Gonna hug you and bury his head in your neck almost 24/7. He’ll be a little dramatic if you push him a bit. “I- you know I can’t live without you babygirl, please please give me another kiss.” He’ll do everything he can just to get some touches with you, tryna knock something small down on the floor and touch your hand when you’re gonna pick it up, then you hear “oh I’m so sorry sweetheart, just let me pick it up.”
You turn your head away and tell him it’s time to go to work, he’ll be like “what you don’t love me anymore?” You shake your head, “of course I love you Noah, it’s just- you’re gonna be late.” He drops his coat and step closer, “I can’t go to work without your kiss, and you know that.” You try your best to hurry up a kiss and you can tell he wants to deepen it, so you put your index finger on his mouth. He kisses the tip of your finger instead, “promise me you’re gonna hug me after I come back alright? Oh and kiss, and make love.” You blush as you hear the end of the sentence, nod to him and watch him as he grabs his coat from the floor with that chuckle on his face, because he loves seeing you blushing for him.
100% missionary and lotus lover cause he can’t control the urge to feel your skin and hold you tight in his arm. He loves every part of you, he has to touch you so he can feel the sense of security, so he can feel that you’re actually in his arm, you’re actually his at the moment.
Gonna hug you and bury his head in your neck almost 24/7. He’ll be a little dramatic if you push him a bit. “I- you know I can’t live without you babygirl, please please give me another kiss.” He’ll do everything he can just to get some touches with you, tryna knock something small down on the floor and touch your hand when you’re gonna pick it up, then you hear “oh I’m so sorry sweetheart, just let me pick it up.”
You turn your head away and tell him it’s time to go to work, he’ll be like “what you don’t love me anymore?” You shake your head, “of course I love you Noah, it’s just- you’re gonna be late.” He drops his coat and step closer, “I can’t go to work without your kiss, and you know that.” You try your best to hurry up a kiss and you can tell he wants to deepen it, so you put your index finger on his mouth. He kisses the tip of your finger instead, “promise me you’re gonna hug me after I come back alright? Oh and kiss, and make love.” You blush as you hear the end of the sentence, nod to him and watch him as he grabs his coat from the floor with that chuckle on his face, because he loves seeing you blushing for him.
100% missionary and lotus lover cause he can’t control the urge to feel your skin and hold you tight in his arm. He loves every part of you, he has to touch you so he can feel the sense of security, so he can feel that you’re actually in his arm, you’re actually his at the moment.
✩ A/N: I absolutely love puppy play with Sebastian, the man who’s meant to be the owner. I came across these little thoughts last night and I was heading off to bed. I don’t know if it looks great but hope you enjoy this <33
♫ Would call you puppy most of the time, and add different adjectives in front of it, like good little puppy, obedient little puppy, sweet puppy, or bad puppy, stupid little pup.
♫ He will teach you some signs. For example, he sits on a chair or the edge of the bed, then he pats his inner thighs twice, and you’ll know it’s the meaning of serving him a blow job. Or when you guys are fucking, he taps your waist and you know he wants you to lift up your hips. When he pats your thighs it means he wants you to spread your legs wider and pull the cute pussy nicely for him.
♫ He loves bladder control, loves the moment when you finally surrender and lose control under him. He stops whatever he's doing, looking at you whether he's fingering, licking, or fucking. “Such a useless little puppy, couldn’t even control her pee properly hm? Pathetic.” You’re shaking so hard, he gives you a cup of water, wiping your tears and says “oh we’re not done yet pup, next round’s coming, fix yourself up.”
♫ Spanking, of course one of his methods to punish you. He bends you over his knees, “count f’me pup, miss one then we’ll start over from zero.” He always shifts his hand to your pussy and chuckles when he finds you’re already wet, probably will slide a finger in to touch your g-spot nicely.
♫ He spits. Yes he spits at your pussy and smear it. He spits in your mouth and let you swallow after kissing. He calls them rewards, “good puppies earn rewards and take whatever their owners give them.”
♫ He will play jazz during sex, fucking you with the rhythm and whisper something like “oh I love this part pup, do you love this part?” -> the part when you screaming his name so desperate, the part when the piano gets strongly intense.
♫ He knows what he’s talking, the expertise in both dirty talk and sweet talk. “Gonna cum like a stupid little pup, is that right? I want answers, are you gonna cum f’me? Yeah? Louder, good girl, give it to me.” And “squeezing me so hard, hmm gotta fuck my sweet baby nice and slow, until you forget everything but my name and this cock inside your pretty cunnie.”
