#tw.subspace

“And remember, sharp as a knife,” Grimmjow reminds. Of course, he would use a blade as an analogy. You roll your eyes at him, the bratty action being rewarded with a slap on your butt.

“How am I meant to keep your liner straight if you do that?” You snap. Grimmjow rolls his hips and your anger melts as the tip of his dick rubs against your slit through the fabric. One large hand wraps around your wrist, the blue pencil almost falling from your limp fingers, and pulls it closer to his face. Normal men take the next step in their relationship by giving their girl a key to their car or house. Grimmjow lets demands you do his blue eye makeup. Occasionally he would even draw a white bone on his right jaw. You don’t know what’s hotter, that you can go makeup shopping with your boyfriend and not get ‘yeah, looks great, babe’ mumbles directed more to a phone than you or that your man was comfortable in his masculinity to wear “feminine” things… Never mind, it was watching him beat up some homophobe who thought men wearing makeup is gay.

You take the hint and bring the blue liner back to his eyes, concentrating on making the wing as sharp as possible. Thankfully, Grimmjow lets you concentrate, one hand kneading your butt. One change to an eyeshadow brush to blend everything and dotting some concealer to make everything crisp and you’re done. Leaning back, your eyes flit over your work before deciding it was good enough and reaching for the mirror to show him. You cap the liner and close the eyeshadow palette whilst your boyfriend scrutinises your work. Clearly, it passes the test as Grimmjow flips you onto your back, two hands landing on your hips to pin you down.

“Time to repay you for your work,” Grimmjow purrs. “By ruining your makeup.”

The male grabs both your wrists in one large hand and pins your forearms to the mattress. You mewl and buck your hips into his, needing friction. Grimmjow places a thick thigh in between yours, allowing you to grind your core against him. Your head tips back as a large moan tumbles out of your mouth when Grimmjow brings his head down to nip at your clavicle, leaving a few marks.

“Grimm,” you moan, the male kissing his way down to the hem of your tank top. His sharp teeth graze against your skin, you whimpering at the pleasurable sting, the fabric being pulled down with his head. His other hand comes up, one finger hooking into the material to pull it even further down, the tops of your breasts revealed to him. Your tease of a boyfriend dips down and starts sucking hickeys onto the bared skin. Visible hickeys were hot but hickeys in places only he got to see were even hotter. You keen when you feel Grimmjow move away from you, his large hands grabbing the fabric at the back of his neck and pulling off his shirt. The wicked smirk he gives you tells you he had undressed that way since you found it so hot.

Grimmjow plants a hand by your face, and you realise that you hadn’t moved your hands from where they are stretched above your head. Grimmjow takes one bud into his mouth whilst his other hand cups your right breast, giving it a firm squeeze. You’ve always liked your pleasure with a bit of pain and Grimmjow’s the only person you know who has never hesitated to hurt you. He respected you enough not to treat you as if you were made of glass. His thumb and pointer finger pinch and roll your nipple. Rotating his wrist 90 degrees, Grimmjow pinches again this time playing with the metal bar that runs through the flesh. The tall male pulls back, letting his teeth graze your other nipple as he goes. A jolt of pleasure spears down your spine straight to your cunt making it throb even more. The male chuckles lowly as he watches the way your body writhes on the bed.

“Maybe one day I’ll take you to one of my friends so we can get this one-” he gives your left nipple a mean pinch that was rewarded with a soft squeal from you. “-repierced.” You can’t stop your eyes rolling to the back of your head or your hips bucking up, desperately needing friction on your clit. Grimmjow chuckles, leaning over you to pin your wrists with his non-dominant hand. All the strength of your upper body wasn't enough to dislodge his one arm. It turned you on as much as his statement. Having Grimmjow talk to-about you- like that with such nonchalance, like you were an object for his pleasure, a doll that he gets to decide how they look is humiliating. The sheer dominance of it makes you drip.

“Wouldn’t that mean your friends get to see my tits though?” You cheekily ask. You laugh when you see Grimmjow’s expression drop, not thinking of that.

“No,” Grimmjow growls into your neck. “You are mine. No one is allowed to see you like this.” Grimmjow rocks his hips into yours to reinforce his words, his bulge brushing up against your clit in the most maddening way possible. You sigh before gasping as you feel him biting the side of your neck to mark you as his. You moan at his ownership over you.

“I wonder,” Grimmjow begins, fingertips trailing over your thin tank top, ticking the sensitive skin of your navel that your bunched up shirt now displayed, “if I were to put my hands in your pants, how wet would they be?” You’re tempted to ask him why doesn’t he just find out but since your bratty earlier comment had been let slide, you’re not sure he’ll be as nice a second time so soon. You don't get a chance to answer before two fingers slip into you, curling just the right way to hit that spot deep in your gummy walls that has your thighs reflectively snapping shut.

“Keep them there,” Grimmjow orders, pushing his weight onto your pinned arms for a second before retracting his palm. It wraps around your right thigh, large enough to encompass the flesh as he pushes it from where it’s pressed against your other one and pins it to that mattress. The blue haired male shuffles into the newly made space, forcing your legs to spread even wider to accommodate him. Grimmjow’s other hand makes quick work pulling down your trousers and pants in one go, cruelly leaving them hanging mid-thigh and preventing you from spreading your legs too far. Ever a sadist, your boyfriend kneels on top of the fabric, forcing your hips to stay down. Strong fingers trace up the flesh of your inner thigh the ticklish sensation making you jerk although, between your pinned right leg and thighs, you barely move.

