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marxo-fm · 13 days

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Take me to Church

✯ John Price x f!reader | Playlist

Summary: A reader who’s so religious that she doesn’t even think of anything close to inappropriate, until she meets her dad’s best friend, Mr. John Price.

Words: 4.7k

Warnings: MDNI 18+, mature themes and language, age gap (reader is 25 and Price is in his early 40’s), religious trauma from Catholic variety, dad’s best friend, loss of virginity, pet names, slight aftercare in the end, fear of getting caught from reader, smut, assurance, fingering, reader isn’t all that clueless but super inexperienced, protected PIV, oral (fem! receiving), reader has some troubles with masturbation (failure to finish), Price teaches the reader how to feel good, praising, no descriptions of readers body, race, skin color, ethnicity, hair type/length and body type.

A/N: Currently don’t know wtf I’m doing with my life and how this absurdity came to mind, but aye, I’m all here for it. This was so…..!? Yeah. Also big shout out to Hozier, my icon. Side note: I truly apologize If this fic is rough, I will edit it soon but it’s mostly because I haven’t written in a hot minute, due to school and shit, but I’m back now—and I’m proud of this!

—

The breeze kisses your skin as you soak the sun's warmth on a Friday afternoon. The grass is green, and the clouds are out, summer has just begun. You feel yourself start to come back, you were struggling but now that’s over—for a bit. You look over as you watch your dad chopping wood. Usually, he has his friends helping out, but you guessed they had things to do, which explains why they weren’t here.

You memorized their names.

There’s Gaz, Simon, a man who goes by the name of ‘Soap’—which you find funny and you’re not sure if that’s his real name or if it’s just a nickname—and then…John.

Mr. Price. Or so you call him. Sir or Mr works just fine. But you never explored your unknown and strange feelings for him. How you always felt so shy around his dominating presence, or how his voice sounds like honey and sins. You prayed at night and asked for forgiveness when thinking of such thoughts you’ve never thought of when you see John.

Until one day in high school—in health class—they taught about intercourse and other things that left you baffled and quite scared. Anxious. Curious.

You’d get scolded by your Christian parents when you asked such things, they say it’s too early to get into these topics, or that you should wait until marriage. Your parents are good, but you always follow their rules. You never once disobeyed, only minor times but you always asked for forgiveness.

You’ve always been a good girl, but Mr. Price always makes the fire in your belly grow. And that fire burns through your veins in an excruciating need for something so sinful. Maybe it’s the devil on your shoulder, but you never fight it off, and that was bad.

“Hey honey, ought to help me out here? The jerks I call my friends are out busy somewhere, c’mon, I’ll teach ya.” Your father motioned his hands as he walked to his area where he chops his wood, you’ve never done this before, but you’re excited. He gives you his axe, and you almost give out due to how heavy it is. “Can’t carry it like that sweet pie, hold it strong and firm.” He instructs.

You do as he says, squinting your eyes to look at his face of approval, “I think I got it.”

He nods and you bring the axe up to your shoulder, and you bring it down with every ounce of strength.

You chopped it.

“Attagirl, that’s one hell of a way to chop down wood.” A man with a deeper voice and a southern drawl said from right behind you, you turn around and the blood rushes to your head.

It’s John.

“Oh…Mr. Price,” you stammer, and you feel a rush of embarrassment plastering your cheeks.

“Y’know ya can call me John, right? Good job raisin’ her pal, she got manners.” He chews on his toothpick as he takes the axe from your hands, and the contact leaves you feeling vulnerable and so flustered. His rough hands that he used to work, chop wood, and fix things felt oddly familiar on your soft skin.

“We taught her well, ain’t that right darlin’?” John looks over his shoulder, his flannel covering his bulging biceps and that itself makes you feel thirsty for cold water.

“Yes, Dad,” you replied softly, “Well, I’m just going to head on over back home to help Mom out. Want anything to drink John?”

John looked at you momentarily, the way his name slipped out of your sweet mouth left him speechless. His eyes gaze over your white dress that sits just above your knees, it feels like he is undressing you, but he’s just wondering how and when the hell you looked like this. Of course, you were always beautiful, but there was something special there.

A spark.

“No ma’am.” He waved his hand and went back to work. You watched as his forearms grew bigger when he swung that axe down.

Forgive me for my sins.

You mumbled before you opened the door to your home and walked in.

—

“My baby’s such a bad girl, aren’t ya? Takin’ me so well.” John praises as he thrusts into you in sinister motions like he’s been deprived of something so good for such a long time, that it almost drove him over the wall.

How you felt so good, so welcoming, as his thrusts became deeper and faster. Touching parts of you that you didn’t even know existed—nor could feel. It was an out-of-body experience like your soul had ascended, and you didn’t know whether it was real.

Until your alarm woke you up. It wasn’t real, but gosh did it feel real. You’re sweating, and your heart is running a marathon, as you regain your breath, you feel like you committed a crime. A crime so punishable that it could result in a death sentence.

You grab your rosary and you rock back and forth, praying and asking for forgiveness for ever dreaming about him. Your parents always told you that you wouldn’t have a good spot in the afterlife—a place called hell—if you thought of or committed any acts of sin. Especially anything and everything related to dirty inappropriate thoughts or worse, sex. Commit any of these before marriage, and you have a spot ready for you down below.

You feared for your life, even though it was impossible for anyone you love to know. They won’t ever know you have thoughts about John, or how you feel warmth between your legs when you picture him touching you in places you can’t please. Or how you picture him shirtless chopping wood, grabbing your waist from behind as he helps you hold the axe properly and swing it down. It was oh so shameful of you. Dirty, bad, sinful.

But you feel as if enough was enough, you’ve been good for far too long, that you deserve to feel good about yourself for once.

It was the perfect time, six thirty in the morning and both your parents were sleeping away, not knowing their good and obedient daughter was yearning to touch herself.

You lock your doors for safety as you scurried back to bed, you lay down on your back as you skim your fingers down your chest.

Deep breathes in and deep breathes out. You don’t know how to do this, but you’ll give in anyway. You sigh as you pull your shorts down, with your underwear as well. You drew circles around your belly before trailing down to your heat. Soft gasps escaped your mouth at your sensitive touch. Sensitive and swollen from the dream you just had.

You close your eyes, rubbing circular motions on your most sensitive area as you picture John doing this for you instead. Rough and hard-working hands aiding you. A coil in your stomach tightens, urging you to untie right then and there, but you can’t get the motions to stay the same.

You winced as you pushed your finger deeper, your back arching in response. You don’t feel anything, no pleasure, only pain and emptiness.

You want to scream in the agonizing torture of being so close yet so far away. You pull your shorts back up as you go inside the restroom to wash your hands.

You committed acts of sin and weren't pleased, and now you feel nothing but guilt and insecurity of not knowing how to do something right.

—

The next day, the same place you were before. Outside on your dad's truck watching his friends help out with work. John wore a tight brown tee that accentuated his muscles, he's a retired man, but you could see every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears in that body of his.

You blush, thinking about it. About what could be hiding under his shirt.

He catches you eyeing him but you quickly divert your eyes back to your book. John smirked, telling your dad he'll be back in a second and wants to talk with you.

"Ya watchin' me, sweetheart?" He smiled, taking a cigarette out of his pocket. You watched as he did so, fearing that he'd ask you to take a puff, though you never would. "I...I was just trying to learn how you chop your wood, sir."

A deep chuckle escapes his mouth, "Y'know I can teach you, doll," the new nickname had you unable to face him, but he loved seeing you flustered. He took a puff and you nodded, "Come on over to my place, your dad won't mind. I'm not at home much, anyway. S'good to learn y'know," he went on as he walked closer to you, his southern accent becomes deeper as he goes, "You'll have the privacy that you need, to read your books and pray." He knew how religious you are, heck, he's a good friend to your parents.

"I don't know if my father will let me go, with a man nonetheless." John looks back and then back to you, "It's only me, angel."

You decide to ask your father, just in case. You don't want to go behind his back, even if John is family. You walk on over, building the courage to ask your father if it's okay to go over to a man's house, a man you yearn for.

"Dad, is it okay If John takes me to his house? He's gonna teach me how to chop wood." Your dad looks at you momentarily, before speaking, "Of course honey, just because I want you to help an old man out here and there. 'Aka' me." You tried to keep your cool, to not look so eager about going over a man's house.

John smiled, the thought of having you all to himself at his place gets him straining against his jeans. He loves it when you eye him as if he doesn't know or sense when you drool over him.

"Here's your room, sweet thing, if ya ever need anything I'm just a shout away." He sets his tools down and walks to the kitchen, his jeans shaping his toned legs and shirt sizes too small. Butterflies invade your stomach, merely at the thought that you'd be sleeping under the same roof as this man, and willing to teach you something you're so interested in.

"Can't believe your dress is that short, doll. Your mother let you out like that?" He eyed your white dress that sits just above your knees and shows more skin than the dresses you usually wear. "You know, Mr. Price, I'm an adult now."

"Course you are," he takes a sip of his beer, "but I ain't take you as the one to dress like this. Can't say I don't like it."

You smile, flustered at the way he just complimented you. You can't deny that you like it, you love it. It sent a rush of arousal through your entire body, and he noticed the way you crossed your legs.

"Damnit,"

"What is it?" You asked curiously, not knowing that John saw the way you squeezed your thighs together. He wants to ease the need and desire that coursed through you, but he doesn't want to screw it all up.

"Nothin', now come on outside."

"Now, you're going to hold it just like this," he instructs, pushing his hard body against your back as he holds your arms. You could feel the hardness of his strain on your back and you scream internally, unable to form coherent thoughts.

You made this so hard for him, so difficult to the point where John himself forgot what he wanted to teach you.

"Easy," his calloused hands left your arms and snaked their way along your waist. Your stomach flipped at the action. Goosebumps flare over your entire skin, his manly scent entering your nose and taking over your mind. You swallowed, and continued.

"Now raise your axe, and swing it down."

You did just so, and you successfully chopped the wood.

"That's it, angel baby, look at ya. Such a good learner."

"I am, aren't I?" You slightly bit your lip, John cursed himself and cupped your face. "Mm, damn right you are." John wondered deeply if you were such a good learner in other parts as well. Price cupping your face was a first, but his calloused hands that signal just how much of a hard worker made the intense throb between your legs grow.

You wake up with your blanket suffocating as you struggle to fall asleep, again. You tossed and turned, repeating everything and every touch he gave you. You try to stop the need and the burn in your belly, you really do, but it's hard when you don't know how to fulfill your need. It became so bad to the point where you stood up and walked to the kitchen for water.

He wasn't in his room, he was out for the morning. A busy man and you're so silly for thinking he'd be home, even when he informed you he wouldn't be home every passing hour.

But oh how much you needed him. In ways, you couldn't forgive yourself for it.

You sit down, as quiet as a mouse, waiting patiently for him to come back just so you can confess your dirty sins. Maybe he'll forgive you for them, or maybe he won't show you mercy.

You try to occupy yourself, laying down on the couch and turning on the TV, still in your nightgown. You pull the blanket over, ready to watch a cooking video to learn a few things.

But it hits you that you're actually able to do something about the heat in between your legs, now that nobody is here. The house was quiet except for the TV playing.

Your hand trails under the blanket, lifting your nightgown as you reach for your soaked underwear. Shameful how you're soaked even when he's not around, John really leaves his mark on you. You let out a sigh as you reached your wet and sensitive clit.

It's not easy when you struggle to please yourself, it's so disappointing, honestly. Today was no different.

There is this creeping guilt, but it always hits you the most just when you creep up the tip of the mountain, only for you to fall off when you realize what you're doing.

You can't stop thinking of him, shoulders aching and tears urging to escape when you're so close to reaching the end, only for it to be unsuccessful.

So, you close your eyes and let out a deep breath. Spreading your legs further as your fingers plunged into your aching hole, you gasped. Picturing yet again, how he pleases his women. Of course, he knew how, he is well experienced and capable of pleasing a woman, to the point where she forgets her own name.

You're committing acts of sins in his own home, unforgivable and dirty. Because you were raised with the idea of being perfect, but no one is perfect. From the moment you're born and the moment you die--but the moment you die is the moment John Price fulfills your dirty little dreams.

He whispers in your ear telling you how to do this and how to do that.

'Just like that.'

'Those fingers are too light, darlin', lemme do all the work."

"Attagirl, in and out."

And you almost reached the top of the mountain, whispering finally as sweat buds trail down your forehead.

Finally, finally, finally.

Until you fell down the mountain you tried so hard climbing, when John swings open the door to the sight of his best friend's daughter getting off on his couch. You hurriedly pull your panties back up.

At that moment, you wanted to scream.

To run away.

To die.

He's going to tell your dad, and your entire body freezes. You can't plead for forgiveness when you're so far gone. No mercy will be shown when he kicks you out and tells your parents how bad their daughter truly is.

You sit straight as your body shakes in fear, you're unable to cry when you know your fate.

A sinful girl.

"John," you choke, "I-I am so so sorry, I didn't mean to. I really wasn't-"

"How long have you been at this?" Your heart drops all the way down as the blood from your face drains. "O..only," you struggle to speak as his deep brown eyes gaze at you, "It was only this one time."

You lied.

Another sin.

He stands in silence, shutting the door behind him as he takes big steps towards you. He hovers over you, looking down to see a dirty girl in front of him. As if you played this innocent and sweet girl, though you were, except in John's eyes you weren't. At least that's what you thought.

He takes your chin and pushes your head up to face him, you weren't able to look in his eyes, it was all too much.

"Look at me," he grumbled, you did just what he said. Not once resisting, although it was difficult.

"I ain't mad at ya, it's natural, honey."

Your eyes widened and your shoulders relaxed from the tension and fear.

"You're not going to tell on me?" You asked, Price chuckles.

"Course I'm not, I ain't no snitch, I'm a grown man." He bends on his knees, his thumbs rubbing circular motions on your exposed skin.

"Did it feel good? Sorry to have ruined it for ya' angel." It sure did feel good knowing you almost reached the top, it really did, but it felt better having John assuring you that it was all okay. "You don't have to be sorry--I was just..."

"Go on."

"Continue what I interrupted, don't let my presence stop ya," he signaled his pointer finger toward the door to his room, "it ain't comfortable here. No space to spread those sweet legs, is there?"

You shake your head, "Go on, unless you want me in there. I know deep down you do, doll, you can feel so much better." He's right, the moment you've been dreaming of, it finally comes true. How could you say no to John being in the same room making you feel good?

You almost can't believe it.

He suddenly picks you up from the couch, initiating a soft gasp from you when he opens the door and throws you on his mattress.

You balance yourself with your two hands when he undresses himself in front of you. Starting off with his shirt. You gasp once again, at the sight of his sculpted body before you. His chest was full of hair and his abs were the definition of perfect.

He gets on the bed and slowly crawls towards you, his head now in between your thighs. "I interrupted your time of need, sweet girl, let me make it up to you." He smiles before hooking his finger on the hem of your underwear, pulling them down all the way to your ankles. On display right before him, so shy you hid away, unable to look at the lewd sight in front of you. "That ain't gonna work for me, eyes over here." His fingers dug into your thighs, you did just as he said, looking at his eyes that continue to look at your pretty pussy.

"S'fuckin' wet."

It's a dream come true for John as well, to see you all wide open and soaking wet for him.

He places peppered kisses along your thighs, and you whimper as he stops. John makes his way up to your lips, biting your bottom lip before kissing you deeply and hungrily. Exactly like the dreams.

His stache brushing against your top lip only made it feel real, his tongue deep inside your mouth as your hands held the back of his head, pushing his mouth impossibly deeper. He's eating your face as if it were his last meal on death row. Like a predator catching his prey.

He pulls away from the intense kiss, the saliva leaving both of you.

Good God did he know how to kiss, you let him do all the work when you could barely kiss him back just as good.

His chest heaved, and he continued with his kisses on your neck and down your collarbone, pushing a soft moan out of you that drove John over the wall. "Make more noises, it's only the two of us, jus' let me hear ya." He cooed, his hands lifting your nightgown over your hips and then over your head. His eyes trailed over your breasts hidden in your bra. "Ah fuck," you sit up, allowing John to unclip your bra, the sight of your chest out on display for him made his mouth water. He grips your left breast with one hand while he sucks and kisses the other.

"Oh, John...keep doing that, please."

He kneads your breast, almost putting you to sleep with how good it feels, "mmmhm," you sighed, "you been wantin' this, and I'm sorry for waiting this long." He apologizes as he places kisses down your belly and finally makes his way back to being in between your thighs.

"No need...to be sorry," you breathe, tilting your head back when he swipes his tongue between your wet folds. The new feeling alone made your legs tremble, enticing a loud gasp from you. You start to rock your hips against his mouth as his deep groans vibrate through your entire nervous system. "Taste like fuckin' Heaven, oh sweet baby, I think you are heaven itself." Praise that had you dropping your jaw as he inserted his hot tongue in your hole.

You swore you saw Heaven.

Brows furrowed and back arched as he eats you like a hungry man, your hands gripping the sheets underneath you, and your legs spread further open inviting him in for more.

John inserts one finger in as his tongue continues to suck on your most sensitive area, and you let out the loudest moan you didn't think you were capable of ever making.

You died in this moment. And John swore he died in that moment, also.

"John," you pant, focusing on what could be your first-ever orgasm.

