Feels Better To Be A Good Girl
Pairing: Kunimi Akira x f!Reader
Summary: You have an attitude. Akira knows exactly how to work it out of you.
A/N: First and foremost, DON’T PARTICIPATE IN KINK IN PUBLIC PLACES. THAT’S NOT OKAY. BUT THIS IS A FANFIC. I’ve been writing this fic for a while, apologies if there’s maybe weird inconsistencies in the middle of the fic, but I THINK I got them all ;~; Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it fjiefjwoei
Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI, College Setting (I imagine them in their final year of university), Mild Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Crying (not dacryphilia), Exhibitionism, BDSM for Stress Relief lmao, Mild Bratting and Brat Taming, Puppy Play, Heavy Use of Puppy as a Pet Name, Pet Play, Humiliation, Leashes and Collars, Face Slapping (once), Heavy and Established Dom/sub Relationship, Hard Dom Akira, Daddy Kink, Choking (via hands and cock), Gagging (on dick), Breath Play, Mild Spit Kink, A Smidge of Snowballing/Cum Sharing, Cum Play, Consensual Sexy Photo Taking, Oral Sex (m!receiving), Praise Kink, Aftercare, no beta whatsoever we die like men lol
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You woke up in a mood. If Akira can immediately tell, he doesn't say anything. Just continues with his own quiet morning prep, gives you the occasional forehead kiss with his hand on your waist or the back of your neck.
His brow rises and he pouts when you angle away from him while making breakfast.
"Can I just have some space?" You ask, not looking at him.
He pulls his hand back, dropping it with an amicable nod. "Yeah. Sure. My bad." You just shrug, frowning down at your food.
You don't hold hands walking to the train, and you keep your eyes on your phone riding towards the university. Akira gives you your space, though whenever you glance up at him, nervous and on edge, he's not giving you an ounce of attention.
It's what you asked for, and yet you still find yourself irritated by it. You walk ahead of him to class, and freeze when he catches your wrist to tug you gently around towards him.
He looks you over with some concern and raises an eyebrow at you. "Have a good day. I'll see you in class, okay?"
You nod jerkily, turning your head away. After a long moment, Akira sighs and releases your wrist, and you speed off in the direction of your first class.
You can't focus, barely take any notes in your lectures, and find yourself unable to make any progress on your projects in what free time you usually spend at the library. You’re stressed because you can’t focus, can’t do your work, work you know has to be done this week. You’re restless because all you can think about is how you wanted Akira to just hug you tight and demand you tell him what’s wrong so you could spill it out without having to beg and tug at his shirt like a needy idiot, even though objectively you know he would give you all the attention and care in the world, that he only gave you space because he respected you to do so when you asked.
It’s asinine, your anger and your frustration. You trudge your way to your last class of the day, the one you share with Akira, knowing you’re not being fair to him or yourself, and your irritation and guilt has you avoiding his eye where he stands outside the lecture hall, as he always does when waiting for you.
Before he can speak, you jerk your head towards the doors. “Let’s just go, Akira.” You avoid his eye, but you can hear his sigh. It makes your skin crawl, mostly with frustrations with yourself that you’re making the situation worse, and yet you can’t find it in yourself to care right now. Your mind feels overloaded with all the other things you have to put effort into,
But Akira trails behind you. You sit together silently through class, and he follows you out when it’s over, following after you in the direction of your work and home. The entire time, irritation is coming off of him in waves, but you’re angry, too. Mindlessly, irrationally, irritated as well.
So you ignore Akira’s frustrations. Or, you try to, attempting to mutter a goodbye over your shoulder in the setting sunlight of your evening shift, barely giving him a glance before heading towards the doors of konbini you both work part time for, of which Akira does not have a shift today.
You gasp with the rough snag to your chin. Akira uses his body to push yours against the brick wall of the alley just next to your work, buffering you back into the shadows and forcing you to look up at him.
His face is impassive, but you see the annoyance in his coal gaze, the firm set of his jaw and purse of his lips. One slim brow twitches upwards at you.
"Do you need me to put you in your place?" He asks, tone low, soft, dangerous. It instantly warms you, makes your toes curl, your body arch. He tsks, frowning down at you. "Answer me. Because I can go home and come back and pick you up and we can keep acting like nothing is wrong until you want to talk to me about it or you figure it out on your own. Or I can come back and walk you home the way I want to, and we can work it out my way."
