Hey Doll: Bonus Chapter
Happy birthday Thatch ✨
Thatch/Fem!Reader Timeline: Post Marriage, Pre-Baby
You don't have to have read Hey Doll, in order to follow what happens. but the relationship is based off the main fic.
Summary: Doll takes charge, and Thatch thinks he might die and go to heaven.
CW: oral sex, reader on top, light bondage, soft and sweet and cute, honestly. 18+
You had been such a flushed, nervous wreck, when you asked Thatch if you could take control, that it took him five minutes to be able to answer you. Not that he was complaining.
Then, or now.
Laid out on the bed, Thatch is shirtless, his arms up over his head, and your breasts in his face. You’re so small compared to him that you’re straddling his chest, struggling to get his wrists tied to the headboard.
“D-don’t,” you practically whimper the words when his breath rolls over your bare skin. You know he wants to use his mouth, but you’re trying your best to get the knots right. You don’t want him to slip free of the ropes, but you also don’t want to cut off circulation accidentally. “I need—Neeeeeed!” His tongue swipes over your nipple. “Ah, to, to concentrate.” You insist, shifting until you’ve smushed his face against the space between your breasts.
“Nawt complainin’,” he mutters against your skin, kissing the space he can reach softly.
“There,” you scoot back, hands on his chest, legs on either side of his waist, giving him an exaggerated pout. “Behave, Bear.”
“Best nickname ever.” He says with a grin, crinkling his nose when you kiss the tip of it. “If behavin’ means not kissing you, Doll, I might be aimin’ to misbehave already.”
“Behaving means laying back and letting me do what I want.” You do your best to assert. “To you. So… stay.”
You’re so adorable he’s not sure what to do with himself, but he wants you to be satisfied by the end of this, so he relaxes into the bed, and gives you a smile.
“As you wish.” He hums, enjoying the way your flushed face blots your skin all the way down to the space between your breasts.
Aside from a very mini skirt, you’re not wearing anything else. The two of you had been slowly, and carefully pulling clothes off one another for the better part of the evening after a light dinner. On nights where there weren’t any plans, or when Thatch didn’t have to be up early for the bakery, you took your time. Foreplay could last an hour, if not a little longer, and recently you’d both begun experimenting a little, bringing lingerie and sexy outfits into things.
You were more adventurous than he had expected, and he was certain that he was going to be looking up munches in the area soon. Or workshops for bondage, at this rate, at the very least.
When things were just about to really heat up, you’d asked him if you could be in charge. His brain had stopped working for a moment, and you’d worried you’d overstepped. It took a little bit to untangle it all, but now here he was, eyes barely able to stay focused as you pressed kisses into his skin, slowly working your way down his chest to his stomach.
The kisses were warm, a little dry. You were nervous, but each one felt so good, sending pleasant shivers into Thatch’s spine. The light touch of your fingers tickled a little, but he was strong enough to endure a little unintentional tickling.
When your fingers started tugging at the waistband of his pants he nearly short circuited again. It only took him a second to lift his hips, doing what he could to help as you tug his pants down to his thighs.
Kissing up his legs, he was hard by the time you got back to his hips. Flushed and full mast, he couldn’t help the rush of blood into his own face, cock twitching as your fingers and kisses moved around it. He’d certainly teased you enough before now that he didn’t have any room to complain, but it didn’t stop him from letting soft moans and hisses pass his lips when you drew closer.
“You always stop me.” You say, putting a hand around his shaft. “But you say you’re okay with it, so you can’t stop me this time.”
The way you’re so resolved is cute, but also he’s about to bust as it is.
That sweet pink tongue slips passed your lips and along his tip and he whimpers.
Gods above and below it feel so good. Your fingers twitch against his length and you lick again, a little heavier, a little longer. Saliva slicks his tip and you kiss against the throbbing head and he’s already wondering which is more likely to break, the ropes or the headboard.
“D-Doll,” his voice is coarse, and you’ve only just started.
“Stay,” you command again, leaning down and taking his tip into your mouth.
