warnings — spanking, dom!rafe who is also a softy, petnames (reader calls rafe ‘daddy’), lewd language
a/n — this is a part two of this story
(inspo p!link)
the air in the living room crackles with tension thick enough to taste. rafe stands before you, arms crossed, his expression full of displeasure. you'd deliberately ignored his instructions — touching yourself without permission. now, the weight of his gaze pins you down as you lay on all fours for him.
"i gave you a simple instruction," rafe says, his voice dangerously quiet, the deepness of it sending shivers down your spine. "and you chose not to listen, didn't you?"
"m’ sorry, daddy," you mumble, looking down at his feet, not daring to look at his face. shame prickles at you, but beneath it, something else stirs — a familiar, treacherous flicker of heat low in your belly. you know this look, this tone. you know what comes next.
"look at me when i'm speaking to you," he commands softly, but with an edge of steel that makes you lift your chin immediately. his eyes are dark, unwavering. "disobedience has consequences. you know that, don’t you?"
"i do," you whisper, the words catching slightly in your throat.
he nods slowly, his gaze sweeping over your form on the floor before settling back to your face. "get up and wait for me by the bed."
your heart hammers against your ribs as you obey, the short walk feeling like miles. the anticipation is a confusing mix of dread and excitement. you stand beside the bed, hands clasped nervously in front of you, waiting. when rafe enters the room a moment later, closing the door behind him with a quiet click, the atmosphere becomes even more charged.
he doesn't rush. he simply observes you for a moment, letting the silence stretch. then, he gestures towards the edge of the mattress. "bend over. hands on the bed."
your breath hitches, but you comply, the movement feeling both humiliating and strangely thrilling. you place your palms flat on the cool duvet cover, arching your back slightly, presenting yourself. you feel wetness begin to pool between your legs.
the bed creaks softly as his weight settles next to you. your eyes cling to the headboard, refusing to turn, every nerve ending alive to his proximity. then, you feel the definite hook of his fingers beneath the elastic waistband of your panties, his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin of your hips as he begins to tug them downwards, letting the soft cotton pool loosely around your knees.
then you feel it as the first impact lands — sharp, stinging, right across the curve of your backside. you gasp, flinching automatically. "count," he orders, his voice calm, steady.
"one," you choke out, the sound muffled.
the second smack follows quickly, just as hard. the sting layers over the first, radiating heat across your skin. "t-two."
with each impact, the initial shock gives way to a deeper, throbbing ache. but beneath the pain, the forbidden excitement coils tighter. your breathing grows shallow, your core clenches involuntarily.
smack. "fuck- ten." the sting is significant now, your skin undoubtedly flushed bright red from his touch. tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, but it's hard to tell if it's from pain or the sheer intensity of the moment.
rafe pauses, letting the silence hang, broken only by your shaky breaths. his hand rests heavy on the small of your back, a grounding weight that somehow feels both possessive and comforting. "do you understand why you're being punished?" he asks, his voice low, close to your ear now.
"b-because i've been a naughty girl," you manage to say. the heat between your legs is undeniable now, a slick heat that betrays just how much this forbidden punishment affects you.
"glad you realise it, baby," he murmurs. his hand doesn't move away immediately. instead, his fingers trace the inflamed skin where he struck you, a touch that is no longer punishing, but possessive, knowing. "let this be a reminder to listen next time, got it?"
you nod your head in understanding. "yes, daddy." the lingering touch, combined with the throbbing ache and the memory of his controlled anger, sends another wave of illicit pleasure washing through you, leaving you trembling and wanting more, even as the sting begins to fade.
"good. now let me fuck my baby to make up for it, yeah?"
Oh god Ben is so dad. I’d give up a toe (even one of the important ones!) for that man to baby me. Like please please please I’ve been good, I deserve it!!!
BABYING — s.boy
“ lookin’ at you, make me wanna fuck for life ” 🪽
MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ
✉️ | the boys.
NOTES. it’s hard to figure out what babying is for ben.