Grimmjow pinches the skin just below where your leg meets your thighs. Your moan is long and high pitched and rewarded with a chuckle. Thankfully, the blue-haired male doesn’t seem to be in a teasing mood, skimming two fingers through your lower lips to collect your slick, circling your clit a few times. He doesn’t give you the chance to make a sound of protest when his fingers leave your bud before plunging two fingers into your pussy.

The fingers wrapped around your thigh clench and you know tomorrow you’ll have a handprint-shaped bruise but you’re too drunk on the pleasure your boyfriend is giving you to say anything. There had been times in that past when you had complained about the marks he had made and in return, Grimmjow had made sure to leave no skin untouched with his fingers and teeth. Grimmjow lets out a deep groan as he feels your walls flutter around his fingers, thick digits spreading in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

“Fuuck, you should feel yourself. So fucking tight. ‘M gonna fuck you so hard you’re gonna be dripping f’me,” Grimmjow drawls, blue teal eyes focused on where his fingers enter your cunt. Your chest heaves as you pant out, hands clenched into the fabric to prevent disobeying his orders not to move.

“Please, Grimm-” your left thigh burns as the sound of him spanking your flesh echoes off the walls into your ears, thigh noticeably wet from your slick. “-please, sir,” you correct, “please let me touch you.” Grimmjow looks down at you, eyes softening as he takes in your flushed face and heavy lids.

“Such a good girl, doing what I say,” the praise is cooed down at you, Grimmjow’s left hand cups the side of your face. It’s so large that it covers the entire side. “You can touch me.” Grimmjow grants permission, having known you long enough to know when you’re so stimulated you have to hold onto him in some way to ground yourself. Your hands immediately shoot out and grab onto his broad shoulders, the male leaning down slightly to make it easier for you.

“Please, need you. Need in me so badly,” you babble, dark eyes turning glassy.

“But I am in you,” Grimmjow points out, adding a third finger and stretching you out better than your fingers could ever do. Your back arches, breasts pushing out as if as an offering. Grimmjow doesn’t hesitate, his large hand grabbing one.

“Neeeed your cock. Need it- fuck- need it to fill me up. Please fuck me.”

“Such a good girl. Such a pretty baby.” His fingers curl and rub against your gspot. The stimulation leaves you wailing and bucking so very close to the edge. Instead of being pushed into that pleasurable bliss, Grimmjow pulls his fingers out and shoves your hip back down onto the mattress, the hand on your breast pinching your nipple to help edge you away from your orgasm.

You don’t even get to complain or throw up a pout you know would have the tough man caving and doing anything you wanted. Maybe he knew you were about to do it because Grimmjow grabs both your hips and easily flips you over. One of his hands runs up your back, pushing your head down to rest on the pillow. Grimmjow traces your spine down to your hips, holding them to pull them up. Once he had manhandled you into the position he wanted, he wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, pumping his length a few times. The male traces your lower lips with the mushroom head. You wiggle back, trying to get him into you but Grimmjow spanks your ass instead.

Torturously slowly, Grimmjow pushes his dick into you. Once his thighs touch the back of yours, he pauses for you to get used to the stretch. His dick is big, stretching your walls in the best ways, and curves to the left a little. You wait a few heartbeats but become impatient and push back to urge him to start fucking you. Your breath is knocked out of your lungs as Grimmjow pulls back before slamming back into you. There is an animalistic quality to the way he pumps into you, your punched out moans with every thrust accompanied by the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Each thrust in has his cock brushing against your gspot and tearing a high pitched moan from your lips and every time Grimmjow pulls back you whine. You’re drunk on the pleasure only he can provide, hips meeting his to increase your pleasure.

Grimmjow bends down, coming to rest on your back and caging you in. One of Grimmjow’s hands remains wrapped around your left hip, helping you to move in sync with him, the other planting into the pillow by your head. His frame is large and wide enough to cover your whole body, creating a sense of protection and fire to burn through your veins. The new position has him reaching even deeper, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids. You’re barely coherent enough to think how hot his hand looks, veiny and big. You’re definitely not coherent enough to worry what the neighbours will say.

“What a dirty little dumb slut, so desperate to have cock in her she can’t even take her shirt off before being fucked,” Grimmjow degrades, tears pooling in your eyes. Your shirt is a rumpled mess, scrunched up below your breasts, thin straps having fallen down around your biceps and restricting free arm movements. The tears begin to drip down your cheeks, you’re not too sure if it’s from the pleasure or Grimmjow’s cruelty. Probably both. “You’re my little fuck slut, pussy so -fuck- fucking wet, wish I could stay here forever. Best pussy in the entire world,” Grimmjow mumbles. “Tell me you’re my slut.”

You parrot the words into the pillow, unable to lift your head to tell him. The blue-haired male isn’t pleased with it and fists your hair to yank your head up, all the while setting a rough pace with his hips.

“What was that dumb slut? Couldn’t hear ya?”