His offer is titillating, but something defiant wells up inside you. You jerk your chin out of his grasp. "Do what you want."
He grabs your arm with a frustrated sigh of your name. His features have softened with concern now, the expression of the love he feels for you making your heart ache. "What's wrong? Please just tell me."
And yet the tension in your lungs and your body and the pressure of the day overwhelms the instinct to soften with him. You shrug him off. "I guess I just feel bad today! I'm not allowed to feel bad? Fuck off Akira."
He jerks you back towards him one more time with the hidden strength in his lean body. His eyes stare down at you with a serious glint, and you can still feel yourself reacting to him as if he has you below him in bed.
"I'm giving you one last chance to tell me what you want. I'll leave you alone if you're really pissed off with me." His head tilts in a way you find familiar in all the right and exhilarating ways, not leaving any room for you to second guess exactly what he means by his way.
You roll your eyes, ignoring how deep down you desperately are clawing for his attention, his affection, what you've been denying yourself because of whatever stress is heavy on your shoulders.
"I told you. Do whatever you want. Your way or not. I don't care." You once again pull yourself from his grasp and turn your back, walking around the corner and into work, barely greeting whoever is working with you tonight.
The longer you stew, the more you think about exactly all the ways Akira could make you suffer for being a brat. It’s not often it happens, and you know he doesn’t really like it when you act like this. Which is understandable, you don’t like feeling like this, either. But the possibilities make you restless as you stand bored behind the counter of the store, while you stock shelves and have time to simply remember all the ways he makes you feel good and punishes you in kind. Akira is surprisingly, exhilaratingly creative in his punishments, and everything you have in mind doesn’t even amount to what he has ready for you.
You almost don't see him where you stand on the corner, but as soon as you catch his eye as he strides down the almost empty street, it's almost as if he's all you can see.
Akira tends to dress in darker colors. This morning he'd put on a simple navy sweater and black jeans. He's replaced the sweater--decked out from head to toe in black, his usual heavy combat boots thunking on the concrete as he makes his way towards you, black long sleeve shirt and jacket, black beanie, black face mask. He's carrying something in his hand, and your whole body winds up in surprise when a familiar metal chain catches the escaping light of the store fronts he passes, glinting silver and menacing, swaying with his gait.
Your chin tilts back the closer he gets, and he stops only when he's toe to toe with you, towering over you and pushing you back against the brick once more. But this time without the privacy of the alley to hide you.
“Color.” Your heart jumps at the word, a tremble of adrenaline rushing through you.
You shift side to side, lips twisting, searing need restless in your belly. “G-Green.”
He digs around in one pocket while he holds your gaze. "Put this on."
A black cloth mask that matches his is shoved into your hand, but your eyes are locked on the familiar posture collar the industrial chain is attached to, hanging heavy from his other.
You gulp, body warming hot under your clothes. "A-Akira--"
His empty hand juts your chin up until your eyes meet his. “Is that what you really wanna call me right now?” Your mouth pops open, but nothing comes out as you stupidly stare back. A thin brow arches at you. "You said you wanted me to do what I wanted. So I’m gonna fix that fucking attitude.” His fingers grip your jaw and he shakes your head back and forth, making you squeak, eyes widening up at him at his brazen public display.
He drops his hand, carelessly yanking your nametag off your shirt and shoving it into one of his pockets. Those lazy eyes of his narrow and harden at you. “If you're gonna act like a bitch to get attention, I'll fucking walk you like one. Put your fucking mask on before I decide you don’t get one."
It doesn't take you any more persuasion than that. Shaky fingers hook the mask with your ears, settling it over your nose. Akira lets the chain drop with a heavy, metallic thud between your feet, the clasps on the back of the collar already undone.
Your chin is forced up once more by the tall brim, forcing your eyes to meet Akira's. His head is tilted as he does up the back, but he flicks his eyes towards you, lazy gaze hard to read with the lower half of his face covered.
You cannot slump and you cannot look down. It’s how you both like it--gives you an air of confidence even when Akira is being mean, and lets him look in your eyes and see just how much you like it. But now you're tingling from the fact you'll barely be able to avoid eye contact with anyone you happen to pass on your walk home. You press your thighs together, lashes fluttering, feeling hot with potential embarrassed tears at the thought alone even as your pussy aches and warms against your panties.