"I know, you're close baby, s'fuckin' tight, come for me." His words of encouragement suddenly break the coil inside your burning belly, the liquid seeping out of you as he continues to lick away every last bit from you.

He takes his finger and licks you away, which leaves you half-lidded.

"See? How hard was that? Like rippin' a damn bandaid off, does your wound feel better?" He teased, "It does," you say softly, still reminiscing what happened a few seconds ago. What you just felt, how it felt like fireworks exploding inside your veins.

"Such a perfect pussy, waiting to be full of me." He unbuckles his belt and unbuttons his jeans, you've never had sex, but you definitely never needed something more than now. You need him, to get to know him, even when you already do.

"Does it hurt like they say?" You asked nervously, watching as his jeans disappeared, leaving him only in his boxers. His thick thighs didn't do much justice in the dim light.

"When I do it, then it shouldn't be as bad, doll. Jus' a little pain, but if ya feel like it's too much, you jus' tell me. Hm?"

It makes you feel special with how sweet he treats you, he treats you with such care that it truly makes you dizzy.

He takes off his boxers and you almost lose all consciousness, his cock leaking with pre-cum and hard, you thought it was quite inhumane how big he is.

Sure you've explored your curiosity, but John, he differed from all of them.

"Poor thing needs some love and I'm going to show your pussy what the definition of love is." You grew heavy with desire, "ya need me to use a condom, sweetheart?" he asked, you nodded, simply because you weren't on the pill.

He opens his drawer and pulls out a condom, ripping it off with his teeth and spitting a piece of the wrapper out.

That was a sight for sore eyes.

He slips it on his thick cock, the condom intensifying every vien, it left your mouth dry like a Sahara desert.

How was that going to fit? Was all you were thinking about, but you were so sure he was going to make it feel okay.

He sets his heavy cock on your soaking entrance, teasing you while he moves his dick up and down your folds, you whine with need and John chuckles.

Was this the sinful thing that would literally damn you for eternity? How could something so dirty feel so good?

He brings a hand of his to pin your arms down, while the other holds your leg close to him. Your brows furrow as he slowly enters himself into you. John grows concerned when he sees your lips pursed and your eyes shut tightly, a tear escaping.

He stops, and you stop holding your breath.

"It hurts don't it? Want me to stop?"

"Please, no," you gasp, "I...I want you to keep going."

He readjusts your hips, before proceeding to continue, "You sure, honey?" You nod and whisper a hundred times yes before he thrusts deep inside of you.

"So fuckin' good for me, fuck!" he shouts, he loved the way your cunt fluttered and wrapped tightly around his cock.

The silence in the room was filled with his groans and loud moans from you, so lewd and so dirty. But you're too far deep to leave now, you're ready to die, happily.

"My," he thrusts, then pulling away and thrusting back in deeper, "gorgeous," you gasp when he continues his rhythm of thrusting and being so close to pulling out before he thrusts impossibly deeper again, "Girl." He breathed.

He brings his fingers to circle your sensitive clit, and you feel it happening again. It's more intense and heavier.

Your walls wrapped tightly on his cock, initiating that you're indeed closer than you have ever been before. "Mhmm," he moaned, and it was such a sweet sound you so badly wanted to hear again. He grabs hold of your legs, bringing them closer to your head, thrusting at a deeper angle that you can feel in your throat.

"That's it, baby, that's my fuckin' girl right here. All mine, gimme one more." He stopped as you cried out his name over and over until it became engraved in John's brain. He silences your cries with his lips as your legs shake around him.

"You did so well for me, your pussy jus' needed some medicine to be cured, got you coming all over my cock." He begins to move again, to finish himself this time. Your pain turns into pleasure and familiarity when he pushes himself in and out.

"John, that feels so..." He groans loudly at the way you watch his cock slide in and out, it was obscene but also surreal, "look at you, fuck, gonna make me cum just lookin' at me like that."

Which you felt so good about, it's all you wanted.

He pants as he reached a certain point, chest heaving as you can feel his cock twitching inside of you.

John pulls out, and there's sadness in your heart at the emptiness. Your heart thuds loudly that your first time to be with a man you dreamed about, it feels euphoric. You felt ecstatic.

He wipes away your dry tears and your hair away from your face, that drowned in sweat and tears.

John admired you the second he laid his eyes on you till now, he never knew the definition of perfect until this moment.

"Can you teach me how to feel good?" You asked as your hand roamed his broad shoulders and his back. And fuck, did John love that.

"Course' baby, on top of the choppin' the damn wood lessons," you both laugh, "I got all the time in the world, for you."

Your heart ached, he whispered sweet nothings before he carried you into the bathroom to clean up the mess.

Then you nestled under his arms and his body heat, his chest, and arms hugging you as the two of you slept the day away.

It was worth every waking second, and now you can sleep peacefully.

A/N: Y'all, wtf. Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. Need him.

This lowkey needs to be edited some more now that I’m reading it, but I’ll definitely do that later…

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freedomfireflies · 9 months

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Four to Go*

Summary: The fourth part to One for the Money*

Mr. Styles, your boss (and the CEO of the company you work for), offers to help you expand your OnlyFans business.

But can he watch you sleep with someone else?

Word Count: 7.8k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞You are so much more important!*

Mr. Styles is calm as he slips off his jacket, unfazed by the curious look on Max’s face.

“Uh…all right,” Max replies, sneaking a second glance at you for confirmation. “So, you…you’re just gonna…be here? Or…?”

Mr. Styles nods, taking a seat on the lounge chair near the wall, loosening his tie as he sits. “See, Peach always tends to need a little…encouragement. So, that’s why I’m here.”

He smiles at you, and your heart leaps.

“To give it to her.”

You have absolutely no idea what to say. What to think or feel. Part of you is somewhat comforted by his presence and the other part is wildly confused by it.

“Okay…” Max clears his throat and cocks an eyebrow up. “Well…we were just gonna go over some ground rules—”

“Excellent.” Mr. Styles beams as he leans back. A hand is waved as instruction to continue. “By all means.”

Your lips press together into a thin line.

“All right. I was just gonna ask how you feel about kissing,” Max begins, returning his attention to you. “There’s no right or wrong answer. Sometimes it can make things feel less serious, but it’s up to you.”

“Oh, I’m fine with it,” you say, shrugging once. “It’s just a kiss.”

Out of your peripheral, you catch Mr. Styles tilt his head.

“Okay. And condoms?”

“Yeah, I brought some.”

“Perfect, and I’ve got some, too.” Max looks around the room in thought. “Uh—oh. The safe word. I know we agreed on the color system, but if you have a particular word that feels best…?”

“Color system is fine,” you agree. “I trust you.”

Mr. Styles coughs under his breath.

You look over.

He smirks.

Amused, Max moves for his camera. “All right, then. Do you wanna go over the scene one more time?”

“Uh…honestly? Maybe we just…get right into it,” you answer, slowly slipping your coat off. “I have a tendency to overthink.”

You hear a snort from behind you, and you don’t even have to look to know who it came from.

“Got it,” Max chuckles, surveying the room one last time. “Well, then…I guess I’m ready when you are?”

Your pulse skips a time or two as you nod and allow your covering to fall away, revealing the outfit underneath.

Another one of Mr. Styles' sets. A soft, pastel peach color. It felt fitting, and the room grows oddly quiet as both men take a moment to drink you in.

Max is the only one with a comment to make, smiling gently as he says, “Nice. And it’s comfortable?”

“Very. Yeah, my investor did an excellent job.”

Mr. Styles smirks at your sly comment while Max laughs.

“Ah, so this is the work of the mysterious gentleman in the corner?”

“Indeed.” You nod as you step closer to the bed. “Turns out, he’s incredibly picky.”

Another scoff but you pay it no mind as you shoot Max an innocent grin and take a seat on the edge of the mattress.

Max fiddles with the camera and the lights a moment more before he clears his throat and claps his hands together once. “All right, I think we’re ready.”

There’s a weird flutter in your stomach as you straighten up and prepare to begin, unable to resist sneaking a glance at your boss.

He’s expressionless. Stoically sitting in his chair, relaxed, yet seemingly uninterested.

It’s not unusual for him, but even still, you wonder where the man who dominated you in your bedroom has disappeared to.

And if you’ll ever see him again.

“You ready?” Max calls gently, smiling his encouragement.

“Yes,” you reply, voice oddly timid as you scoot back toward the pillows. “Ready.”

With that, a little red dot begins to blink from the device, signaling the start to the video.

No going back now.

Max makes his way around the tripod, approaching the bed with a confident gleam in his eye. “Hi, Peach,” he murmurs, rather seductively, and your breath catches. “’S’about time we found our way here, yeah?”

You nod again, lip disappearing between your teeth as he kneels onto the mattress and begins to crawl closer.

“Look so fucking sweet,” he continues, letting his eyes trail from your face to your thighs, appreciating every thread on your lingerie set. “Did you dress up just for me?”

You fight the urge to look toward your boss, swallowing thickly as you whisper, “Yes.”

His hands find your hips, smoothing over the curves and dips with ease before slowly guiding your legs apart. “Gonna let me have a taste?”

You feel breathless. Wonderstruck by the fingers inching closer to you, the anticipation building in your gut.

“Yes,” you repeat, nails curling into the silk bedding beneath you as he moves in.

He hooks onto the material and slowly begins to pull it aside, allowing him access to your cunt. Then, his thumb outstretches, ready to swipe across your clit when the sound of a throat clearing echoes across the room.

You and Max both still, exchanging a curious look before turning to sneak a glimpse of the man responsible for the interruption.

Mr. Styles stares back, eyebrow raised. “I’m sorry, is that it, then?”

Max pushes up onto his knees. “Pardon?”

Your boss leans forward. “You have her all spread out, ready and willing, and this is the best you can do?”

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head as Max tosses you a curious expression.

“I mean…this is what we agreed on,” Max replies slowly. “A little foreplay before the rest of it.”

“And this is your idea of foreplay?”

Max blinks. “Uh…yes?”

“Interesting.” His fingers strum against the arm of the chair but he says nothing more.

A little rattled, you shift beneath Max and wait for him to continue.

Tentatively, he does, pushing through your folds with intense focus. He’s slow with it, letting the air hit you just so until you squirm, hand pushing your thigh open.

Vaguely, you feel a pair of eyes studying you from the corner of the room, taking note of each breath and quiver of your limbs.

And you know he’s watching you. Know he’s observing the technique. And while you don’t mind being watched by him, something about this feels odd.

Max straightens up and moves in to kiss you, slotting his knee between your legs as a hand wraps around the back of your neck.

His tongue is in your mouth before your eyes can close, and you whimper a bit at the aggressive force behind his touch.

He’s quite good. One of the better men you’ve been with, and nothing has even happened yet. You take this as a good sign, allowing yourself to melt into the gesture as his fingers fiddle with the buckle on his belt.

There’s another condescending snort near the wall, and Max sighs against your cheek before turning around. “Yes?”

“Nothing.” There’s a touch of innocence behind his response but the look in his eye reads anything but. “That’s just not how she likes it.”

You feel the blood drain from your face as Max smirks and looks back at you. “Sorry, Peach. Is that not how you like it?”

“It is,” you confirm, shooting a peeved look toward the chair. “Ignore him, I’m sorry.”

Max smiles gently before pressing another kiss to your bottom lip while tugging his pants down.

He manages to get his boxers around his knees before there’s another noise, and you audibly groan.

“Now what?” Max calls, slightly annoyed but attempting to maintain a bit of calm.

Mr. Styles lifts one shoulder in a relaxed shrug. “Just think it wouldn’t hurt to slow down.”

Max lets his head drop, chin meeting his chest as he sighs before replying, “Is that right?”

“Nobody is watching this video for you,” Mr. Styles continues. “They’re watching it for her. They want to see the way she reacts. How she feels. Your cock is nothing more than the sideshow. She…is the main event.”

There’s a weird sort of flutter in your stomach as you let your focus drift to the man near the wall.

Max exhales beneath his breath before straightening up. “All right. Then how do you suggest we proceed?”

Not needing to be asked twice, Mr. Styles stands to his feet and saunters toward the bed. “For starters…” A hand comes out to grasp onto Max’s jaw, tugging his face to the side. “…that’s not how she likes to be kissed.”

Wincing some, Max shoots him a glare while attempting to yank himself free. “Yeah? And how would you know?”

A rather excellent question, and your breath hitches as you await the response.

Mr. Styles doesn’t even look at you as he says, “I’m her fucking partner.”

Another tense silence flitters around the room before Max is finally released.

“And let me guess…I’m touching her wrong, too?” he counters, leaning away from you as Mr. Styles straightens up.

“Yes.” A simple response but the bite behind his tone makes you shiver.

Max scoffs to himself, head shaking with disbelief as he pulls his boxers back up. “Well, maybe it would just be easier if you did it, hm?”

“It would. But then it wouldn’t be your video, now, would it?”

“Mr. Styles,” you begin in a gentle murmur, “please…it’s fine—”

“Doesn’t look fine,” is his only retort, nodding at the gentleman still kneeling above you. “Is this what they pay you for, then? Mediocre sex and cheap camera work?”

“This is what Peach and I agreed on,” Max reminds him. “All right? This is the scene that we created—”

“Nothing about this scene was constructed for her benefit,” Mr. Styles replies. “And if you knew anything about her content, you would know that her audience likes to see her squirm.”

“Well we’re not just catering to her audience, okay? This is about my audience, too—”

“Last time I checked, her subscriber count doubled yours. The majority of viewers won’t be for you. They’ll be for her—”

“Right, and that’s why she’s the one in the frame, all right? I know what I’m fucking doing—”

“No.” Another straightforward answer, and it makes your head spin. “No, you don’t. And I don’t think that’s fair to her or her subscribers. They shouldn’t have to pay for your incompetence.”

Max looks to you. “Is he fucking serious?”

“I—” You push up onto your elbows, feeling a little exposed in your see-through garment. “Mr. Styles, I appreciate the thought. But he’s right. This was part of the plan—”

“Your plan was to fake your orgasm just so he could nut on film?”

Both you and Max still as this reply hangs in the air.

Then, Max crawls off the mattress, and stands to his feet. “Okay, you know what? I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

“Max…” you attempt to call, feeling rather embarrassed as he begins gathering his things. “Look, he doesn’t mean it—”

“No, I do,” Mr. Styles interjects, ignoring your peeved look of warning.

Max ignores you both.

He strides around the hotel room, throwing things into his duffel before turning the camera off and packing it up.

You attempt to shoot daggers toward your boss, a silent scold, but he simply meets your eye with relaxed indifference.

“Listen, Peach, you seem nice,” Max sighs, moving for the door with his things while shooting you a sympathetic grin. “And I appreciate you for even meeting with me. But…these things never work when the boyfriend gets involved. So, just…enjoy the room. It’s all yours for the night if you’d like it. And…I look forward to maybe working with you in the future.”

Your stomach drops as you nod and watch him exit the room, disappearing into the hallway until you’re left with the perpetrator.

All of fifteen minutes he’d managed to keep his mouth shut, and you huff as you sit up. “Seriously?” you mumble the moment the door is closed.

He leans back against the dresser, regarding you with ease. “That was pathetic, and you know it.”

“How? He hadn’t even done anything yet.”

“Exactly.”

You frown. “Mr. Styles, I really appreciate all of your help. But you were the one that told me this would be good for my account.”

“And it could have been. Just not with him.”

“What was so wrong with him?”

“He wasn’t doing it right.”

“Why? Just because he wasn’t doing it like you?”

“If he’s not doing it the way I would have, he’s doing it wrong.”

Your lips part but you find yourself without a response. After all, what exactly does he expect you to say?

He sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. But you can do better than him. Even in porn.”

“Right,” you snort under your breath, settling against the headboard and pulling your knees to your chest. “Well…guess it doesn’t matter now. I’ll just go back to my vibrating cock. Seems to be the only thing people really like.”

You’re attempting to lighten the mood, but Mr. Styles only offers you a rather contemplative look.

“Is that right?” he calls.

You suck in a quiet inhale and nod once. “Yeah. I mean, technically that wasn’t the only thing they liked, but…”

His brow raises.

You clear your throat. “You. They liked you.”

This seems to amuse him, his perfectly pink lips pulling up into a coy grin. “Me.”

“Yeah.” You glance down at your nails. “They, uh…liked your voice? And your…hands? And the way you talked? I guess? It was, um…the main feedback. They wanted to see you in more videos.”

The smug bastard is much too pleased to hear this, practically beaming as he studies you. “They did, did they?”

“Mhm.” You nod, cheeks warming. “So…you’ve got fans.”

“How nice.” He runs a hand along his jaw in thought, smile still much too wide. “And were you happy with the video?”

The million-dollar question. Truth be told, it’s the first video of yours that you’ve ever willingly watched more than once. You can still hear his instructions ring between your ears. Can feel his hands on your thighs. Can taste yourself on his fingers.

“Yes,” you reply quietly, shifting a bit in your spot. “It was…it was really good. I like how it came together.”

“You watched it?”

“…yes.”

“I thought you didn’t like to watch yourself come.”

“Yeah, well…this was different.”

His head tilts. “How so?”

You toss him a frown. He knows exactly why, and you hate his insistence on making you spell it out. “Why do you think?”

“Could be a number of reasons.”

“Except it’s not, and you know it.”

“Perhaps. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You huff again. “I just like what we did, okay? It was a nice video, a nice scene, and a nice sound bite. Happy?”

Once again, that dark eyebrow dances up, his expression twisting into one of curious intrigue. “Sound bite?”