WARNINGS. fem reader ノ established relationship ノ sexual content towards the end ノ size difference ノ age gap ノ degradation: calls you a kid ノ daddy kink: dad ノ finger sucking (m receiving) ノ features alcohol.
SOLDIER BOY treats you like a kid. it’s not loving or kind usually, it has a fair amount of condescension and you’ve heard, “the grown-ups are talking.” more times than you can count. however, there are some days—rare and few—when ben gets a little soft. maybe it’s the change of the season, maybe his team won a game, but soldier boy calls you baby and means it sweetly. “c’mere, baby,” he’ll croon, hooking his finger under your knee to guide your body over to straddle his hips on the bed. callused thumbs stroke your thighs as he looks up at you with a certain contentedness in his eyes, the subtlest upturn to the corners of his lips. “let me look at’cha.” those proud green eyes drink you in while his rough hands slide up to get under the hem of your sleep shorts.
when he’s in a good mood and he wants something from you, the point of his nose tucks under your hair, gruff voice talks in your ear, “how’s about we get outta here, pretty thing? hm?” he purrs, and you swallow down the urge to visibly shudder, meeting his gaze when he pulls away to stand at his full height with that knee-buckling smile of his. you bite your lip, nodding your head while he stoops to catch your hand, leading you out of the room to go take care of you.
usually when you’re feeling real bratty—and you take it out on anything that dares move—ben’s right there to shove you back into your place even if it means sending you on your ass. it’s effective, and he uses any means necessary. but he plays it differently on occasion, letting you get it out of your system even if it means banging your little fists on his chest until you tucker yourself out. he’ll raise his brows, “you done?” you don’t give him an audible answer, instead replying with the tired hang of your arms and your hard pant. breaking the eye contact when he rolls his, a warm palm cups the back of your neck to guide you over, and pliantly you follow his lead to a table at the wall. you recognize the bourbon he always drinks, and your nose scrunches involuntarily at the smell once the cap pops off. he sticks his pinky into the hole of the glass, tips the bottle, wetting the tip of his finger. you feel his body start to close in on you, tucking you under his arm and into his side. it feels safer here, calmer. and when his hand comes to your mouth, your lips part instinctually to suck the alcohol off his pinky finger. “there. that’s it. s’all you needed was a little attention.”
the best babying he does by far involves getting you into his bed. ushering you away to privacy with his huge frame, corralling you until he can press your back to his front. he uses tricks like big hands running up and down your arms n sides, kissing on your cheek n jaw and neck. hooking your tanktop strap down and off your shoulder one by one. slow and steady movements lull you into that sense of security, all the way until you spread your legs for him, already swollen folds opening right up to show him how wet you are. “dad?” you ask uneasily while he’s settling between your legs.
holding himself over you with one hand, he guides his cock at the base with the other. “shh, shh, baby.” he coos, “keep those legs open nice n wide f’me.”
@HANASNX 2025 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal.
Uhhh more on the Shane and front wedgies thought please helloooo??
he does it on instinct, he doesn’t think before he does it — just wants to shut you up fast and fix your damn attitude. it’s an act of pure greed and aggression, mouth turning downwards when you get up in his face. he reaches down the front of your shorts with such a strength it unpops the first button due to the thickness of his arm, grabbing a fistful of your panties and just yanking them upwards.
they create a rope of friction against your clit, painful but oddly pleasurable — causing your mouth to fall open, silencing all insults that could have fallen out.
“yeaaah — not got shit to say now huh? you wanna run that back, huh? throw another tantrum on me? you hush up now. you hush up.” he growls, pulling it tighter, making your eyes squint before letting go so fast you stumble backward on your feet. he runs a hand over his face before closing in on you again, pointing right in your face. “you come talk to me when you wanna talk to your old man with some respect. yeah? look a’me. yeah?”
you’re all wobbly lip and tears as you nod, skulking off to cry and possibly touch yourself. fear not, he finds you later in the barn when you’re wandering around avoiding him and gets all soft, kissing up on your jaw.