“I’m yours! Fuck, Grimm, I’m yours,” you sob out, eyes rolling back as Grimmjow relentlessly bullies your cervix with his dick. “I’m your fucking slut. Fuck, so fucking good. God, love your dick in me, wan’ it all the time.”

“Aww, you’re such a sight. Fucked dumb by my cock. My stupid little slut.”

Both your hands are clenched into the sheets, teeth clamping on the pillowcase to try and quieten yourself as the tears keep leaking down your cheeks. Your attempt to muffle yourself is barely successfully, wanton moans still audible. The pleasure is too much and you’ve stopped trying to grind back into him; you submit to his hips thwacking against yours and turn off your brain, handing your pleasure and release over to him. Grimmjow easily picks up on your decision, hand moving from the mattress to curl possessively around your throat. You arch into the palm hoping he’ll grip it harder but instead the blue haired male drags it down between your breasts to slide through the dark curls and to your neglected clit. Two fingertips flick against your nub without finesse- Grimmjow only aiming to have you clamping down on his cock. The additional stimulation is the last push you need and you cum with a loud moan, collapsing onto your front.

It takes a few minutes but you come around, feeling the shallow thrusts of your boyfriend. Grimmjow is still hard, desperate to release but waiting to make sure you’re okay. With effort, you turn your head to the side and glance back at him, giving him a nod. With your permission, Grimmjow shoves you back down, manhandling you so your thighs are splayed on the outside of his muscular ones. A large hand cups the back of your head, pushing it down whilst tilting your hips up. You get the message and curve your back, resting your upper body weight on your hands placed below your shoulders on the mattress. The position strains the muscles in your biceps but you make do, wanting Grimmjow to also orgasm.

The male drills into you, fucking you as if you’re about to leave. Your walls are oversensitive, pulsing around his member as he forces himself deep into you. The wails you let out are loud. To shut you up, Grimmjow forces three fingers in your mouth, thumb curled around your chin to keep them there. As if conditioned, you suck on them, twirling your tongue over the digits filling your mouth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. My little slut. So fucking tight, making me -fuck- feel so good. That’s right clench on me. Clench that messy pussy on me. No one else can get you this wet.” You try to moan in agreement but Grimmjow shoves his fingers further down your throat. Your gags add to the noises being made yet you keep eagerly pushing your head closer to his fingers, fucked dumb wanting to keep gagging on his fingers.

Tears drip from your eyes again, black trails snaking down your face as Grimmjow begins to lose rhythm. He pulls out, hand wrapping around his dick and jerking himself off. You hear a loud groan and then feel his hot cum land on the middle of your back. The fapping noise continues, Grimmjow milking his release. A few weaker spurts land on your ass cheeks before Grimmjow sighs and stops.

Two muscular arms wrap around your shoulders and roll you over into his chest. One remains wrapped around the tops of your shoulders as a pillow the other one moving down your body to scoop up his cum. Grimmjow’s fingers rest on your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly.

“C’mon, princess, be a good cum slut.” You glare at him but obey, parting your lips and taking his fingers into your mouth. You slurp noisily around them and snort when you feel his dick twitch against your thigh. When he deems his fingers cleaned, Grimmjow slides them out and cups your face making sure to keep his wet fingers angled away from your skin. He pulls you into a kiss, this time sweeter than the passionate ones you had experienced earlier. This one he uses to show his love for you. He pulls back, your head following his so as not to break the kiss too soon. The action has the male chuckling and petting your hair.

“Gimme a few seconds,” he tells you. You whine and pout, giving him the best puppy dog eyes but it isn’t enough to sway him. His face softens as he says, “Princess, I need to get a wet cloth to clean you up then we can cuddle. I’ll be one minute tops. Are you okay with that?” You pout but nod, curling into a ball to stay warm when he leaves. A bolt of electricity judders through your pussy when your thighs accidentally clench and another whine falls from your mouth. You blindly reach out and grope for the blue haired male’s pillow, tugging it into your chest and curling around it. Pressing your nose to the material, your boyfriend’s cologne soothes you. No matter if the scene was vanilla or hard, you liked to be held afterwards and reassured you had been good. You also didn’t like laying in your own sweat, the dampness slowly drying and making you feel gross.

True to his word, the Grimmjow doesn't take long, wetting a flannel with warm water and filling a glass with cool water. He brings them both back to the bed, setting them on the bedside table so he can position your body up against the pillows. Grimmjow hands you the water and kneels back onto the bed, scooping the back of your knee in one hand to lift your leg up. The same hands that spanked bruises into your flesh now delicately traces your vagina, taking care not to stimulate the sensitive area any more than needed. Once satisfied, he moves to your ass and cleans the rest of his sperm off of your skin. Finally, with a clean corner, he runs the cloth over your navel, around the back of your neck, under your armpits and along your arms, cleaning the sweat off as much as possible.

When Grimmjow notices you’ve finished the water, he gently takes the glass from you and places it on the table. He pulls you into his chest, pressing kisses along your temple, kissing any skin his lips can reach.

“How ‘ya feelin’?” Grimmjow asks, voice husky in your ear. You giggle.

“Feel floaty,” you tell him, deep in subspace. You feel Grimmjow tighten his grip on you, guiding you to tip your head back to rest on his shoulder. His right hand gently closes your eyes then begins to lightly trace your arm. You take the hint and try to fall asleep, Grimmjow murmuring praises in your ear.