♫ He would train you to hump his shoes while he’s composing the music or playing the piano. “You’re not working hard f’me at all huh, didn’t I tell you to pay attention to your clit, rub harder, you’ll get my cock only after you cum once (or twice) on my shoes.”
♫ When you’re sleeping on the couch in the afternoon, sunshine’s kissing your face, he watches you and hums some melodies. He has written so many songs for you, most of them don’t have lyrics, they’re melodies coming from his heart. His love, his soul, his body, his vows, his world… he lets music speak for him.
some driver x reader impact + puppy play for……. @astrophxge BIRTHDAY WOOOOOOO happy 21st i love you sooooo much tabs and i hopenyou like this😁😁
NSFW BELOW THE CUT
The tight leather pulled at your neck, your neck arching backwards and Driver tugs on your leash, ‘I asked you to count for me pup.’
A whine tore from your throat as he massaged your already-reddening ass, the feeling of leather against skin making your shudder. On all fours, you feel your arms already shaking and threatening to give out.
When you hear the pleased noise at the sight of you, you turn your head to try and face him but all you’re met with is a sharp slap.
‘One,’ he says in a low tone.
You clench your eyes shut before you feel another tug of the leash and your eyes open at the sudden sharp restraint.
‘One,’ you repeat back, voice shaking.
Another slap hits and you rock forward as you cry out, ‘Two.’
It feels like hours between that and the next impact from his gloved hand, your cheek now feeling on fire.
The next two hit in quick succession and you’re barely able to get the numbers out.
The slaps pause as Driver moves his hand up to rest in the small of your back, ‘Next side now, well done for counting pup.’
Your entire body shivers as he punctuates the sentence with a short tug on the leash.
Before you can register his hand leaving your back, you’re met with another slap, ‘One!’
You moan into the feeling, back arching and eyes becoming blurry as he carries out the rest of your punishment.
i’m going to use hcs from my upcoming henry fic. and i know a lot of people are going to be like “but that’s mischaracterizing him” and i don’t really care so here goes nothing.
stalker henry is the youngest child of a well-known wealthy family. he’s the black sheep; he’s not ambitious like his oldest brother, not as materialistic as his sister, and definitely not as pretentious as his other older brother is trying to be. henry has no role in his family other than a punchline of a joke at expensive galas or be the prime example of what a letham son should not be.
stalker henry gets dragged in pompous affairs against his will. and while he has the choice to stay home and continue painting instead, he never declines given that he’s been stuck in an art block for almost a year. henry always gave these functions a benefit of the doubt. that maybe attending them would strike a motivation within him and get him back to his zone. but to his dismay, none of them ever does.
stalker henry who attends a ballet show where he meets you. the prime ballerina who leads the ensemble of dancers as they curl into formation with pure grace. you wear a striking black dress that resembles a black swan, but your face lacks even just a tiny shred of malice the role demanded.
stalker henry who has the opportunity to meet you backstage after the show since his father knows your sponsor. a man in his sixties who looks way too comfortable touching your back in front of many people.
stalker henry who immediately memorizes every detail of your face down to the intricate patterns of your bodice upon introducing himself. it hasn’t even been 20 minutes after the performance. he can still see the thin layer of sweat forming on your glittered forehead and under your eyes.
stalker henry who finished 5 art works within the span of 2 days, all consisting of the pretty girl who caught his attention a few nights ago. all of you in different dancing positions, in different kinds of dresses, but henry finds that he really enjoys painting you in red.
stalker henry who decides that solely painting you based on his memory isn’t enough. so he seeks for you all by himself instead, where he finds out that you’re a ballet instructor to little kids in a small dance studio downtown. and it’s a good thing he has his own condo near your dance studio where he decides he’ll be staying after knowing your whereabouts.
stalker henry who finally moves out of his family’s home. something his siblings had been waiting for him to do for years. and he spends 90% of his time in the cafe right across the studio, where he has the perfect view of you teaching the little dancers how to twirl and jump and do miracles in the air.
stalker henry who follows you home every night, keeping a relatively safe distance behind you and only using a cap to disguise. from what he observed, you don’t really have that much awareness around you to begin with. so even if henry’s been stalking behind you every night for the past three weeks, you have no idea. you don’t even notice it. not even a little bit of suspicion.
stalker henry who saves you from being mugged in the middle of the night after your night out with friends. if you never intervened, he probably would’ve ended up curb stomping the man on the ground and finding himself in a police station. but you did. and that’s why you’re his savior, who even offers him to come by your apartment so you can patch up his bruised knuckles.
