks the places. He makes the reservations for swanky booth where you sit with your back to the dining room so he can sit facing out, broad shoulders sprawled, thumb tracing circles on your thigh.

Big man. Bigger ego.

He “pays” too. Hands the waiter the black card with a grunt and a smirk and a look like he just did something worth praising. He’ll say things like, “don’t skimp on the wine, my girl’s got a taste for the expensive stuff.”

It’s the very same card you refill every week.

You don’t say a word. You never do. You let him order the bottle, sign the check, carry the leftovers out like he’s a provider. Like he earned this. And when he slips that card back into his wallet like a badge of honor, you only smile—sweet, slow, satisfied.

He used to argue. Used to fight you for the check, used to mutter about pride and independence and not being some goddamn chick. That fizzled fast. You didn’t scream or correct or roll your eyes. You just let him throw his little tantrums, let him puff his chest, and then paid it anyway because someone had to. Because he couldn’t. And worse? He knew you knew it.

And that’s what unhinged him the most. Not that you paid. That you never held it over him. Never looked at him like he owed you. Never said what he knew was true. You just let him pretend, let him act like the man, let him sweat and sulk and strut his way through the illusion while you sat across from him with your legs crossed and your power wrapped in velvet.

Now? He thinks this charade is the balance. And of course, you let him. You nod when he says he’s got it. You kiss him when he opens the door for you. You tell him he’s “so good to you” and let him fuck you after.

And in bed, it’s worse.

So much fucking worse. Or better, depending how you look at it.

Some nights, you lean back on the bed, legs spread, lazy and half-dressed, you watch him hesitate just a beat before he drops to his knees. Still cocky, still mouthing off.

“What, you just expect me to crawl to it now?” he smirks, licking his lips like he thinks he’s dangerous.

You tilt your head, reach out, curl your fingers through his hair. His whole body reacts. And when you pull him closer—just a little—his hands are already on your thighs and his mouth is already open.

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it down there,” you murmur, barely above a whisper, and he groans. Burying himself between your legs like it’s instinct. Just like you’ve trained him to.

You guide his pace with your hands. Little tugs. A quiet word. A sharp sigh when he gets it right. And he responds to every signal like he’s tuned to you, like he needs you to tell him he’s doing good. You don’t say good boy. Not yet. You keep it just out of reach—because you know what it’ll do to him when you finally give it.

Tonight, he talks a big game like it’s his second language. Growls in your ear about how wet you are, how tight you are, how no one fucks you like he does. He brags like he’s got something to prove and the stamina to back it up. He keeps one hand locked around your hip and the other braced on the headboard and you’re fairly certain it’s all for show. Buy you let him have his fun. You moan for him. You take it like you’re desperate until you aren’t.

You grab him—really grab him—fingers locking tight at the base of his skull, nails digging just enough to sting. You tug his head back and he chokes on the sound he was about to make, thrust faltering, hips jerking like his body forgot the plan.

“Don’t stop,” you murmur, breath hot in his ear. “You were doing so good.”

It ruins him.

He groans, long and broken, cock twitching inside you, rhythm going sloppy as hell. He keeps fucking you, but it’s not confident anymore—it’s needy. Like he’s chasing something he just lost. Like every thrust is him asking please without saying the word.

You tighten your grip, control his pace, make him feel every inch of it. You whisper his name like it belongs in your mouth, like you picked it out special. And fuck—he folds. His breath goes uneven, his grip on the sheets desperate, mouth falling open like he forgot how to talk.

You press your mouth to his jaw, whisper something filthy about how good he feels, how pretty he sounds when he pants for you, and his whole body shakes. He thrusts deeper, slower, and for a moment, he forgets to talk. Just breathes. Just feels.

You roll him without warning, shove him onto his back and climb on top of him like you’ve done this a thousand times. He blinks up at you, stunned for half a second—then grins, cocky even now.

You sink down on him slowly, deliberately, watching his face fall apart.

He swears. Loud. Tries to buck up into you, tries to grab your hips and take over—but you plant a hand flat on his chest and grind down hard, sharp enough to steal the breath right out of him.

“No,” you say, low and firm. “Stay.”

And he fucking does.

Like it’s instinct. Like his body heard it before his brain could argue.

You ride him messy and relentless, chasing your own pleasure, not caring how wrecked he looks under you. He’s sweating, flushed, hands flexing uselessly at his sides because every time he tries to touch you, you pin his wrists or move just enough to remind him he doesn’t get to rush this.

He starts begging without realizing it. Broken phrases.

“Fuck—please—don’t stop—”

“You’re killing me—”

“I’m so close—”

You lean down, bite his jaw, suck marks into his skin like you’re branding him. “Don’t you dare,” you whisper. “You don’t get to finish until I say so.”

He whines. Actually whines. It punches something ugly and hot straight through your chest.

You stop moving entirely.

He gasps, hips jerking up in reflex, eyes wild. “Jesus Christ—don’t be mean—don’t do that—”

You squeeze around him, slow and cruel, smiling when he nearly comes undone right there. You keep him right on the edge until he’s shaking, until his pride is gone and there’s nothing left but want.

When you finally start moving again, it’s merciless. Fast. Deep. All control and hunger. You grab his throat—not tightly, just enough to feel his pulse—and when he looks at you like that, wrecked and open and desperate for your approval, you know you’ve got him.

“Come for me,” you say.

He breaks.

He comes hard and loud, body jerking under you, voice tearing out of his chest like he couldn’t stop it if he tried. He’s ruined—utterly wrecked—hands clutching at you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

You stay on top of him while he comes down, breath shaky, eyes glassy, mouth still open like he’s stunned it happened at all.

You brush your thumb over his cheek, slow and possessive, then lean down and murmur, “Good job, baby.”

That does more damage than anything else.

He groans, wrecked, boneless, pulling you against him like he needs you close or he might fall apart. He doesn’t joke. Doesn’t posture. Doesn’t say a damn word.

Next time, you’ll do it all again.

And again

And again

Because he thinks he’s the one taking what he wants.

And you’ll let him believe it for now, it’s so much easier to keep him happy that way.

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When you arrive at the location, a lot of people are already there. You greet a few as you pass them by, looking around a bit, trying to spot that familiar tuft of brown hair you know so well… and haven’t seen in a while. You had declined his offer to bring you to the event, you wanted to surprise him with your outfit. But hearing that familiar laughter nearby makes your heart pound a bit faster. Following the sound, some old classmates part slightly to let you squeeze through and you come to see the back of his head. 