Ito senpai’s hand rests on your calf, dragging small circles over the skin. Normally platonic touches soothe you, but the mood in the room has long been spoiled, and all you really want is to pull your legs off his lap and walk out. You’re not bothered enough to cause a scene like that though, or at the very least, not brave enough. He passes you the dart, but you just pass it on. You’re done for the day.

Three heavy knocks to the door make many of the people look up, some of them hiding the weed under their jackets. Not that it’ll matter, you want to laugh, following the dispersing clouds to the ceiling with your eyes. One of them stands to open the door after a few seconds of hissed panic, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. They all act so high and mighty, but when it comes down to it— you sigh, slowly letting your head drop sideways.

There’s a familiar figure at the door. Tall, tan skin and an exceedingly unhappy expression. You take a deep breath, letting fresh air fill your lungs. His eyes scan the room as he crosses his exposed arms over his chest, jaw clenched. Instantly the most handsome person in the room. Rough, hard lines in complete contrast with the soft, bubbly feeling of the air, but unbelievably perfect despite it.

So much so that it leaves you lagging behind for a few seconds when Ito senpai motions your legs off of him. At the harder push you move them, and he runs a hand through his brown hair. “Iwaizumi sir, how did you know to find us?”

Despite the confident smile, you can see the way his eyes flick to the blocked entrance, and the others fidget in their seats. You don’t blame them. His eyes find yours with a slight glare, your body suddenly seeming nailed in place. Pinned down by the narrowed, olive eyes like all of this is taking way too much of his time. He sighs. “All of you brats, move. And you,” he only spares you a half-hearted nod, “I need to talk to you still, so stay behind.” When no one dares to react, his jaw tenses. “Now. Get the fuck out.”

“Are we in trouble?” “Don’t know-” “Just move.” People scramble around the room for their jackets and shoes, and you follow their lead. It’s weird. Normally you’re not this desperate for his attention. Not this openly wayward, at least. So when Ito suggested you tag along, you had already nodded before you could think it over. He’s been so busy, what were you supposed to do? In the midst of all these strangers, you put all your faith on him showing up.

You can’t help but let your lips curl up the tiniest but at the corners, chest swelling with relief.

As they scamper out of the room and some of them rush down the hallway, Iwaizumi stares them down in silence, but leaves them to go. Ito senpai doesn’t look back for you as he walks away with his hands in his pockets. Not that you care much, but he could’ve at least given the impression that he cares. Soon you’re one of the last ones left in the room, and it takes all your strength to meet his bright, green eyes when they flick back.

“Don’t you think you’re overdoing it a little?” His voice is low and gravelly, it sends pinpricks down your veins. But your hands fist into the bottom of your top. As you shift back onto your heels, waiting for the last person to leave already, he uncrosses his arms from his muscular torso and his tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip. When he leaves, Iwaizumi shuts the door behind himself, and walks closer. “I had to leave a team meeting early because you can’t keep your hands to yourself. Getting me angry won’t work in your favor, little girl.”

“I missed you, daddy,” you softly admit, moving your eyes from the tips of his shoes to look into his face, “I just wanted to see you so bad, I couldn’t help it.” His eyebrows finally move from their hard, furrowed place to go up just a little. He doesn’t say anything as he takes you in top to bottom more thoroughly, and you swear you can feel the trail his eyes make down your exposed skin. Your grip on your clothing falters when he trails a hand down your arm, wrapping around your wrist and pulling it towards him.

“And that video?” The hand tightens a little, as if reminding you of his ownership, but he’s not as mad as you expect him to be. There’s jealousy there though, breaking through his usually controlled shell just enough for you to pick up on it. And it’s enough to make your heart race, because you know how he gets when he’s jealous.

While he stares, unwavering, you lift your free arm around his shoulders and pull yourself closer to him so you’re toe to toe. “It was in the bathroom. I was stuffing my pussy with my fingers but it wasn’t enough.” He blanks for a second, clearly weighing things off in his head, and you nuzzle into his chest to place a few kisses on his shirt, wishing you could be skin to skin already. But you can’t, not if you want him to give into you. So instead you press kisses up from his covered pecs to his neck, lingering there.

You knew what image your messages would give him. His baby out alone, with different people, desperately begging for someone’s attention. He knows how you get when you smoke, and more importantly, he knows that Ito senpai fucks just about any girl willing to give him attention. It was more than a bit mean, but you also know Hajime is mature and confident enough not to let it bother him. Well, not too much. “Nothing happened?” he asks, voice still eerily calm.

“Nothing,” you confirm, “I just wanted to see you so I made you come over here. I’m sorry.” The wait makes every fiber in you stand upright, pulled too tight. After a few more seconds of tense silence, you carefully glance back up at him through your lashes, and see him give the smallest of nods.

“Fine,” he finally gives in, letting go of your arm to drop his arms around your body and lift you into his strong, warm chest, your thighs wrapping tight around his waist. “Brat.” Though he says it with a low growl, you can feel his lips at your neck and placing tens of kisses there just like you had been, humming at your familiar smell. “You’re so lucky I love my needy, little baby this much. Get your stuff and let’s go somewhere you can’t cause me trouble.”