stalker henry who already knows the way to your apartment anyway but acts like he doesn’t when you’re leading the way.
stalker henry who realizes you don’t remember him from the show at all. you never once utter the words “i know you” or “you seem familiar.” you’re genuinely acting like this is your first time meeting him as you clean his bloodied knuckles while you kneel on the floor.
stalker henry who doesn’t waste a second to ask you out when it’s time to go. and you, being completely starstrucked after being saved, agrees without a second thought.
stalker henry who, upon having you as his girlfriend, immediately starts controlling every little thing in your life because he only wants what’s good for you. your choice of friends, the time you leave home and come back, the people you talk to on social media, and even starts questioning your career.
“he’s my sponsor. i wouldn’t be able to perform on stage if it wasn’t for him.”
“he’s a creep. and you’re an idiot if you think i’m going to let him continue touching you like that again.”
“there’s nothing we can do, okay? i just… want you to behave for this one dinner. he asked to meet you and i can’t just say no. i mean—this is the same man who’s been keeping me from having a boyfriend since the beginning. so maybe he wouldn’t mind this time?”
henry just scoffs.
stalker henry who tries to keep you inside your shared home for as long as possible. when you have plans, he’ll talk you out of it. when you insist that you have to go to work, he’ll come with you, sit there on the corner and watch you teach the kids.
stalker henry who doesn’t even try to act surprised when you deliver the message that your sponsor suddenly died in an awful car crash. and he doesn’t even waste a single time before he offers to be your sponsor instead, because really, nobody else will be the perfect fit for it other than him.
✩ Summary: You’ve only got your driving license recently, Driver watches you as you drive on road for the first time.
✩ Word Count: 657
✩ Genre: Fluff
✩ A/N: I haven’t got my driving license lol so if there’s any mistakes please let me know! I’ve had this cute thought for a long time and finally I wrote it! Driver’s being a sweetie <3
Driver pretends he’s not that excited, but you can tell his feelings by his little signs, the way he quickly sit on the shotgun seat, the speed of him fastening the seatbelt, and of course his pretty smile, he always doesn’t hide his smiles to you. He glances at you while you get in the car, after all the preparations, you breathe deeply, using one hand to start the engine while resting the other one on the steering wheel.
“You’ll do great sweetheart.” His voice softened more as he sees your hands are a little bit shaky. You nod at him, shift the gear selector in to Drive, release the parking brake, then press the accelerator. A small force pushes you a bit, you can hear your heart pounding, the beat is so loud. “Amazing start.” He says, you realize you were just doing the most basic things, and he encourages you immediately. And of course, you’re doing more than great. It’s a very nice start for a beginner.
You can feel his gaze falling on you now and then when you’re driving, yet for most of the time he chooses to look ahead and keep an eye on the road, watching over the traffic to calm your nerves. “We don’t need to rush baby, just go steady, you’re doing so good.” He’ll remind you if you’re not sure which way to turn. “Left. Slower. Good job.” He keeps a great balance for not distracting your attention and encourages you with his words.
When you’re pressing the brake, the light force would push your bodies a little forward, he gently rests one of his hands on you and guide you back into position quickly. He leans forward a bit to check the rearview mirror for you to see if there’s cars or pedestrians next to you or if they’re in the blind spot.
Let’s just say he still has his thoughts on you, the way your hands holding the steering wheel, the look of you paying full attention on the car you sit and drive, and he feels the roar of the engine, he almost forgets how to breathe for a moment.
When you finally get to the destination, the grocery, you know parking is somewhat difficult for you. The car you parked is kinda crooked, but it’s pretty good overall. You let out a deep breath and say you’re still afraid when you’re reversing the car. He chuckles and pats your head, eyes meeting yours， planting a kiss on your forehead. “We’ll take it slow, you’re doing perfectly already, my little genius.”
After shopping, you throw the keys and cling to him, insisting on letting him drive you home. The breeze kisses on your face, you find that actually driving on the road is a whole different story compared to riding shotgun. You turn your eyes toward him. He puts one hand on your thigh, slowly rubs his thumb against it as you can feel the leather of his glove, and the other one on the steering wheel.
He says nothing, you just feel a strong force pushing you to the back of the seat, all you can hear is the engine’s scream, the sound of wind blowing since you didn’t close the window.
He doesn’t have many expressions on his face, like he’s been used to this for years. And of course he has. Only he knows he hasn’t pushed the car to its top speed because he needs to keep you safe.