Next to someone else. 

You’re about to call out to him happily when that ‘someone else’ puts her hand on his arm, giggling. 

You freeze. 

Your heart sinks. 

What the… Your eyebrows furrow slightly, even while you’re trying to school your face into a neutral expression. As Caleb laughs he shifts his stance, subtly letting her hand fall from his arm. While he looks around with a tight smile he finally spots you, and gives a big and genuinely excited smile. He walks towards you immediately. You force a smile, still wrestling with your own emotions inside, and also start walking towards him. But when he opens his arms wide and squeezes you into a bear hug, your worries slowly get pushed back into your subconscious. Melting against him slightly, you wrap your own arms around his waist and squeeze strongly, making him give a small strained groan. 

During the hug, this mystery woman slowly stalks away. You glance at her out of the corner of your eye. You feel your eye twitch slightly so you blink and quickly look away, opting to just ignore it and instead start snuggling into Caleb’s warm broad chest.

You pull back after a few moments and he gently reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his gaze roam your face. He puts on a sad, nostalgic look, “Wow… you’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.” He suddenly says, with a sad melancholy tone. Rolling your eyes with an amused huff you push him gently. He stumbles back a little and lets his gaze roam over your outfit appreciatively “Hey! Oh wow… look at you… all dolled up. You look amazing!” 

Turning up your nose slightly, you declare proudly, “yeah… a doll you can’t afford”, not resisting the smile forming on your lips when his soft chuckle reaches your ears. You grab his hand and squeeze it gently, “We’re matching~” you point to the coordinated colors of your clothes and Caleb follows your finger, nodding when he sees it. “Oh yeah, you said we would lowkey match.” 

While you two catch up with your high school buddies, he wraps his arm around your shoulders casually . It’s pretty stuffy in this restaurant they chose, especially since a lot of people accepted the invitation. The staff pushed several tables together for everyone. You lean in further against Caleb, happily chatting with your old friends. You’re glad you came, it’s good to see them all again. And so far the night has been pretty good. You continually push that short gut-wrenching moment down by force. 

“Wait, what do you mean?” You sit up, staring at your friend. She nods excitedly. 

“Whoa. What! Wait… No way.” You reply, looking between her and her outstretched hand, a big shiny gem shining on her ring finger. As the two of you lean closer to inspect it shortly, you nearly bump heads with Caleb. “Wow…” you absentmindedly knock on the wooden table. Caleb follows. “It’s so pretty! I’m so happy for you!” You squeeze her hand affectionately. 

When you let her hand go and she keeps telling you about the proposal and how it happened, a large hand seeks yours out. You cast a short glance at Caleb. Just to make sure he’s alright. He absentmindedly plays with your fingers as you continue to listen and gush with your old friends. You don’t miss the endeared look he shoots your way. He’s so obvious. 

The night is a bit colder than expected. Your own thin jacket doesn’t help a lot, so you pull his jacket closer over your body as you stand outside of the restaurant. 

You had to get some fresh air, calming your senses as there is too much going on inside. Caleb wanted to come along, but you insisted on going alone. Of course he didn’t let you go without his jacket, shrugging it off immediately. Insisting on it. 

“...such a dummy…” you mutter to yourself, pulling the jacket closer with a small tender smile. You sink into a small crouch, right behind the stairs leading out of the restaurant. Maybe this will hide you a bit from the cold winds. You snuggle deeper into his warm jacket with a secret happy grin hidden in your freezing hands.

The door to the restaurant opens. Now instead of a short respite, you get to hear an interesting conversation take place nearby. Faint clicks of a lighter and a big exhale. When you look up from your little hiding spot, you see the faint smoke dissipate into the cold night air. Two people lean against the railing, their backs turned to you. You retract a bit further into yourself, your senses zoning in on the two voices above. 

“Isn’t he… like… taken?” 

“I have eyes. I can see that.” 

“So…” 

“I don’t care.”

“Huh?”

“I said I don’t care… How long have they even been together? A few weeks?”

“I don’t know… maybe a month? I mean they always seemed close, though.”

“Exactly. What even is a month.. Like…” 

You feel your eye twitch in response. And your hands slowly rise to press over your mouth, subconsciously hiding your breathing. There is no fucking way. 

“I mean… you could try, I guess?” 

“Yeah, what’s the harm? It’s not like it's illegal to talk to him.” 

“True.. Also he was hitting on you! Like why did he try to make you laugh like that?”

“Right?!” 

You’ve heard enough. 

You stand from your hiding spot slowly, and walk around the staircase. As you start slowly ascending the stairs, not a single word is uttered, not a single glance shot her way. The two women fall silent awkwardly, probably stunned by your sudden appearance. Caught red handed. With a shaky hand and clenched jaw, you open the door into the restaurant, all the chattering spilling out onto the deadly quiet porch. You close it, as softly as you can. As softly as your anger ebbing below the surface allows you to. 

Slowly walking back to your seat at the table, Caleb spots you and gives a big smile. “Heyy, pipsqueak.” He, of course, notices the slight change in your demeanor and adjusts his tone accordingly. “What’s wrong?” He starts to stand up but you push him back into his seat. You snake into yours right next to him and sniffle slightly, rubbing your cold hands together. “It’s so cold outside~” And to tease him and to turn the attention away from you, you bring your cold hands dangerously close to his jawline and he squirms away with a surprised laugh and a lighthearted “Hey!”

You narrow your eyes affectionately when he takes your hands in his, subtly saving himself, and trying to warm you up. His larger hands envelop yours with tender love and care.

The jealousy gnaws on your stomach all night, even when you get to his place in Skyhaven. It eats you up from the inside. But you try to push the feeling down. It’s not healthy, you tell yourself. 

Even as Caleb sweetly tucks you in with a soft kiss to your temple… the feeling won’t go away. You stay up and toss and turn in your sleep. Huffing slightly in anger you kick the sheets off. 

You want to see Caleb. 

Caleb awakes from his slumber, but it’s still dark outside. He blinks awake slowly, feeling multiple strange sensations at once. Instinctively he tries to move his hands, but the loud metal clinks on his headboard like a gunshot in the quiet room and pulls his wrists back harshly. He blinks and tries again in his drowsy half-awake state. The metal is unyielding. Furrowing his eyebrows he lets his gaze wander around the room, only softly illuminated by the moonlight above, casting a gentle shine on his room. And you. 

…You?

Your weight presses his hips down into his own mattress. Shaking his head gently to wake himself up, he blinks down at you, confused. While he’s blinking at you a few times, you hold his gaze with a quirk of your eyebrow. Then he lets his head fall back into the pillow, muttering sleepily. 