He tries to put you back down, but you cling on, clenching your legs tighter. “Carry me.” A soft huff is blown along the soft stretch of skin, and you pull back to give him your best doe eyes. “Want daddy to carry me. Please?” Though he rolls his eyes, the slight twitch of his lips is enough to make you cling onto his shoulders tighter, and eventually Hajime gives in to that too. Not that you illusion yourself thinking you’ll get off without any punishment either.

He bends to grab your sweater from the couch and throw it over your shoulder, pretending like he can’t smell the heavy, recognisable scent of the smoke that clings to your clothes. You lay your lips at the sensitive skin below his ear and kiss all over it, going from soft pecks to more needy and messy prints of your lips, tongue peeking out to soothe the skin. He clicks the door shut behind you and locks it before walking down the hall, doing his best to ignore the way you shift our hips against the hard friction of his belt, rocking yourself against him just a little.

You always get so fucking needy and wet when you smoke, and knowing Hajime would show up to make you behave only left you more restless. You moan softly at the feeling of pressure between your legs, and Hajime snaps, grabbing onto the hair at the base of your skull and forcing you away from his neck to glare.

“Stop wiggling, fuckin’ brat,” the man grunts, spanking your ass hard enough to have your voice come out, the sting spreading through your skin like little needles. And though he grumbles making his way down the stairs towards the hall, you can tell by the way his hands shift to grip tighter on your ass that he has no intention of actually putting you down.

He leans into you when you kiss his plush lips, pulling back with a whine when he rocks his clothed center between your thighs just once, soiled panties sticking to your pussy. “Daddy!” you breathe, and another spank shuts you up. Even with his easy grip on your body he’s strong enough to have your legs giving out and skin burning under his palm, it’s so unfair. There’s an amused glint in his olive eyes that only glitters more when his smile widens.

+

The door is shut. Not hard or particularly loud, but it’s enough to have your heartbeat rising, pattering wildly against your ribcage as you trail cautiously behind the tall, quiet figure. It’s not even your intention, there’s just something so overwhelming about Iwaizumi Hajime’s presence when he’s in his own space. When you first met him it set your hairs on end, as if voluntarily walking straight into a lion’s open mouth. He’d been so much more confident, more experienced, just plain older than you too.

Now you don’t care about any of that anymore, because if Hajime is good at anything, it’s taking care of people. He thrives off of it, and the thought alone makes your heart skip another beat, as you take off your shoes and leave them by the door. He’s still quiet, has been the entire ride back to his apartment, and you know it’s purely because he’s debating a punishment fit for your little mishap. You can only hope that he’s missed you enough to want to fuck you stupid still, because you might break if you have to be satisfied with a toy today.

When he stops at the table, you stop a few steps away from him, and the pressure creeps up on you enough to have you looking at the floor instead. He clears his voice. “Look at me, baby.” The soft order makes your stomach drop, but you listen almost instantly. It’s impossible to ignore him when he gets like this. Your bottom lip is pulled into your mouth, and you watch as he leans in a little, as if rubbing in how much he has to look down at you. It’s enough to have your belly tensing again.

This is so unfair, you just want him to fuck you already. You’ve been waiting way too long for any of this. Still, you obey when he brushes his hand past your face and grips your jaw to pull your lips towards his, languid kisses opening your mouth and tongue slipping in. He hums softly into it, letting you press your hands up to his chest and close the distance a little. You moan when the other hand falls to the small of your waist, but just that little touch to the sliver of exposed skin is enough to make you even more needy. “Did you have fun without daddy?” he whispers against your lips, and you shake your head.

This, as honest an answer as he can get, makes him chuckle. “No?” Again you shake your head, and this time you can’t fight the pout that comes to your face when you place your hands around his neck to pull him down to you a little. The warm cloud in your head is slowly fading a little, but it’s still enough to have you loud and whiny, and Hajime groans when you try to rub your tits up against him like a little slut. He trails his hand to your throat just to keep you in place away from him, as the other plays with the straps of your top, dragging lines over your hardening nipples and under the waistband of your skirt.

Your bottom lip juts out further as you look at him, watching his eyes inspect every part of you so apathetically. His throat bobs up and down, and you press your hands out to grab for his shirt again, making his eyebrows furrow. “Whores don’t get to touch,” he whispers, squeezing tighter and making your heated body even more useless. It feels like he’s just barely leaving your feet on the floor. Your blood pounds between your ears at the push of his fingers at the sides of your neck, making you feel even more lightheaded almost instantly.

“‘M not a whore,” you bring out, and he raises an eyebrow. “I’m not.” Your voice sounds softer instinctively, because it’s always hard to stand up to him like this. Olive eyes studying you, like he’s seeing through you, like you’re just a little thing getting in his way. It’s rough and too honest, and it’s so sexy your legs almost give out. “Daddy,” you try to bite through the tears welling up, but your voice betrays you.

The small grin tugging at the corners of his lips makes your breathing even tighter, and this time you grab at his forearm for support. Hajime coos at you when you whimper, softening a tad. “My little princess always needs my attention so bad, yeah? Can’t even get off without me?” It’s pathetic. If anyone were to see how easily you’re reduced to a whimpering, cockhungry mess for him, they’d think it too. “Poor thing.” But sneaking a quick glance shows you how hard his pants are pulled over his swollen cock, and that’s almost more frustrating.

