prompt title: “tame me and spoil me”
( ´艸｀) thank u hehe ♡
(at long last lol... no longer taking titles for this game, but my requests are now open!)
tame me and spoil me - Taeyong/reader, rated explicit; mommy kink, spanking, face slapping, hair pulling, taeyong cries
“Taeyong,” you say softly, peeling his fingers off your arm. “Let me finish cleaning.”
“You can just leave them to soak,” Taeyong wheedles. “C’mon, I feel like I haven’t seen you all week.”
“The more you bug me, the longer it’s gonna take,” you say, and this gets him to relent, backing away to let you finish the dishes. “Good boys are patient,” you add for good measure. “Will you be good?”
“Yes,” Taeyong replies, though he sounds sullen.
The dishes are finally done, and you dry your hands off while Taeyong noses at your neck, looking for a kiss. You sigh, extricating yourself from his hold. “That’s not how you ask for something.”
“Want you to fuck me,” he says, which is not the answer you were looking for.
“That’s not asking,” you say.
“Will you fuck me?” he rephrases. “Please?” Okay, points for manners. “Before I die of neglect?” Points immediately rescinded.
He’s been handsy and needy since you first got home earlier this evening. And you get it. You’ve both been a little busy this week, and you both got home late most days, too tired to do much before collapsing in bed to sleep. But you also feel that he could stand to be a little less desperate, and at least let you have a peaceful dinner. Unfortunately, it seems like peace is far from his mind. It’s not such a huge problem—you guys can stay up late tonight, and you appreciate how much he wants you—but you still want to try to be responsible.
Still, you gesture for him to head upstairs. “Let’s be polite, okay?”
“I said please,” he says, tone saturated with sass, taking the stairs two at a time.
“You’re being awfully mouthy for a good boy,” you say, a gentle warning, as you reach the upstairs hallway.
You don’t doubt Taeyong understands the meaning behind your words; his eyes dance with mischief. “What do you mean?” he asks sweetly.
You sigh. “Just seems like you’re on a fast track to wearing my patience thin, that’s all.” You make a shooing gesture at him in the direction of your bedroom. “Go on, on the bed.”
For once this evening, he does what he’s told. You follow slowly, flicking the hallway light off and closing the bedroom door behind you. Taeyong is situating himself on your mattress, covers shoved to one side. His shorts are riding up on his thighs, revealing soft, tender skin. You clench your jaw involuntarily, turning away so he doesn’t see.
You pull open your intimates drawer and run your fingers along the line of strap-ons there, plucking up a medium-sized baby blue one. You want to be able to fuck him hard, and that will be difficult if you can barely move inside him. You grab the lube as well, then slide the drawer shut, and hook your fingers through one of the loops of your harness, finally making your way over to the bed.
Taeyong makes a delighted noise when he sees the strap. “I love that one,” he says, leaning back. You realize he’s been touching himself over his shorts when you weren’t looking; there’s a wet patch over the little bulge where the head of his cock is. His fingers are suspiciously close to it.
“You’re so impatient,” you say, nodding at his hand. “Do you even deserve it?”
He ghosts his hand over his cock. “You never said I couldn’t.”
It’s like he’s determined to push all of your buttons. “It’s bad manners, baby,” you say, keeping your voice level. “Touching yourself through your pants when you think I can’t see? It’s naughty.”
He’s wearing a somewhat smug smile. “I’ve been doing it all night,” he reveals. “I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to notice, really. But I guess it’s ‘cuz you weren’t being very nice. Weren’t paying any attention to me.”
Alright, that’s enough, you think. You drop the items on the bed and reach out for him with both hands. In an instant, you’ve flipped him onto his stomach. Taeyong squeals in shock, but you hear a little bit of giddy delight mixed in there. You yank his shorts down, pulling his ass up with the hand that’s still on his hip, and strike him hard. Taeyong cries out; you pause to lick your palm, and hit him again, right over the same spot.
“M-ommy,” Taeyong stutters out, sounding punch-drunk.
“Gave you a couple of chances,” you say, hitting the other side. “Sometimes you’re perfect, but other days it’s like you can’t be good unless I beat some sense into you first. Do I have you make you scared of me to make you behave?”
“You’re so hot when you’re scary.” You think it’s supposed to be a rebuttal. You hit him again, pretending not to listen. He keeps talking anyway, breath hiccuping with each impact. “And you know how much I like getting hit.”
“Couldn’t you just ask for me to rough you up a little? Instead of goading me into it?” you suggest almost wearily.
“It feels better when you’re mad.”
“I’m gonna kill you,” you say, pinching his ass. He yelps; it turns into a whimper when you release him and immediately spank the spot before it’s finished turning from white to red. He whimpers; it sounds unsteady, like he’s on the verge of tears. Serves him right. “Stay there,” you say, releasing him to reach for the lube. To his credit, Taeyong doesn’t move apart from trembling a little in place as you slick up a couple of your fingers.
You use your other hand to tug his shorts the rest of the way down. The fabric pools around his knees. His cock bobs between his legs, head wet with precome. In a way, you almost feel bad for him—he’s been teasing himself all night—but it’s his own fault, so you brush the pity aside. You circle his entrance with a lube-slick finger to help with the initial push in, and then press your finger inside.
Taeyong shudders. “Oh, fuck,” he mumbles.
You swat him with your other hand. “Is that what you say?”
“Thank you,” he rushes out. You spank him again, and he lets out a broken little sob. “Thank you, mommy.”
