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One of Daddy’s holes

#me

floreando-amor

❥𓏲✬𓏲❥

baddest-brat-deactivated2026010

Put YOUR hands around HIS throat when you’re riding him

keep playfully teasing and rubbing my bulge when people are around I promise I’m gonna fuck around and breed you the moment we’re alone

izlerimmmm

hiswritingblog

Spanking. Not the sort that we see in gifs and images here. Those are taken from porn and photo shoots and they aren't real. Not in the sense that I'm thinking, anyway. There's no sweetness to them. No emotion and intimacy. They're not the sort where your partner is laid over your knee carefully, and made comfortable. Where you check and make sure that they're balanced and aren't going to slide off if you shift, and you have that little quiet talk to make sure that they're okay and they're ready and this is what they want. The sort where you warm them up slowly and build up in intensity.

Over clothes at first, maybe. Slowly stripping away layers both physically and in a less literal sense. Feeling them collapse against you, and cling to you. You hold their hand, both keeping them in place and balanced where they need to be, and to reassure them. You both do that little thing with the thumb. That little rub that says "I'm here. It's okay." And they need that reassurance. So do you. Because the intensity builds and builds until they are struggling and crying involuntarily. The sort of circumstance that makes you pause and check in, unless you're very familiar. Even then you may still stop and make sure that they're okay. You may stop and make sure that you are okay. That little thumb thing is what holds you both down. The hand held together. Keeping them in place, and pinned down, and binding you both together.

Just a little more. Just a little further. The involuntary struggles stop but the tears flow more freely. Your partner clings to you like you're all that keeps them from being swept to sea. Your hand and arm ache. Their rear has welts and bruises. When you stop there's stillness for a little while, and they ask for you to hold them. They climb into your lap and cling to you and wince at their own weight against the bruises just made. Their face in your neck and shoulder. Their arms around you. And you both just pour out so much that was bottled up inside of you. You both let go.

There might be sex afterward. It might be kinky. It might be sweet. You might just curl up and watch a movie or make dinner or go about your nights individually. That spanking was an act of intimacy. A release that you both so much need. A ritual that can tether people together so sweetly.