“Hey.” You gently slap his cheek. “Don’t fall asleep on me.”

Opening his eyes slowly, his gaze finds yours once more as the sleep lingering on his brain like a weighted blanket slowly lifts, then realization shines in his deep violet eyes. He jolts and squirms, trying once again to get up. The handcuffs don’t let him get too far. His legs shift and he feels a velvety material wrapped around his ankles, keeping his legs spread embarrassingly wide. 

You tilt your head at him, observing the way he’s slowly and finally waking up. “Hi~” you greet him sweetly. Your tone is sickly sweet in fact, never a good sign. 

He shakes his head again and lifts it, his sleepy gaze finding yours. “Y/n?” He asks hoarsely, his voice raspy and deep from his sleep. He can tell something is wrong. Of course.

Leaning this way and that way, you start to tug off your pyjama shorts, throwing them in his face carelessly. Perhaps a bit harder than necessary. You situate yourself on his hips again, shifting to really feel his still soft dick press right between your folds, against the flimsy fabric covering you. Sighing softly, you experimentally roll your hips, trying to grind against him slowly. His breath hitches in response, surprised. The metal clinks against the headboard again. He shakes his head gently to try and get your pyjama shorts off. He manages to free one eye only. His chest moves noticeably as his breathing starts to deepen. His eye locked on your body on top of his. 

“Y/n… what are you-? …Untie me.”

You chuckle breathlessly at his shaky voice, hips stilling for a short moment “...No.” 

After giving your curt answer, you go back to grinding on his obviously growing bulge. The soft cotton of his sweatpants feels so good against your skin, you want to feel it more. Bracing your hands on his stomach, you press yourself down a little harder, making his breath stutter in response. He shakes his head a little more, getting your discarded shorts off him finally. The tantalizing view of you on top comes back into view. He feels himself relax slightly at the sight of you.

He helplessly watches your clothed mound rub against him, an annoying amount of layers between you. Barring you from him. The panties you’re wearing were one of his favorites. He’d spotted them a few times when he volunteered to do your laundry. His eyebrows furrow slightly when he sees your core slowly start to soak the fabric covering it. He swallows deeply, his eyes never leaving the growing damp spot. “...Please.” 

You pause your sensual ministrations and start to lean forward. And Caleb actually smiles in relief. Only for you to cover his eyes with two hands, leaning your head on top of them. He whines in protest right against your jawline. Your scent envelops his senses, invading his nostrils as he inhales deeply. Fuck. He loves this perfume on you. 

The new position doesn’t make it easy to grind on him, but you keep going, breathing softly. “Hah… did you not hear me? I said no.”

Feeling your soft chest pillow against his, feeling your weight pressing him down into the mattress? It’s almost too much. Especially when he feels the heat of your core so close to his throbbing length. Dying to bury itself inside of the invitingly warm sheath. He can’t even touch you, squeeze your lush body above his, caress your sweet spots. To help you get more pleasure. It’s not right. 

He should be of use to you.

His hands twitch and tighten into fists. “...Untie me.” He tries again, swallowing deeply, shrouded in darkness from your hands covering his eyes. He feels your hair tickle his skin here and there, making him shiver slightly. 

“If you ask again, I’ll leave you here, leaking and tied up.” Your unamused voice reaches his ears, making him swallow nervously. He is treading a fine line between wanting to obey to make you happy and to fulfill his own deep desire to be of service.

“No… please, no. I’m sorry.” He quickly tries to get your forgiveness. He can’t stand you being mad at him, his heart can’t bear it. He presses a few desperate kisses to your jawline blindly. Sighing against your skin when you start moving again. This is bad. It’s really bad for him. Dangerous, even. 

Your softened voice now skims right against his ear, “You… You didn't miss me the way I missed you.” 

“...Huh?” He breathes out in confusion, the sensation of you practically humping his fully grown erection making his head spin, unable to concentrate. 

“You heard me.”

Lifting your hands from his eyes, he blinks at the loss of contact. Now, instead your hands are tugging on his pants, pulling them down shamelessly. The soft cotton slides down his body and reveals his black briefs, his dick noticeably straining against the last layer of fabric. So desperate to be freed. When you run your finger along the length, it twitches against your fingertip in response. 

“I… I did! I did miss you. A lot. …What do you mean?” He asks softly, his chest heaving. So desperately trying to concentrate on what’s got you so upset, but your clever fingers playing with his sensitive body don’t help his helpless case at all. 

“Not in the way that I missed you, it seems.” You respond coldly, a twinge of sadness peeking through. “So, this is your punishment.” You reach up past his head to tap the handcuffs keeping his wrist adamantly tied to the headboard. “Only good boys get to touch.”

“I’m good!” He protests weakly. “I’m… I’ve been good.” following shortly after, now seemingly unsure. He takes a deep shaky breath. “Did I do something wrong?”

“You tell me.”

“Y/n, please.” He seeks out your gaze, desperate. 

“...”

You lift his shirt while sneaking your hand up to his broad chest, circling the areolas of his pecs softly, nails poking into the soft flesh gently here and there. He squirms slightly in response, his breath hitching again. You tug on his right nipple slowly, as it's poking up so invitingly. He arches his back slightly, pushing his chest further into your hands. The way you’re mercilessly playing with his sensitive spots - you’re really upset. 

“You didn’t miss me.”

“No! I missed you so much… I wanted to see you so bad.”He starts with a soft and tender tone, trying to sound as genuine as possible. “I was so happy when I saw you.” He is being sincere after all. 

You bite your lower lip slightly. The reassurance feels good, soothing the jealous rage storming inside of you. But it’s not enough. 

Scooting back, you reach into his briefs and fish out his throbbing length quickly, making his thighs tense in surprise. A surprised noise leaves his lips. He lifts his head and watches, his eyes fixed on your hands. They widen when he sees the same hands pull aside your soaked panties, aligning his member with your entrance. “A-Ah- Y/n?” He stutters out, so excited at the idea of making love, but still confused as to why you’re upset with him. 

You observe his face smugly, letting his already leaking head part your folds and run through them, soaking it further with your own essence. His breath hitches again, his chest heaves. Fuck, it’s so hot, so good. He really wants to be inside of you. His eyes remain fixed on his own dick, his heart pounding in his chest. You’re wet already. So wet. Heat pools in his stomach at the feeling, at the erotic sight. At the subtle pride swelling in his chest.