“i was outta line. you forgive me baby ? i’m— i’m sorry.” he speaks into your skin. of course you do, but you’re enjoying his grovelling too much to give in just now. a kind hand travels down your tummy, caressing you there for a moment before pushing his hand further down back into your shorts, caressing the fat of your cunt through your soft panties. “i hurt ‘er? i hurt this pretty thing?” he rubs, gently and your eyes flutter, playing into it and he knows it because he holds back a chuckle when you pout harder and nod.
“t’aw, well. real sorry ‘bout that sweetheart. i can make it feel all better, lemme… lemme make it feel all better.” he croons, pulling your hips as he rounds to the front of your body and dropping to his knees, smirking up at you as he pulls your shorts to your ankles, pushing on with mouthing at your needy clit through your panties, right there in the barn where anyone could just walk in.
jj sleeps like the dead until kitten has to pee now hes wide awake following her to bathroom. he leaning against the wall sleeping just so he can be in there when she pees
you are responsible for your own media consumption. welcome to kinktober day four.
you’d liked to think you’d done nothing wrong.
jj knew what you were when he started dating you — friendly, sociable, a party girl, infact you’d even say those were some of the things that drew him to you in the first place.
as you step up to the chateau, having walked there in a pair of sandals that were rubbing your feet just a little too much, and your eyes dry from last nights drinking antics at the kegger — you could already tell jj wasn’t pleased with you from the look on his face.
he’s leaning up against that big tree outside the house, smoking a cigarette. jj was an avid stoner, yes — but he only smoked cigs when he was mad. you sigh, leaves crunching under your tread. in the back of your mind you note the uncharacteristic, slight chill in the air too — an introduction to the muggy autumn weather the obx briefly gets once a year.
“yeah i’m like shocked you even came.” jj calls out before you’re close enough, glancing between you and the cig he was now stomping out beneath his sneaker, twisting his ankle to smush it into the dirt.
“why?” your voice rasps, still that little bit hung over. jj laughs, bitterly and he doesn’t look at you— whipping his hat off and raking a hand through matted blonde hair before shoving it back on. oh, here we go.
“thought you’d like — leave to go fuck some other dude. y’know, seein’ as our relationship just means jack shit to you.” he shrugs like he doesn’t care but the look in his eyes tells you everything.
“what have i done now, jj?” you lean on your hip and he meets you in the middle on the grass, licking over sore, thin red lips.
“so you’re just gonna pretend you weren’t shakin’ your ass for the whole of the cut last night? lettin’ juuuust everyone see up your skirt? you got a man so like, you can’t just act single — i dunno know, that’s just my opinion—”
“you’re mad at me for dancing? at a party?” you step up to him which you know was a mistake as soon as his eyes flutter slightly as he glares down at you, suddenly pinning his mouth shut— jaw slightly clenched.
“yeah you’re right. i’m crazy, huh?” his nostrils flare, eye contact persisting. truthfully, yeah — he was, which is why you struggled to stand on business, not knowing what his next move might be. you shrink a millimetre in stature but you know he notices. “nah, don’t back down now. say it. say m’crazy mama.” he enters your space, filled was rage and smelling like marlboro reds.
“i’m not doing this—” you go to move past him, but he grabs you by the waist, even when you fight. “jj get off!”
“yeah we are, yeah we’re fucking doing this babe—” you speak over eachother frantically as you struggle until he’s wrestled you to the ground on your front, pressing your cheek into the dirt with a hand on the back of your head. you feel those thick cheap rings digging into your skull.
“acting like you don’t like this shit or something.” he scoffs as he straddles the back of your thighs. he’s rough, rougher than usual because there’s real anger behind each move and your heart pounds in your chest. what’s it called when you love someone so much you let them do whatever they want to you? even if it’s not warranted? it seemed like every guy round here was the same. no different from the rafes of the world — just violent and dirty and cruel. yet you couldn’t live without jj.