Henry, you are a fallen angel, your tears soaking the blank canvas, your soul as fragile as crushed tissue paper, withering prematurely on the Brooklyn Bridge. Henry, the fog has rolled in today, yet it brings no whiteness—every scene is dusted with a layer of sorrow-tinted pink. Tristan Rêveur told me this is art, but I don’t understand—nothing is more romantic than the walruses. Henry, I want to give you all my love, yet I fear your fear will blur its weight, too thin to wrap you in my arms as you fall. So take my heart, my pessimism, my ending, the sweet medicine of my childhood, my hollowed-out spirit, the last shred of my will to survive.
Henry, please pile all of myself at your feet. At midnight, the asphalt ignored by rain longs for Prussian blue. Henry, dying is an irreversible tide receding, and I stand on the shore, watching you walk barefoot into that deep sea, watching you die of everything this world has given you, dissolving into a black light.
Henry, we will meet in the freedom where death washes everything clean.
Henry, Henry, at the end where all things fade, we will finally meet again, innocent of all sin.
What color does your heart turn when snowflakes land on your face?
You hold so firm the belief that you are a child cloaked in miracles—no amount of my love could brush a fleeting solace across your eyes. All I want is to hold you recklessly, to melt my body into yours, to share my breath with you, to let my heartbeat fall into rhythm with yours, to let my life set you free to chase every shade of existentialism, no more hesitations, no more wandering.
My dear K.
My dear Joe.
Your soul is so sacred. We shall meet in the Promised Land, singing odes to Moses’ glorious life. Or let us flee to Dilmont—there, by the holy river, I will kiss your cheek and watch the sun rise in your eyes. The wooden horse guides you to tear apart the cells that bind you—what binds you is no longer flesh and blood, my love. That is the first time you have ever sobbed for yourself. Where the neon light cannot reach, there is only filth, ruins, and endless goodbyes. Stay a little longer, long enough for your mistaken freedom to fill two lives.
hey guys. i'm thinking about dom!Ryland Grace fucking you in prone while you're all tied up... your wrists are in a double column tie that's fastened to the headboard, and your ankles are no different down south. you want so, so bad to thrash, grab at Ryland, but you can't. you're left to take every single deep inch of him despite this being the third time that he and you have reached climax. he isn't stopping any time soon, you think. every whine from you earns another firm press of his fingers onto your tongue. "be quiet, and take it," he means to say. you swallow your protests. whatever lay on the other side of this would certainly be worth it, and so far, you've never been wrong about that.
dom!ryland teasing and edging you when you’ve been a tease all day
WHO SAID THAT 🤔
Kiss It Better (18+)
brat tamer ryland/reader
It was a rare night, you and Ryland finally both had a night off together. After weeks of overlapping schedules and rushed greetings and goodbyes, a weekend lined up perfectly for you both to spend the weekend relaxing and resetting after the hectic weeks you’ve both had.
Starting with a friend get together. Just a few hours at a nice local restaurant. You and Ryland both agreed not to drink, and not to stay too late.
Which was going perfectly, a fun and stress free night that was so needed it’s crazy you went so long without it. Until you decided that slowly torturing Ryland for the entirety of the night was where your attention was going to go.
All things that could’ve looked innocent to anyone across the table or in the restaurant.
Climbing over his lap to get out of the booth, which involved you slowing down and half grinding on his crotch to climb over.
Leaning over him to grab salt or napkins while practically shoving your cleavage in his face, pulling back to your seat while throwing him a cute little smile.
What finally got him was when your hand that was innocently resting on his thigh, started to inch higher and higher every minute, until your palm was practically on his bulge, which he had been trying to hide the moment you started teasing him.
He broke then, impatiently waiting for the waiter to come by so he could pay your bill and handle whatever the hell you were doing right now. Wound tight by how long it had been since you both had been intimate together, and now you making it your life’s goal to kill him through slutty eye contact and showing your tits in his face.
And when the bill was taken care of, he grabs you by the wrist and practically drags you out of the restaurant, barely getting out a farewell to your friends before you both disappear.
The walk to the car was silent, he pulls open your door for you, closing it when you get in, then walking around to his side and getting in.
“Put your seatbelt on” his voice dropping an octave, smooth and deep. Now making the pulse between your legs come to life. You slide the seatbelt over and click it into the buckle.
“Ryland I-”
“Don’t.”
You shut your mouth, baffled by what just happened, half obeying what he told you.
“You know what you were doing in there. Knew what it was doing to me”
You smirk, turning away and looking out of the window to hide it.