“Hm? You wanna stick it in?” You ask in amusement, lips curling into a teasing smile. 

He dares to glance up at your expression, “...Please.” 

You don’t move, keeping your gaze on him challengingly. 

He racks his worked up brain for a way to appease you. “I… I really did miss you. Please, believe me.” His hands find each other, intertwining as they squeeze slightly.

You waste no time, starting to inch down on his length, hissing in pleasure at the generous girth, stretching your pussy open. Since you’re already soaked, it makes him slide in with surprising ease too. Especially after not doing any foreplay.- Caleb’s favorite way to pass the time. 

Caleb’s stuttery breath reaches your ears, his eyes never leaving the place where you intertwine. His eyebrows furrow further, his chest heaving. It really feels incredible. Soft velvety walls wrapped snug around his throbbing length. So warm. So wet. So good. He can’t look away, he doesn’t want to. Even knowing that this erotic sight will be his demise.

You experimentally grind your hips on his, feeling the way his thick member reaches all the places that need to be reached with ease. You grin and throw your head back a little, brushing back your hair. “Haah… I’ve waited so long for this.” Caleb whines helplessly in response to your words. “Feel good?” You ask in amusement, tilting your head curiously at him. Your fingers start dancing up his clenching stomach and up to his chest, tugging at his hardened nipples. 

He lets out a high pitched whine, his back arching. Nodding quickly, closing his eyes when he lets his head fall back onto his pillow. Why did you have to look so cute and sexy at the same time, it’s not fair at all. His breathy voice is like music to your ears. “So good. Yes, so good. Fuck, thank you.” 

You quirk an eyebrow again. Now he’s even thanking you? How cute. 

A loud clank takes your attention away from him and to his wrists, desperately trying to free themselves again. You brace your hands on his chest and hook your feet onto his muscular thighs. The new angle makes you hit your own gspot with ease. Your breath hitches as you start riding him, using him for your own pleasure. Instead of bouncing, you grind. What do you care if he feels good? He’s the one flirting with other women. 

Lewd squelching and passionate moans fill his otherwise quiet bedroom in the middle of the night. He just takes it, even if he wishes he could touch you. The desire to hold you, to pleasure you, to help or assist you is too strong. He feels a little useless like this. But… he’s happy to be of use, even like this. Seeing the way you’re using his dick like a real life dildo… he nearly becomes jealous over his own body. 

Nothing beats the sight of this. He loves seeing you enjoy yourself. Unashamed in taking what you want from him, whatever you need. He’s happy to provide it, for as long as you’d decide to. Especially if he can remain in this comforting snug hug forever.

The closer you get, the further your pussy constricts around his girth, squeezing him tightly, making his breath stutter desperately. He can’t even reach out to squeeze his own base, to desperately stave off his impending orgasm. All he can do is just take it. Your moans grow a little higher in pitch, become breathier, more arousing. His own testicles tighten up in response to your erotic moans. He has to close his eyes and turn away, the sight of your body undulating on top of him will make him finish too soon. He wants you to feel good for as long as possible. 

A hand quickly shoots to his throat, squeezing it slightly, warningly. His eyes shoot open, wide and surprised. His gaze finds yours. 

“Don’t fucking look away from me. Am I that-” You bite your own lip. You click your tongue in disappointment and look away, eyebrows furrowed. Droplets of sweat glistening on your temple. A sense of desperation and dread chills him to the bone. Before he can explain, you speak up again. 

“...Why did you flirt with her?”

Caleb blinks in confusion. His disadvantaged state becomes even worse when you start bouncing your hips on top of his, taking in his length over and over again. Your gummy walls sucking him in deeper with each thrust, fluttering around him. Fuck. He’s so done for. It feels too good. Lewd slapping of skin fills his ears, the muscles in his body clenching and flexing with each moment he tries to wrench his body under control. 

“W-what?” He tries, stuttering out between obscene slapping of skin against skin.

“Huh?” You reply, mockingly. Your hand tightens around his throat. 

He gasps. “Ah! Haah… W-who?”

“That woman.” You reply, panting. “At the restaurant.” Teetering on the edge, you furrow your eyebrows and close your eyes tightly. Your hand subconsciously squeezes tighter around his throat, the other coming up to squeeze his pec into your palm. An erotic breathy sigh leaves your plush lips amidst the impromptu interrogation. 

His breath hitches as the blood flowing to his brain slowly gets cut off, making him sway. The feeling of your pussy getting even wetter around his length, soaking him in your slick essence doesn’t help at all. You’re dripping so profusely. His vision blurs. Barely being able to spot the white ring forming around the base of his cock, he squeezes his eyes tightly. Blabbering helplessly he goes, “W-wait. Fuck, fuck, wait. Wait! Fuck- I’m… I’m so close, fuck!” 

You breathe deeply, trying to remain focused. The pleasure seeps into each limb, making your body tense up slowly, getting ready for the sweet impending release. It feels so good. 

But…

Your anger and jealousy don’t let you relax enough. 

You groan in frustration as your orgasm slowly moves out of reach. Even if you force your hips to move faster, even if his choked up cries of pleasure reach your ears and make your clit throb. Clenching your jaw you soon start moving slower, pausing as you take a deep shuddery breath.

“Fuck. …Damn it.” You pant, frustrated. 

You let go of his throat and dig your nails into his other pec. “Explain… hah… Now.”

He sputters and pants deeply, his entire body shaking as he tries to stop himself from cumming inside of your velvety walls. It’s all he can think about. His mind zeroing in on you and you alone. “W-what… what woman?” He rasps, still confused. 

Two fists slam against his chest. Not actually hurting him. But he can tell that you’re very very frustrated and upset, your arms shaking. 

“You’re about to piss me the fuck off, Caleb.” 

Uh oh. He racks his brain. What woman were you talking about? Who was at the restaurant? He didn’t flirt with anyone- 

Oh.

Oh.

“Y/n. Listen to me, please.” 

You hold his gaze, clearly hurt. 

“I did not flirt with her. I’m not interested in anyone but you. You know that.” 

You hold his gaze still, eyebrows furrowing slightly. 

“You know that.” He repeats, reassuringly. 

“Then why… was she all over you before I arrived. What happened?” You sit up and cross your arms defensively.

What a strange situation to be in. His dick deep inside of you, his arms and legs tied and you were riding him stupid mere moments ago. But you can’t relax until you’ve resolved this issue or misunderstanding. 

Deep down, you just want to be reassured. 

