synopsis ▸ your husband starts acting up a little too much at your work party and you only find out why when you get him alone and under you. but it’s not something he’s keen on admitting to. you’ll just have to break him into confession—but that’s exactly what he wants, isn’t it?
δ — nsfw (mdni), smut, brat!theo, lowkey sadist!reader, brat taming, dirty talk, edging, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, riding, use of nicknames on theo, dacryphilia, subspace, keeho/jongseob cameo
requested ▸ anon, anon, 🐰 anon
ᯓ an — sub theo has been a long time coming and he's finally here sorry it took so long but um! enjoy! also never wrote married au before but something about subby hubby theo... mhm...
MASTERLIST
Your husband has an affinity for complaining.
And tonight, it seems his little quirk is at an all time high. For what, you’re not entirely sure.
For what it’s worth he’s at least trying to tone his distaste for the party down. But as the night runs longer, his restraint wears thinner. As does your patience.
“Can we go?”
You ignore him, honed in on your colleague who is artfully detailing a scandalous affair between the secretary and your boss to the group of you and your work friends that’s gathered by the snack table.
You don’t pay him and his quiet nagging attention as he attaches himself to your back, insistent fingers digging into the waist of your skirt in an attempt to pull your focus.
It staves him off for a little—until he starts to slide his fingers under the hem of your top.
You immediately latch onto his wrist to stop him, whipping your head back to fix him with a glare.
“Can you not?” You snap under your breath so only he can hear you among the chatter and the music.
He gives you a displeased look. “It’s been two hours.”
“And? The party doesn’t end until ten.”
His frown only deepens, brows furrowing further. “You didn’t tell me it would be that long.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes as you shoulder him off your back. “It’s a dinner party. What did you expect?” You ask, your steadily growing ire only a small spark away from fusing.
“But I’m bored,” he all but whines, pressing himself against your back once more.
You take a deep breath. Normally you’d find him cute. But you’ve been looking forward to this party for a while, to hang out with your colleagues outside of professional constraints, and Taeyang is one too many whines past being cute—it’s borderline irritating.
“Tae,” you start slowly, unlatching his hands from your waist. “You agreed to come to this a month ago. It’s too late for you to be complaining about it.”
He actually has the nerve to roll his eyes at you. “Clearly I would have said differently if I knew you were just going to ignore me all night.”
You grit your teeth, narrowing your eyes at him. “I wouldn’t be ignoring you if you weren’t acting so insufferable.”
His eyes flash at your sharp words. “Excuse me for being upset that my darling wife is neglecting me.”
“Why are you being so needy?” You can feel a few pairs of curious eyes on you now, so you try to quell any suspicions by taking his wrist in your hand and giving it a squeeze that might look affectionate, but is anything but.
Taeyang doesn’t bother to put up any pretense as his anger surges steadily. “I wouldn’t have to be so needy if you would pay me some attention but it looks like that’s just too much to ask—”
“Stop,” you hiss under a breath, your hand squeezing down on his wrist.
Taeyang’s expression falters at your sudden snap, his eyes flashing at the unusual display of anger. The moment pauses for a grueling second where you start to wonder whether or not you’re overreacting.
But then he smiles at you, one that’s deceitful enough to border on being icy.
“Call me when you’re done,” he says coldly, prying his hand from out of your grip before turning and making for the kitchen.
You watch his back as he goes, breathing in slowly to calm your rushing veins.
“Whatever,” you grumble to yourself, deciding you were overreacting just enough, before turning back to the group that seems none the wiser to your little squabble.
Except for Jongseob, who nudges your shoulder with his. “Hey,” he says when you meet his worried gaze. “Everything good?”
You put on your best smile, shaking your head. “All good. He’s just a little cranky.”
Jongseob glances over your shoulder, brows raising at whatever he seems to find. You don’t have to look to know. You can practically feel Taeyang glaring at the back of your head.
“Right…” He murmurs. “Cranky.”
The next few hours go without interruption, but that doesn’t mean Taeyang doesn’t make his displeasure known to you in other ways.
Like keeping a watchful eye on you from a distance as you chat and joke with your work friends, like getting a little too drunk and a little too loud with the others scattered around the house to the point your focus is constantly breaking away to him, worried that he might somehow tangle his drunken self to his death.
By the end of it, you’re exhausted from trying to ignore him.
You excuse yourself from Jongseob and the others, bidding them a quick goodbye before you make your way over to where Taeyang is laughing a little too hard at whatever the shithead from accounting, Keeho, is saying.