Shit. Your eyes flicker back down to your hands. “I mean…yeah. You do have a nice voice. Sounds…sounds great on film.”

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip. “You like listening to me talk?”

Again, you feel your pulse skip over its own rhythm as you attempt to convey nonchalance. “Sure.”

But he’s unconvinced by your casualness, pushing off the dresser to step closer to you. “Is that why you were watching the video, then? To listen to me?”

You want to respond but your whole mouth has gone numb.

“Were you using my voice to get off, Peach?” he murmurs, the scent of his cologne finally reaching you as he approaches the bed.

You don’t have to answer for him to know that he’s right. And perhaps you ought to be ashamed of such an admittance, yet…the strange darkness in his expression suggests otherwise.

“Yes,” you breathe, moving your gaze to the white button up clinging to his chest. It’s a rather sheer material, allowing you to see just a taste of his tan skin beneath, and the faint markings of ink from potential tattoos. “Couldn’t help it.”

“No?” He reaches the side of the mattress where you reside, sitting near your feet as he watches you. “Just had to listen to me while you touched yourself, hm?”

He’s so close. So fucking close to you, and the adrenaline you felt that day in your bedroom triples until you feel a bit faint.

“Yes,” you repeat, but it’s strained and airy. You don’t mean to sound so weak, but he always seems to leave you this way.

“How?” His attention to your face pulls you back. “How did you touch yourself? Did you do it the way you always do? Or did you do it the way I do?”

Your focus falls to your lap but he quickly takes hold of your chin to hoist your eyes back up.

“Peach,” he warns, “need you to tell me, yeah? Need to hear you say it.”

And you want to huff. Or scream. Or ball your hands into fists and pound on his chest in retaliation.

Instead, you whisper, “Touched myself the way you told me to.”

A look of pride flashes across his face. “Did you?”

A soft nod. “Yes. Imagined you there with me.”

He drops his attention to your lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You sit up, desperate to bring yourself closer to him. Magnetized by this invisible pull. “Thought about your voice. Your hands. What you would have asked me to do. Wanted to make you proud…be good for you.”

He releases a deep breath, lashes fluttering as if working to keep his grip on his self-control. “Peach…”

“Almost called you,” you admit, fingers outstretching for his knee. “Almost asked for your business advice.”

He tightens his grip on your jaw, leg pushing into your touch.

“Watched it over and over and over.” Your palm glides up his thigh. “Thought about you through every fucking second.”

His expression grows stern as the vile language leaves your mouth, and you can see his dominant demeanor slip through the cracks.

“Just wanted to feel you, Sir,” you whimper, and his breath hitches. “Wanted your cock. Not the toy. Not his. Just you.”

It’s dizzying how quickly he manages to take hold of your hips and force you onto his lap, lacy cunt grinding against his covered bulge.

You both make a noise of approval, your forehead meeting his as you steady yourself by his shoulders.

“Is that right?” he finally speaks, but it’s coarse like gravel.

“Yes.” Your nails dig into his jacket. “It’s not the same when it’s just me.”

“No,” he agrees instantly. “No, how can it be? Such a pretty little thing doesn’t know what she’s doing. Needs someone to do it for her.”

You’re tugging on your lip to cover a whine, nodding quickly in agreement.

“Needs someone to take care of her, yeah?” His nose nudges into yours, taunting you with a kiss that you aren’t sure he’ll actually give you. “Tell her how to make Daddy happy?”

Your thighs are dragged over his for a second time as he grinds you down, forcing another wave of pleasure to roll over you.

“Wanna make me happy, don’t you?” he asks, and it’s so cruel of him to expect your coherence in a moment like this. “Always want my approval. My permission. Wanna do anything I fucking tell you, hm?”

“Yes…yes, please—”

“Please what, hm?” A beat as he inhales you. “What do you want, honey?”

You press your chest into his, gasping when the rings in your nipples are harshly stimulated. “Want you to tell me what I want.”

And he grins like this is the best thing he’s ever heard, hands tightening around your hips rather possessively. “Think you want my cock, don’t you? Want someone to do it right.”

You do. Have never wanted anything more, and it nearly makes your stomach ache from the thought of finally having him in a way you never thought you could.

There’s a brief moment of pause, the implication of your position and request dangling in the already tense air.

His lips are so close, taunting you with a taste, and it takes everything in you not to surge forward and take him for yourself.

He shifts, cock bucking up into your cunt as you sigh again, and just when you think this is the moment the dam breaks, he says, “Did you bring your camera?”

With a racing heart, you nod quickly, glancing toward your bag in the corner of the room.

He doesn’t move, at least not for a moment, instead breathing you in as he thinks. “Where is it?”

“There,” mumble, chin jutting toward the wall.

This time, he nods, squeezing your hips once more before taking a deep inhale and moving you off his lap.

It feels like the end of the goddamn world to have him rip his body from yours, and your chest nearly caves in as you watch him move for your things.

He rummages around in the bag until he finds the camera and tripod, moving to the other side of the bed to begin setting up.

It’s a different angle than Max had picked, and something tells you this is intentional. Whether this is out of spite or because he genuinely disapproved of Max’s camerawork, you aren’t sure.

You study him as he straightens the device and faces the lens toward the bed. Wonder yet again who this man really is. What his motivation is. What his intentions are. You’ve seen a side of him today you weren’t sure existed and despite yourself, you’re becoming addicted to it.

But is this just a ruse? Or is this who he really is?

“Look at me,” he calls, and it’s a dark, sensual instruction. “Good girl.”

He focuses on your face, making sure everything that needs to be in the frame is, and once he’s satisfied, he straightens up.

“I’m gonna hit record,” he tells you while your heart leaps into your throat. “What you choose to do with it is up to you.”

Your lips roll into your mouth, and you scoot back into the pillows. “Okay.”

The moment the red dot begins to flash, the air in the room shifts.

Your pussy practically comes to life as he side-steps into frame, slowly pulling his suit jacket off.

“Hi, Peach,” he murmurs, and your eyes zero in on his shoulders as they’re revealed to you. “Been a while, hm?”

Exactly one week and two days.

Not that you’ve been counting.

You stay silent as he approaches, desperately enthralled by his body as more and more of it is exposed.

He tosses the covering toward the other side of the bed before flicking the first couple of buttons on his shirt open.

“Know you missed me, haven’t you?” he continues, his back to the camera as he kneels on the bed. “Needed someone to take care of you.”

Your chest rises and falls with labored, anxious breaths. It’s torture the way he slowly crawls from the end of the bed to where you wait, taking his sweet time like if you aren’t about to pass out from anticipation.

Glimpses of his tattoos peek from beneath the collar of the white cotton fabric, teasing you with ideas as he finally reaches your legs, forcing your attention back.

“Isn’t that right?” he asks, just loud enough for the mic to pick him up.

“Yes,” you mewl, correcting yourself when you see his stern expression. “Yes, sir.”

“I know.” His fingers curl around your ankles, tugging your thighs apart to make room for his body. “Shame you didn’t ask me sooner.”

You consider this. Consider if this is part of the scene or an actual comment from Mr. Styles himself.

Either way, it makes you pout. “Should have,” you agree. “M’sorry, sir.”

The extra helping of compliance in your tone makes his mouth dance up into a proud grin.

He settles himself between your legs, reaching now for your wrists to bring them to his chest. “Take off my shirt.”

And it’s an instruction you don’t need to hear twice as you shoot up and begin pawing at his buttons.

Despite your shaky fingers, you manage to pull the tie over his head and free the shirt from his body, anxious to shove it down his arms until you can see his chest in full.

When you do…the world changes.

Colors are brighter, sights are sweeter, life is fuller. The body before you is that of real beauty. Sketched by the steady hand of an artist, each line, and ridge, and curve telling a story you desperately want to read.

It’s as if he were painted on a canvas and brought to life, your own work of art sitting right before you on this bed, asking you to indulge him.

Without thought, your palms sweep down his tan skin, drinking in the dips and edges that make up his torso.

He’s strong, and warm, and effortlessly sturdy. The ink littering his collarbone is delicate yet expressive. Two sparrows on each side with a butterfly just below his sternum.

It moves when he breathes, wings fluttering with the rhythm of his heart. You can’t tear your eyes away, and even though you feel him watching, you can’t move past this moment. Can’t fathom anything else but the divinity of the man between your thighs.

He smiles, pushing his body into your hands before grabbing hold of your hip. “Gonna show them your little surprise?”

Your head moves up and down wordlessly as he takes hold of your lingerie set and pulls the material down.

As it falls, he scoots to the side, allowing the camera to find you as your tits are revealed to the audience.

The rings shimmer in the light flittering through the hotel curtains, the initials—his initials—like a badge of honor to claim you to the world.

“So pretty, Peach,” he tells you, not for the first time, yet it makes your ego swell the same way it had before. “Like being mine, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you say without pause. “Wanna be yours. Always.”

He hums, and it’s delicious. Soft green eyes like grass on a summer day.

He kneads your breast in his palm, letting his thumb ghost over the piercing until you keen, back arching from the bed.

He makes another noise, soft but urgent, and you can see that his attempt at dragging the scene out is all for not.

His other hand moves to your cunt, rough fingertip pressing into your clit through the lacy fabric until you’re squirming. He swallows your whispers for more, for mercy, and his brows furrow when he feels how wet you’ve become.

“Lay down,” he nearly grits, practically tugging you onto your back. “Let me see you.”

You settle into the mattress with ease, lashes fluttering when he maneuvers onto his stomach. His hands curl around your legs, forcing them further open to make room for his head as his nose brushes down the fabric on your stomach.

He’s moving for your pussy, lips sweeping across every inch of you he can reach before hovering over where your clit lies.

His tongue comes out and presses into your cunt, despite the covering in the way, and you whine when you feel him. Warm, and wet, and pointed as the tip slides up just to tease you.

“Sir,” you gasp, but it’s his name you’re desperate to say. His real name, the beautiful H still shimmering from your chest, seeming to taunt you.

He hums, and the vibrations echo into your nerve endings, setting each sense on fire. You attempt to move away from his mouth, but his strong hold keeps you cemented to the bed and his firm expression keeps you submissive.

He creates a pattern of licking and sucking. Rhythmic yet purposeful. And the skill behind each nudge of his nose or flick of his tongue far exceeds what you expected of him.

His nails sink into your heated skin, practically forcing you against his lips until the flesh tears, crescent-shaped indents now littering your thighs.

And he’s so close to tasting you but not quite close enough. You’re not sure who this tortures more, but you hate the way he keeps you from what you truly want. What you need.

Your hands find his curls, sweeping through the auburn strands as he makes another noise and nuzzles into your touch.

“Please,” you whimper, and it’s a futile attempt at begging but even still, Mr. Styles seems pleased.

More than that, he seems just as unhinged as you feel, rutting into the bed beneath him as he squeezes his eyes shut.

You imagine he might come just from this little act of foreplay, spurred on by your sounds and pleas. But you need to feel him, and he needs to feel you, and there’s no goddamn way either one of you will be leaving this room until his cock has been inside your cunt.

“Sir,” you try again, tugging on his hair until he looks up. “Please…need you to fuck me. Need it, please—”

He shoots you a displeased sneer, palm slapping into your thigh as punishment for the choice in language.

But you don’t care. Not when he’s this close to conceding, and you know it’s hurting him just as much as it’s hurting you.

Despite his disapproval, he sits up and begins tugging on his belt, yanking it through the loops before ripping the zipper down.

Your greedy hands reach for him, trailing across his large arms and broad shoulders. Fumbling with his pants in an effort to push them down his legs. Slipping into his briefs just so you can get the faintest feel of his cock.

He’s outrageously hard, already leaking when you find him, and despite his conviction, he bucks into your palm.

The slight twitch makes your head spin, and you whine as you scoot closer.

“Please, please, please,” you beg breathlessly, legs spreading once more as he pulls himself free.

The cool air sends a wave of goosebumps from your neck to your toes, but it’s the sight of him in his own hand that really does it.

Pumping himself with delicate precision, he hisses between clenched teeth, “S’this what you want, Peach? Want Daddy’s cock?”

The voice inside your head is screaming but your mouth merely mumbles, “So bad, sir. Need you to make it better.”

He pushes on your leg, cementing it to the mattress while his other fingers hook onto your outfit to pull it away from your dripping pussy.

He seems mesmerized by the way your body reacts to him, and you have to wonder why he’s so surprised. You imagine it should be obvious the effect he has on you, yet the fascination in his eye leads you to believe he never considered this to be a possibility.

“My perfect peach,” he whispers, letting his finger drag through you. You jolt, moaning deep within the back of your throat as he brings his cock closer. “Gonna feel so fucking good for me, aren’t you? Can already tell. Gonna be my good girl.”

He spreads you, studying your pussy with fascination. Allowing his touch to move up and down your soaked folds while he plays with you. As though you’re a toy, meant only for his amusement.

And he’s so wonderstruck as he moves your arousal around, letting it web between his fingers before teasing your hole.

One digit is sweet, but two is ecstasy. Reminding you of just how empty you really are. How badly you need him. All of him.

He works himself in and out for at least two minutes, just to see you stretch for him. And the way he watches you makes your ears ring, your cheeks growing hot.

He could keep you here forever, you imagine. Could make you come from this alone, and you have half a mind to let him.

But you enjoy the feeling of his fingers curling inside your soft walls. Enjoy the way he strokes you, pets you, presses into you. You want to kiss his hand for being so wonderful. For being so generous, and maybe you want to kiss him, too.

The faster his fingers move, the harder you sink. Your muscles dissolve into jelly, and you nearly disappear through the bed when he places a knee onto your thigh.

He’s using his weight to trap you, keep you pliable, keep you submissive. And it works because you don’t consider doing anything else as he finally removes his hand and lines himself up.

“Breathe,” he orders, taking hold of your hip to steady you and angle you up. “Easy, honey. Gotta open you up for me, yeah?”

He pushes in slowly, inching forward with great restraint as your walls stretch around him, mold to him, invite him in. You’ve gone quiet, jaw dropped open in an empty, soundless pant. But he knows what this means, and the bastard smirks as he continues.

Halfway in, and your cunt has latched onto him. Squeezing him so tight, you can see the torture of it on his face. He’s trying to take it easy, be gentle. Make this at least somewhat pleasurable for you but he’s only a man. An older gentleman at that, and it seems as though he wasn’t expecting to lose himself so fast.

“More,” you mewl, wiggling down. “More, sir, please….please, just…go.”

You greedily reach for his shoulders, his neck, his hair. Wanting to wrap your arms and legs around his body and hold him inside of you until this ache goes away.

And he seems to want this, too, driving in a bit faster than before as if to satiate you.

“M’almost there, Peach, be patient,” he scolds, but you can tell the threat is empty. “Gotta make this pretty pussy mine, yeah? Gotta show you what a real cock feels like.”

And maybe his cock isn’t purple, and maybe it doesn’t vibrate, but my god does it scratch that itch. Reaches places inside of you that a silicone one never could and it’s his. The only thing that really matters.

He smells like money and expensive aftershave. Addicting in every sense of the word, and you whine again when he stills.

“Easy,” he warns, attempting to shoot you a stern look, but it dissipates when he sees how ruined you are. “Be good, my love, come on.”

And this nickname makes your heart burst as you whimper and melt into the silk sheets.

He’s almost there, maybe an inch or two from being completely sheathed within your cunt. But he throws all decorum to the side when he decides to ram himself forward, filling you to the hilt as his lips suddenly crash into yours.

The kiss is salty yet oddly sweet. His tongue has traces of you, but it also tastes like him, and both of you together is something you couldn’t have anticipated.

It’s a messy connection, wet and a bit uncoordinated for only a moment before he figures out a rhythm he likes.

You scratch down his scalp almost as if to discourage him from leaving you, moaning while your body works to accommodate his size.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t attempt to pull back before you’re ready, and you’re grateful for this courtesy in a moment so heated. You aren’t sure if you’re in control of your own mind anymore, but you enjoy following his lead.

You always have.

When he nips at your bottom lip, you’re reminded of how bad you need him. Need that release, and you slip your free leg around his bare hip. “Please,” you whisper, nose nudging into his cheek. “Please, Daddy.”

He groans at the nickname, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he eases back, just gentle enough to torture you.

And so begins the languid but deviously hard pace. A cadenced set of thrusts so deliciously slow, it makes your lungs ache.

Each pull out and push in seems to rip you in half, introducing you to the kind of pleasure you’d only ever heard about.

It feels as though this is what has always been missing from your life. This kind of sex, this kind of understanding, this kind of prowess.

And maybe it’s just his cock, or maybe it’s him, but it doesn’t matter because you’ll take it. Take anything this man offers you, and you’ll thank him for it.

Perhaps a rather uncouth thought, but you’ll correct yourself tomorrow.

Today, you’re his.

“Taking me so well, Peach,” he grunts, hips knocking into yours as he slips an arm beneath your waist. “Look at you, honey. So fucking wet, you hear that? Hear the way you sound for me?”

And you do. How could you not? It echoes around the room, bounces between the walls, and fills your ears like a harmony.

You imagine this might be your favorite part. Listening to the way your body has welcomed him in. You can feel it dripping down to your ass, can see it on his skin, can practically taste it still on his tongue.

Your back arches, chest knocking into his, and the brush of the rings makes you writhe. A squirmy movement that benefits you both as he growls beneath a strained breath and drives in at a harder pace.