Thatch is adamant to not swear around you. Not the ways he would around his brothers at least. He doesn’t mean to treat you like a child or anything, but you’re so sweet and he just wants to be a gentleman for you. But when your head bobs down on his length the second time you press your tongue against the back of his cock and he can’t keep the word contained between his teeth.
“Ffff—uck.” He tries to snap it off in his throat, but he’s going to lose his mind.
Soft, wet, and incredibly warm. Your tongue licks again and your fingers work spit further down before you go down again and his fingernails are digging into his palms. The only reason he hadn’t ever let you give him head before was because he knew he wasn’t going to last. Just thinking about it was enough to get him to cum when he was jerking himself off, and the real thing was way better than his imagination.
“You like how I taste, Thatch.” You say sweetly and all he can do is whimper openly this time. “I want to know.”
Desperate to think of anything to distract himself, various images and people scroll through his thoughts, but you moan against him when you go down again and he can’t see anything except the crystal clear view he has right now.
You’re holding his cock in your hands, coming up from just barely past the tip, before you lean down and lick all the way up the length, eyes finding his in the soft light of the bedroom. Blood rushes to his face so fast its dizzying, and into his cock so fast he’s actually cold for a split second before it evens out.
“Please,” you make the request despite being in charge right now, and when your mouth consumes him again he can’t take it anymore.
“Kuh-cumming!” He gasps. “I’m cumming Doll, don’t—don’t-.”
You go deeper, taking even more of him in at his words, and his voice stutters. He can feel you start to gag and he can’t do anything about it because he’s already emptying into your mouth. You pull back a bit, a mix of surprise and satisfaction, swallowing against his tip and making his legs twitch from the extra stimulation.
“Sweet gods,” he husks, while you start stroking his shaft with your hand, urging more out of him. “Doll, Doll, pluh-please…”
Lifting your head up, his cock releasing from your lips with a soft pop, you look up at him with a confused expression for a moment. When you lick your lips, Thatch is worried he’s going to cum a second time and cover your face.
Laying back, he gives himself a break by staring at the ceiling.
“I did good,” you say, half statement, half question, and Thatch chuckles.
“Yeah, Doll, you did great.”
“Then, I can ride you.” You assert.
“Bwah-huh?” Thatch’s brain can’t keep up.
“I’m in charge, and I’m doing good, so I’m going to keep going.” You hum, kissing his soft length and watching it twitch.
“S-sure Doll,” he agrees, wondering how he’ll survive this.
“Good Boy,” you say, and watch Thatch go rock hard again.
“Ohmygod.” His head is turned to the side, tucked into his arm.
You kiss the tip before moving off the bed to get some lube. “I think it’s cute.”
“The things you learn about yourself when you let your wife do as she wants.” Thatch mutters, smiling at you as you get back on the bed. The title makes you blush. You’d gone through a lot to end up together.
Given all you’d gone through, you were proud of yourself to even ask to take control, let alone how much you were enjoying it.
“It’s going to be cold, I’m sorry.”
“S’alright, Doll.”
The cool lube was what Thatch needed right now, something to ease the tension in his guts. He often spent most of the night taking you apart with his mouth and hands, because he’d needed time to recover from cumming in his pants before he could go any further. All the sounds you made, the way you smelled, the fact that he was the luckiest man in the world to get matched with you, it was too much.
“I can’t get my fingers as deep as you can,” you say quietly, so quietly Thatch isn’t sure he was supposed to hear you, so he doesn’t react to your words.
Just to the sight of you working lube into your pretty pussy.
He might have to ask you to do that more often. Maybe ask you to masturbate for him. He wonders if you could do something like that, you’re usually so painfully shy he’s impressed you’re going this far right now.
You’re short enough, and he’s wide enough in the hips, that you can’t easily straddle him, so you end up settling above his cock, shifting back until your slicked heat nudges against his length. Once you know where he is, you reach back and start to line him up.
Feeling it all, without being able to see, watching you work, and having your breasts press against his stomach while you struggle to reach is enough to have him nearly biting through his lip. Once you get the tip in, you moan against him, and he could nearly sob. There’s been no greater battle of wills in his life as far as he’s concerned.