The chain hooked with the large D-ring in the center of your collar is heavy, and the familiar weight pulls almost a Pavlovian wetness from you, and your panties already feel uncomfortably damp. You watch Akira's big hand curl the slack around his fist, the dangling end dragged purposefully up the inside of your legs, tapping icy-cool at your thighs as it's hitched further up into his grip. Your lips part to pant into the warmth of your face mask, body wiggling restlessly where you stand.
Your eyes meet Akira's. He jerks his hand, and you stumble into his chest with a gasp. "Come."
Your breath stutters when he turns, his arm held aloft to keep the chain up. His pace is quick and expectant, and only about a foot of chain is between your collar and his fist. You quickly jog after him, body burning with a delicious mixture of arousal and embarrassment and shame as he leads you down the empty street.
You can't help staring at his shoulders--broad and held back, his stride sure and confident, even as he so publicly enacts your punishment for the few stragglers on the street to witness.
Some don't even notice. If some do, you keep your gaze on Akira's back as you pass the people who glance after you, who whisper to their friends, who maybe raise a phone. But it's dark, and your face is covered, and Akira is sturdy in the air of attitude and lack of care he exhibits for you to find your own pleasure in this, in being walked as you deserve for your brattiness.
Like his own personal bitch.
A whimper escapes you, and Akira glances over his shoulder. Those only black eyes look you over, half turning to you as you walk down the dark street.
"Color." Again, he demands softly.
"Green," you pant back, swallowing against the restrictive collar, fists curled at your sides to resist the urge to grab at him greedily.
He turns his back on you, and suddenly pulls you through an alley, away from the path home. It's not necessarily unfamiliar, but it's disorienting and raises your anticipation, realizing he's detoured from your expectations. But you follow blindly, happily, your knees feeling weak and nerves tingling through you, panties uncomfortably sticking and rubbing raw at your already puffy folds.
Akira walks you into a dark city park. Grass hisses under foot as he walks you out onto the grass, away from the lit paths and further into the shadows. The city is very much still active, but it's empty here, Akira almost blending in with the night even just ahead of you.
He comes to a halt and turns. He stares down at you, reaching forward to tuck hair away from your sweat-damp forehead, gently uncurling the twisted strap of the mask on your face, settling it right behind your ear.
"Is the mask okay?" He asks, his tone low.
"Yes." It's a little warm, but you appreciate his thoughtfulness in trying to protect your anonymity in this moment. Even if he’d threatened to take it away earlier.
He nods, and then holds out his hand. "Give me your panties."
You gulp and reach under your skirt, pulling the fabric down your thighs. The cool night air feels especially cold on your wet, warm pussy. Akira keeps his hold on the chain firm as you trip out of them, and puts your soiled panties up to his covered nose once you've placed them in his palm. You wiggle as you watch him, biting your bottom lip when he drops his hand, keeping your panties in his grasp.
"Sit." It takes you a second to process his order, before sinking down onto your hands and knees, sitting back on your haunches, shoulders forced back because of your posture collar. His order, one that sounds like he's talking to a trained dog, embarrasses you in the best ways. Your heart thumps quick in your chest, a euphoric feeling overwhelming you as your body tingles with warmth.
Akira hums, chain curled around his forearm, hand still grasping it firmly. His elegant hand flexes strong around it, in the same ways he’s choked you and grabbed you before. "Good girl." You whimper, shifting on your hands and knees, and he shushes you gently, heavy eyes focused intently on you where you kneel. "We're gonna go for a walk now. Make you use up all that energy that made you so moody, and if you're still a good girl by the end of it I'll give you a treat. Understand?"
"Y-Yes, Daddy." Your eyes almost roll in pleasure when lovingly pets his hand over your hair, down over the cheek. You lean into his palm under your chin, fluttering your lashes up at him, the familiar pliant looseness in your bones almost making you slouch if not for your strong collar. Instead, it makes you arch further, forcing your head up towards Akira’s unwavering gaze.
His thumb catches in the top of the mask, pulling it down slowly to just brush his digit over your parted lips. Your tongue drags over it, eyes locked adoringly with his as you fall further into his grasp, and Akira sighs all his stress away. "Can I call you puppy for tonight, little one? My good little puppy?" You shiver with the unfamiliar pet name, nodding eagerly while peering up at him with wide, trusting eyes. Akira's thumb rubs at the sting in your cheek, humming low. "Good puppy.” He slips his thumb from the mask, carefully settling it back over your nose before giving your cheek a fond, condescending pat. “C'mon."