“Bet it feels good, yeah?” He captures your mouth with his. “Bet it’s so fucking good. Bet you’ve never had someone fuck you like this, have you?”

With a fervent shake of your head, you wrap your arms around his neck and move to kiss down his jaw. “No, Daddy.”

The arm beneath you coils a bit tighter. “I can tell. This poor, pretty pussy just doesn’t know what to do, hm? Can’t do anything but take it.”

Sweat trickles between your bodies, and it’s salty on your taste buds as you lick the spot below his ear.

You almost swear you hear him purr from the feel of your lips, and it makes your heart soar to know he’s so enamored.

“Show them,” he seethes, the blades of his shoulders rippling beneath your hands. “Show them how good it feels to be fucked right.”

Your head drops back, heavy from the weight of your lust before you manage to look toward the camera.

Already you can see the influx of comments about the man between your legs. Praising him, idolizing him, thirsting after him.

And with your eyes on the lens, you lift your mouth to his, sucking on his tongue with great purpose as you remind the audience who he really belongs to.

After all, his initials are emblazoned across your chest. His mark, his claim, his property.

Whether or not that follows you both outside of this room doesn’t matter. Right now, right here, in this moment…he is yours.

His hips snap forward and he’s losing the battle fast, unable to keep himself from fucking into you with a fervent need for release.

But you certainly don’t mind because the angrier he gets, the harder he goes…the more infatuated you become.

And he’s hitting that spot over and over and over. Like it’s his job, like he always knew where to find it, how to please you. Stars scatter behind your eyelids and you’re drenching his cock and the sheets and his fingers the moment they attach to your clit.

The room fills with sex and whimpers and determined thrusts that have the bed shaking. Nothing else exists but this. Just this. Just him.

“Come on,” he breathes, pinching you between his fingers, tweaking the sensitive nerves until you nearly scream. “Come on, Peach. Let go for Daddy. Let me feel you come on my cock.”

“Please,” you cry because it’s far too overstimulating for you to think straight. It almost hurts, and you writhe beneath his hand. “Please, can’t—”

“But you will,” he tuts, thumb pressing into your clit as though punishing it. “You will because you’re my good girl. Aren’t you? Do exactly what I say, don’t you?”

Your head rolls back into the pillows, spine arching as you whisper, “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He removes his arm from under your waist so he can go back up to your chest, pulling on your tit until tears actually gather in your lashes. “Go on, then. Fucking give it to me.”

You can feel the cool brush of his rings against your skin, but the moment you look down at his hands, it hits you.

Unraveling faster than you ever have, you clench around him, and finally release that scream. It’s the strongest one you believe you’ve ever experienced, and it seems to last an eternity as he continues fucking into you.

Then, his hand is on your jaw, tugging something fierce until your eyes meet.

“Look at me,” he whispers, knee still digging into your thigh as his weight keeps you caught in the pleasure. “Look at me, honey. Let me see you come.”

Tears fall from your cheeks and into his hands, almost burning your skin as you shudder around his cock.

You can see the repercussions of it on his face. Can see how connected you two have become in this singular moment.

He’s seconds away from following, and just when you begin to revel in the thought of feeling him fill you…he pulls out.

Straightening up, he takes his cock in his hand, and with a quick, firm pump, he comes all over your tits.

Nothing will ever be able to describe the wave of adoration you feel as you watch him release himself. The knitting of his eyebrows together in pure, unadulterated bliss or the flush in his cheeks as he groans.

His lips are so very pink and swollen, and the expression on his face, like something out of a museum. Structured and beautiful and the perfect showcase of exactly how good he feels right now.

And you watch as the nipple rings—his initials—are drenched in the sticky substance. It looks like art, painted across your chest in featherlike strokes.

The camera catches everything, allowing the audience the best view of his contribution. You imagine it’ll be something you’ll rewatch for years to come. A screenshot engraved in your mind for the rest of time.

You hum contently, eyelids growing heavy as you admire his work, and just when you think the moment is dwindling down, he dips down.

His tongue swipes over your breast, collecting himself on his lips as you groan and push up into his mouth.

He makes a noise himself, both hands gluing to your ribcage as he pulls you closer and keeps you still.

He licks at you like you’re a popsicle on a hot day, smearing his come over your skin, your lingerie set, and his chin.

“So good, Peach,” he murmurs between sucking your nipple into his mouth. “Could fucking stay here all day.”

Once again, your fingers brush through his curls, lazily this time. Almost as if trying to relax him. Thank him.

“Please do,” you whisper, almost as if to yourself, but the softening of his expression tells you he heard.

With one final kiss to your tit, he moves back up and takes hold of your jaw.

His fingers press into your cheeks, right beside your lips as a silent instruction for you to open.

You do, immediately sticking out your tongue for his offering as he leans down.

The spit and come dribble down deliciously slow but the moment they make contact, you whimper.

He keeps his hold on your face, watching as it sits in your mouth, seeming to enjoy the sight of your full submission.

Then, he squeezes. “Swallow.”

You do, quite greedily, and the second it’s down your throat, he’s kissing you again.

And it’s different this time because he’s no longer inside of you. No longer fucking you or showing off for the camera.

He’s kissing you just to kiss you and it makes your head spin as you disappear into his unspoken display of affection.

“My sweet girl,” he says against your lips, and it makes you smile. “Sweet like a peach, hm?”

You giggle into his cheek, nuzzling into him as though his touch is the only thing that can save you.

And maybe it is.

“Thank you,” you finally say, nipping at his earlobe until he smirks.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. Fucking me?”

He laughs as he smooths his palm down your side, drinking in your feverish body as the camera watches.

“Just trying to be a good business partner,” he retorts, and it makes your stomach flutter.

You lean back to meet his eye, already feeling sheepish. “Mr. Styles?”

“Hm?” His focus drifts to your forehead as he absentmindedly brushes back your hair.

“I wouldn’t be…opposed to doing that again,” you admit with a sheepish grin.

And for a moment, he’s amused, staring at you with a look you aren’t sure you recognize but absolutely adore.

Then, his smile falls, and a frown settles over his face. A sad kind of expression that changes the afternoon on a dime.

Suddenly, he’s sitting up and scooting back, tucking himself into his pants before snatching his shirt from the bed.

You watch, confused and a little unsure as he begins packing his things in the same way Max had.

“I’m…I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?” you venture timidly, arms crossing over your chest in an attempt at covering.

He doesn’t reply. He simply turns off the camera and redoes his belt, eyes trained everywhere but you.

“I was just…I was kidding. We don’t have to do that again, I just…I thought—”

“It’s fine.” His tone is clipped. Short and straight to the point. He sounds the way he always does yet it makes your heart sink.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” you try again, but his head merely shakes.

“You didn’t.” Another vague and frustrating answer. “I just have somewhere I need to be.”

However, you know his schedule inside and out, personal and professional, and you know that he specifically kept today wide open.

Still, he pulls on his jacket and runs a hand through his hair, attention drifting toward the door. Eyeing his escape.

You bite back a sigh. “Uh…okay, well, thank you. Again. For your help.”

He nods, finally glancing over. But he’s not looking at you the way he was before. Now, it’s hollow. Void of any understanding and care. “I told you I’d help, and I meant it.”

“Right.” And now he’s done. “Sure, yeah. Okay. So I’ll…see you Monday?”

Another nod, this time quiet. You can see that he’d like to add something else, but his lips purse together, keeping his secrets locked away.

“Monday,” he finally repeats, moving for the exit. “I expect you to be on time.”

You stare at his back as he opens the door, silently pleading with him to turn around. To look at you one last time. Not leave like this.

He hesitates, hand gripping the handle, knuckles going white. He’s halfway into the hallway and your breath hitches.

Then, he disappears through the frame.

And the door slams shut.

ONE MORE PART, I WILL BE SOBBING TBH

Next Part:

~ Five to Go Live*

Previous Part:

~ Three to Make Ready*

~ Full One for the Money Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Credit for the incredible and perfectly peachy dividers to @firefly-graphics!!

And a shout-out to @fkinavocado for helping me plan! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @kathb59 @iamjustaholeforyousir @buckyssbestgirl @harrystylesfan2686 @cherryluvhobi @indierockgirrl @narry-heart @daphnesutton @uniquesexything @amateurduck @ilovec0lbybr0ck @winterrays @milfrrynation @definegirlfriendsx @allthelovehes @amiets2 @likeapplejuicenpeach @nega-omega @sucker-4-angst @hsgucci94 @gills-lounge @kennedy-brooke @avasversion @stylesfever

(If your name is highlighted it's because Tumblr won't let me tag you, it's very weird and I don't understand it but I tried, I promise 😭💞)

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lovystar · 5 months

Text

❝ A PRINCESS’ WILL ❞ ; BADA LEE

synopsis──after an assassination attempt, the queen invites the very best fighters from across the land to compete for the great honor of protecting you, the princess.

content──bada lee x unnamed fem!oc (reader). princess!reader, soldier under disguise!bada. currently unedited, pls be nice lol. fictional combination of medieval european and korea’s joseon dynasty aspects bc im not too concerned about making it realistic. incorrect pronouns (when not in bada’s pov). this world is matrilineal bc I said so. bada's a flirt. eventual smut w/ switch!bada.

word count ── approx. 5.4k

───

YOUR MOTHER’S STRONG HOLD—on the country, on the castle, on her children, and on you in particular as the oldest—was suffocating. You were destined to rule over millions, and your mother would not let you forget it. You had to be strong, caring for your people but unforgiving to others. That’s how she ruled. She’d shape you to be the same queen she was, and she’ll drill it into your head herself if she needs to.

Your pride would never allow you to say this to her face, but you supposed that she did a good enough job. The people loved her: she kept them safe and fed, gave them more than enough to start caring beyond their necessities and seek self-actualization, to flourish in the arts. She wasn’t very popular among foreign lands, and you might even go on to say that they feared her. She was often fair when wronged, but very rarely did she ever pardon those wrongs. She has never, in the time you've been alive.

Once, when you were very little and you were still taking lessons with some children of noble descent, you heard them repeat a saying they’d learn from their parents:

“Loving are her eyes, beauty bestowed, but fear the night the Hawk catches you lurking near her nest, lest you desire your entrails be fed to the eyas nights on end.”

They spoke of their Queen with reverence and adoration.

Her way of ruling worked well for many years; you got to live a life of peace and prosperity the entirety of your childhood. Not many other kingdoms can say the same.

On top of your queenly history lessons and politics and mathematics and the sciences, she wanted you to be good at protecting yourself. While she has acquired the most apt Royal Guard, a future queen must still be able to hold her own. She ordered only the best archers and swords to teach you, and you were…decent, at it. The years of practice successfully stuck some things into you: how to hold a sword and a bow and arrow, which body parts to target, how to be light in your feet (this one was specifically useful whenever you wanted to leave the royal palace).

In your defense, your natural sensibilities were drawn to something else entirely. You’d always say reading was a more sensible passage of time. You would spend hours upon hours lounging in one of the library nooks or on a blanket in the palace gardens, surrounded by the pastel of the flowers.

You were in that garden when the assassin took a knife to your throat.

You lived, but it scared your mother terribly. Surprising—since you’d never known her to be a person who had any fears. In your mind, it could only mean two things. One, she loved you to some extent—she might just have a weird way of expressing it. Two, someone was threatening her bloodline and consequently, perhaps more importantly, someone was threatening her throne.

And she will not let that happen in her lifetime.

───

It has been two weeks since your throat was sliced open. Two weeks since the doctor instructed you to minimize strenuous activity and if you could, stay in bed as to not open the stitches.

‘You don’t know how lucky you are,’ the doctor has told you every day after your daily checkup. You know this, of course. Had the knife gone any deeper and had your court ladies not been around the corner, you’d be dead. It was, however, a hilarious thought that someone would bring a blunt knife to an assassination.

Your mother didn’t think it was funny. But in your delicate state, the anger in her eyes had never been funnier, and it pained your throat whenever you’d attempt to laugh.

“Will you stop it? The doctor spent hours on those. What will we do if they scar?” You rolled your eyes in response and she scoffed. “Glad to see you’re as genteel as ever, it’d be a shame if you had lost that lively nature of yours.” It sounded sarcastic, but she meant it. She did not want you to be passive. In her mind, that would only led to you becoming spineless and spineless Queen can't rule. You ignored her words, instead gesturing for one of the maids to bring you a cup of water.

“I’ve arranged for the competition to take place tomorrow, do you think you’ll be up for it?”

You furrowed your brows, “Competition?” Your voice came out roughly. The stitches began to itch.

Your mother groaned, “Please refrain from speaking, but yes, competition, have you not been listening to me? The best soldiers and eligible men have been traveling from across the nation for some time now. The men will fight and we shall see who is best equipped to protect the Crown Princess.”

“Must—” you coughed, “must we make them fight? Can’t we just pick one?”

“Just pick one?” She looked into your eyes incredulously, “You must have hit your head and injured your intelligences if you think I’d let just any one person be in charge of you. You must have the best.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Very well.” She nodded once, “The doctor has cleared you to attend so rest, you will be awakened bright and early tomorrow!”

She walked out of the room and left you to your devices. You sighed. You allowed your court ladies to help you out of your daily garments, clean your wound, place the ointment and replace the bandage.

You repeated the process in the morning, placing a necklace over the bandage, ensuring it is not too tight but stays in place. You prepared for the days’ events, and after a couple of restrained breaths, you walked out of the room with your court ladies in toe.

───

Bada Lee spent her childhood just outside the place. Her family had raised generations of soldiers, many of which served in the Royal Guard. That was, until her father was dismissed and demoted to being a simple guard in the rural countryside. He had dedicated his entire life to the Queen and it was a shock to everyone when he’d been told of his dismissal. Up to his last breath, he’d grow angry whenever she’d asked him why. Why did we leave? How could a loving Queen throw us away as if we were nothing? She’d been upheaved from the City, and littered some place where she’d have to fight if she wanted anything to come from her life. Well, fight harder than she’d have to in the City.

Still, she knew that it didn’t matter where she was. Whether in the Capital City or the countryside, external expectations would have her be a wife and a mother soon after. She watched her mother suffer under these conditions, watched her neighbors, and the change in her friends’ nature as they came of age and were married off. They were all unhappy.

She’d be damned if she was destined to a miserable marriage. But above all, she’d be damned if she dies a nobody. Just another woman, forgotten by history.

Nope. That’s not her.

Growing up, she loved watching her father and brother train. She’d try to join, but her father would quickly push her away. She would try day after day, but it couldn’t be helped. So she turned to making her own sword out of a fallen tree branch. She’d copy their movements, the placement of their feet and how the air would rest in their lungs and rush out with the lunge of the sword—well, the lunge of the stick for her. Her brother agreed to train with her, but in his teenage years, he grew resentful of her talent. He decided to begin training a different skill, archery, but soon enough, he realized that this too came naturally for her. Over the years he turned to different combat skills, only for Bada to overpower him again and again. One day, he stopped helping her at all.

It was a cold winter when the sickness spread across the countryside. It was the sickness that took her father and it was the sickness that took her brother. The town had to develop a new burial site due to the amount of people that died at the beginning of the season. Death didn't relent there; people continued dying and dying until that site was full with bodies.

By the time her family succumbed to their sickness, there was nowhere to put them. For days on end, her only company was their cold bodies. She had placed them in a separate room, putting as much distance as she could. As the winter grew colder and she stared at the makeshift tomb’s door, she realized she depended entirely on them. As it stood, she was nothing, less than nothing, by herself. It was a matter of time before someone hunted her down, a young woman without any male relatives left and tried to turn her into a sellable thing.

She’d be damned.

In a feat of fear and anger, she grabbed her brother’s clothes and changed into them and styled her hair as he would. She looked into the small mirror, surprised to see that her crazy plan might just work.

But she needed to make people think it was her that died.

The day the town hall proposed a mass burial, she changed her brother’s clothes into her own and loosened his hair from the top knot it was in. She shaved his beard, feeling disgusted at the act and with herself for feeling the need to do this. She pushed through: this was about her survival. She reported the bodies, and snuck into the site later that night. Sure, she would be shamelessly taking her brother’s identity from this day forward, but that did not mean she would bury her brother in anything other than his clothes. She did not want that karma. Plus she could afford to lose one of the five hanboks.

The next day, she watched anxiously as they buried the mass of bodies.

She should’ve felt terrible about her relief once they were under the soil, and she did, she would miss them. At some point during the week she lived with their corpses, she forgave them for any bad they did to her. She could only think of the good things now, her father’s jjigae and her brother’s light banter.

She did feel bad, but at the same time, a weight had been lifted. She wouldn’t need to get married now, she could pursue something, she could walk around at night without a chaperone and she could talk to people without worrying about being seen as vulgar.

Yes, under her disguise, she was finally free.

───

Lee Bada had been Lee Hae for a year by the time the Queen requested all eligible soldiers to report to the Capital City. Her commanding officer recommended her to go as one of the top soldiers under his command. She has managed to climb her way through the ranks, demonstrating her strength wherever she went.

Nobody knew the Mother of the Nation had called them to the palace, but if only the strongest were allowed to go, then Bada was going to make sure she was at top.

It was strange being back in the Capital City and even weirder to see the inside of the palace when all she’d known before was its gates.