It takes a little work, but you get enough of him inside you that you can sit up, steadying your hands against his stomach. It’s taut, he’s flexing to support you, and your feet are braced against his thighs, giving you better leverage than if you tried to push off the mattress. When you get a little more in you lean back, taking your weight off his stomach and bracing against your own legs.
It gave Thatch an incredible view. The miniskirt was hiked up and covering nothing, his length was disappearing into your pussy. You were leaned back to reach your calves, giving yourself leverage as you tried to slowly work more of him inside. It left your breasts to shift and tremble with every shivering breath and shaky motion.
Sweet sounds were tumbling down your lips, punctuated by a slight furrowing of your brows as you struggled to take him. Thatch had you a sloppy, prepped mess by the time he’d enter you, and a little lube wasn’t enough to make up for that difference.
But it still felt good to you, and divine to Thatch.
He wanted to thrust up into you. He wanted to pin you to the bed and take you. He wanted to put his thick fingers deep inside you and turn you into a squirming mess of at least three orgasms before he did anything more.
He wanted to be in control, and it was maddening as you sunk deeper and deeper onto him. It was going to be a miracle if he didn’t cum again before you managed to take him all the way in. It felt incredible. He needed to cum a time or two more himself before he could survive a hell this sweet.
The ropes snapped and Thatch didn’t even realize he was flexing against it so hard.
“Sorry, Doll!” He apologizes even as he sits up, hands wrapping around you to steady you during the shift.
A hand at your back, his lips against yours, his other hand against your ass, gripping the curve of it firmly and carefully. When he breaks the kiss he leans you back, his mouth on your breasts, lips and tongue licking and teasing your nipples, causing you to cry out and gasp from the pleasure, wriggling against the length inside you without sinking any deeper.
The pleasure is sweet, the euphoria floods in, and your fingers are digging into his arms as you cum from his lips at your breast and his cock barely halfway inside.
“Th-aaaah-ch,” you cry his name, broken by the sweet pleasure, and he whispers an apology in your ear again before he lifts you up ever so slightly, before guiding you back down. The sensation of being stretched after orgasming like that is strange, and delicious.
You’re trembling, caught between overstimulation and a hungry desire for more. He guides you, helping you ride him, sighing by your ear as you sink all the way down, the quiet moment where neither of you move.
His hands shift until he’s got one on your thigh, his thumb teasing your clit, the other at the back of your head, steadying you while he leans you back just enough to be able to kiss you and watch your sweet face while he helps you ride him. Or makes you ride him. You have no leverage anymore, but you’re not scared. You know you’re safe in his arms, and when tears pool in your eyes it’s because the pleasure is overwhelming, not because you’re scared or angry.
When he cums inside you the twitch and pulse of his cock is enough to push you over the edge. Sweet, satisfying, and deep. Warm, soft kisses press against your lips, the quiet murmurs of apology lingering between you, as Thatch carries you both through the afterglow of the shared orgasm.
Moments after, you’re laying against his chest, both of you taking a few moments to collect yourselves before deciding what to do next. Be it another round, or getting cleaned up and snuggling.
“Hm…” You’re trying to decide what you can do to keep Thatch contained next time. The rope snapped so easily, you’re pretty sure the headboard wouldn’t be able to stop him either, if he gets riled up like that again.
“What’s on your mind, Doll?”
“… I’m wondering if any of your brothers can help.”
“… help?” He doesn’t want to dissuade you from any ideas, but he’s not sure what you mean right now.
Lifting yourself up to look into his eyes you puff your cheeks in an exaggerated pout. “You broke the ropes. Maybe one of your brothers knows what we can do to keep you tied up better.”
“Doll… please don’t ask my brothers for help with this.” Thatch is near to tears. “We—I can ask Izou about some knots maybe—,”
“You broke the rope.” You huff.
“…I can ask about steel shackles.” He offers, sounding truly apologetic.
“You’ll break the bed.”
“And a new custom bed.” He agrees. “Anything but asking my brothers for help, please.”