“I did not flirt with her.” He repeats, trying to seek out your gaze again. “I don’t even remember her name. Trust me. She appeared in that little circle we were in and just tried to talk to me. But I didn’t even- I wasn’t-” He stammers, tumbling over his words as he’s so passionate about trying to make you understand. 

“Please untie me. …I want to hold you.” 

“No.”

“Y/n.”

“Jerk.” 

“Y/n.” He puts on his gentle tone, reassuring and warm. “No one… could ever take me away from you.” He, once again, tries to reach out but his hands are still tied. “...No one.” He repeats sincerely. 

Another exasperated sigh leaves your lips. Perhaps you’re being too harsh on him. Maybe… The signs seemed to be there. Him shifting so her arm falls, him immediately coming to you, the way he never even casted another glance her way. Maybe her friend and her were misinterpreting his natural charm and friendly nature. You lie down on top of him, your head on his heaving chest. Listening to the racing heartbeat under your ear makes you feel a little bad for him. He’s so cute. 

“Your heart is racing.” You state softly. 

“Of course it is. I’m with the person I adore.” He replies with a tender chuckle. He just sees the top of your head now on his chest. A cute sight. But he really wants to hold you. He suppresses a whine. 

You give a soft sigh. He’s so silly. So cute. You like him so much. 

“I’ll kill you if you flirt with other people.” 

“I know.” 

“Good.” You take a deep breath and sit up. “Now… where were we?” His relieved expression comes into view and you find yourself smiling in response. Reaching down towards his face, you grab his chin and pull it a little closer, your own lips dangerously close to his. His eyes immediately drop to your lips, fixated. You bring up your other hand to cover his eyes and finally press your lips to his, slowly and sensually. Taking the time to feel the connection between the two of you. 

He tries to pour all of his love, devotion and care into the slow move of his lips against yours. He sighs in relief into the kiss. He’s just glad he could mend this misunderstanding. He never wants to be a source of hurt for you.

Inevitably the kiss turns more heated. Tensions rise. You stop covering his eyes and grab his face with two hands, keeping him closer. He obliges, of course. The handcuffs clank against the headboard still. You giggle into the kiss and lean down to put your forehead on his jawline. “Stop trying to get out of your restraints.” 

He chuckles with you, leaning his head against yours, his eyes sparkling with love as he presses a soft tender kiss to your bare shoulder. “Why? I’m being wrongfully detained.” 

You chuckle again. “I’ll detain you for whatever reason I want.” Smiling, you brush your lips along his jawline, feeling his breath hitch again. You don’t resist the urge to nibble there in the slightest. Putting one hand on his chest, you feel his heart start to pick up the pace further. Pounding against your palm. 

“I-is that so?” He stammers, his resolve weakening with every second he feels your mouth on his body, your hand on his chest, and still sheathed inside of the warm snug walls of your entrance. 

“Mhm.” Is all you say, slowly moving your open mouthed kisses from his jawline down his neck. His dick twitches inside of you, feeling slightly neglected. 

“...Want me to keep going?”

“Fuck, yes. Please.”

So you do. His overly enthusiastic consent spurs you on even more. You sit up, pushing his shirt further up to pool at his collarbone. Resting your hands on his chest. Squeezing his pecs. You hook your feet into his muscular thighs once more and begin to move. Alternating between grinding and bouncing, you find a good steady rhythm. The erotic squelching fills the room again, followed by harmonizing moans of pleasure and deep connection. Your breathing deepens as does his. 

He feels his own toes curl, desperately trying not to finish right away. He wants to drag this out as long as possible. So he rasps out a “You can grind, it’s okay. I like it.” Making you tilt your head at him with a smile. “Ha… whatever you say, baby.”

He whines helplessly in response. Calling him pet names? While he’s deep inside of you, being used for your pleasure? “Fuck… you’re so mean.” 

You laugh breathlessly in response, and decide to be merciful, grinding in a way that feels best to you. Your chest bounces slightly with each shift of your hips, cheeks flushing from the exertion, your breath deepening. Your hands squeeze his pecs harder as you let your head fall, hips grinding faster and faster. Your clit pressing right into the happy trail. Over and over again. Making your pussy start to constrict harder and harder around his girth. His hand squeeze tightly in the handcuffs, fingers digging into his palms. 

His hips start to move too, trying to shift up into you. Even if all of his limbs are tied, he wants to make you feel good. And it rewards him with shuddery sighs and moans that slowly become higher in pitch. Heat pools in his stomach, the sight of you, happy and in pleasure fills him with a deeply seated love and adoration. It’s a heady feeling. Fuck. He adores you.

You chuckle breathlessly, starting to feel your mind zeroing in on your own pleasure. The room around you starts to fade in and out of your awareness. “Hah… trying to help?” Caleb nods desperately. “Too bad.” 

You reach down and start to circle your own clit, making his heart throb desperately. His hands twitch. But he’s defenseless against the way your pussy starts to flutter around his length immediately. His feet shift in the sheets, as much as they can, and his body starts to squirm. The familiar tingle on his spine makes him freeze up, gasping softly. “Fuck! I’m- I’m close. It’s… fuck, it’s coming!” Followed by a helpless whimper. 

You feel his dick twitch helplessly in your walls and you circle your clit at a steady pace, your hips undulating on top of his faster. You squeeze his pec with your other hand tightly, teetering on the edge now. 

Then you feel him let out a long helpless groan while he cums. The feeling of the hot spurts of his come within you, the circling of your own clit, and the feeling of his length bumping against your gspot all make you tense up. Creaming around his length as your pussy flutters rhythmically. Loud shuddery sighs and moans leave your trembling lips. Caleb whimpers helplessly in response, his sensitive dick getting cornered in your walls, spurting weakly the last of his release. 

You shudder after the waves of pleasure come and go. Afterwards you flop down unceremoniously onto his chest, making him groan in surprise. Only exhausted but happy panting fills the room now. Caleb speaks up first. “I love you.” 

You answer with a happy hum, still catching your breath. “Hm… I love you too.” You lift your head and gently wipe at his sweaty face with an affectionate smile, your fingertips softly swiping along his face. His eyes don’t leave yours, deep abiding devotion shining in them. “Are we okay?” He asks carefully, hopefully.

You hum affirmatively and lean in to press a short peck to his plush lips. “Seems like it was just a little misunderstanding.” He sighs in relief. 

Then his smile transforms into a mischievous smirk, “Well… maybe I need to create more misunderstandings in the future, if I get to experience this again.”