“jj, you’re — i don’t —”
“you didn’t mind showin’ off infront of everyone last night so you don’t mind if i just take what i want right here, right? nah, course you don’t.” he mutters, not even considering expecting a reply from you as you starts to fight your wriggling hips out of your denim shorts, sliding them down your ass. anyone could come by and see this obscene act, so naturally you felt hot all over and sadly, sickeningly aroused despite the thick knot in your stomach.
“s’not like that.” you whine, tears in your eyes as you turn your head toward the house— coming into direct eye contact with john b, who stood in the window with a mug of coffee.
he wouldn’t admit it, but john b didn’t mind all the borderline violent scuffles that you and jj would get into. bruises on your body from the rough and degrading sex showcased up and down your thighs when you’d lounge on the boat with the pogues, or red scratching of the word ‘MINE’ carved into jj’s back from your fingernails when his insta following would go up. for the most part he figured it was just kinky sex, nothing he wasn’t familiar with — but he had to say, he took a weird sick pride in hearing about you getting punished.
since dating you, you’d eaten up a good chunk of the time john b gets to spend with jj alone. jj used to be down for anything, would drop anything and anyone to be at his best friends side— and maybe john b had been selfish in letting that continue on to the point of expecting it. anytime he’d get time with the blonde, there you’d be nagging at the corners of the conversation or arriving unannounced to start something. it had gotten to the point where he too had began to indulge in violent sexual fantasies toward you, getting his own chance to put you in your place. you’re not one of us, he’d say — because he’s tired of being the kind and mature one.
“jj, j—john b is there you can’t—”
he’s already got your panties down, spreading your folds open to look at you a little too widely to the point you wince, jerking.
“alright and so what, it’s just john b. you didn’t care ‘bout all the extra eyes last night.” he shrugs one shoulder which surprises you. for someone so possessive, he really didn’t care.
when he pushes himself into you, you’re still locking eyes with the brunette through the dusty window. john b was typically courteous and would pretend to look away when jj would get to aggressively fondling you, but now he stares — puppy eyed and unabashed like he was doing nothing wrong, bringing the mug to his lips to take a leisurely sip as his best friend fucks you in the dirt. you even swear you see him shaking his head, all disappointed and dad like.
despite your walls clasping and clenching around jj, your head pounds and eyes burn with humiliation so you continue to squirm. maybe, somewhere deep in your mind you only squirm because you know that jj wants the fight, he wants you to struggle and suffer and pay for what you did. learn a lesson, so he’d say. despite everything, despite this — you just wanted to please him.
“had to make sure no one’s been breakin’ in these pretty tight holes babe, you understand right?” he pants, hands pressing into your back to keep you still. you already know the front of your clothes is ruined with dirt and mud.
you let out a pathetic groaned whimper similar to a ‘hnnnng’ sound as your brows furrow in defeat, eyes dropping to the way john b strains against his shorts, only turning to walk away when you watch him adjust himself. somehow, it makes your cunt flutter more and you wait for the blow of jj’s realisation.
a hard smack on your ass, there it is.
“my god, dude of course you’re gettin’ off on this. i knew you were a slut but jesus, way to prove it to me.”
MINORS DNI 18+
WORD COUNT: 0.9k
WARNINGS: explicit sexual content | f!reader | established relationship | daddy kink | mild dacryphilia | size difference
JJ MAYBANK's no stranger to being called "daddy." It's practically one of the only things you wanna call him in bed, and something about it just hits. Maybe it's his own raging daddy issues, or the fact it signifies an authority figure, someone to look to. JJ likes calling the shots, and who better to call shots than Daddy? Before you'd introduced that petname to him, using it as a taunt was pretty common. In the midst of a fight, he'd tease his opponent with a little beckoning: "Tha's right, come to Daddy." If a variation was in order, he wasn't a stranger to switching it out for "Papa."
He didn't take into account how far it could go though. Addressing him as your daddy was commonplace, but while he's working on his bike, he gets introduced to something different.
"Pass me that, will you, duchess?" he asks, brows furrowed at the metal in concentration. He holds out his hand for you, and you walk while you read a little paperback book. The spine is weathered.