“What? I don’t know what you mean?”
He scoffs and grips the steering wheel. The rest of the car ride home is silent, which is scary. He usually goes on long rants to fill the space. Stories about his students, a cool article he read about some new space discovery, and even on occasion gossip about teachers and your own friends.
By the time you make it home, you’re certainly nervous now. Still without a word spoken, he gets out and walks around to open your door, barely sparing you a glance. Walking ahead of you to open the door to your shared apartment, then closing it behind you when you walk in. His back is now turned to you.
“Ryland I-”
“Don’t.”
You pause again.
“You know what you were doing to me.”
He turns around, hand gripping your jaw and turning your body. Your back thumping against the front door.
“Say it.”
“I-”
“Say it.”
He says your name, grip not letting go of your jaw. Eyes dark as he holds your gaze. The corner of your mouth barely lifts into something that could barely pass as a smirk, but he notices it. He knows you notice him noticing. He stays silent.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
You say innocently, looking up at him through your eyelashes. He closes his eyes, his grip more secure on your jaw now as he leans down and smashes his lips on yours.
You fold immediately, melting into his hold. A small noise leaves your mouth that he swallows completely. Arms coming up to loop around his neck, before you’re stopped.
Rylands hand covers both of your wrist with his one palm, reaching up and pining them above your head.
“Look at me.”
You look up.
“I am going to lay you down in our bed, and you are going to let me handle this. Handle you.”
You gulp. His eyes dart down to your throat, then back up to your eyes.
“Understood?”
you nod at him eagerly, eyes not once leaving his.
“Use your words.”
“Yes. Please.”
With that he grabs you by the waist, hauling you up into his chest. Your legs wrapping around his waist by instinct. Arms wrapping around his neck as he carries you to your shared bedroom. He leans down over the soft duvet, plopping you down on the mattress before he is on you. His body crowding you, as he crawls you both back to the headboard and soft pillows.
“We haven’t fucked in weeks and this is how you wanna do it? Huh? Huh baby?”
You try to tuck your head into his shoulder. He immediately pushes you down on the pillows beneath your head.
“Don’t hide now, you knew what you were doing, now you’re gonna take it.”
“Ry-“
His hands are on shorts, toying with the hem before reaching his fingers into the waistband. Pausing for a moment before you nod. He slides them down your hips and off of your legs along with your underwear.
He slides down, face first with your glistening heat. His thumbs pulling your wet lips apart.
“I’ve missed this pretty pussy. Missed my pretty girl too”
he groans out. Licking a stripe up the center of your core. Lips wrapping around your clip and sucking hard. Alternating between long licks where he flattens his tongue and small kitten licks to your clit.
He works you up slow, dragging his tongue over and over again through your pussy before suckling again. He keeps you near the edge in a way that is subtle. Switching up the rhythm and speed when he senses you getting close.
He pushes his index and middle finger in after a few minutes of licking and teasing. Your pussy gripping and clenching down on his fingers as he works to find that spongy spot deep inside of you.
A loud squeal leaving your mouth when he pushes up against it just right.
His tongue stops, and his fingers retreat. He tilts his head to bite at your thighs instead. You whine loudly. So loudly that he just sits back and stares at you, letting you work through what he just did.
When your whines turn into whimpers, that’s when he flips you onto your stomach. His large palm on your upper back pushing you down onto your chest. Your head is pressed into your pillow and his hands holding your hips up. Your body slack in his arms.
He lined up the head of his cock, wetness gushing into his tip, as he barely presses in, and then pulls back.
“Ry!”
Your face is red, spreading down to your neck and onto your chest. You’re panting when you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder.
He’s grinning, eyes already on yours as he rubs soothing circles onto your hip with his freehand
“What baby?”
“Ryland, don’t tease me, please don’t.”
“But that’s what you did to me all night?”
He pushes the tip back in, rocking the tiniest bit forward before pulling out again.
“It’s not so cute now, huh?”
You try to throw your hips back, you whine, anything to get him to actually fuck you. Ryland just keeps grinning, smug and not letting you off easy.
“Say please, baby.”
“Please Ryland please!!”
He hums, his tip still barely just inside you, moments pass, and when you think he really isn’t going to fuck you, he shoves his cock in, in one long stroke. Punching the air out of you.
You half wheeze, half moan into your pillow. Barely needing to adjust before he’s fucking you.
Ryland’s hips slamming into yours, his balls smacking your clit, and his head dipping down to his your shoulder.