Your boots thumped against the marble floors of the upscale grocery store, the kind of place you used to roll your eyes at before Wanda walked into your life. Now, though, you strolled through the aisles with a practiced ease, tossing imported cheeses, artisanal bread, and organic produce into your cart without a second thought.

Wanda’s influence has changed a lot of things about your life. For one, your college-student budget has become a distant memory. The Centurion card in your wallet—a shiny black ticket to indulgence—was proof of that. It was hers, of course, but she’d handed it to you with the simplest instruction: “Use it for anything you want.”

You smiled to yourself as you pushed the cart toward the checkout lanes, the heavy weight of the card in your pocket a constant reminder of just how much she trusted you. Wanda Maximoff might’ve been a control freak at work, but in your relationship? She melted under your touch.

The cashier, a petite brunette with wide eyes and a shy smile, greeted you as you approached. “Hi, how are you today?” she asked, her voice trembling just slightly as she began scanning your items.

“Doing great,” you replied warmly, leaning casually on the cart handle. You caught the way her gaze flickered to you, then quickly back to the register.

The blush creeping up her neck was almost too easy to miss, but you had a knack for noticing these things. You smirked, watching as her hands fumbled slightly over a bottle of wine.

“Careful,” you teased lightly, your voice soft but laced with just enough charm to make her fumble again.

“S-sorry,” she stammered, her cheeks now a lovely shade of pink.

You chuckled under your breath, pulling the Centurion card from your pocket and handing it over when she finished ringing you up. Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second when she saw it, and you didn’t miss the way she glanced up at you with a mix of surprise and curiosity. Sure, this store catered to the wealthy, but even here, the black card was rare. It wasn’t just a sign of money—it was a sign of status.

You gave her a knowing smile, watching as she swiped the card and handed it back with a shaky hand. “Thank you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No, thank you,” you replied smoothly, winking as you grabbed your bagged groceries and turned toward the exit.

The chuckle bubbled out of you as you stepped outside into the crisp air. Wanda had spoiled you rotten, and you weren’t ashamed to admit it. Still, you knew the truth—every extravagant meal, designer outfit, and high-end grocery trip was just an extension of her need to please you.

And you couldn’t wait to thank her for it.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

The house was still and quiet when you returned, the early morning sun casting soft rays of light through the windows. It was only eight in the morning, far earlier than Wanda would typically wake on a day off. After slipping off your shoes, you began unpacking the high-end groceries, each item finding its place in the fridge or pantry. The domesticity of the moment felt oddly grounding—balancing the extravagance Wanda showered you with.

Once everything was put away, you climbed the stairs, the familiar path to your shared bedroom bringing a smile to your lips. When you reached the door, you stopped, leaning against the frame to take in the sight before you.

Wanda was sprawled out on the bed, her hair mussed in a way that made her look soft, innocent even. Her face was pressed into your pillow, one arm hugging it tightly as she slept. The straps of her silk nightgown had slipped down her shoulders, and the covers were pushed halfway down her body, revealing the lace panties that clung to her hips.

You stepped forward, sitting gently on the edge of the bed. Your hand moved almost instinctively, trailing softly down her back, the delicate curve of her spine shifting under your touch. She stirred slightly, letting out a soft sigh, but her breathing remained slow and even.

Your fingers traveled lower, teasing over the lace of her panties, rubbing her gently. A small, muffled noise escaped her lips, and her hips twitched, moving unconsciously into your hand. You couldn’t help the smirk that spread across your face as you continued, her soft little sounds growing more insistent even as she remained asleep.

She began to stir, her body waking before her mind. Her hips arched, pressing herself into your touch, and her breathing hitched as her eyes fluttered open.

“That’s my good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and sweet as you leaned down to kiss her shoulder. “Good morning, princess.”

Her only response was a breathy moan, her body already yielding to you.

“Fuck… Mommy… please,” she whimpered, her voice trembling with need. “I’ll be good.”

You chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I know you will be, baby girl,” you cooed, pulling back just enough to cup her cheek and tilt her face toward you. “Come here. Sit on Mommy’s lap—I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Her sleepy eyes lit up at your words, and she wasted no time scrambling up to straddle your lap. The moment she settled against you, she stilled, her breath catching as she felt the bulge pressing between her legs.

She gasped softly, her cheeks flushing as she instinctively rolled her hips against you. “M-Mommy…”

You growled low in her ear, the sound making her shiver. “I got a new toy this morning, baby. Figured I’d wear it out and then come home to use it on you.”

Your teeth grazed her neck as you nipped at her skin, savoring the little noises she made as her hands clutched at your shoulders. You didn’t rush—this was a game you both loved, and you intended to savor every moment of it.

Laying her back against the bed, you tugged her panties to the side, exposing her slick, swollen folds. She was already dripping, and the sight of her had you groaning softly. Lining yourself up, you pressed into her slowly, watching her face as she gasped, her back arching as a long, drawn-out moan fell from her lips.

“That’s my good girl,” you praised, your voice thick with affection and dominance. “Look at you, swallowing Mommy so greedily.”

Her legs wrapped around your waist as you adjusted her position, pulling her knees up until she was in a perfect mating press. Her dazed, blissed-out expression sent a jolt of satisfaction through you, and you smirked as you began to move, her whimpers and cries the only thing you could hear.

Wanda was yours, completely and utterly, and you intended to remind her of that every chance you got.

Her nails dug lightly into your shoulders, a sleepy whimper catching in her throat as you shifted her beneath you. Her hair spilled across the pillow like a halo, green eyes still heavy-lidded but locked on yours with something between adoration and surrender.

“Such a beautiful girl,” you murmured, brushing your thumb across her cheek. The compliment made her blush deepen, and she bit her lip in that way that told you she was balancing on the edge of shy and eager.

You didn’t rush her—this was a moment to savor. Your hand skimmed slowly down her side, feeling the way she leaned into your touch as if drawn there by instinct. Her breath hitched when you leaned closer, lips just brushing her ear.

Slowly you started moving your hips, letting each movement linger. You watched every time her breath caught for you, every bit of tension as she grew hotter beneath you.

“Do you know what I thought about the whole time I was out?” you asked softly.

She gave the smallest shake of her head, her eyes never leaving yours. “No Mommy.”

“You. All curled up in bed, waiting for me. Being such a good girl… knowing I’d come home and spoil you. Knowing I’d come back and use your body.”

Her lips parted, eyes searching yours as if she could see every indulgent and rather naughty thought written across your face. You pressed a slow kiss to her temple, then her jaw, then finally her lips—soft at first, then deepening until her fingers tangled in your shirt, clinging. 