You crawl on your hands and knees in the dark, chain tinkling between you and Akira, who strolls along beside you. His heavy boots step at your pace, but keeps the chain taut so you can’t stop moving. The grass and dirt slip along your knees and between your fingers, and the slightest of breezes flutters your skirt over your bare ass and pussy, cooling the slick slipping between your thighs.
You don't know how long you walk for, but the nighttime breeze starts to fail at cooling off the warmth gathering beneath your clothes, your knees and palms beginning to ache. You can't really see where he leads you, posture collar keeping your head and neck in mostly one position. But you trust Akira to keep you safe, to take care of you, and this is all a part of the process. The effort to crawl, the titillating presence of the city just beyond the trees and the darkness telling you just how easy it would be to get caught in such a compromising, subservient position, the fact that others already saw you being punished for your bad attitude.
Your thighs tremble, the haze you’ve fallen into beginning to get to you. You begin to sigh and lag, and Akira tugs softly on the chain, curious noise escaping him.
"Did I say you could stop?" His tone is firm but soft, gentle but expectant.
You whine, eyes closing, realizing you’re panting already. You curl your fingers into the grass, hips swaying restlessly. “D-Daddy...m’sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” You swallow as the toes of his boots come into view, stepping carefully around your hands. “Sit up and look at me, puppy.”
Your ass falls against your calves, and you tilt your head up obediently, shoulders forced to pull back even when you want to slouch nervously. Akira’s brow arches behind the strands of his bangs, head tilting at you. You wish you could see his face, even if you know all he would give you is an unimpressed simper.
“What are you sorry for?” He asks, tone soft, condescending. He keeps the chain taut, his other hand still holding your panties in his grasp.
“That…” You swallow, eyes darting back and forth between his. “That I-I’m slowing down.”
Akira huffs at you, brows lowering in dissatisfaction. You whine, resisting the urge to tug at your skirt with your dirty hands. “That’s not the apology I’m looking for and you know it.” You’re jerked forward onto your hands and knees again, gasping and knees pushing outward with the arch of your back. “I don’t think my bad puppy has walked enough.”
You whine, your own brows furrowing back, but with significantly more distress. “I-I’m not a...a bad puppy.” Calling yourself puppy makes you feel warm and embarrassed, makes your pussy ache and drip, but you determinedly hold Akira’s gaze.
“No? Then why aren’t you apologizing for being mean to Daddy today? I don’t think I did anything to deserve it, puppy. If you were good, you wouldn’t be talking back to Daddy right now.” You flinch, unable to hunch forward under his pointed words. Akira scoffs, stepping back and yanking you after him. You gasp and stumble on your hands and knees, whimpering his name while you shuffle to catch up with his pace. It’s a struggle, practically dragged on your hands and knees through the dirt, nearly face planting a few times at his relentless tug.
“I told you--” You squeal when you feel his fist snag the back of your shirt, dragging you forward and ahead of him, knees burning across the grass. You gasp, his manhandling searing need through you like a brand across your cunt. He sets you down between his feet, fingers jerking on the high brim of your collar to tug you upright. You squirm, sitting on your heels, and his hand comes down on your cheek from the side, the slap buffered only slightly by your past. It catches you off guard not being able to see him, the stinging smack to your face pushing your face to the side, and you freeze, heart thudding in your chest and eyes rolling with need so strong you freeze obediently. From beside you, where he hunches over your kneeling frame, he pants softly, tone lowered and menacing. “--you’re gonna walk until you use up that bratty fucking energy. So fucking walk in front of me and you better not stop this time until you have a real apology for me, or you and I are going to have an actual fucking problem, puppy.”
His knee pushes between your shoulder blades and you quickly shuffle forward with the release of his hold on your collar. You gulp and crawl in front of him, your ass on display for him, the heavy chain of your leash tugging to the side and back over your shoulder.
You squeak when his fingers swipe at your skirt, flipping it up to your waist. You can’t twist to look at him with the collar, whimpering when he lands a swat at your cunt, making you stumble in your next shuffling step. You crawl through the dewy grass ahead of him, listening to your own panting and, belatedly, his steps following after you.
“When you’re ready to be honest with me, you can stop. And you better be honest, puppy. I don’t care how long it takes to get there.”