Bada stood in line with the rest of the soldiers in the palace’s courtyard, towering over some of them. Her back maintained straight, her head held high, as the Crown Princess approached the Queen. She bowed to the queen and sat down next to her. Bada controlled her facial expressions, but her feelings couldn’t be helped. The Crown Princess had made the soldiers wait under the sun, and now she had the audacity to look bored. Despite being so far away, she could see the way you whispered into one of your court ladies’ ears and how they covered their mouth. The laughter showed in their eyes though. In contrast, your attempt to cover your giggle was lazy, your hand falling from the front of your mouth before you could control your expression once more. Bada wanted to scoff. Had you no decency? Before Bada’s bitterness could grow further, the Queen began speaking.

“Welcome, loyal soldiers and citizens. I have invited you here today to compete for the highest honor of joining the Royal Guard and protecting your Crown Princess.” Her open palm gestured to her side, where the Princess sat gracefully. “It is a title that comes with great responsibility, and requires skill, power and loyalty. It would please me for each of you to partake and serve your country in the process. If you wish to stay, please take a step forward.”

Each of the four hundred soldiers took a step, the sound booming through the courtyard. Bada did not look to see if any citizens had stepped forward.

“I am so glad! The competition consists of a six stages with different ‘games.’ You must accumulate enough points in each stage to successfully move up to the next one. Today, we shall begin the first stage. You must ride out into the woods and bring back a rabbit that has been trapped and hidden. There are only two hundred rabbits.” the Queen paused and with a clap of her hands, “Go!”

───

“I don’t get the point of this game,” You stated without looking up from your book. “They’ve been out there for hours and no one is back yet.”

“Patience, daughter,” the Queen responded, “There must be a basis to being a good protector, is there not? Wouldn’t you say that enduring long distance and persevering in the woods is a good baseline?”

“You are so creative, Mother,” you sighed into your book, “You can come up with such fantastical scenarios.”

“So you would rather have someone who doesn’t know how to endure long distances riding and persevere in the woods?”

You didn’t respond.

The first to arrive was a seasoned soldier. He had been part of the Royal Guard for more than a decade, and was known for his hunting skills. The second person caught your mother’s attention. One tall and broad-shouldered man rushed through the Palace gates with 4 rabbits hanging from his horse with a robe. He dismounted, grabbing the robe, throwing it on the ground and bowing before the Queen.

“Seowol from the Southern coast, your Royal Highness.”

“Seowol?” Your mother questioned, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I do believe you were only supposed to take one rabbit.”

“I wanted to secure a strong position, your Highness.” He remained in a bowed position, looking down, his arms stiff along his body.

“Certainly! Please follow eunuch Jinho to the bathroom and a change of clothes. You’ll be called when everyone has arrived.” He looked up and nodded, and quickly did as instructed.

The court ladies swooned over the man once he’d walked away, but you hardly moved.

“Did you see the way he looked at you? Oh!” the young lady fanned her hand. You chuckled, amused by the younger girl’s reaction.

“The way he got off his horse and showed the rabbits, he was so cool!”

“And handsome! Don’t forget handsome!”

You rolled your eyes at that one, “He wasn’t even that handsome.”

“So you do think he was handsome!” They all laughed, having caught something in your words.

“Listen to me, I said he was not all that handsome.” You repeated, “I’ve seen better.”

They gushed, trying to get you to elaborate, but your mother was beginning to look at you sideways. You thought it was better to stop then. With the light hearted fun you were having with your ladies, you forgot all about the dull ache of your throat. The reason you were having this ridiculous competition in the first place. The truth was there was something about Seowol that disgusted you. You couldn’t quite place it, it could be the abruptness in his movements and the way he threw the rabbits on the ground, or perhaps the coldness behind his eyes. A mindless cruelty to innocent beings.

Returner after returner, it was the same and they started blending into each other. They’d rush through the gates, and present the robed rabbit in front of the Queen before they bowed. They announced their name loudly, as if shouting would make the Queen remember them better. The cook would take the rabbit and disappear to the kitchens.

That was, until number 73th entered the yard. The sun was beginning to set, leaving the sky in a canvas of lovely purples and pinks. You didn’t notice him at first, but soon your ladies began to whisper. This particular soldier entered calmly, and only one hand on the horse’s bridle. A small ball of white highlighted by the black of his uniform. As he got closer, you saw that the white speck of fluff was the rabbit. He cradled it on his left arm, making sure it didn’t jump or fall. Once he’d reach the stage, he dismounted carefully. You noticed his height, and for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out how his shoulders managed to look both broad and slender at the same time. He came closer, bowing deeply before your mother and to your surprise, he began to approach you.

He was quickly stopped by your mother’s guards blocking his path.

“Please, your Royal Highness, let him approach,” You surprised yourself. For the past two weeks, you were scared you were growing paranoid of strangers and people in general. The fear was earned to some extent, you had just been attacked, but you were even more afraid that you’d grow to be scared of everyone, everything, and never come out of your bedroom ever again. Though, now, as you look over at your mother to let the stranger approach you, it seemed this fear wasn’t going to be an issue after all. You were going to be okay. In a lower voice this time, “Please, Mother.”

She rolled her eyes discreetly, waving her hand. “Let him through.”

The guards retracted. The man moved closer to you, and he bowed. You noticed the smoothness of his jaw, the curve of his lips and the pretty way his lashes decorated his pretty brown eyes. He was pretty. So much so you held your breath when his eyes finally met yours.

“My Princess.” He smiled, “For you.”

Oh.

Someone behind you gasped, and you were glad for the noise because that way he might not be able to hear the beating of your heart.

“May I?”

You nodded, despite not knowing what you had agreed to. The man walked even closer to you, and you unconsciously leaned forward. He placed the bunny in your hands, and you searched for his lingering fingers through the white fluff. He retrieved far too soon. You wanted to touch him for some reason. You wanted him to get close again and you wanted him to call you, once again, his prin—

“And what might your name be?” Your mother was not amused.

“Soldier Lee Hae, your Royal Highness.” He addressed his queen but his eyes never left yours.

“Lee, huh? You do know that was your dinner, correct? You won’t have dinner?” Your head snapped to your mother. She could not possibly!

“As long as my Princess is content, my stomach shall never be empty.”

Your head snapped back at him, a slightly ajar mouth. The corners of your mouth lifted slightly, but a sharp pain in your neck scared any adoring feelings away. The stitches tugged on your skin, and you brought your hand to your neck.

“Very well, no dinner. You may sit down, Soldier Lee Hae.”

───

Well, that was fucking stupid. Bada groaned, grabbing her stomach. She just had to give that damned rabbit to the Crown Princess, didn’t she? Even now, hours after dinner and well into their resting time, Bada could not decipher why she chose to spare the rabbit.

You had just looked so beautiful, and before she knew it, she was right in front of you. And as she remembers the look on your face when she gave you the bunny, your parted lips and your widening eyes as you looked up at her, Bada realized she only regretted her choice slightly.

There was no denying your beauty. Everyone knew that while you might be the Crown, you were also the prettiest bird in the eyes of the people.

But Bada couldn’t get distracted. She came here with a purpose. She was going to join the Royal Guard and bring back honor to her family. You might have been eye candy, but it didn’t change the fact that you represented what Bada lost, what she never realistically had a chance at.

It killed her. It killed her that they had a woman King and yet every other woman was still viewed as inferior. Did the only women that mattered lived in the palace? You got to be trained, you got to study the books—why couldn’t they? Why was it that she will need to pretend to be a boy for the rest of her life to feel free?

Could it be helped? Would you be different from your mother?

Her mind turned to her selfish thoughts. Perhaps she could use today’s events to her advantage. She could grow closer to you, on purpose this time, and perhaps that’d help her on the long run. She’d earn her position, of course; that was nonnegotiable.

The hunger grew furiously as she got lost in her thoughts. She couldn’t take it any longer. She got up, quickly wrapping the tight cloth over her chest. She hid a small knife on the inside of her left wrist, a security measure, though she was unlikely to need it. She grabbed something to cover herself with and left the small room she’d been provided with.

She was lucky to finish stage 1 where she did. When the last of the 197 soldiers that would pass on to the next stage arrived, they were well into dinner. The Queen had stated that for the remaining stages of the competition, only the top half scorers would receive a sole bedroom. Everyone else will sleep in the Great Hall. She reasoned it was to keep up the morale and ramp up ambition. It certainly did motivate Bada though. She did not wish to sleep uncomfortably among the stinky men. It was so weird, Bada knew they showered and mere hours later, a musk would develop around them.

She walked towards the kitchens as quietly as she could. Once there, she rummaged through the shelves, searching for something that was not a raw vegetable.

“Please, please, please…” She murmured to herself, and in her desperation, she did not hear the footsteps coming from the side entrance.

“Who is there?” A voice resounded. Bada froze, quickly kneeling down and hidden under the shelf. Fuck! “As Crown Princess, I command you to reveal yourself!”

The Princess? What was she doing up this late?

Bada had hoped that it was a younger staff member also searching for food (someone she could try her charm on), a simple guard (someone she could try to relate to and proclaim guard-to-guard solidarity), hell, she’d even hoped for a thief (someone who was even guiltier than she was). But the Princess? The Princess was someone she could not face. Perhaps for more than one reason.

As discreetly as she could, she crawled towards the end of the shelf. Across from here, there was a long table she could hide under and right across the table was the entrance.

She could make it.

If only she hadn’t run directly into the Princess’ feet.

She landed on her knees, and dread filled her head. She hung it in shame, some hair coming loose and framing her face. So this is how she would die, huh? With nothing to her name, a mere soldier title that she didn’t even earn herself. She would die without a legacy, without—

“Is that you, Lee Hae?” Your voice sounded extra sweet under the moonlight. “How come you’re out here at this time?”

She wanted the earth to open and swallow her whole. But there was no getting out of this.

“Princess Royal, please forgive my shamelessness.” She did not look up, still on her knees. “In my hunger, I forgot my place. I beg for your forgiveness.”

There was a long silence after Bada finished talking. Should she have said more? She was already on her knees, what else could she do to humiliate herself in front of the Princess?

“You’re telling me my contentment was not enough for you?”

Bada lifted her head quickly, only to realize too late you were mere inches away. You were so close she could count each beauty mark, each freckle on your face. She’d kiss them if you’d let her. She shook her head. Stupid Bada, concentrate on not dying!

“That isn’t it at all, my Princess.” She shook her head violently, to which you chuckled in response, lifting your hand to cover your mouth.

“So you’re a liar, then.”

“No, no! I am not, my Princess,” Bada opened her palms, “I will admit that as earnestly as my heart believes a smile from you is all I ever need to survive in this world, my earthly body persists in imprisoning me with cravings. I sincerely did not mean to succumb to my hunger.”

You watched the young soldier as they hung their head once more. You thought Lee was…funny. Funny in a very lovely and forward way that you couldn’t help but want more of. You brought a hand closer to her face, fingers lifting her chin.

Bada allowed the princess to lift her face, flushing at the contact. She could feel the heat rushing to her face, and it embarrassed her that you could have this effect on her. How you made her lose composure.

“Look at me,” you stated. Your head followed the brown eyes as they moved, trying to get them to look at you. “Soldier Lee, look at me.” You said it firmly this time around. Finally, the person in question did as asked. Big eyes looked up at you, begging for something you weren’t sure you could give.

“You know, Soldier Lee, you are the prettiest man I’ve ever met.”

Oh.

Widened eyes and dropped jaw, “I—”

‘I am not a man,’ she wanted to say. She almost did, and the fact that she nearly gave herself away scared her. She had never come this close to telling someone the truth. Not on impulse nor consciously. To the Princess no less! She was a mess. She’d better get a hold of herself if she intends on making it through.

Bada had proven that she was good with words, and here you were, leaving her stunned. You enjoyed it, maybe a bit too much. Abruptly, you stood up, leaving the soldier down on her knees. You offered a hand, and it was like a spell being broken. She took it. She gathered herself and she was back into the charming and highly trained voice. Your curiosity for the soldier grew as you watched; there was just something that screamed constraint in the way Lee spoke, but for now, you chucked it up to the respectability rules of the Queendom.

“I am sorry for interrupting your night, your Highness. I will take my leave.” Bada turned, but was quickly stopped when you grabbed her wrist.

It surprised both of you. As a noble princess, you had been taught from a young age that nobody but appointed servants get to come in contact with your skin. Yet here you were—two for two.

“Well, actually,” you began, “I’m here because I did not want you to go to sleep hungry.” You let go of Bada’s wrist, and she already missed the warmth of your skin on hers. It had been such a long time since anyone had touched her outside of training.

You signaled for her to follow you. She did, and you guided her to a small table on a corner. A small, white towel covered something and when you lifted it, Bada’s eyes widened. A golden serving tray filled with dishes.

“I ordered something be cooked for you,” you said, hands fidgeting, “I’m afraid it’s probably cold by now. I would’ve tried to get you sooner but my Mother kept me by her side much longer than I expected.”

“I—Thank you, your Royal Highness.” Bada bowed, stomach rumbling and mouth watering. “Thank you.”

“Please, you don’t have to do that.” You said quickly, “You were kind to me, and I couldn’t let my mother punish you for it.” You moved to pick up the tray, glaring at Bada when she tried to hold it for you instead. “I can do it! Plus, I know a spot.”

You walked gracefully, quickly, without spilling a single thing on the tray. Bada was amazed. The both of you stuck to the sides of buildings, remaining in the shadows. Bada anxiously looked around; what would people think if they saw her with the Princess? What rumors will they spread, and how much will they cost her? Her life?

“Through there.” The door was covered with greenery, and Bada could not see the door.

She moved closer to you, whispering into your ear, “where?”

She genuinely couldn’t see it.

You shivered. You could faintly feel her chest against your back, and the warmth it radiated.

You shook your head.

“Here, hold this.” You passed the tray to Bada, making quick work of the hidden door. You opened it and walked through. You moved the vines for Bada, she bent down and met you on the other side.

“Wow…” She gasped. It was a beautiful space, filled with colorful flowers and a pond, four trees on each corner. There was a small house, and Bada doubted it was more than just a bedroom and a bathroom.

“It is the old gardener’s place, but he died and it became abandoned.” You said, placing the tray on the wooden ledge in front of the small house. “The new gardener had a family, so he understandably needed a bigger space.”

You giggled nervously, and Bada found herself loving the sound. She got so lost in your voice and the pretty flowers that she nearly forgot how hungry she was. Nearly.

Bada sat down next to you.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I know!” She said excitedly, your eyes sparkling with joy, “Mother thought of destroying it and building something else but I just loved it so much, I wouldn’t let her. I begged her to let me have it for days, she agreed eventually and now it’s my little place! Very few people know about it; my Mother, the new gardener, my lady-in-waiting, you…”

You finished shyly, smiling at Bada before quickly looking away. Would it be too forward of her to grab your face and make you look at her?

Yes, she decided, yes, it would be.

Her stomach growled.

“Oh,” You gasped, “Please eat! I didn’t mean to make you wait.”

“Please, eat with me.”

“No, no, I ate quite well earlier,” you said, “and you didn’t!”

“I don’t want to eat by myself,” Bada said, “Princess, eat with me, please.”

“I’m telling you I won’t,” refusing her once more, “I'll force feed you this meal myself if you don’t start eating soon.”

“Is that a proposition?” Bada smirked. Your cheeks grew warm against your will.

“I only mean… I want you to eat, you have gone hungry because of me. I don’t want you to be hungry any longer.”

“Would you feed me then?” Bada’s eyes looked down at yours, “If I asked you to?”

You cleared your throat, eyes meeting. “Forgive me, soldier, if I’ve come across in a certain light. But I will never feed a man with two capable hands of his own.”

Bada saw the intensity in your eyes, and how they refused to look away from her hers. She leaned closed, eyes growing dangerous the longer she stayed fixated on you.

“You say ‘a man with two capable hands’ but what if I wasn’t a man? How can you be sure that I am?” Bada brought a hand closer to you, “How do you know these work?” She had gone crazy. In your gaze, she had forgotten herself.

Still, in the back of her mind: if she wasn’t in disguise now, would you feed her then?

You finally broke eye contact, looking down at Bada’s hand. It surprised you how much you wanted to hold it, it surprised you even more when your body started reacting to it. A simple hand with long fingers. A calloused hand from days spent training, yet unlike the hands of the men you’ve encountered. Their hands didn’t bring this strange feeling to your stomach. You mind showed you images of these very hands moving along your body; from the nape of your neck, down your side and in between your—

You scoffed, and then chuckled, “Please don’t be ridiculous, soldier Lee. Now, eat, the food is getting colder by the second.”

Bada covered her feelings with a laugh. She was relieved you ignored her impulsive questions, and at the same time, your response left a bitter taste in her mouth. You were just being nice this entire time? Was there really nothing else in your lingering touches and loving eyes? They were childish questions, but it stung nonetheless. She sighed internally; she couldn’t possibly be getting this close now. It was normal to a certain extent, she had the tendency to develop crushes all the time. Sure, developing one in the Princess would complicate the 'get close to you and advance her career' plot, but she was already here.

All her crushes have faded with time, and this one will too.

Bada finally began eating and she was grateful to you once again. She said so, with cheeks full of food and complete disregard for rules. Rules, you had both broken some many of them already, why start caring about them now?