“Hey!” You call to Taeyang, taking the wine glass from his unsteady hand when he turns to look at you with bleary eyes. “Let’s go home.”
“Whaat?” He scoffs, breaking into a disbelieving laugh as he tries to reach for the glass again. You only pull it further away from him. “Noo not yet! I’m having too much fun!”
You’re sure your exasperation shows clearly on your face. “Are you kidding me? You were begging me earlier to go home.”
“And then you yelled at me and blew me off,” he pouts, words slurred as he tries to lean further for the glass, only to lose balance and nearly topple himself onto you.
You quickly wrap your arm around his waist to steady him on his feet. “That’s enough, Tae,” you scold under your breath, shooting Keeho an apologetic smile before you start to lug him towards the door, dropping the glass off on a table as you go.
“You’re soo unfair,” he huffs, stumbling along beside you.
Getting him outside of the house and into your car is quite the task, especially when he keeps trying to pull himself off of you and make for the house again.
Irritation doesn’t even begin to describe your state of mind.
“What has gotten into you?” You scold as you try to buckle him in, only for him to try weasel out from under the straps.
“You ignore me,” he states, then lets out a little cry when he realizes he’s gotten himself tangled up in the seatbelt. He then turns his head petulantly away from you. “Now I ignore you.”
You take a deep breath, standing upright and willing the cool air of the night to wash away some of the heat on your skin.
You married a giant baby.
You slam the passenger door shut with a little too much force before rounding over to the driver’s side, getting in without another word.
The drive home is quiet but the car is brimmed with simmering tension.
Taeyang seems to slowly be sobering up from everything but his anger. He sits with his arms crossed and his eyes out the window, a deep frown set on his lips.
You hate the way that it makes you feel guilty. Maybe you took it a little too far with the scolding but it’s not like he was making the situation any better by egging you on.
“You’re not being fair, Taeyang,” you mumble as you turn into your neighbourhood.
He bristles in his seat, lifting his head to turn and stare at you.
“I’m not being fair?” He asks, and you can already feel the argument brewing. “All I did was try to talk to you.”
“Bullshit,” you grit, pressing a little too hard on the gas pedal as you turn into your block, sending Taeyang jerking under his still-tangled seatbelt. “You were just riling me up.”
He laughs drily, a sharp noise that grates at your nerves. “Yes, because everything revolves around you. Sorry, princess, for not heeding to your every demand.”
The sardonic words make you slam on the brakes, hastily putting the car in park so you can reach over for him.
Taeyang barely has the time to react before you grab onto his tie, pulling him over the console. He’s yanked with a yelp, face pulled just an inch short from yours. You look pissed.
“Taeyang,” you start slowly, voice quivering with what he knows is barely concealed rage. “I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you, but you need to cut it off before I lose my shit tonight.” Your voice is low and deep, reverberating in the filthy crevices of his mind. And your eyes, so heated and so angry, that his cock jumps under his fitted slacks from being at their mercy.
He swallows, the movement shifting the tie tighter around his neck when you tug it to pull him just a little closer.
He should listen. He should back off.
But he’s never seen you so upset with him before. And he can’t help but wonder just how far he can push before you really make him pay for it.
Like an idiot traipsing into a lion's den, he leans forward, pressing in close like he’s about to kiss you. He sees you lean like it’s instinct, then stops, just a breath away from your lips as he whispers, “Lose it then.” Your eyes darken impossibly, and he only feels himself get harder. “See if I give a damn.”
There’s a fist around his throat, a pressure that holds him down with a strength he’s not used to. He kind of wants to give his last breath under its mercy.
Your pupils are blown, eyes darkened with a fury that makes him want to wither away. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
A soft noise gets caught in his throat and breaks, his head feeling a little airy at the pressure around his neck.
He wishes he could answer, but he doesn’t have one.
Not that you really need one, because soon enough, it all clicks into place when you take in the blush high on his cheekbones, the dazed look in his eyes widened in awe at you, and the hardened ridge of his boner pressing against his dark slacks.
Your breath catches in your throat as your gaze flits back up to his, seeing him watching your lips with an empty look behind his eye.
The realization makes you so dizzy you’d think you were the one that’s been drinking.
You squeeze around his throat once before pushing him back, reaching over to hastily untangle him from the seatbelt. “Get inside.”
𓆩⟡𓆪
Taeyang has been under you plenty of times before—but never like this, with his wrists bound to the headboard with his own tie, looking so disheveled and fucked out from just some kissing and being edged for the third (fourth?) time in under an hour.