Wet warmth comes to your eyes with your shame, and you pout, head hanging as much as it can against your collar, staring at each placement of your hands in front of you. At his chiding words, you think back on the day and the frustrations you felt in communicating with and wanting attention from your partner, not unlike how you are right now. Though massively different in that you’ve had the chance to chew over your feelings through your walk in the park with Akira, doing exactly as he said it would--wearing you down until you’re too tired to act up, too achy to be obtuse. The reality is that Akira did nothing wrong. Your week has just been so off, stress of finals on the horizon and last minute projects to finish, with Akira experiencing similar stresses that have kept him from you for what’s felt like weeks on end.
Your elbows quake as you come to a halt, shoulders moving with your panting. “Puppy?” In your last act of brattiness, you sit yourself back down on your heels and sit upright with a little huff, eyes falling shut. The chain jingles in your ear, smacking your shoulder and the leather of your collar when Akira wiggles it. “Talk to me.”
You sniffle and stare out at the wobbling lights of the city, hands curling in front of your knees into the grass. “I miss you a lot. I-I’m overwhelmed with classes and work and we haven’t...we’ve barely seen each other and I didn’t want to stress you out more begging for attention, b-but I did today a-and I’m sorry.”
Akira is silent behind you, and a great breath leaves you in a whoosh when you finally finish, watery heat gathering at your lashes, thighs pressing tightly together with the uncomfortable throb of your pussy.
"Come to me." His order--significantly softer and sweeter this time around--sends a zip of delight up your spine. You turn and crawl to him, chain ringing as it drags after you. He slowly loops the slack up, letting most of it drop at his feet and holding a short, taut length of just a few links between you when you're finally in front of him, head tilted back and sitting on your haunches.
He takes a deep breath, sighing slowly. The hand holding your panties comes up to his mask, tugging it down under his chin. You find warmness in finally seeing all of his face, nails digging into your dirty knees to keep yourself in place.
Akira’s lips pull into a soft frown. "Do you feel better, baby?" He asks, voice low and velvety soft. You swallow and shrug, not quite sure why the sting in your throat, the first sign of real tears, gathers there. A relief, perhaps, from control? From the energy he so rightly called out as the crux of your attitude problem? So easily given and taken from the stress of real life responsibilities that Akira is so good at making you forget.
"Come back to me, little one," Akira croons, tugging on the chain. You pitch forward ever so slightly, gasping and catching yourself on his strong thighs. You adjust yourself eagerly, shuffling closer on your knees.
"S-Sorry," you whimper again, brows tenting, eyes overflowing hotly. You sniffle, and Akira shushes you gently, stepping closer, boots bracketing your knees. His hand comes around the back of your head, pulling your face against his hip. You nuzzle against him, feel the bulge of his cock against his jeans, but you take comfort in his pets and desire for you, in his sturdy presence, even after you had been so mean.
"Why are you crying, baby, hm?" His nails scratch slowly at your scalp, back and forth. "What's wrong?"
You rub your tears against his jeans, pressing a hot cheek to his hip, swallowing thick. "I-Its just...just hard. A lot of things." You hiccup and quiver with another little sob, nose squishing against the pocket of his pants, shoulders trembling. “I-I shouldn’t have t-taken it out on you, m’sorry. Wasn’t fair.”
"I know." His voice is soft, comforting, slender fingers tracing over one cheek to wipe tenderly at your tears. "You're so strong, puppy, but you don’t have to be all the time. I know you need help now and then. You have to ask for it. I won’t know if you don’t tell me."
You hiccup again, whimpering against him. "I-I know, m'sorry, Akira. I--"
He shushes you again, big hand encompassing the back of your head. "I forgive you. Let it go, puppy. My good girl. It's okay to get upset. I'm always so proud of you, no matter what."
You tremble with his praise and reassurance, hot tears dripping down and soaking your mask. You sniffle, tilting your head back to look at him, and he pulls your mask down, gently unhooking it from each ear. His knuckle wipes gently under each eye, thumb down over your cheeks. He freezes when you eagerly capture it in your mouth, suckling away the salt of your sadness, sore eyes blinking slowly up at him as you bob slowly on his thumb, more tears falling. You see the deep breath he takes, how his head tilts while he watches you and how he pushes his thumb deeper against your tongue, until he can’t push anymore. Hooked beneath your chin, a lone finger strokes down the sensitive skin towards your throat, and you moan weakly for the tender touch.