You whine louder as he evades your lips to press a kiss to your cheek, before finally putting you down and letting all the blood rush back down. Your legs almost buckle again, and you steady yourself by placing a hand on his stomach. But really, you have no choice but to be this greedy when faced with his thick thighs packed in those pants, the strong lines of his body through the flimsy black shirt that leaves little to the imagination. When you look back up at him, he gives in enough to press a sloppy kiss to your lips, starting to unbuckle his belt.

You suck on his tongue and cling to him until he pulls back again, breaking the thin string of spit connecting your mouth to his, and clearing his voice. His pupils are large and blown out when he looks at you again, now nodding his head to the bedroom door. “Go in and take all of this useless shit off,” and then after a second, tugging at the edge of your pretty skirt, “except this. Leave that on. It looks good on you.” He dips down to steal one more kiss, as you rub your legs together and lick your lips to taste the way he felt there again. He starts wrapping the belt around his palm, before looking back up and lifting a brow. “Now.”

Your heart skips a beat. Punishments are the worst, but you’re still practically tripping over yourself to get your clothes off as you make it to the bedroom, letting your hands hang uselessly by your thighs. Iwa comes in right when you’re dropping your bra onto the heap of clothing, letting his eyes glide over your shape very slowly, sending even more pinpricks through your skin.

When he stops next to you, he drops his hand between your legs to rub a finger over your cunt, smiling a little. You can feel his fingertips dip into the slick as he pulls you close, subconsciously rubbing himself against your thigh. It makes you clench, and the fingers pull back a little to circle your clit. “You’re dripping, baby.”

You’re unsure what to say. It’s not like he didn’t know this, but somehow it’s embarrassing to hear aloud, and your eyes are already on the ground before you can respond. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your hairline as he rubs two fingers up and down your slit to coat them entirely in your wetness. “My pretty princess.” He pulls them away too quick, warmth leaving the stickiness between your legs and going down the insides of your thighs too cold. Smearing them on the inside of your thigh, he moves to sit on the bed, and pats his knee.

And this time you full on stomp your foot, just once, but it’s enough to have his expression hardening. “You deserve a little bit of punishment, little brat. Now come here so we can get this over with.” He grabs your arm and pulls you to lay over his lap, kneading the soft skin of your ass a few times as you let your head droop. The lack of pressure between your legs is starting to feel so distracting. You can’t even think right with the pulsing of blood to your cunny, the touching just out of reach.

“Daddy, be nice, please,” you simply say, and he hums. You can’t help but feel so neglected. Definitely when you can feel his hard cock pressing against your tummy, the heat of it making your mouth water.

The belt makes a loud noise as he whips it through the air once, before flipping up your skirt. The cold air to your exposed bottom half paired with the anticipation is enough to have the tears welling up, and when the first hit comes down you choke on your air, biting down on your lip so hard you can taste copper. There’s a few seconds of silence where he rubs the sore skin, before pressing a kiss there and rubbing your head. You shift onto his lap so you can press your face into his side, in need of more comfort from the pain.

Iwa softly hums when you sniffle against his shirt, and dig your fingers into his thigh. Then the touch leaves, and another hit is delivered, and this time you can’t hold back the sob. The glowing of the spot where the belt hit is just enough to keep you in place, not wanting to drag this out any longer than you have to. You hick when he rubs the spot again, trailing the line of the belt with his finger, before leaning back a little to look at you. “Don’t cry, princess. You’re such a good girl.” The praise, strangely enough, does help.

You look up at him through your tears for a second to watch the way he rubs your cheek and brushes his thumb over your shaking lip. “Just a little sting, pretty baby. Doing so well for daddy.” You let him wipe your tears, then shift you back over his knee better. Ass up, face towards the floor. You pull up your nose, and your eyes shut. You just want this over. As much as you know you deserve it. “Can you handle a few more?” he asks, and you nod instantly, though your hand wraps around his ankle for support.

“Manners,” he reminds, and you hick.

Your head is getting cloudier by the second. You’re not sure if it’s the last of the smoke, all the blood rushing to your head or the rush of hormones that’s crowding your head, but you could cling to him and let him do whatever. You could cum from it too. “Please, daddy,” you whisper, another rush of pleasure going to your head when he softly squeezes your neck in acknowledgement.

Your cheeks are wet with tears and your ass tingling with flares of pain when he gets to five, but your neglected pussy is already clenching by the time he lands the last hit. As he presses more kisses to the swelling skin, you moan, moving on his lap. Hajime rubs the skin until it’s warm, smiling when you shift and wiggle back into your previous position, shoving the useless shirt up enough to allow your face access to his bare skin, then holding you in place. He moves the skirt higher up your waist, then lets his fingers dip between your legs.

“Good girl,” he breathes, ignoring your whimper to say it again, and rubbing your tiny slit. The lewd squelching would be embarrassing if you weren’t aching for anything to fill your needy cunt to the brim. As they barely meet any resistance slipping into your heat, two long, thicker fingers pushing into you and curling into your walls, they stretch you open with lazy motions. “Daddy’s going to stretch you out for this fat cock, okay baby?”