You’d think it would be enough to force the brat out of him. But it’s a persistent devil that seems to grow stronger with each orgasm you deny him of.
The white button-up on him is undone and mussed, giving way to the smooth, muscled planes of pale skin that’s now marred with red lines from your angry nails.
His chest heaves with the effort to hold in his racing heart as you frantically fist his aching cock to the orgasm his body has been longing for ever since you snapped at him at the party.
But when you pull off of him just before that itch can be satisfied, he lets out a loud curse. “Please—no!” He yells, body jerking from the lost sensation as you leave him cold and coiled tight.
His legs tremble under his slacks that you couldn’t be bothered to take off, shucked down along with his boxers to his mid thighs. His neglected cock lays heavily against his twitching abs, weeping pathetically as you just chuckle down at him.
“Are you begging me, Tae?” You coo, smoothing your hands down his twitching thighs, the cotton of his slacks heated under your palms.
He takes a sharp breath, throat bobbing around a tight swallow. “No,” he says, voice gruff and airy. “‘M—mm—not…”
He winces again when you circle your finger lightly over the sensitive, purpling head of his dick. “Fine with me,” you hum, relishing in the full body shudder he gives when you glide the finger down the generous length of his shaft, the slick of his precum smoothing the way down. “Then you don’t get to cum.”
You can see his eyes flash with a panicked pain at your words, his hips giving a pathetic buck. But still, he resists giving into you. “Fine,” he snaps, wrists wringing under the ties as he squirms to try to move away from you. “Let me go then.”
“No,” you say, grabbing the base of his cock, and the wail he lets out when you give it a tight squeeze has the ache between your own hips grow needier than ever. “I don’t want to.”
His slick and bitten lips part with a deep, shuddered groan when you slide the tight ring of your fist all the way up his cock, squeezing down at the tip. He twitches harshly under your hand, body growing even more restless with each agonizing second he goes without relief.
“I think you’re right where you want to be,” you muse, giggling when he turns his head away from you with a huffy breath.
“Where I want to be is asleep,” he grumbles, breaking off with a yelp when you dig your thumb into his tip.
“You’re such a fucking brat, Taeyang,” you scoff, twisting your fist around his tip just to watch him whine in pain. You want to watch him cry, but he’s far too stubborn to let that happen. “I should’ve known you’d be completely insufferable like this.”
“If I’m so insufferable, why don’t you just let me—go, fuck!”
His voice thins out as he starts panting under your hand moving at a relentless pace to fist him to the edge one more time, just to leave him dangling again.
“Fuck you!” He snaps when you pull your hand away yet again, glaring up at you with tears in his eyes. The rage in his stare is real, palpable—but so is the undeniable lust.
“Only if you behave,” you tease, then bend down to suck his tip into your mouth just as your hand livens up again to fist him.
His body grows taut, back bowing off the bed as he lets out these high, frantic little whines. You can tell that he’s nearing his limits. His cock gives a dangerous pulse under your hand as a steady stream of salt invades your tongue, and you quickly pull off again, leaving his weeping cock neglected on his stomach as he drops back down to the bed with a pained cry.
“No—you can’t—you’re so fucking rude,” he babbles, sentences broken and barely intelligible as he writhes and sputters under you, his body restless.
But you’re too caught up in the tears that line his lashes, glistening and taunting as they hang there with the last dregs of Taeyang’s restraint.
“C’mon, Tae,” you urge, digging your fingers into his trembling thighs. He refuses to look at you as he heaves and writhes under the ties, blinking back those tears of his. “Just tell me, pretty. You wanted this all night, didn’t you?”
He goes still for a moment as the words catch up to him. Then a fiery red climbs down his neck and colours his chest.
You grin at the sight, as his eyes grow even more distant and even more dazed. “You wanted me to get you like this,” you state, sliding your hands up his thighs and over his abdomen, staying far from his crying cock. “You wanted me to treat you like a filthy little whore, didn’t you? And you thought the only way to get what you wanted was to get me mad?”
He lets out a quiet little whine when you click your tongue in disappointment.
“You could’ve just asked me, but you’re too proud for that, aren’t you? How’s your pride doing now?”
When he doesn’t answer you, you reach up to grab his jaw and snap his head towards you.
“Answer me.”
He stares up at you with wide, glittery eyes that look so, so fucked out. You imagine they could look like this from your words alone, and you make a mental note to try out that theory some other time.
He still doesn’t say anything, but he does let out a soft little whine that nearly absolves him of everything.