#bada lee #bada lee x reader #bada x reader #bada lee x fem reader #bada lee x oc #bada lee x y/n #x fem!reader #wlw

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smileysuh · 9 days

Text

ghost house - TEASER

🌙 starring. Lee Donghyuck x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You stand up, going to inspect the out-of-place panties lying next to your hamper. When you bend down, you see a translucent sort of outline, and it’s not your own spunk marring the fabric. It’s undoubtedly ghost cum, which is the oddest thing to realize- and you’re pretty sure it’s fresh. Your skin tingles at the notion. Somewhere in this house, Hyuck is coming down from a recent orgasm that he’d clearly achieved by using your panties. You’re a witch, but this is sinful, even for you.

tw/cw. Voyeurism, unprotected sex with a ghost, Hyuck is a repressed perv, he’s not a virgin but he’s not experienced either, pantie sniffer Hyuck, Hyuck watching y/n masturbate using ghost powers, Hyuck using y/n’s panties to cum in, weird ghost cum, Hyuck is a switch but leans more submissive at parts, self asphyxiation/choking, y/n punishes Hyuck for being a naughty ghostie, making Hyuck watch her masturbate without touching himself, fingering, oral (f receiving), pussy drunk/addict hyuck, overstimulation, hair pulling, hyuck cums and y/n decides to keep riding him, hyuck likes to be choked, dirty talk, hyuck has a good boy kink, praise kink, degradation/humiliation, finger sucking, face riding, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, etc… I pet names: (hers) princess. (Haechan’s) ghostie, baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 8.3k

🍭 aus. ghost!hyuck, witch!reader, supernatural au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I've never written Hyuck this subby/switchy, but I think it worked, he still has his dom moments, but this man is a near virgin, little, repressed for 20 years ghost shit head who wants to be told he's a good boy, and I'm not even mad about it

“Admit it,” you instruct. “If you admit it, I’ll go easy on you.”

Hyuck takes a breath. “Yes, I used your panties to cum.”

You study the ghost.

“Good boy,” you say finally. His eyes lift to meet yours, his lips parting. “Come to my room.”

You don’t wait for him to respond, you simply turn and expect him to follow. When you get to your room, you collapse onto the bed.

“Close the door,” you instruct next. “Be a good boy and light my candles for me too.”

As he begins to follow through with your commands, you stretch, letting out a sigh from the feeling of your tight muscles. Then, you lift off your shirt, tossing it at Hyuck while his back is to you, his fingers fumbling with a lighter.

Hyuck freezes, then turns to look at you.

“Have you watched me before, dirty ghostie?” you ask, going to remove your pants next.

The way he swallows tells you everything you need to know.

“Well, you are a bad, naughty, dirty, little ghostie, aren’t you, Hyuck?” you grin, tossing your jeans at him.

Laying in your bra and panties, you watch him finish lighting your candles, then he comes to stand at the foot of the bed, clearly waiting on instruction. He’s trying to cover the front of his pants again, and it makes you laugh.

“Move your hands,” you tell him. “You know, honestly, I’m a little surprised at how easy it was for you to get hard again. You came, what? Ten minutes ago? Fifteen?”

He’s so bashful he can hardly answer, and it’s an adorable sight.

“Here are the rules,” you say, “I’m going to make myself cum. After that, I’ll let you make me cum. And if you can get through all of that teasing without touching yourself, if you can prove to me you’re a good ghostie who can follow instructions, I’ll fuck you. How does that sound?”

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.2k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or wait till the fic is posted on tumblr Friday, April 19nd, 2024

🔮 see what’s already available to read on my m.list

the link for the fic will be posted here when it's on tumblr :)

#lee donghyuck #lee donghyuck smut #donghyuck #haechan #haechan smut #donghyuck smut #lee haechan #lee haechan smut #nct #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct dream #nct dream smut #haechan nct #nct haechan #nct haechan smut

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harrystylescherry · 3 months

Text

A/N: wow, what amazing timing. let's pretend i did this on purpose. happy birthday, harry! fyi, this is vol. 2--you don't have to, but i rec reading vol. 1 first :)

*warning: spanking/paddling, mild pain, orgasm denial

what this is: pure smut tbh - vol. 2

word count: 5.5k

let me know what you think :)

MASTERLIST

It had been three agonizing days–three and a half if you were going to count this morning…and you were, because the ache between your legs and the need thrumming at your core was the only thing you could think about.

Your boyfriend was punishing you in the worst way: orgasm denial. He’d work you and edge you until you were just on the brink of release, one…two…three times…then release you from the restraints, or pull you up from his lap, and go about his business. As if you weren’t a puddle of need, dripping between your thighs, angry and wanton and sorry.

Because that was the whole point of this–for you to be sorry. To show you not to misbehave, or shirk direct orders.

In your eyes, it was a minor infraction. He had left on a business trip for five days, and told you, explicitly, not to touch yourself, not for a teasing second, not to come. Then, he made sure to clarify that none of the sex toys at his place or yours were to be used either, knowing how much you loved a loophole. The two of you had been together for just over a year now, and you had taught him well to be specific and exact with his instructions. On more than one occasion, he’d tell you that you should’ve been a lawyer–a comment that was as much of a compliment as it was a chastising for being bratty and pushing his limits.

The instruction was a punishment in itself, though he’d never admit to it. He wanted you to go with him, so between the stressful meetings and boring client calls, he could have moments of peace. He wanted to show you around a new city (though he’d only ever been there once before himself), discover hole in the wall eateries and dive bars together, fuck you in places not exactly meant for fucking, and, of course, have you on his arm for all the client dinners and drink-night-schmoozing he was expected to do. Unfortunately for him, you were only three months into your new job as an assistant editor/junior staff writer for The Wire, an indie music magazine based in London that mostly focused on independent artists and underground scenes. Were you cool enough for the job? Probably not, but you were open to anything and everything–your 134 very specific spotify playlists proof that you didn’t discriminate.

The job was a lot of work, and you were busting your ass to prove to the close-knit team that ran it that you were worth keeping around. Your ninety-days of entry-probation had just ended. Taking time off wasn’t a good look (not that you had even racked up enough hours to take off an entire work week), and while working from home wasn’t off the table, you didn’t want it to seem like you didn’t want to be there. On the ground, toiling away at your tiny desk with the other two assistants and three interns. It was fun. You loved Harry, but your priorities right now were what they were. He understood it, though that didn’t mean he had to like it. And clearly, he didn’t, as evidenced by his very unfair and petty instruction.

You had done well the first three days, despite the teasing texts and naughty photos meant to bait you–which is why you’d been so strong. He wasn’t going to trick you into breaking a rule.

Day four was what broke you. You hadn’t heard from him all day (which only made you want the teasing and photos now that they were being withheld), you had stupidly started an erotic romance novel that was essentially 320 pages of pure (ungodly and delicious) fucking, and you were so stressed out from work that your body was begging for a release beyond what your favorite workout could give.

You were just a girl. A horny, needy, sexually frustrated girl. It’s not your fault that the desperation was too strong for you to deny the call of the clit sucker you kept buried in your underwear drawer. It was society’s.

In the moment, the rationalizing was totally sound. And in the moment, the orgasm was worth it.

Then, Harry’s facetime came through only a few minutes after you’d come down, as if he had some sort of sixth sense when it came to your orgasms.

“Hi,” you said after checking to make sure your hair was fine and the toy was safely tossed beneath your bed.

His brow furrowed on the screen. “Hi, baby.”

“How’s your trip?” You settled into the pillows behind you.

“Good,” he mumbled. His lips twitched. “Did you touch yourself today?”

“W-what?”

“You did, didn’t you?” His eyes narrowed. “When? Just now?”

You scoffed. “Harry, come on. Of course not. You said–”

“I know what I said. And I know that you didn’t listen.” His voice was stern and it sent a jolt to your core.

“That’s–”

“Don’t lie to me. I know what you look like after–and it’s all over your face.”

Your cheeks flamed. You were caught.

“It’s not my fault!”

You could see he was fighting off a smile–a devilish one. “Whose fault is it then?”

“I…” You didn’t really have an answer.

“That’s what I thought.” You watched his jaw tick through the screen. “I’ll be home tomorrow night. I expect you to already be there when I do. Now, get cleaned up and go to bed.”

He ended the call before you could respond. No ‘goodnight’ or ‘I love you’. You were screwed…and not in the way you would’ve liked. So, feeling a little guilty, you moved into the bathroom, took a shower, and climbed beneath your covers at 9pm.

The night he got home, he restrained you to the bed without a word. Flat on your back, with your limbs pulled to each respective corner of the bed, he teased your nipples with a paint brush, then your clit, until you were a squirming, writhing mess. Then it was over. He brushed a hand over your cheek and went to take a shower.

Each night since, the edging had progressively gotten worse.

You were aroused constantly. Getting through each work day felt like an impossible feat. All you could think about was the nights before–the pleasure in all the teasing–and then the pain in going without any relief. Unfortunately, that only made you wetter.

You were a zombie through your morning meetings. You nodded when you were supposed to and took down notes just so you didn’t completely check out. You’d been staring at the commissioned article in front of you for almost forty-five minutes, not an edit made because you couldn’t tear your focus from the steady throb between your legs, when a text from Harry came through.

Same time tonight.

That’s all it said, though it didn’t need to say anything else. A shiver moved through you. Another night of torture. You held in the groan of frustration (with maybe a bit of anticipation), hoped that your punishment would be over tonight and white-knuckled through the rest of your day.

You knocked on Harry’s door at exactly 8pm. No dinner together was part of the punishment, and so was not being able to use your key. Those were always part of the punishments, though, and served to remind you of your place in this area of your relationship–that you were not in control, could only come and go as much as he wanted you to, and all the other things that you already knew…and that you sometimes needed reminding of.

When were you going to learn that being rebellious was fun until it wasn’t (though, punishments could still be kind of fun–not that you would ever tell Harry that)?

It was a rhetorical question, since you had never exactly been one to submit without a fight.

“Little brat,” he said when he opened the door. “Straight to my room. Take your clothes off in the hall.”

No kiss hello, no smile, no sweetness–just like the last three nights. Maybe the punishments weren’t always fun. Your eyes went to the floor in shame as you went past him and up the stairs. He followed behind you, his footfalls even and sure. He leaned against the wall with his arms over his chest as you pushed your jeans to the floor and peeled off your t-shirt.

When you went to move into the room, Harry tsked in disapproval. “You know better than that. Don’t make this worse for yourself, sub.”

Your entire body lit up with embarrassment. It was a mistake. You were nervous and anxious to get it over with, not thinking. You knew you weren’t getting a release tonight, could see it in his face, hear it in his voice. Your hands shook as you unclasped your bra, letting it drop to the floor, followed by your panties.

“In the room, hands against the wall.”

You took a shaky breath and did exactly as he said.

The thin paddle pressed against your bare ass when he came up behind you and your body clenched. You weren’t exactly a fan. He slid it down the back of your thighs and gave your skin a light tap.

“Legs apart.” You obeyed and he hummed. “Keep your arms and legs straight, and eyes up.” You took a deep breath in preparation. The paddle came down on your ass and you flinched. “Do I need to repeat myself?”

“N-no, sir.”

“So, you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Whack.

There was no warning or warm-up. He took turns with each cheek, hitting hard and then easing up, so you never knew what to prepare for. At least he didn’t make you count them, not that you thought you could. You were too focused on not letting your knees buckle, fighting not to lean against the wall.

It went on like that for a while, until the searing burn turned into the kind of sharp numbing that left you dripping.

After what had to be at least twenty strikes, he dipped his hand between your thighs. Like always, shame slithered in; the embarrassment that all of this turned you on. It disappeared, like it always did, the second Harry made his sound of approval. That little hum that told you he was pleased, even though he wouldn’t vocalize it the way you wanted him too. It was a punishment, after all.

He brushed his knuckles over your clit and you almost crumpled to the floor. You were so turned on, so needy, that the slightest touch was a straight shot to your core–electric. Two flicks of his fingers and you knew you’d come, which meant even more trouble.

He touched you again and you hissed.

“You don’t come. Not until I say.” As if you needed the reminder.

“Yes…sir.” He chuckled at the breathiness of your voice. It was mean–and hot. He knew it, too.

The paddle against your skin again, then his fingers moving through your slit. “Such a dirty girl,” he whispered. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to think about anything else besides the pleasure strumming at your core. His fingers were too skilled, they knew your body too well.

Your left knee buckled–for less than a second–but he caught it. Goosebumps raised across your skin when you heard the three tsks from behind you.

“I–”

“Shh…”

You pressed your lips together, forcing the plea back down your throat.

“On the bed.”

Silently, and with your head down, you walked on shaky legs to sit at its edge. Harry pushed your chest back so you laid down.

“Don’t move.”

He walked to the wardrobe and pulled out the spreader bar. He strapped in each of your ankles so you couldn’t close your legs and then moved it up, so your knees were bent into your chest. Your breath was ragged and you fought to keep any whimpers from slipping out when he secured your wrists in the cuffs attached to the center of the bar.

You couldn’t stretch your legs, couldn’t close them–couldn’t move. Completely open to him, you were in the perfect position for him to do whatever he wanted.

He hummed as he moved back to the wardrobe, opening and closing drawers. He seemed to be making a decision. When he turned back to you, there was a smirk on his face. You took a deep breath when you saw the pink device in his hands.

He pushed the curved vibrator into you, until the fit was perfectly snug. He made sure to position it so the pad pressed right against your already too-sensitive clit. Then, he went and sat in the armchair a few paces from the corner of the bed.

It looked as though he was simply scrolling through his phone, his posture relaxed in the chair, head propped against his closed fist–but you knew better. He was making you sweat it out. You knew what was coming–and the wait was agonizing, just as he intended it to be.

When it came–the sharp buzzing both inside and out–your whole body jerked. As he moved his thumb up and down his screen, the vibrations followed, growing stronger and then mellowing out.

This was one of your favorite toys, except maybe not anymore. Holding back your orgasm was feeling closer and closer to impossible. Your hips bucked against the mattress, each attempt to get away from the intense vibrations futile. You wanted to cry–knew you would if this didn’t end soon.

You uselessly struggled against the restraints, your legs trying to close on sheer instinct. The sounds that escaped you seemed more akin to those of an animal than a woman and your entire body was covered in a sheen of sweat.

Without even thinking about it, you were begging.

“Please, please, please.” Harry stayed silent. “S-sir, god, please!”

“No.”

The vibrations stopped and your body sagged in a false sense of relief now that the fight was over, though there was no [real] relief. He still refused to let you come.

The whining was involuntary. Each nerve ending was a live wire. If he touched you just once, just [barely] you’d explode. The squirming of your hips against the slick silicone was what pulled him up from his chair. He pulled the device from you, leaving you empty and aching.

After releasing your wrists and ankles from the restraints, he patted the inside of your thigh. “Go take a shower.”

That’s it. Nothing else. You felt the pressure behind your eyes as you stood from the bed. You nodded and whispered your “Yes, Sir” as you moved into the en suite.

Your joints were sore from all your struggling, and all you wanted was a hug. It seemed his point had been made–at least in your opinion. You broke a direct order and then tried to lie about it. That was bad, you got it. Wouldn’t do it again.

It wasn’t that you couldn’t take the punishment because you could. If not, you would’ve used your safe word. He only ever gave you as much as you could handle and you trusted him with your body entirely, without question. It was the lack of aftercare that was getting to you. During this punishment, he’d been doling out the bare minimum. All you’d gotten was maybe a kiss to the forehead and little love pats to your thighs. You were used to falling asleep in his lap, being wrapped up in a blanket, or being tucked into his side as he prepared you a snack or (upon request) ice cream sundaes.

Under the hot water, you wiped the tears from your cheeks and let your body relax. You washed your hair and lathered your body using his products (ignoring the ones he kept for you on the shelf) since that was as close to him as he’d allow you to get this week.

When you opened the shower door, he was standing there, waiting with a towel. “C’mere,” he said as he held it open for you. You stepped into him and he wrapped it around your body, then rubbed his hands up and down your arms. You snuggled as close to him as you could and he kissed the top of your head before saying, “Get dressed and I’ll take you home.”

You wanted to cry again, but didn’t. The punishment would end eventually, and you weren’t going to be weak about it.

It was day four and you were so sexually frustrated, you wanted to cry. Literally. At this point, you were nothing more than a bundle of needy hormones. You had chosen to wear a dress into the office for no other reason than you wouldn’t have been able to deal with the seam of your jeans rubbing against your clit all day. Why torture yourself when Harry was already doing more than enough?

Halfway through your morning, you got a text from your boyfriend requesting that you go straight to his place from work. Thankfully, he couldn’t hear you sigh in annoyance. You didn’t want to be denied anymore. You were tired, and your body was still a little sore from the night before and you were mad at him. He never restrained you like that without some kind of massage afterwards.

Each time you stood, your knees ached just a little and your hips had been stiff when you got out of bed this morning. Your body–and your brain–had had enough.

You left work a little later than usual, staying to finish an edit that didn’t need to be done until Monday. The tube ride to his was spent trying not to work yourself up. You leaned back in your seat and listened to an album that your boss had been talking about all week, hoping to distract yourself. It worked until you were standing in front of his door.

It opened without you having to knock and he smiled softly when he saw you. “Long day?”

So, apparently, you looked as tired as you felt. “I guess.”

He motioned for you to come in and, hesitantly, you did. He took your bags and set them in the entryway.

“Help me finish dinner?”

Dinner. You tried not to get your hopes up that the punishment was over, but he was relenting. You’d take any allowance you could get at this point.

“Sure.”

All that was really left to do was make the salad while he pulled everything out of the oven and set the table.