You nod into his stomach, taking a deep breath of his scent to calm your restlessness at least a little. “Please,” you manage, but you’re unsure if he even hears over the loud clicks of your pussy. Your little hands are fisted into his shirt and pants, clinging on to the offensive barriers and tugging at them every once in a while. When he moves his fingers in and out of your dripping pussy a few times, you start pressing kisses to his skin, practically suffocating yourself under his shirt.

It doesn’t matter, the heat only adds to this amazing, numbing feeling you have. Daddy will stop you if he has to, that’s all the though process that your brain is capable of. He curls them into you each time he pushes them in, rhythm speeding up and reaching so much further than your useless fingers can. He lets you struggle on his lap from the pleasure, trying desperately not to clench so hard it pushes his fingers back out. But it feels so good, and Hajime’s not giving you anywhere to escape to, just using his strength to force his fingers as deep as they can go.

“Thank you, thank you, daddy,” you cry, kissing at the little stretch of skin, hiccupping when you come up for air. Your slick is going down your thighs, his hand, making a wet spot on his pants, but he doesn’t care about any of it. And you can’t care either when the stretch feels so good, making you mewl with every pump. Even the little brushes to your clit bring you closer to your high, definitely when he places his thumb on the sensitive nub and starts rubbing it harshly, making you cry harder. “Hm-agh, feels good, daddy. Love you, love you.”

“Love you too, princess,” he quickly says, and though you can’t see it you can hear the smile in his voice. You’re basically humping his knee and half falling off it by the time Hajime decides you’re ready, leaning down and spitting into your cunt for extra lube. Not that you need it. Finally he grows too impatient too and gives your pussy a few pats, letting go of your waist. “You can get on the bed now, baby. I wanna see you spread out for me.”

He helps you slide off his knees, but you have to take a moment to remain on the floor as all the blood goes back down. Black dots marring your eyes, it’s distracting and a little uncomfortable. Instinctively you clench your eyes shut as you remain on the floor, sniffling and lines tears slipping down your face. “Daddy, -hck- hurts,” you say, feeling his warm, large hand on your jaw. He cups your chin and gently urges your face towards him, before he leans his lips against yours.

“Do you want daddy to stop and take care of you now?” You shake your head, blinking through the blurry vision to watch him, and he hums. “Do you want to keep going?” You can only mouth a pathetic ‘yes, please,’ before he’s picking you up from the floor and helping you into the bed, letting you hick and sniffle to yourself. Hajime is good at knowing your limits, has been the one to shift them plenty of times too. So you easily let him help you ass up and face down in the pillows, feeling him shift on the bed behind you.

“‘M cold,” you pout, and he gives your upper thigh an encouraging squeeze. The ruffling of clothing being taken off completely goes over your head, all you know is that daddy isn’t currently touching you, and that it’s making you cold. It’s making the cold air touch your dripping pussy. You whine louder when he doesn’t say anything, and almost start making a scene before you hear him come back to you with an amused chuckle, placing a warm palm between your shoulder blades to keep you all the way down. “Don’t leave,” you only squeak, and Hajime laughs again.

“I didn’t know my baby was this fussy, I’m sorry.” There’s no shred of regret in his voice, he only gets onto his knees behind you, his hard cock drooling precum against your thigh as you try to sneak a glance behind you. His unfairly thick thighs and hard stomach and pecs on display, muscular shoulders and veins in his forearms and those hands that rub down your sides to soothe you.

He smirks when meeting your eyes, grabbing himself and lining up to your pussy. “My little brat always needs cock inside to feel truly happy, yeah? Pathetic, little whore. Lucky I love filling your slutty cunt.” He pushes the flushed, leaking head of his cock between your legs to your clit a few times, making you both hiss and moan at the feeling, before grabbing your hips tight and letting you push back on him. “What do you say, baby?”

“Please, daddy?” Your voice is practically gone. But he hums and he pushes in, and the head alone makes your mouth drop open. “Mhm, ah- ahh, daddy.” You look away again, closing your eyes tight, wet lashes on your cheeks. Your nails are digging into your own palms, your throat lets out little noises with each inch that enters you. The stretch is still so wide, like you’ll never be used to the size difference between you and him. It stings but feels so, so good, leaving you a trembling mess on your knees, the heat between your legs too much to handle.

“I love your cock, Hajime. You f-feel, ugh-ha, so- m-ah, so good!” He grunts in response, breathing heavy too. You know you’re squeezing too hard to allow him in easily, but you can’t help it. It’s all too much. Sweat rolls in beads down your skin, and every touch sends pleasure spreading from your core to your limbs. “Daddy, daddy, ‘m c-close. Please let me cum, please!”

“Already?” he bites through, and you don’t even have the energy to do any more than bob your head into the pillow a few times. “Yeah? Cum for me, baby. Cum on daddy’s fat cock, so I can fuck you properly.” He grunts when you moan, and pulls you back on him more. When he grabs your hair and bottoms out with one hard, deep thrust, your body just gives in. The pleasure crashes down like a wave, making your pathetic body squeeze and clench around his fat cock like crazy, wrapping so tight around it it makes your toes curl and eyes roll back.