You hum confirmation, and toe over, plucking his tool from its location. Its hefty weight causes it to drop into his palm more than you meant to, but your focus is still on reading. "Here you go, pa."
He registers your words, and slows to a halt. Unlike him, you're invested in your story, index fingernail toying with your lip unconsciously. The crease in his brow deepens, tilting his head. "Uh," Looking at you through an eye because of the sun glare, upper lip raising to the corner of his nose like a curtain. "What was that, sugar?"
"Hm?" you question, raising your brows in question as you respond to his gaze with your own. "What'd I say?" You're not entirely sure what had occurred, the fresh words from your page still echoing in your mind.
"Called me 'pa.'" he reminds you, his twinge of southern twang apparent in his phrase. Unable to hold your eye contact, he glances down at the tool he fidgets with in his lap, picking off some dirt.
"I did?" In disbelief, you frown, a hint of embarrassment coloring your cheeks. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking—"
He shakes his head. Minutely disappointed you didn't double down. "No, s'fine. S'fine." He pouts his lips, and twitches his nose when he sniffs, scratching it with the back of his hand. "No big deal, sweet pea, I don't mind it." He returns to his bike.
Later on, he doesn't let you get away with playing dumb. "What was it that you called me earlier?" His arms shake with effort, holding himself over your head as his hips rock into you, your legs folded up on either side of him. "Huh? Duchess?"
"JJ!" you chide, but it comes out in a sultry whine, your body bobbing with his movements as his dick lodges all up in your insides. "What are you talking about?" There you go playing dumb, and he won't have it. Callused hand slots itself in the crook of your knee, hooking your leg over his shoulder to stretch you out. You yelp when his head hits a new and deeper angle inside you.
"Nah, nah, don't be like that." he snickers breathlessly. "What'd you call me earlier? Know you wanna say it. Lemme hear it, bae, c'mon," He goads you, and you can tell his accent is more defined at a time like this. It's mouth-watering. Or his long cock rearranging your insides is.
His blonde curls fall into your face as he looks down, watching your cunt slurp him up while you cry out each full sheath. Moans are practically shoved out of you, like there's no room to keep them inside when he buries himself to the balls in your little cunt. Worsening his pace, slapping skin on skin because you're not obeying him.
"JJ, it hurts! It hurts!" you sob, clutching onto the fabric of his side slit shirt he still wears. He pushes your hand off of him, picking himself up to sit on his knees. He tucks the hem of his top between his teeth, displaying his contracting abs as he gets into position. Briefly, you're granted a reprieve, but that's only because he's switching things up on you, slotting his hands under your hip bones to raise you, biceps swelling from the action. Desperately, you catch your ragged breath, until he handles you back onto his dick. He doesn't reintroduce you to inch after inch, no, he bottoms out straight away, plunging his length into you while yanking you into it. You thought it was hell before, now you're near tears, mindlessly reaching out to him as if to wordlessly ask for a breather.
He keeps his hardened concentration where your bodies conjoin, a ring of cream forming around his base, and he scoffs through his nose. You thrash, but you're spasming around him. "Guess this pussy can take some abuse, huh?" he asks rhetorically, muffled by the shirt between his teeth. "So squirmy. She's flexible, I'll give her that. How's about it, baby, wanna tell me now?"
You fist bangs against his forearm, taut from his hold on you, fingers digging into your flesh as you fight him. "Pa! Pa, please! Ugh, you're so mean!"
He drops his shirt so he can speak clearer, "Yeah, but your Pa fucks you good, huh? Right? Pa fucks you nice, and good." Deliberately, he rolls his abdomen, and in turn, pistoning his cock into you in way that has your lashes fluttering. His movements, forcing himself to be slow and steady, causes him to shake from effort, every muscle flexed as he fucks you. Your leg still haphazardly thrown over his shoulder, and he feels your own tremble travel from your core to your toes. "Say it. Say it or I swear I'll tear you in two."