You sped up your hips, moving to pin her hands above her head, moans tumbling out of her as the mixed with the sounds of her wetness. Her face red in a flush as you pounded into her, using her body. Doing exactly what you knew you would the day you met her. 

“Look at you such a pathetic slut beneath me. I knew when I saw you this is what I’d be doing.” You growled by her ear. A deeper moan coming out of her. 

“Yes Mommy…ah…mmm fuck Mommy please.” She looked up at you, red faced and eyes watery.

“Oh look at you all ready to fall apart for me. You won’t though without my permission will you?” You coo and tease her like prey beneath you. A shake of her head, words try to come out but its a simple whine followed by a moan. Her back arching as you hit deeper. 

“Mommy Mommy please I’ll be your good little slut. I’ll do whatever you need or ask or anything please let me cum for you Mommy. Want to please you.” She begged ever so pathetically that made a wicked smile appear on your face.

“Go on then. Cum. Now.” 

That’s all it took as her eyes rolled back and she arched off the bed. A string of ‘thank you Mommy’ came out of her. You slowed your hips helping her down from the high before slowly pulling out. 

Her body trembled in the aftermath, breath hitching in little gasps as her chest rose and fell beneath you. You loosened your hold on her wrists immediately, bringing her hands down to rest against her stomach before threading your fingers through hers.

“Shhh… there’s my good girl,” you murmured, brushing damp strands of hair from her flushed face. The intensity in your voice had melted away, replaced with something quiet and steady. “You did so well for me.”

Wanda blinked up at you, her glassy eyes still soft and unfocused. You leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead before easing back and shifting off of her just enough to give her room to breathe. Her muscles twitched faintly as you reached for the blanket at the foot of the bed, pulling it over both of you.

You tucked her against your side, letting her curl into you the way she always did after you’d pushed her this far—like she needed to make sure you were really there. One hand stroked lazily up and down her spine while the other cradled the back of her head.

“Still with me, baby?” you asked softly.

“Mhm,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, almost shy now. “Just… floaty.”

You smiled at that, kissing the side of her head. “Good. That’s exactly where I want you right now. Just let me hold you.”

For a while, the only sounds were the steady hum of the world outside and the slow, even rhythm of your breathing. You kept tracing gentle shapes along her skin, feeling her heartbeat gradually settle against you.

“Do you need water? Something sweet?” you asked eventually, already making a mental list of what you could bring her.

She gave a tiny shake of her head. “Just you.”

That pulled something deep and tender from your chest. You held her tighter, resting your cheek against her hair. “Always, princess. I’m not going anywhere.”

As she walked away the creaking startled him awake. The ropes binding his hands to the chair were so tight he felt them bruising his wrist if he moved. How long had he been here? How long had he been asleep? Why was this house so familiar and warm yet horrifying at the same time? And who was this woman whose lavender scent made him both terrified and…he looked down at his pants. It was the only thing he was wearing. The fabric barely hiding his growing erection.

The lavender scent grows intoxicatingly strong as she reappears, no longer in a robe but rather athletic wear. A tight top and a tennis skirt that showed off her perfect legs so well he almost forgot he should be afraid, so very afraid…

Reality set back in when he realized she was carrying a small bag. It jingled with every step she took. She caught his eyes and smiled. The type of smile you give a lost pet that’s just been found. The memories come flooding back…the woods…the game…the chase… her at the center of it all.

His eyes grow wide as he pushes back against the chair.

“Oh bunny.” She says, caressing his cheek. Her touch so tender he melted in spite of himself.“You were so good yesterday, ran so fast for me. Just not fast enough.” Clicking her tongue disapprovingly.

She set down her bag on a table he hadn’t even noticed until now. Too focused on the situation at hand. Frankly just too focused on her. She was so eerily beautiful. Every movement calculated and poise yet natural. Her touch left him as she reached inside her bag. Re-emerging with a set of carefully wrapped knives. Each one gleaming in what little moonlight was left. His heart stopped as she unwrapped each one. Raking her fingernails over each handle. She finally landed on one in the dead center, small with a black handle that fit perfectly in her hand.

She turned to face him again. Pointing the knife at him with a smile before pressing the tip of the blade right into the center of his chest. Blood quick to drip from the small puncture it made. The cool metal against his bare skin mixing with the pain of the wound caused him to whimper.

She dragged the blade down his torso. The incision just deep enough to sting. A crimson line going down to his waist before landing at the hem of his pants. She smirked removing the knife before straddling his lap. Now holding the blade to his neck she whispered in his ear.

“You’ll do better tonight won’t you bunny?” Before pushing the knife further and sinking down to sit on his hard dick.

He moaned at the sensation of her warmth against him, grinding into him. The knife still digging into his neck turning him on more. He wanted to hate it. To hate her. To hate what she was doing. But he didn’t. He loved it all so much. She knew that.

She harshly rose from his now precum stained lap causing him to groan. Placing the knife back on the table before making quick work of taking off his pants. His cock finally springing free, wet and hard. A shade of desperate red only she could make it have.

She grabbed a different knife, much bigger this time and he felt tears roll down his face as she circled him in ways a predator hunts it prey. Standing behind him now she was silent and then…the ropes loosened.

Only one word was said. A command he knew all too well.

“Run.”

And so he did. Ran as fast as he could. The house a blur as he opened the front door to the surrounding forest. The night air cold and harsh on his skin. Bare feet hitting rough dirt, doing their best to avoid sticks and leaves. He had ten seconds. She always gave him a ten second start. She liked to give him false hope.

He was deep into the forest now, farther than she’d ever let him go. He could hear a stream up ahead. There was plenty of night left. A terrifying realization. Yet his thirst clouded his judgement. As he reached the stream he stopped. Taking small quiet steps before crouching down and cupping his hand to take a sip.

A crunch came from behind him followed by silence. She had been watching him. Waiting. She knew they’d reach the stream. He always ran the same way. Almost like he wanted to be caught. Yet tonight this wasn’t going to end quickly. Tonight, her little bunny was going to play with her all night long.

His whole body tensed, her body emerging from the trees like an ethereal being. Her knife glimmering. He was paralyzed. A deer in head lights had better survival instincts than him in this moment. She stood directly in front of him now. Using the knife to guide his chin to look up at her. His trembling body a beautiful sight in the frightening backdrop of the woods.

“Caught you.” Her velvet tone filling his head leaving him dizzy.

“Please…please give me another chance please. I..I..I’ll do better” his voice a manifestation of need and desperation.

