marty byrde x fem!reader. dom/sub dynamics, penetrative sex, brat taming, praise, light degradation, unprotected sex, angry sex, teasing.
word count: 1.1k
a/n: most of what marty says is directly pulled from shit he says in the show which is what inspired me
“Haven’t seen you in two fuckin’ days.” Your hands collide with Marty’s shoulders in a harsh shove. He fixes you with a steely look as it sends him lurching backwards, but he doesn’t lose his footing. “Been callin’ you and you won’t fuckin’ answer.” You shove him again, harder. It’s satisfying when the force of it sends him a step backwards.
“You need to pump the breaks.” He blinks at you slowly once. Twice. “I’ve been busy.” His tone is condescending and way too controlled. Not satisfying.
You step forward to get in his face. “You need to pick up your damn phone,” your finger jabs into his chest as you speak, “else I’m gonna go find some other uppity douchebag who’s dyin’ to get his dick wet.”
You see his cheek twinge as he clenches his jaw, a puffed exhale escaping his nose. He’s getting pissed now. His eyes dart away from you. Another slow blink as he tries to tamp down his anger. That won’t do. Your hands find his shoulders for a third shove. “You fuckin’ hear me, Martin?–”
“That’s enough.” In one motion his hand comes up and gathers your wrists, his other finding your hip as he spins you around. A thrill shoots through you. Bingo.
“I told you it was gonna be like this,” the words are a rough whisper right against your ear. He walks you forward until you hit the side of the kitchen counter, your wrists pinned on top of it, his body pressed up against yours. “I told you that sometimes I won’t be reachable.” He’s using that voice again, slow and patronizing. “So I don’t wanna hear any bullshit about how I’m neglecting you.”
His big hand moves from your hip to roughly grope your ass. You whine low in your throat. You rack your mind for a clever retort, but through your fog of arousal you come up empty.
“Nothing to say? Hm?” His breath hits your ear, making you shiver. “No? C’mon, smart-ass.” His hand moves lower. Dips under the hem of your sundress to make contact with your panties. His fingers intentionally avoid where you want them most, flanking either side of your clit to rub the sides of your pussy. “Can’t make it two days without me fucking you.”
“Marty,” his name is barely a breath past your lips. He pulls your panties to the side suddenly and shoves two fingers inside you, making you cry out. He lets go of your wrists to thread his fingers through your hair and ease your head back.
“Is this what you wanted so badly?” He breathes against your neck. “You’re a needy fucking girl, aren’t you?” All you can do is whimper your assent as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, only hitting your g-spot with every few strokes. He knows he’s driving you crazy. “Say it back to me.”
“I wanted this, Marty.” The words rush out before you can even think once he gives the command. Which is helpful considering your head is swimming with desire. “You make me so fuckin’ needy”
He presses a kiss to the side of your neck. “That’s right.” He praises. You whine when his fingers slip out of you, leaving your pussy to clench around nothing. He ignores you, yanking your panties down and letting them fall to your ankles. Then he releases his grip on your hair.
“Turn around. C’mon,” he sounds impatient, and his hands feel it too as they find your hips and spin you once again. He hoists you up onto the counter. “There you go.”
Now his hands go for his belt, undoing the buckle swiftly and then working open his fly. You watch with rapt attention as his pants go down and his black boxer briefs come into view. The fabric does nothing to hide his erection. He, of course, watches you watch him. He palms at his bulge.
“You want this?” He trails his other hand up your side, pushing your dress up your body. He idly gropes your breast. You nod at him. “Yeah?” His tone has a taunting lilt. When you tear your gaze up to meet his eye, his brows are raised to mock your wide-eyed expression. You nod again with a whine, hips rolling in a futile search for friction. His face drops, back to stern, along with his voice. “How ‘bout a “yes, sir” ?”
“Yes, sir,” you breathe out in a rush. Again, the response is nearly automatic. Under different circumstances the flash of satisfaction in his eyes would tick you off, but right now, you’re happy to please him. Anything to get his cock inside you.
“Good girl,” He frees his cock from his boxers and leans over you. When his lips seek out yours you part them readily, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth. You moan into the kiss as he, finally, pushes the head of his cock past your entrance. He goes slowly. Your pussy clenches tightly around him, making you feel every delicious inch. He stays still for a few moments once he’s fully seated. The fullness of him inside you is overbearing. You lose yourself in the sensation, hands grappling for a hold on his taught arms and broad shoulders.
Then he pulls out and thrusts back in, hitting just the right spot. You choke on your moan.
“I know, sweetheart.” He murmurs against your lips. He starts a steady pace, never missing his mark, and you’re almost embarrassed by how quickly your orgasm begins to build.
“Marty.”
“Right there, baby, I know.” He’s panting softly, light puffs of air that you swallow with your gasps. With every snap of his hips you’re closer and closer, then all at once you’re cumming. You nearly sob as you do, squeezing his shoulders and tightening around him like a vice. He fucks you through it, groaning. “That’s it.”
When your orgasm secedes the drag of his cock against your sensitive walls becomes overstimulating. Each ram of his cock against your g-spot brings a tinge of barely-pleasurable pain. You whine, squirming under him, and you know this only fuels him as he chases his own release.
“Fuck,” he grunts. He pulls out of you quickly, tilting his hips forward just before ropes of cum spurt from his cock and onto your abdomen. You reach down to grasp his cock, giving sloppy strokes to finish him off. You squeeze the last drops of cum out of him.
‘Alright, alright.” He grits out. He pulls his hips back to free himself from your hold. He exhales loudly, exerted. “Jesus Christ."
You grin at him, bringing your fingers, covered in his cum, to your lips to suck clean. He stares at you with rapt attention, silent for a beat before he clears his throat.
“That’s the last time you’re gonna throw a fit about this. Understood?”
Mouth still around your fingers, you offer him a non-committal hum.
I don't forget how you emptied our bank accounts when you knew I needed that money, Wendy. You knew I needed it. And I doubt very, very much that you did that by yourself, that you did that in a vacuum. So my memory's crystal clear. I was there. For all of it.