“You want something else, puppy?” There’s a soft growl in his lilting, low voice, and you nod, nails digging into the rough fabric of his dark jeans. Slowly, he eases his thumb from between plump lips, and you slurp away with a little whimper. He nods slowly in response, smearing your spit over your lips before pulling away. “Sit still for me, hands to yourself....there you go...”
You sit back heavily on your heels, panting and gazing up at him through the night with big, adoring eyes. His belt jingles as he works it undone, working his pants down only enough for him to pull his cock out. You gulp, seeing it stand tall already from the parted fabric, not wearing anything else beneath his pants.
Shoving your mask in his pocket, he sweeps his empty hand over your hair, pulling you closer by his firm grip on it at the back of your skull. The sounds of traffic and the city just off in the dark distance disappears with the shift in energy from your boyfriend, and in yourself. “Just your mouth, okay? Make me cum.” Akira’s voice is soft but authoritative, his boots bracketing your thighs, the heat of his cock now pressed against your face.
You lean in eagerly, moaning as you suck one of his warm balls into his mouth. You take a deep breath through your nose, smelling the musk and scent of Akira and his arousal, suckling one ball and then the other, nose nuzzling against the silky firm pillar of his cock against your face.
"That's such a good girl," he whispers, chain tugged taut as you worship his balls, one after the other and back, your dirty hands curled tight into the top of his jeans. You groan softly for him, looking up at him past the dripping, flushed tip, and slowly drag your tongue up the length. You slow as you savor the taste of his precum, swirling your tongue around the grooves of the head, closing your lips daintily around it and bobbing slowly.
Akira groans raggedly, giving another tinkling tug to the chain, this time downwards, forcing you further down on him. You open your mouth eagerly, drooling down his length and slurping back up. You start to set an easy pace, unable to pull all the way off with how tightly Akira holds onto the short amount of give he’s allowed you. You barely feel like you’re given space to breathe, brow wincing and hands clawing tight into his jeans.
The posture collar makes it even harder. Tight all the way up from the elegant point down over your sternum, up to where it juts up against the bottom of your jaw, the choking press of his cock spreads your throat against the sturdy resistance the leather collar provides. It’s a tight fit, one you both enjoy, and you gag wetly, spit dribbling down your chin and from the corner of your stretched lips. Akira growls you praise, tugging on the chain and pressing hard on the back of your head with his other hand, pressing you down on his dick until your nose presses into the silky skin at his base. You can’t breathe, you can’t swallow without gagging again, slick drool smearing over his groin and balls.
“God, you feel so fucking good,” he purrs breathlessly, his head tilting back. His fingers dig into your scalp at your first attempt to pull back, and he shushes you softly, slowly easing up on you to pull back out from your esophagus at his own, sluggish pace, keeping a firm hold on your collar so you can’t jerk yourself back. Tears run hot down your face as you gasp and cough, trying not to scrape your teeth on his length. “Take a deep breath, calm down. Just keep your mouth open like a good girl...”
He gives you a second to compose yourself, slurping idly on the tip of his cock while you catch your breath, tasting the salt of his precum, before taking a steading breath through your nose. You tug on his jeans, blinking open bleary eyes but not really focusing on anything but his black shirt when he smoothly rolls his hips forward, pressing back against your palate until your stretched lips are suctioning wetly at the base of him.
Akira moans raggedly, the pace at which he fucks your face slow but short. You feel delightfully woozy and fuzzy, fingers hooked limp in the belt loops of his pants. You can’t quite register his hoarse words of affection, just the soft, loving croon of his tone, picking up on good girl and good puppy, and that’s more than enough to make you moan and gag happily. You bob your head when you can, take choked breaths when you can, and let yourself fall into hazy submission.
You feel him thicken on your tongue, hips wiggling eagerly at the first signs of his orgasm. Only to squeak unhappily when he tugs on your hair and pulls his cock out from between your swollen lips. You hollow your cheeks as if you could suck him back inside, and he curses roughly at the feeling, his grip tightening to pull you off, ignoring your whine of dissatisfaction.
"D-Daddy--" Your voice breaks with the ache of your throat.
"Keep your tongue out," he orders gruffly, voice rough with the edges of his orgasm. You do as he says, keening with his rough tug on the chain, keeping your tits squished to his thighs while he takes over.