“I’m gonna cum-! Oh my god”
You’re practically sobbing now. Tears streaming down your cheeks and shallow pants leaving your mouth.
“Wow. Already?”
You’re so humiliated, turned on, and seconds away from coming without even any stimulation on your clit. A wrecked moan claws its way out of your throat.
“You’re not coming yet.”
You freeze. Breath now caught in your throat as you try to look at him behind you again.
“What?? No! Ry! You can’t!”
“I said you aren’t coming yet. Hold it in.”
His hand sneaks around your stomach, thick fingers finding your clit, dipping down where you’re both connected. Gathering your dripping mess before rubbing tight circles on your clit.
“You’ll come when I tell you to baby.”
He’s kissing your shoulder again. You can feel his smirk pressed into your back. Satisfied with breaking you down completely. Your tear stained face and watery eyes facing him. Drool leaking down from the corner of your mouth while you sob and moan into your pillow.
He keeps you on the edge for a few more minutes before your squeals really turn more desperate and your hands reach back behind you to grab at him. He grabs hold of one of your hands and laces your fingers together.
“Does my poor baby need to come? She can’t hold it anymore?”
You’re nodding at him you think. Babbles leaving your mouth followed by loud whimpers.
“I think you’ve learned your lesson then honey, cmon. Cum for me.”
You arch so hard into the mattress your spine hurts. Your whole body spasming and shaking while he holds you up. A scream tearing through the bedroom.
He smiles down at you while you gush hot liquid onto his abdomen and the bed sheets.
He pumps a few more times before spilling into your pussy. Hot white ropes painting your insides.
You’re panting and out of breath when he slowly pulls out.
“Y’did so good for me” he kisses your shoulder before stepping away to grab a wet cloth and some fresh sheets
Cleaning you up and then carrying you to the couch to lay you there while he puts on new sheets.
When he comes back, you’re half asleep, smiling at him when he picks you up and carries you back to bed.
Bringing you water before crawling in beside you. Grabbing you and placing your head onto his chest and your legs over his.
“Did you like that? Was that okay?”
He’s mumbling into your hair, tickling your back, and squeezing you tighter into his hold.
“I love it, Ry.” you breathe out. “I love you”
“I love you so much”
The lamp is clicked off, you melt against him.
Teasing him was so worth it.
(not proof read at all + sorry if this is bad I wrote it really late at night after procrastinating all day + send me more requests please!! I love it!)
Yes yes I came up with some ideas about Driver. He’s such a cute little pookie baby, like a guard dog, always making sure that you’re safe. Watching him fixing the car, then grabs a towel to wipe his face as he approaches you, asking if you’re hungry, wanna get something to eat. You told him he’s cute and hot in the garage, his face and the tip of his ears turns red immediately, getting flustered, covering his lower face and whisper “really…?”
The man is dying for praise. Giving him allowance is what he’s craving for. Tell him “you’re doing great”, hug him, slightly nuzzle his neck, he’ll melt in seconds.
He doesn’t wanna show you the violence he covers under his heart. He never does. But he WILL kill or hurt people if anything happens to you. He doesn’t want you to know so he would wash up everything, handle the body, pretend that nothing happened and cuddle with you in bed as usual. But if you witness he’s hurting people he would be so so scared, afraid of you watching him as if you’re looking at a beast, a monster, he’s scared of that panicking look on your face, which shows your distrust. You will run from him, even if you don’t, he will. But deep down his heart, it hurts so much he really can’t live without you, because you’ve changed his life so much.
I don’t think there’ll be lots of arguments between you and him. The most possible situation would be him being jealous. He barely speaks, so he uses actions. Putting on his leather gloves and pin you on the bed. He would never hurt you, the way he wants you to remember the lesson is just making you feel so good your mind couldn’t function for a while, only opening your mouth to let out your sweet moans and whimper his name.
You’re so pretty and cute at that time, your mind is full of him, he needs this sense of security from you. The moments when you crying “please…” are considered as praises to him. It simply means letting him continue, that he’s doing in the right way. You’ll pull his hair, you’ll scratch his back, he won’t mind at all, as long as you’re enjoying yourself at the moment.
Imagine that he has his gloves on when he’s fingerfucking you, the texture of leather makes you gasp. The way his fingers pressing your g-spot, and his thumb touching your clit leading you to ecstasy. When you come once, he bites the tip of his gloved index finger and pulls off the soaked leather with his mouth. You can tell that he’s satisfied with the dripping glove, but apparently he’s not done with you yet.