“Oh, daddy, thank you, thank you, y-uhg-thankyouthankyoudaddy thankyoudaddydaddy, ugh, ahhh!” Words keep coming as you hold him still, and the brunet swears under his breath at the way you’re already shaking for him, but he doesn’t leave you a second of rest. You’re barely through one orgasm before he pulls out and slams back in, using the leverage on your hips to pull you back into him. Your mouth open and drool wetting the pillow, you moan and hick as he pounds into your accepting walls, fucking you through your orgasm straight into the next one that builds embarrassingly quick.

His rhythm is wild and hard, hips smacking into your ass hard with each pump and the wet, lewd sounds of skin meeting skin. His heavy balls slapping against your clit enough to make your brain short circuit, reaching behind you to grab onto his arm, your other hand balling up the blanket. He tries to keep you in place but you’re pushing back against him, rocking yourself back on his fat cock and whining like a whore all the while, and squeezing him so tight. “Slow down a little, baby,” he hisses, but you’re not listening.

Your legs wrap around his knees and pull him as close as he can go, as you arch your back more. And so he doubles down and fucks into you to chase his own high too, hitting so far inside you it feels like you can’t breathe. Like every cell is on overload. You think he calls your name, but you’re too lost to comprehend much of it, only noticing the wetness and the heat and the pleasure buzzing through your system. “Wanna cum?” he grunts, and you don’t even get the change to answer properly before he’s reaching under and rubbing your puffy clit hard and fast.

When you cum this time you don’t have the energy to make noise. Your entire body spun too tight, every string snapping at once. Black overtakes your head, and you feel an explosion of pleasure travelling to every limb. You can only clench around him like a vice, feeling his hot ropes of cum shoot into you as he groans and tries to fuck you through it. “Fuck, princess, that’s it. Good girl, -uhg- shit. Good girl,” he groans, leaning up against you and rocking his cock into you until you collapse with a sob.

your pupils dilated as you looked at the dazzling picture between her muscular thighs: her pretty pussy glistening with slick as one of her fingers teased her clit. you were practically salivating just thinking about how she smelled, how she felt, how she tasted. all you wanted was to bury your face in her cunt and inhale her scent, but she was just being so mean—not that you didn’t deserve it after what you pulled earlier in the day—but still.

noticing your staring, she pinched your cheek, shocking you out of your lewd daydream. “you know the rules: no touching,” she grabbed your chin with a set of manicured figures and shoved it towards your chest, forcing your eyes down to look at your knees, “and no looking.”

you sniffed uncontrollably, unrestrained tears now streaming down your face and soaking the blankets below you. “’m sorry, mommy,” you mumbled through your trembling lips. “really i am—”

“hah.” your ears perked up at the gentle moan.

“m-mommy?”

careful not to get caught breaking rumi’s rules, you cautiously lifted your eyes just enough to see the glorious woman in front of you, her head thrown back and chest contracting as two of her fingers thrusted in and out of her sopping pussy. “hngh,” she sighed softly, murmuring to no one in particular. “feels good.” she was addressing you now, “you sound so pretty when you cry.”

seeing rumi satisfying herself—without you—only made you that much more needy, and the ache between your legs was becoming absolutely unbearable. all you wanted was to be good for her, to make her happy, so why did you always make it so hard for yourself?

you were sobbing now, rocking back and forth, barely able to contain your cries. “i-i’m sorry,” you wailed. “i won’t ever do it again, i promise. i promise to not be bratty, i promise to be good, i promise to please.”

she took the hand that wasn’t occupied with her dripping cunny and positioned your face to meet hers. “yeah? you mean it?” there was an unfamiliar expression of affection in her voice.

you nodded your head energetically, eager not to waste her rare show of mercy. “i promise! please,” you made a needy, high-pitched noise, “please let me please you. i’ll do any—anything for you, mommy. anything!”

rumi’s eyes darkened at your statement, reverting to a crueler form of dominance. she leaned forward and roughly dug the nail of her thumb into your plush bottom lip, “anything, huh? i’m gonna hold you to that.” suddenly, she grabbed the nape of your neck, shoving your face between her legs. “you said you’d be good, right? i’m trusting you. now lick.”

you smiled, your shed tears wetting her smooth skin. the velvet of the inside of her thighs comfortably squished your cheeks and made you feel oh-so-safe. “yes, mommy,” you murmured, before taking a tentative lick at her clit. she shuddered.

“and what do you say when mommy lets you eat her out? don’t forget your manners.”

“thank you, mommy.” and with renewed vigor, you lapped at your meal.

as you picked up the pace, licking and sucking and kissing, she moaned out praise that made you keen. she approached her release and her tangy cum spilled onto your pink tongue, which you swallowed greedily.

exhausted, you rested your chin on her lower abdomen. “love you, mommy.”

rumi smiled fondly at you, running her fingers across your scalp. “i know. mommy loves you too.”

a tender expression graced your face as you dozed off, feeling completely and utterly at home in rumi’s arms. you’d always do anything to fulfill your promise: to please her.

he’d ask you such obscene things but you don’t even understand a single word that’s coming out of his mouth. “you want me to record you and show the boys that you’re my personal cockslut, don’t you?” you’d dumbly nod your head— agreeing to whatever kiyoomi says. he’s happy & contented— nothing is really inside of that pretty head of yours, is there? and the best part of it is that you’d barely remember any of it.