“Go ahead and sit down,” he said as he took the bowl from in front of you.

You took your seat and watched him move around the room, back and forth from the table with the roast chicken and sides, to the racks where he kept his wine. He poured you a glass and squeezed the back of your neck–a gesture that was both possessive and comforting.

As you ate, he asked about work–the kinds of things you were working on, how you were settling in, etc. It was the most conversation the two of you had since he came home and it felt good. Almost too good. As much as you tried to fully relax back into your normal routine and dynamic, you couldn’t lose the last bit of tension in your shoulders.

You wouldn’t be lured into a false sense of comfort–and Harry knew it too. He tried to hide his little half-smile, and if it were anyone else but you, it would’ve been missed but you knew him too well.

When you put your napkin on the table signaling you were finished, he cleared the table without a word. He whistled along to the song playing throughout the main floor as you scrolled on your phone, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your attention.

Really, you were in no place to be petty, but your nature was your nature. You flinched when you felt his hands on your shoulders, massaging into the knots that resided there for months, since the beginning of your new job. It was from stress that you didn’t necessarily mind, since you were doing something you loved. His fingers climbed up the back of your neck and into your hairline, pressing in soft circles. You hummed in satisfaction.

“Is that good, baby?”

“Mhmm,” you said as your eyes fluttered closed. A quick tug to your hair pulled them open again. So, it was starting. “Yes, Sir,” you corrected, and were rewarded with more kneading at the base of your skull.

“C’mon, we’re going upstairs.”

Your body buzzed with anticipation as you followed him up and into his room. He kissed your cheekbone as he passed in front of you to go to the wardrobe–the one that you’d come to see as the bane of your existence this last week.

“Strip and lay on the bed for me.” You did as he said. All he returned with was a pair of soft handcuffs. Once your wrists were fastened together in front of you, he pushed your legs open and took a step back from the bed.

“Hm.” He pulled his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger as he looked you over. “Pretty.”

The whimper was involuntary as you preened beneath his gaze. You could feel the pulse of your core. You were so sexually frustrated that it took nothing more than his approval for the desire to pool between your legs. The smirk on his face told you he could see it.

“You didn’t listen to me,” he said as he stepped to the edge of the bed. He reached down and casually traced the outline of you, making sure to keep away from your clit and your center. “Why not?”

“I-I was horny, sir. You kept s-sending me–” You cut yourself off with a needy moan when Harry dipped his fingers in just enough to coat them with you.

He spread it over your folds until the slickness touched your inner thighs. “Keep going.”

You took a shuddering breath and tried to focus. You also forced your hips to stay down, knowing that if you rocked yourself into his hand, he’d probably pull away. You couldn’t risk that, not when he was being so nice. “You kept sending me texts and photos o-of yourself–oh, god–and telling me all these…things.”

He brushed his fingers through your folds as you spoke, skirting around the bundle of nerves perfectly primed to set you off.

“So?”

“So, it made me want you and you weren’t there.”

“So?” He pushed a finger inside and your back arched off the bed. “Eyes open,” he said when they fluttered shut.

“So, it wasn’t nice. You were teasing me–torturing me on purpose. It wasn’t fair that I had to wait and you didn’t.”

“Life isn’t fair.”

“I–”

“You hate when I say that, I know.” He pushed a second finger inside and you moaned. Your hips tilted forward on their own, seeking out something–anything–for relief.

He removed his fingers. When he brushed his wet knuckles over your clit, a strangled cry replaced the disappointed sigh that escaped you.

“Is that what you want, baby?”

You whined and wriggled on the mattress while he held his knuckles just out of reach.

“Is it?”

“Yes, Sir. Please.”

“I didn’t get off while I was gone.”

“Okay,” you panted, as you fought your own neediness.

Harry slapped your clit and you cried out. “Listen to me. I did not get off while I was gone.”

“What? But you–”

“I know, the torture is the point. The teasing. I thought you would’ve learned this by now.” Another brush over your clit. Another moan. “That rule was for both of us. Did you think I wasn’t in agony? Each time you answered or sent a photo in return it took everything in me not to wrap my hand around my cock, but I have some self-control. I have patience. And I understand that whatever pleasure I could give myself wouldn’t compare to the kind I could get from you.”

When you whimpered this time, it wasn’t with need, but shame. You may have felt a little bad about breaking the rule now, and not just because it meant a little disappointment and a punishment. This was a big disappointment, you could hear it in his tone. It wasn’t just breaking a simple rule, but ruining something that was supposed to be good for the both of you. Granted, in your defense, he could’ve told you that, but you also knew why he didn’t: he shouldn’t have had to.

“Sir, I’m really sorry.”

“I bet you are.” He gave your clit a pinch that sent a flash of heat over your entire body. “I should make you wait another week. Edge you every night until you're begging for my cock, and then still not give it just so we’re even.”

“I–”

“Quiet.” He grabbed your hips and pulled you further down the bed. He placed his knee on the mattress, positioning his thigh only an inch from your clit. “You want to come so badly, go ahead.”

Your brow lifted in surprise. “What?”

“Go ahead, come. You have my permission, but I’m not helping you. You want it, take it, or I’ll uncuff you, and you can get dressed so I can take you home.”

“Sir–”

“You’ve got less than a minute before I dress you myself.” The hard edge to his voice told you he wasn’t kidding. Not in the slightest.

You looked from the stern set of his face down to his jean-clad thigh. When you looked back at your boyfriend, his jaw was set. He didn’t move or say a word.

Your entire body heated with something close to embarrassment, but it was also mixed with anticipation, shame, and need. You didn’t want to go home, you wanted to get off and if this was all he was offering, you’d have to take it. Especially since, if you didn’t, you’d be in even more trouble with him. You didn’t need him to say it to know.

You planted your heels into the mattress and closed the gap between you two. When you lifted your hips, your clit brushed against the rough material and you groaned. You rolled your hips against his thigh and cursed. It felt so good. You knew it wouldn’t take you very long to cum. The only thing stopping you from instantly falling over the edge was the fact that you could only get close enough for a light brushing–there was no pressure. The only real friction came from the coarse fabric–but it would be enough. More than enough.

Your abs and thighs burned as you held your hips up, and with every rock of your hips, the muscles in your stomach contracted with the effort. This was its own kind of punishment, you realized. He was making you work for it.

You had kept your eyes locked on his stiff cock pushing against the front of his jeans, not sure if you wanted to know how exactly he was looking at you.

“That’s it, baby.”

But, of course, all it took was that little bit of praise to get your attention. The sternness was still there, but there was also heat. He wanted you–and he seemed to love seeing you like this: needy and unbelievably desperate. Because that’s what you were. Getting your release was all you could think of.

You wanted something to hold onto, to grip onto the blankets beneath you for more stability, but you couldn’t do it with your wrists handcuffed together. You whined with the realization.

“I know.” The comfort was full of condescension, and you wished it didn’t turn you on even more, but it did.

You were sweating from exertion, but you were so close.

“C’mon, baby. Rub yourself on my thigh. I can feel how wet you are, my dirty girl.”

You looked down to see for yourself. Where you rubbed yourself was a much darker shade of blue. Your head fell back with a moan.

In an act of undeserved kindness, Harry pressed his thigh against you, offering you the most delicious kind of friction; the kind that almost hurt.

It was only another second before you were tumbling over the edge. You came so hard that stars erupted behind your eyes, and your skin felt white hot. You were sure you cursed and cried out his name but you were so detached from reality that you couldn’t know for sure.

He didn’t wait for you to come down from the high. He undid the fastening of his jeans before leaning over and uncuffing your wrists. “Up.” He walked to the right side of the bed and took a seat. “Come and sit on my cock.”

Still in somewhat of a daze, you did as he said. As soon as he pulled his length from the confines of his jeans, you straddled his hips and sank down.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned. He gripped your waist and guided your hips, holding you down so he was fully sheathed.

You ignored the harsh rubbing of material against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and focused on how good it felt to feel him inside of you.

“You’re gonna come again,” he said before sucking on your neck, leaving a mark that you hoped would be gone by the time you had to go back to the office after the weekend.

You whimpered, not entirely confident you had it in you. Your clit was overstimulated and raw from the week’s torture. “It’s going to hurt.”

“I know. You’ll do it anyway.”

When his voice was that deep and raspy, so commanding, who were you to argue?

“Yes,Sir.”

He pulled you far enough away that he could dip down and lick your peaked nipples. He sucked and nibbled until your chest and cheeks were red hot with the building of another orgasm.

“Oh, god.” You gripped the collar of his t-shirt.

He hummed against your skin. “That’s it. Keep going.” He held you tight enough that you wouldn’t be able to disconnect your clit from where it rubbed against the base of him even if you wanted to–and you were really walking that line. It was almost unbearable, the pleasure only a hair away from pain.

When he tilted his hips to hit that special spot inside, the tension ripped loose. You dug your nails into the muscle of his shoulders as your body shook against his, your hips rocking frantically, both chasing the high and trying to get away from it.

“Fuck,” he groaned into your neck as he emptied himself inside you. With a strong arm wrapped around your waist, he kept you riding him through both of your orgasms as your body filled with exhaustion.

He peppered kisses over your chest, shoulders, neck and jaw until you felt him go soft, still tucked inside. You were close to falling asleep on his chest when he pulled out and lifted you up into his arms.

“Shower first,” he whispered before kissing the top of your head and carrying you into the en suite. He set you on the counter and disappeared.

He came back with a cold glass of water, which you took happily. He turned the shower on, pulled two towels from the wardrobe and set them on the fancy warmer before returning to you. His hands moved from your shoulder to cup your face and he leaned in to kiss you.

“You did well this week, love.”

“It sucked.”

He laughed. “It was supposed to.” Another peck to your lips and he helped you down. “Go ahead.”

You stepped into the shower and watched through the quickly fogging glass as he stripped. The second he stepped in you were glued to him, your head to his chest and his arms around your waist.

You only pulled apart when he washed you. His hands moved over your body, soft and soapy, digging into the muscles he had neglected the nights before.

“I think I owe you a massage or two.”

“Try three–at least.”

He kissed your hip from his spot beneath you. When he brought his hand up to wash between your legs, you flinched.

“Sore?”

“A little numb, actually. Wasn’t even expecting that to hurt.”

He kissed right above your mound. “Sorry, love. I’ll be gentle.”

He finished his task and you took over, doing the same for him. Despite his hardening length, he didn’t try to touch you again, or ask you to help him relieve what must have been a lot of pent up frustration. Instead, he held your face in his hands and kissed you, murmuring soft I love yous in between.

After toweling each other off, he turned down the covers, put on Sleepless in Seattle and promised to make you blueberry pancakes in the morning.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x oc #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x reader

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pahtoosh · 6 months

Text

the dreaded door

masterlist

18+

wc: 795 words

warnings: you get picked up by bucky. playful biting.

a/n: elephant in the room 🐘 (not my ellie stuffie) i have not been writing as much! it’s mostly because life is really good but also really busy for me right now. it’s also hard for me to get into the zone 🎯 for writing regression when i am not regressing that often. i know i don’t need to explain myself but this is for my fellow nosey 👃 nellies

pairing: mafia!bucky x gn!little!reader

summary: you wait for bucky to finish working

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Never in your life had you been so angry at a plank of wood. It all began this morning when Bucky left a note on your nightstand.

“Good morning, my sweet angel. Daddy has a lot of very serious calls today. Please keep the noise down and don’t open or knock on the door if it’s shut. Use your special phone to call me if there’s an emergency. Do your chores for today and be a good baby for me. Love, Daddy.”

The door is where you are now. Sitting on the floor, glaring at the smooth oak that you can’t tap on and the shiny knob that you can’t shake. You finished your chores, played for a while, and ate both breakfast and lunch already. Bucky was still in his office and he hadn’t left all day.

Your daddy spoiled you in so many ways: with his gifts, with his love, with his words. The only thing he couldn’t give you enough of was his time. His job was a difficult one with long and sometimes unpredictable hours.

He was able to make some changes. He trusted Sam and Steve to handle his out of town meetings so he didn’t have to travel as much. He also promoted Natasha from head of security to essentially his right hand by helping him with his larger projects.

These changes were so important. They gave you so much more time with your daddy, but there were still days like today when he simply had to do the work himself. Bucky also worked from home as much as he could so he could see you for lunch or even work with you sitting quietly on the velvet loveseat in his office. Him working from home was almost worse for you on the days you couldn’t go see him.

You daddy is home. He’s sitting at his desk where you color sometimes, on the chair with the best spinning ability in the whole house. There was just this one door standing in your way. You wanted so badly to knock and call for him through the cracks, but you knew better. You daddy was a stickler for rules, and he would not appreciate you ignoring his boundaries.

You sighed and settled for glaring at the door. Maybe your anger would be enough to open it without touching and then Bucky would be so impressed he’d have to take the rest of the day off.

Pleased with your plan, you sat on the floor with your hands on your knees and continued glaring. It felt like hours were going by. You thought the doorknob was moving, but it was just Alpine’s reflection as she trotted past. You kept glaring. Still, nothing moved. Just when you were about to give up, the sound of a lock turning echoed through the hallway and your daddy opened the door with an amused smile.

“What’re you doing here, sweetheart?”

“Daddy!” You reached your arms out for cuddles and Bucky happily obliged, even pressing a noisy kiss to your cheek.

“Were you sitting on the floor and waiting for Daddy? I saw you on the cameras.”

“I wantedta knock on your door but you said no knocking so I was trying to open it with my eyes,” you explained.

Bucky laughed. “Oh yeah? How did that go?”

You pouted and hid your face in his neck. “It didn’t work.”

“Aww.” He rubbed your back to comfort you. “Maybe if you ate more carrots your eyes would be strong enough to open doors.”

“Daddyyy.”

“I’m kidding, baby. C’mere.” He pressed your foreheads together.

“Thank you for listening to Daddy’s instructions today. You were such a good baby and I’m so proud of you.” He gave you a gentle kiss while your face warmed from his praise and affection.

You thanked Bucky, earning you another kiss and more praise for being so polite.

Your daddy was beaming. Anyone who knew of his title and past would’ve been shocked at the way he grinned ear to ear while holding you in his lap as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

“How did I manage to capture the sweetest little baby in the whole world, huh?”

You giggled. “You didn’t ca’ture me, I got you!” You held his face in your hands. “My daddy.”

“You better feed your daddy now, angel. Daddies get hungry!” Bucky playfully shook free from your grasp and bit your hands.

“Nooo, daddy!” you squealed. “Eat the food downstairs, not me!”

He stopped thrashing and acted shocked. “There’s food downstairs? Why didn’t you say so?”

“Yeah! And we can watch a movie and cuddle after dinner! Can we, daddy?” You clasped your hands together and bounced excitedly.

“Anything you want, baby.”

#bucky x little!reader #daddy!bucky x little!reader #bucky barnes x little!reader #mafia!daddy!bucky #gn!little!reader #oneshot #fluff #cuddles #little being carried #sfw regression #sfw littlespace #littlespace fics #agere fic #marvel agere #the dreaded door #the-dreaded-door #toosh writes

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lbcreations-blog · 16 days

Text

Holy Mother Of Many

Summary: You are the wife of God himself. You both made many amazing angelic children such as Lucifer and Sera, one day in many of the galaxys and cosmos problems occurred, so you set out to fix the problems while intrusting your husband with your children. But what you didn't know was when leaving many bad things would happen, making hardly any good come out of it.

Female mother reader

All plotonic

proofread

Words: 1121

Masterlist

You had a relationship with the holy father God himself. You were his devine wife, the holy mother of all creations. You were together since the start of everything.

You had many devine children, one of your favorites being little Lucifer. Just seeing him when he was a baby, you knew he would have a similar personality to you. Sadly, you never got to find out due to you having to leave to do other things like glaxeys and cosmos to look after. Before you left, you instructed your husband to look after both of your creations. You then left the home you loved.

Oh, how would you regret that decision.

??? Years later

You were now working on a glaxey in your main form (which is like atleast 300ft tall) when you realized you should really take a vacay and see your husband again and all your angelic children, I mean it has been many many many many many many many years.

A few mins later, you arrived in front of heavens gates in your smol form (7 ft tall). About to walk in, you saw a blonde male at a podium. "Oh greetings, mister!" You said to the man. "Welcome to heaven ma'am! May I please get your name." The man said to you.

"Name? Why do you need my name?" You asked. "Well-" "St Peter, let me deal with this," Sera interrupted Peter and told him so while flying down from somewhere. "Yes, Sera," St Peter said, then flying away. "Wait, Sera?" You said, "Hello mother, " Sera said softly, smiling. You quickly hugged her. "Oh, Sera, my darling daughter!" You said.

You moved slightly backward so you can have eye contact with her. "Oh, sweety, you're all grown up! Im so sorry that i haven't been here!" You told Sera. "It's alright, mother," she told you. "Anyway, what's up with the whole name thing? And where's Luci? And all my other beautiful children?" You asked her.

"Let's go and talk about this somewhere else," Sera said as she telaported you both into what you assumed was her office. "Take a seat, mother," Sera told you. You listened to your daughter and sat down on the comfortable seat.

"You see Mother when you left. Father decided to sleep once i and some of the others were old enough, and he is still sleeping. When he first fell asleep, some of the oldest ones and I made a project called Earth, and we made these creatures called humans. And well... Lucifer destroyed it with childish actions. He brought evil into earth, and in turn, he created his own doman fill of that evil. He lives there, ruling the doman of evil." Sera told you.