“Was it so difficult?” You move your finger slowly, letting him open up around you. He doesn’t reply, just sniffles.
Luckily, the spanking has made him pliant, and soon you have three and then four fingers pumping in and out of him with ease. You stroke over his prostate just to watch him shake, his cock twitching as it drools more precome.
“Mommy,” he whimpers. “Please, I—I’m gonna—”
“You can come whenever you like,” you say mildly, “as long as you think you can come again later.”
“I can, I can,” he pants. You curl your fingers against his prostate and don’t move them away, just pet over it until he’s sobbing and coming untouched onto the sheets. You watch the way his stomach expands and deflates as he tries to catch his breath. His little body convulses weakly as the last drop of come beads at the head of his cock, and he lets out a long moan.
“So pretty when you come,” you murmur, rubbing your thumb back and forth over his hip, almost absentmindedly. “Can you roll over on your back? Use your shorts to clean up a little so it doesn’t stain the mattress while I put this on.” You pull out, watching in satisfaction when his hole clenches around air.
Taeyong doesn’t verbally reply, but he does do as he’s told, so you let it go. You pull your clothes off and drop them on the floor at the foot of the bed, then reach for the strap on and harness and begin the sometimes-arduous process of putting everything together.
Luckily, it doesn’t take that long, and Taeyong’s preoccupied cleaning anyway, so by the time he’s balling his dirty shorts up, you’re ready. You take his shorts from him with a “thank you, baby,” and toss them in the direction of the rest of your clothes. You spread his legs, lining the silicone cock head up with his entrance, and push in with one easy motion.
He gasps when you bottom out; you guess he’s still sensitive from his first orgasm. But he doesn’t flinch away, just squeezes his eyes shut, hands fluttering at his sides.
Soon, though, he adjusts and his eyes blink back open. He reaches out for you, and, thinking he wants a kiss, you lean forward to indulge him as you begin to thrust into him, slow and gentle. Your lips have barely brushed his before his hands are all over your body, settling on your tits and squeezing hard.
You slap his hands away, pulling back. “Did we not just go over this?” you snap. “You need to be patient, and only use your hands when I say you can—on me and on yourself. What else do I have to do to get it through your dumb little head?”
Taeyong’s watching you through slightly unfocused eyes. “I can’t help it, mommy,” he slurs out. “I want you all the time.”
“You’re not going to win me over with flattery,” you reply. “You can want me and still behave.”
“Don’t know how,” he insists, lifting his head like he’s gonna try to sit up or something. You grab a fistful of his hair and yank him back down, twisting his neck to the side until you’re sure his scalp is burning. He chokes out another moan.
“Absolutely not.” You slap him clean across the cheek, pleased when fresh tears spill over his waterline immediately. You’re mad, but it’s so hot; you decide to stop fucking him and just start grinding against the base of the strap. He can come again if you’re feeling generous after you’ve satisfied your own arousal.
It still does something for him, of course; you’re buried deep inside of him, and your movements make the strap press against his walls. His cock is already half-hard again, slowly recovering; he strains against your hand even though all that’s gonna do is get his hair ripped out if he’s not careful.
You’d rather that didn’t happen, so you slap him again to keep him down. He falls back against the pillows with a soft moan, blinking his teary eyes open. The pressure against your clit is steady and good, and you can feel your thighs trembling.
“Mommy,” Taeyong whines, lower lip wobbling. “Hurts.”
You huff out a moan and let your orgasm take you, gripping his hair even tighter as your heartbeat stutters while hot pleasure spreads across your body and satisfies the ache between your thighs.
You hear Taeyong crying in earnest as you catch your breath, and you release his head, afraid for a moment that you’ve really hurt him. But he seems fine, mostly; he’s mumbling something, but it’s hard to pick out words between his sobs.
“I’m sorry, mommy,” he says when you realizes you’re looking at him. He reaches out for you limply—not a ploy this time, but a need for you to be close. You curl over him, cupping his jaw. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, whispering now. His eyes are glassy. “I always force you to punish me because I’m always bad.”
There’s real sadness there, and it breaks your heart. “No, no, baby,” you say. “You’re not bad; it’s just that sometimes you do bad things. And that’s okay.” You kiss his cheek and he whimpers. “I punish you because I know it’s what you need, not because I’m truly angry. I could never be angry with you.”
Taeyong sobs, holding you close. You kiss him again and again, tasting the salt of his tears. “Mommy,” he cries. “I love you.”
You smile. “I love you too, baby,” you say. “It’s okay. Don’t cry.” He hiccups quietly, but you can feel his breathing begin to slow. “Good. So good. Do you still wanna come?”
This catches his interest, and he even manages a smile. “Yes,” he says softly.
“Okay.” You give him one last kiss, then push yourself up a little for better leverage, and begin thrusting into him again.
He clings to you, moaning sweetly. The tears dry on his face, and there’s no trace of that sadness, or the terrible mischief, anymore. He looks blissful and content, sighing when the head of the strap hits home.
You wrap a hand around his cock, and it only takes a few more minutes before he’s coming, arching off the bed as he spills hot white over your hand and his chest.
You pull away, kissing him and promising you’ll be right back. You start the water for a bath, then carry him to the bathroom and leave him to soak there while you clean everything up. Once you’re satisfied with the state of the room, you rejoin him in the bathroom, climbing in beside him. The water is still warm.
“C’mere,” he says, reaching out for you. You scoot closer, humming happily. “Thank you,” he says.
“Anything for you, you little brat,” you say fondly. He giggles against your collarbone.
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