“Aw it’s too late to beg now bunny” Her boot finding his still leaking dick, pressing hard so he could feel every groove of the hard leather sole before kicking him hard. The wind left his body as he felt his back hit the ground. She flipped him over with another kick.

“Ass up pretty boy”

She laughed as he begged for mercy, slowing raising his hips into the air.

“You know the rules. Since the big bad wolf caught the stupid little bunny, she gets to breed it.”

She flipped the knife over in her hand. Delicately holding the blade before ramming the handle into his hole. His screams filled the forest, the pain too much for him to handle as she started pulling it out torturously slow. With each thrust she kissed his tear stricken face, the pain slowly turning into pleasure as his hole took every inch. The sobs turning to moans as he felt so full. So full of her. It didn’t take him long to cum on the dirt beneath him. Slumping to the ground too weak to move.

She slowly pulled the handle out, dropping the knife on the floor before gently turning him over once more. Straddling him yet again. Weak protests fell from his lips quickly silenced by her lifting up her skirt. Giving him a full view of her dripping wet pussy.

He could feel his mouth watering at the sight as his erection slowly returned. She grabbed it. Quick to guide it to her entrance.

“I’ll give you this bunny. You sure know how to put on a show.” Taking him whole.

Their moans filled the forest as she rode him like a wild animal. Biting his neck as she grinded on his spent cock. Draining load after load as she chased nothing but her own pleasure. A mixture of their cum dripping from her pussy covering his hips.

Hours passed until finally she stopped. A weak smile on her face as she fell onto his body, resting her head on his heaving chest. He held her tight. The minutes ticked by before she finally spoke.

“You finally did a good job bunny, let’s head back.”

TAKEMICHI

Michi lets out a loud whine, his palms sweaty against your thighs as you slowly grind your pussy against his cock. He averts his gaze, not because he’s shy— he passed that point two orgasms ago— but because he simply cannot handle the electric jolts of pleasure rushing through him.

“Mommy… please.”

“Please what, baby?”

He stutters, realizing he doesn’t even know what he’s begging for as tears continuously roll down the sides of his face. 

You take your hand and gently wipe away his tears with your thumb, your quiet shushing not doing much to combat the sticky noises coming from where your two bodies meet. His cum is thick and white, and there’s almost too much of it, your fluttering cunt milking him dry with ease.

He does his best to beg again, “Mommy… need you.”

“You need me? But, Michi, I’m right here,” you smirk, running your hands along his chest and stomach. 

"Need to feel you... wanna be inside."

You shake you head as a smirk grows across your face "Not yet, baby... Mommy's having too much fun like this."

He whines again, both of you knowing that tonight will be a rather brainless night for your sweet boyfriend.

CHIFUYU

You’re on your knees over Chifuyu, his chest rising and falling quickly as he does his best to hold onto his sanity, while you only grant the tip of his cock the pleasure of being buried inside of you. He strains against the pretty pink rope you have him bound with, his ankles and wrists struggling to break the bondage to no avail. You know it's an act, that he’s actually enjoying being tied up like this, but that only serves to turn you on further.

“Ah, ah, ah… good boys use their words. Tell me what it is you want.”

“W-Wanna breed you, mommy…”

His cheeks are red, coloured so because of his arousal and his embarrassment, not used to being told to speak his deepest desires without the ability to cover his face too.

“Good boys also use their manners.”

“Please, mommy, please. I’m sorry, jus’ wanna breed you so bad”, his lips form a deep frown, fearing as if he’s ruined his chance.

You lean down to kiss his worries away as you lower yourself fully onto his cock, feeling him twitch inside you.

“There’s mommy’s good boy.”

HAJIME

If you’d ever seen a more beautiful man, you couldn’t remember him in the slightest with the sight beheld to you now, in this moment. You have your fiancé folded in half on your bed, the man donning a pair of black thigh high socks decorated with big red bows on the cuffs. Just as pretty though, are the lascivious sounds he’s making as you fuck yourself on his cock, straddling the undersides of his thighs.

“Fuck mommy… you look so pretty.”

You giggle as your skin smacks against his “Thank you, handsome boy, you look very pretty too.”

“I do?”

“You do, sweet prince.”

He moans obscenely loud, his long hair sticking to his sweat covered forehead. He’s always loved that pet name.

“You like when mommy rides you like this? When she reminds you who this cock belongs to?”

His eyes squeeze shut and he nods frantically.

“Who owns this cock, hm?”

“You do, mommy…”

You pick up the pace with your movements, your legs a little sore but you don’t care. Right now, all you want is to feel Hajime pulse and cum inside of you as you do, your spasming walls drawing out every last drop.

SEISHU

You yank a little harder at the leash wrapped around your hand, pulling what was hanging loosely, taut. 

“Slow down, pup.”

“B-But mommy, s’too good…” Despite his arguing, he slows his bouncing on your strap on. 

“I know you’re eager, baby, but good puppies listen to mommy. You wanna be a good puppy, don’t you?” Your voice is low, dripping with lust.

He nods, eyebrows knit together and a pout on his face.

You smile at him before loosening your tug on the leash and leaning in to give him a kiss, one he eagerly accepts.

“You know what else good puppies get?”

“What?”

“Good puppies get treats,” you move one of your hands to the tip of his cock, focusing all of your attention on it, rubbing it gently.

His legs start to tremble as he continues to ride your dildo, throwing his head back with a whimper which makes the tag on his collar jingle louder.

“Thank you mommy, th-thank you.”

“Are you gonna cum?” He nods again, “Mhm… gonna cum for mommy.” “Go ahead, puppy, make a mess. Just for me.”

TETTA

You look him in the eye as you come down from your orgasm, bare chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. You turn off the vibrating wand you had pressed to your clit, moving it from between the two of you.

“I’m s-sorry, mommy. Was only a joke.” His eyes well up as he sits there almost motionless, his limbs tied to the chair and you sitting in his lap—his cock buried inside of you— keeping him from doing much more than protesting verbally.

“So being a brat is funny to you? Making mommy angry is a joke?”

He shakes his head, “N-No, I’m sorry. Just really want you to fuck me now.”

“No, I think naughty boys like you need to learn lessons the hard way. So, for now, all you get to feel is me, sitting nice and still, cumming around your cock… nothing more.”

He whines and his bottom lip starts to wobble, his body betraying his typical collected demeanor, “I’m sorry mommy, I really am.”

You move your free hand upward and cup his face, caressing his cheek with your thumb, “I know…”