"You fuck me good, pa, you fuck me nice and good. Nobody does it like you, daddy, I swear."
you were lucky he didn’t have any plans on this particular saturday night — infact for once he wasn’t even with your brother when he got the call, lounging on his own couch with a bag of chips and a controller on his lap when he presses the phone to his ear to see what you wanted.
“yeeeeello?” he greets, picking out residue chip from his teeth.
“jj! yay you picked up— okay so, this guy was supposed to drive me home from this party but he ended up getting wasted and now i’ve got no ride home… please come n’get me? please please — n’don’t tell my brother he gets all annoying and judgy—”
the mention of another guy pricked jj’s attention, his brow raising.
“uhhhhh, kinda like… preoccupied right now…” he makes no effort to move, staring ahead at the pause screen on his game before pressing his lips together, the image of you stood alone outside a party all lost and frightened filling his mind like a cloud of poor judgment before he sighs. “yeah i’ll come getcha. text me the addy, okay?”
jj rolls up twenty five minutes later, looking absolutely delectable to your slightly wine-tipsy self and you can’t help the big grin that spreads across your face when he hops out his side of the car to open your door.
“a gentleman.” you tease with a giggle and he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck before stumbling back over to his own side.
“yeah, sum’n like that.”
the streets are oddly empty for a saturday night as jj cruises along, glancing at you as you stare happily at his profile. “you uh, good over there, trouble?”
“mhm… thanks for coming to get me jj…” he feels almost preyed on, seeing you bat your lashes through his peripherals. this only ever ended one way with you, and it filled him with guilt for his closest confidant. god, he was really gonna bone his best friends little sister again— wasn’t he?
“‘mean i always do. s’like our thing at this point… y’know when you hit my phone i know it’s gonna be one of two things. you need’a ride, or… you need’a ride… y’know like, on me.”
“sometimes both…” you are unmoved by his slight accusatory tone, perhaps you don’t even notice it due to your own lust and slight intoxication.
“w—yup. sometimes both.” he glances at you. “is that… what’s goin’ on tonight? or…”
that’s how you end up cramped in the backseat with your knees practically pinned at your tits and jj’s head between your thighs, ravenously devouring you off some empty side street. he was a little pissed. how he’d ended up like this, not even getting anything for himself was beyond him. his love for eating pussy betrayed him, but he couldn’t really complain listening to your pretty moans as he suckles on your clit and curls his fingers up inside— hurrying you towards a thunderous orgasm.
actually — he could complain.
right as you’re about to cum, jj lifts his head suddenly from beneath your dress — slick coating his lower face and a slight irritation to his brow.
“so what am i like just — like, a taxi or somethin’? who is this other guy anyway— the dude that was supposed t’drive you home? sounds like a douche—”
“jj!” you mewl, practically sounding like you were on the verge of tears. “was about t’cum!”
“my bad but real quick if you could just answer the— nope, okay—” he flinches as you weakly throw your fists at wherever you could reach, shoving him back down between your legs. “yes ma’am.” he mutters, before getting back to work.
when the two of you arrive back to your house in silence after the ordeal, hair and clothes a little mussed and disheveled from the backseat shenanigans — the curse of terrible timing strikes, and your older brother opens the front door before you get the chance, stepping out for a smoke.
“the fuck?” he doesn’t seem too alarmed, perhaps in the dark not noticing the clear post sex image projected onto the two of you.
“hey! big bro!” you squeak, overcompensating.
“howdy dude uh — your lil sis here she uh—” jj claps a hand down platonically on your shoulder as you go to speak over him with an explanation.
“he was just passing through and—”
“i saw her leavin’ some place alone n’couldn’t let that happen. drove her right on home. you better get straight to bed, missy.” jj scolds lightheartedly and now you’re avoiding everyone’s eyes, nodding as you squeeze through the two guys.
“mhm. goodnight!”
your brother watches you leave as he digs in his sweatpant pocket for his lighter, before turning his gaze back onto jj — who stands with wide eyes and pursed lips, still as a statue.
“whatever.” he shrugs tiredly, before moving past the blonde to walk down the drive to his usual smoking spot.
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