With the salty head of his cock resting on your tongue while he fumbles to yank your panties out of his pocket, wrapping the silky damp fabric around his glistening length. He frowns down at you, dark eyes glinting in the darkness as he jerks himself off with long, tight strokes, panting heavily and using his grip on your leash to keep himself upright and your face close.
"I have such a good fucking puppy," he spits, cock dribbling precum all over your tongue. You whimper for him, blinking watery doe eyes up at him while your bare ass wags back and forth with your desperate desire to cum, too. "D-Deserves a treat from Daddy, doesn't she?"
You nod and whine, the wet muscle cradling his leaking tip dragging back and forth across sensitive and swollen nerves with the motion, and Akira groans again. His shoulders stiffen upwards, moaning through grit teeth as hot ropes of cum shoot towards the back of your throat. You keen at the taste of him, head tipping back even further when part of your panties catches on the head of his cock and spurts his cum across your sticky cheek instead.
"Oh, what a good girl," Akira repeats in a loving, hoarse croon, over and over into a whisper as his hand slows, groaning softly with each flex of his dick against your tongue. He slaps his cock against the cum dripping off your tongue, on your lips and face to make a mess, and it makes your pussy clench, unable to help moaning. The loud smacks splatters cum up across your nose and cheeks, another thick drip escaping him with a shiver that he lets drop down into what’s already pooling in the back of your throat.
He sighs heavily, loosening his grip on the chain so you can sit back on your heels. "Don't swallow. Keep your mouth open.” He pants, watching you closely while peeling your panties off his dick. You do as you're told, his warm cum pooling at the back of your throat, some dripping down the corner of your mouth and the tip of your tongue where it’s curled over your bottom lip.
You watch him glance around, his forehead shining with a sheen of sweat. He brings your panties to his nose again, inhaling whatever scents he can from the ruined pretty lace before stuffing it into a pocket, eyes back on you. You squirm while he digs around in his pocket still, pulling out his phone instead and holding it up, as expected. He rests his cock on your tongue and you do your best to not flinch with the flash of his photo, lids fluttering and vision whiting out, whatever adjustment you had to the darkness ruined.
His dick slips away from you, and he leans in past the bright sunspot left behind from his photo to grab your jaw, fingers digging into sticky cheeks. He looks at you for a long moment while your eyes reorient, appraising you with sleepy pride in his glittering gaze.
"Can you hold it in your mouth til we get home?" You nod, and his lips curl in a pleased smirk that makes you wiggle at how gorgeous he is. He leans in, whispering good girl once again, kissing you. His tongue dips down into his own cum, and he pulls back, spitting it back down into your mouth with a pleased sound, eyes twinkling in the dark.
"Close." He wipes your chin and cheeks of his cum, sucking his finger clean with a wink that makes your lips curl happily, already feeling inexplicably lighter than you have all day despite the swollen heaviness in your cunt. Possibly all week.
He helps you stand on wobbling legs with your hands in his, and you wait quietly as he pulls a pack of wet wipes from his backpack, cleaning your hands and knees of dirt and grass, carelessly shoving those away once more. He then pulls his jacket off and places it around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug that lasts for a long, long moment. You lean into his warm embrace, eyes closing as you revel softly in the affection you’re given.
"C'mon, puppy. Let's go home." He whispers into your hair. The chain circles around his forearm, and you wrap your arms around his, hiding your face against the soft cotton of his long sleeved shirt. The collar and heavy lead mostly hidden by the hanging sides of his jacket now resting on your body, the evidence of his pleasure still salty and slick in your mouth.
Akira squeezes your hand tenderly in reply to your clinginess.
You walk back to the train and board. He traps you against a private corner of one of the cars, looking down at you through long lashes, and softly asks you to open your mouth while tucking your mask under your chin for you.
Hidden by his 6 foot frame plus the extra height he gets from his boots, you do as he asks, tilting your head back and opening your mouth. Milky cum and spit glitters back, and he pets your cheek with his free hand.
"Doesn’t it feel better to be a good girl?" He asks you, low and seductive, his question hidden by the sound of the train and your little pocket of privacy he's created for you. You nod while gazing up at him with earnest, blissed eyes, fisting his shirt. He nods with you, his pupils blown wide and his cheeks flushed pink. "I know, puppy. I know you're a good girl. My good puppy. And I’m gonna take good care of you when we get home."
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