It gets a smile out of you as you let go of his chin, trailing your hand down his chest. He heaves a shuddering breath at the warmth of your hand, seeming to finally stop resisting your touch and go pliant under it as you tweak lightly at his nipple.
He lets out another one of those sweet little noises, canting his hips up in a silent, needy question.
“Say please,” you urge him gently.
But when he turns his head away again in refusal, all your softness washes you.
Your palm comes down on his upper thigh, so close to his cock and so hard that he lets out a pained yell, his dick jumping at the sharp contact.
Your other hand grasps his chin again, turning him to face you once more and your scold for him to beg dies right on your tongue when you see those crystal drops tracking down his cheeks.
Your breath hitches at the sight of free falling tears, of needy eyes and quivering lips.
“Please,” he whispers so quietly that you nearly miss it.
You nearly give in to the simple plea. But you need to pay him back for every bit of torment he’s given you tonight.
You swallow down the manic greed that rushes to your head, not wanting to give it too much reign or you fear you won’t come out of this with your husband still intact.
“Please what?”
He sobs, a quiet cry of your name through his plush, shaky lips. “Want to cum,” he whimpers, his hips giving these needy, unstable little bucks that you’re not sure he entirely has control over. “P-Please let me cum… I’ll be good f’r you…”
Oh, he’s gone. So, so far gone.
“Please,” he whines again, high and needy when all you do is stare at him. “Please, please no more, please just fuck me—need it—mm!”
His lips are eager against you but easily overpowered as you practically devour him whole with your teeth and tongue.
You bite down on the plush of his lower lip as you hastily pull your panties off from under your skirt but you drink up his little cries and ease it over with a swipe of your tongue.
“Good boy,” you whisper against his mouth, reaching down to grab him and slide him through the wet mess of your folds. “See? Was that so hard?”
He bristles under the sensation, immediately rocking up to seek out more.
And you don’t hold back this time. With a short but deep kiss you brace your hand above his shoulder and lift yourself up, hooking the blunt head of his cock against your entrance.
He stares up at you with those glassy eyes widened in needy anticipation, lips parted with shorts breaths. And when you finally start to sink yourself down, warm walls tight around his pulsing cock, his eyes roll back as a silent, shuddered moan breaks through those breaths and his body bows up off the bed, taut with tension.
You shouldn’t be surprised when thick ropes of his cum paint you deep and fill you to the brim with just how much he’s been holding back.
But that doesn’t stop you from rocking yourself over his softening cock and his trembling body, his cum seeping out through the edges and creating a sticky mess between his hips and yours.
You brace your hands on his chest, shifting your body so that when you fuck yourself down to the hilt, his tip nearly catches against your cervix.
It feels heavenly, has you moaning out low and sweet with every thrust. But for Taeyang, it’s painful and it’s too much. Yet he still doesn’t safeword out.
“Yeah?” You laugh breathily, looking down at his twisted expression, all fucked out and twitching with overstimulation. “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?”
He barely has the mind to nod, blinking slowly like he’s hanging onto consciousness, his eyes a little cross eyed as he tries to keep them open and on you.
“Tap out then,” you challenge him, rolling your hips with grinding thrusts over his softening cock. “Or are you so sick in the head that you want the pain too?”
When he lets out a whine, bordering on a sob, you know you’ve hit the nail on the head.
You lean down, bracing your elbows on either side of his head to slam your hips down over his, fucking him back to hardness—you can feel him growing inside you, twitching and insistent.
“Didn’t know you were such a painslut, Yangie,” you coo, gasping softly when you feel him buck up into you despite his weakened body. “Yeah? You like being my little whore?”
He parts his lips, starting to say something but he only breaks out into a needy whine, too fucked out to form words. His eyes look empty too, so you’re not sure he would be able to even think of what to say even if he wanted to.
“Aw,” you giggle, sliding your fingers into his soft hair to clamp down and tug. His eyes roll back again, mouth opening in a silent plea. “Dumb little bunny, too fucked out to talk?”
You slow down, clamping down tight on him to feel his body jerk weakly under you.
“It’s okay, bunny.” You press a kiss to the corner of his lips, sighing when you feel him twitch inside of you at the nickname.
You smile at him, at his flushed face and teary eyes and quivering lips, before you brace down and start to fuck him with intent.
It is strange that the song Knife was not written by Martin and Cortis, it is very similar to their song GO! Replaced Go Go Go with Knife, Knife, Knife. That's why I created a mashup. Watching, listening 🎶🎶
⍣ I've been waiting for John Walker to come back for four years, and he's back! And I'm back with a new video! We look forward to further developments with John! With our new Cap! ⍣
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