"WHAT⁉️"

TIME SKIP

"You know what, I'm going down there to check on him," you told Sera. "But mother," Sera began "no don't even think about it, Sera," you said, getting up. "Yes, mother," Sera said, making a portal in front of the hotel for you. "I'll talk to you more once i return," you said, entering the portal. "Yes, mother," she said not trying to upset you anymore.

"I wonder why Sera telaported me in front of a hotel." You sighed. "Oh well, he's probably in there. I can sense my boy," you said, walking up to the door.

You knocked on the door, and a few minutes later, a pink and white spider looking guy opened it and looked at you in shock. "Hey uh Vaggie there is an angel at the door!" The guy said toward what you saw to be an ex angel, going by her aura, wings, and lack of halo, at least.

"Oh shoot, I'll go get Charlie you let her get comfy," Vaggie said to the pink and white spider guy. "But isn't she busy with something important with Alastor?" The guy asked. "Oh, right! I guess I'll get Lucifer and be nice to her Angel!" Vaggie said, running up the hotel stairs. You smiled at the mention of Lucifer, You were so excited to see your son.

You now sat on the couch, which the man named Angel kindly led you to sit on and wait. While waiting, who you now learned was named Angel dust tried making small talk with you. But it did not really end up well he seemed to be nervous for some reason, but you decided not to overlook it in some way.

After a few minutes of waiting, a portal finally opened. Lucifer walked into the hotel lobby and made eye contact with you. You immediately telaported to him and tightly hugged him. "Oh Luci, my son. I'm so happy to see you again!" You told him.

"Mom? What are you doing here?" Lucifer asked you. "To see you ofcourse" You told him, holding his rosy cheeks and looking down at him. "I would have came much much earlier if I knew what happened to you all those years ago, but I intrusted your now excuse of a father to you and your siblings."

"Are you alright, though? I'm aware the... Fall. Was, alot," "Of course im alright Mom, i have a daughter now. " Your smile increased at that information. "I have a granddaughter?!" You asked Lucifer, squishing his rosy cheeks even more. "Indeed you do, mom," Lucifer told you. "Oh my word, im a grandmother! That's crazy so where is she?" You asked him.

"Well... she just walked through the doors right now. " You looked behind you seeing the splitting image of your son in a female form. You smiled cheek to cheek upon seeing this just seeing her. You knew the both had at least a similar personality.

"Dad, why is there an angel here?" His daughter asked. "Charlie, this is your grandmother." "It's nice to meet you, my granddaughter." "It's nice to meet you too. My name is Charlie, but you already know that, i have one question, though: how come i did not see you in heaven?" Charlie asked.

"Well, i was busy with a lot of work at that moment," you told her. "Oh! uhm! Can I tell you about this project im working on!?" Charlie asked you. "Sure ofcourse go ahead. I'd love to hear of such" Charlie bounced up upon hearing that and started walking you through the hotel with your son that Vaggie girl and what you sensed to be a smiling fellow behind he did not speak yet though.

You needed to wake up your husband and scoled him for his passed actions and Sera as well, but for now, you would enjoy the company of the Hazbin Hotel.

Taglist: @fatherlesschild2 @whitewingsh @iheartpieck @i-yuki @ilovemyths2003

Taglist ask area

-L.B Creations

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xxxdreamscapexxx · 7 months

Text

I love taming you

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word count: 15.2k

Summary: It had been a few weeks since your girlfriend discovered your notebook and found out how badly you wanted to be under her control. But being an impatient girl makes it hard for you to follow her rules. So she just has to teach you. No matter how long it takes her. This is a continuation of "Unspoken desires" (i'll leave a link for that fic below), but can be read separately. It explores a lot of different aspects of anal play, which is something that I have wanted to write about for a while. After a conversation with a friend of mine, it really inspired me to write this fic and I hope all of you will enjoy it.

Warning: NSFW, 18+, lesbian relationship, masturbation, edging, denial, orgasm control, teasing, oral, fingering, finger sucking, anal play, anal fingering, use of butt plug, strap-on use, semi-public sex, Mommy!Kink, top!Wanda, Bottom!Reader

Masterlist with all my works. "Unspoken desires''

It had been a couple of weeks since your girlfriend first discovered your notebook, filled with your secret fantasies, and despite your expectations, things had gotten even better. Wanda gave you everything you wanted and so much more. The story was just the beginning and it unlocked something inside her. Something she kept hidden all this time, but was so happy to finally share with you.

What she didn’t know is that it unleashed something inside you too. Suddenly, her touch was everything you thought about, evenings with her were everything you looked forward to, each scorching night of passion making you crave more and more. All her fiery touches, her passionate kisses, all the orgasms she brought you couldn’t quell this thirst inside you. You were insatiable.

That never-ending need, despite your best efforts, was exactly how you ended up in your office, with the blinds drawn and the door closed, while you touched yourself, seated behind your desk. You had been thinking of Wanda, of the way she had you on all fours last night, as she stuffed your pussy full of her strap and her cum and it left you so hungry for release that you couldn’t help yourself. You tried, of course, you argued with yourself that it was dangerous and foolish, that you might get caught, that it would disappoint your girlfriend, who gave you very clear instructions to never touch what’s hers… And your pussy was definitely hers. But no amount of shame or danger, not even the fear of Wanda’s wrath could stop you from unbuttoning your pants and pulling down the zipper, your hand sneaking under the waistband of your panties, so you could finally relieve the tension that you felt building since the moment you left your house.

It was quick, it was meant to be, just the tips of your fingers drawing circles over your clit, while the thoughts of Wanda filled your mind and turned the sparks of arousal into flames. It was nothing more than relief and as you came, stifling a small moan of pleasure, you hardly thought it would mean anything. You wouldn’t even tell her. Wanda didn’t need to know that despite the fact that she fucked you every night, you were such a needy slut that you couldn’t help yourself, even at work.

With that settled, you went back to your tasks, soon forgetting of the little incident and only remembering it briefly when you felt the wetness that now soaked your panties. Ugh, today was going to be a long day. But you’d be home to your girlfriend very soon and the thought of that gave you something to look forward to.

When the day was finally over and you walked into your home, you were greeted by the smell of freshly cooked pasta and the sight of Wanda setting the table. She wore your favourite pair of jeans and a simple white t-shirt, yet you couldn’t help but think that she was gorgeous and rush into her embrace.

“Hi, my darling.” She smiled sweetly, one of her hands resting softly between your shoulder blades, while the other pulled you by the waist so she could get you even closer. “Seems like someone missed me today.” She noted, when you hid your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent and refusing to let her go.

“I really did.” You managed to admit, nuzzling into her even more, before you finally let her go.

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” She said, picking you up, before you could even realize what she was doing, and placing you on the counter, so she could stand between your open legs. “I missed you so much, that I’m thinking… Maybe I’ll let you have dessert before dinner.” She suggested, placing kisses on your neck and collarbones, innuendo dripping from her every word and lighting another fire at the pit of your stomach.

“That sounds amazing!” You smiled, leaning in to kiss her lips, while her hands roamed.

She pulled off your shirt first, tossing it aside, not even bothering with the buttons. She kissed her way down your body and your bra was next, just as easily discarded, in favour of her hands massaging your breasts. She kissed them softly, quickly making her way down. Your pants were her next target, so she could have you bare in front of her and you happily obliged, lifting yourself off the counter, so she could get rid of them. Wanda dragged down your panties in the same motion, wanting to be able to see you, to feel you with no barriers and the sight she was met with did not disappoint.

You were wet, soaked even and she barely did anything to earn it, making pride swell in her chest at being able to affect you so much.

“God, look at you!” She sighed, pulling you in another heated kiss and slipping her hand between your bodies, so she could run her fingers through your pussy and stroke your clit softly. “So wet for me already. I’ve barely touched you.” She mused.

She hadn’t really thought anything of it, she was elated to have you so needy for her, but the way your body tensed at her words made her pull away, her inquisitive, green eyes studying you curiously.

In all fairness, she probably would have let it go, not really thinking anything of it, but your guilty mind worked itself into a frenzy. Could she tell? Did she know? Would she find it in your mind? How does one hide such a thing from a telepathic witch?

Trying to stay calm, you only pulled her towards you, silently asking her permission for a kiss and she let you, exploring your mouth in slow, deep kisses, while she thought, her fingers finding their way between your folds again and gathering the slick there.

“Have you been naughty my darling?” She asked, when she pulled away, smirking knowingly. “Have you been thinking of Mommy today, hm?” Her voice was soft, her eyes still sparkling with amusement and pride as she continued to play with you, waiting for your answer.

“I didn’t mean to, Mommy…” You tried to defend, her expression helping you calm down from your panic. “I was just feeling so needy and I couldn’t help myself.” You practically whined, but Wanda only smiled more, her fingers focusing on your clit and providing some real stimulation against it.

“Yeah? You needed Mommy to make you feel good?” She asked with fake pity in her voice, her fingers moving lower and teasing your entrance.

“Yes, needed you. My fingers couldn’t make me feel the way you do.” You uttered, your head falling back in anticipation.

To your horror, her hand retracted, her expression turning cold and growing angrier, the more she realized that the two of you had been speaking of different things. She thought you were thinking of her, fantasizing about her… Not touching yourself. And the more she studied your face, the panic and guilt written all over it, the more she realized it was true and it made her blood boil. Hadn’t she made herself clear? Had you forgotten that she was the only one allowed to touch your desperate little pussy?

“When?” She almost growled with annoyance, stepping between your legs again and making you face her.

“During my lunch break.” You barely murmured trying to look away, but she stopped you, a hand taking hold of your chin and forcing you to look her in the eye. “Foolish girl… Do I not give you enough, huh?” She asked through gritted teeth. “No, Wanda, of course…” “That’s not my name.” She cut you off. “Try that again.” “No, Mommy… You give me more than enough.” You tried to plead with her, but it was in vain. Your fate was already sealed. “So why?” She asked, seething. “You really couldn’t wait a few more hours? Or did I leave you needy this morning?” Her head tilted, her eyes narrowing in search of an answer that never came. “I think… You’re just impatient.” She decided, reigning in her anger at your transgression. “But don’t worry… Mommy will teach you.” She promised with new determination. “Now, hop off and put your clothes back on. You’ll get your punishment soon enough, but we’ll have dinner first.” She announced unceremoniously, helping you get off the counter and watching you dress yourself.

While you pulled your panties back on, you winced a little at the wet material, but had the good sense not to say anything, especially after the glare you got in return.

The dinner went just as silently. You tried to compliment her food and to thank her for making you dinner, but her monotone response was clear enough to stop you from trying to press further, so you just ate your food.

After helping her clean up, she had calmed a little and she even pulled you closer to her body again, removing a strand of hair from your face and stroking your cheek gently with her thumb to help you feel more at ease.

“You know why Mommy has to punish you, right baby?” Her gentle tone, almost startled you, her kind expression a stark contrast to her dark intentions towards you. “You need to learn to be patient.” She explained with a soft smile. “I won’t do it again, Mommy.” You tried to plead your case, but her smile only grew. “Let’s go upstairs, honey.” She said, guiding you upstairs, instead of addressing your little plea.

When you entered the bedroom, she had you take off her clothes, helping you strip her of everything she wore, before she made you undress as well, her piercing gaze zeroing in on the way your wetness stuck to the material of your panties as you pulled them off. You were drenched.

“I’m curious, darling… What do you think you deserve for touching what’s mine? What do you think I’ll do to you that’s gotten you even more excited?” She asked with a smirk. “I don’t know, Mommy.” “That’s a lie.” She chuckled darkly. “Try again.” “I… I think you’ll spank me.” You eventually admitted, stumbling over your words and your eyes falling to the floor.

Despite her disappointment in you, Wanda stepped closer, capturing your face with her hand and guiding you to look up at her. She kissed you gently, but fully, her eyes full of love and adoration for you as she guided you towards the bed and sat at the edge of it. She ran a single finger through your wetness, pulling a solitary moan from you, before she retracted, licking the digit clean and savouring your taste.

“The thought of getting spanked had you leaking like this?” She asked with a raised brow, not really expecting an answer from you. “Come lie across my lap, sweetheart. Let’s see how wet this cute little pussy will get, when I actually give you that spanking.” She patted her lap, signalling for you to do as you’re told.

You did without protest, trying to look back at her, once you had settled, but she quickly made you face the headboard.

“Eyes front, dear.” She reminded a little more sternly. “And try not to enjoy yourself too much.” She added with a light tone, her hand already kneading the flesh of your cheeks.

The first slap that landed on your ass was actually very soft. It had startled you, more than anything else, causing you to stiffen a little and making Wanda chuckle behind you. The next had a little more force behind it, making you moan as it reverberated within you. The third was the perfect combination of pain and pleasure and it pulled a needy whine from you, as you tried to hide just how much you enjoyed it, but it was already too late.

Wanda had been waiting for that exact reaction and she took a small break from your spanking to spread your cheeks and trace your entrance with her fingers. You were just as wet and growing wetter by the minute and she used this moment to tease you, before she returned to your spanking.

She switched between her merciless teasing and your “punishment”, knowing full well that this was actually indulging you, rather than teaching you a lesson, but she knew that it will serve its purpose too. She kept it up, until your cheeks had grown pink and you had started to chant her chosen title, while you bucked against her teasing fingers and your wetness had started to smear across her thighs as well. God, you looked so fuckable like this.

“I think that’s enough for now, little kitten.” She rasped, while her fingers retracted and she watched you fight the urge to buck against her thighs next, desperate for any stimulation. “Go lie down.” She suggested, helping you get to your feet and watching you climb on the bed and settle against the pillows. “How are you feeling?” “I’m ok, Mommy.” You responded cutely, actually looking relaxed, your eyes closing in satisfaction. “A little horny.” You added, very aware of the way your pussy dripped. “Oh, I bet you are.” She chuckled. “You should see what you did to me.” She added, moving closer and straddling your body. “I also think you should make it up to me.” She purred, leaning in for a quick kiss, before she moved higher, quickly putting each of her legs on either side of your face, her slick folds on display. “Do you see that, honey?’’ She asked, running her fingers through her wetness and spreading her pussy lips, so you can see her better. “That’s what you do to me. Every time you touch me, every time I look at you, when I think of you, I get this craving: to have your tongue, your fingers, your strap inside me. I get just as needy as you do, sweet girl. But Mommy always waits for you. I hope after today you’ll learn to wait for me too.”

Before you got a chance to say something more, Wanda’s fingers were already lacing with your hair, pulling you towards her pussy and putting you right where she needs you. Not that you had any complaints. She had the most beautiful pussy you’ve ever seen and, just thinking about getting to taste her had your mouth water, especially with the little display she put on just for you.

Your tongue lapped at her happily, swirling at her entrance and gathering all her wetness, before you moved on to her clit. The taste and smell of her took over your senses and you let yourself indulge in them as much as you could, until the hand in your hair tightened its grip, reminding you to focus and give her what she wants.

When even that wasn’t enough, Wanda took matters into her own hands, her hips moving rhythmically against you, grinding her pussy in your open mouth, taking as much pleasure as she could from you. God, she was gorgeous like this. Head thrown back, her hair falling down her back in heavy waves, as she rode your mouth for all its worth. You could hear her soft words of praise and adoration from above you, getting more and more incoherent as she drove herself closer to her orgasm and you loved it.

Eager to please, you had your hands on her thighs and cupping her ass, massaging it and helping her grind more against you as her movements got sloppier and more desperate. She was so close, you could feel it, her moans growing louder and more desperate, the closer she got. And just as soon as you swirled your tongue on her clit again, her thighs clenched, making her lean forward and support herself on the headboard with her free hand.

“Yes, right there, baby!” She mewled, her grip tightening, in fear that you’ll move away. “So good…” She gasped as she reached her peak and her body stilled, allowing you to take over and bring her over the edge.

It happened quickly, her hand holding you tightly right where she needed you, as her legs shook, barely keeping her upright as she moaned out your name. It was glorious and oh so satisfying, to have you pinned underneath her as she came all over your face. Your tongue felt divine as it lapped at her, prolonging her orgasm and making her see stars. But it wasn’t enough. As much as she enjoyed it, her body alight with sensations, she needed more.

Wanda rolled to the side, before her legs decided to give out entirely and she pulled you on top of her for a brief kiss, before she was pushing against your shoulders, having you move down her body and back between her legs where you belonged. Her hands tangled with your hair once more to keep you in place and she let you eat her out, until she reached a second orgasm for the night with a strangled scream.

Fuck, this was turning her on. She felt strangely invigorated by the whole situation, knowing that you were needy, that she’ll deny you in just a while, that you’re seconds away from grinding into the mattress, just to get some relief for yourself. It was driving her wild, just thinking about it. She wanted to truly ruin you, show you how much better it is to share this with her, rather than hide, with your hand in your pants.

When she was done using your mouth, Wanda pulled you up and wrestled you, until you landed on your back, pinning you with her body in seconds and smirking down at you.

“See what you were missing, while you were touching yourself?” She asked with a grin. “If you were good, I would have been fucking you into oblivion right now.’’ She said as her eyes devoured your naked form, her hands gripping your thighs possessively. “Instead, I’ll use you like a toy.”

With a flick of her wrist, you were surrounded by magic and as you started to look around, you realized you had a strap on around your waist, proudly standing at attention and a very smug witch looking down at you.

“Look at that! So fucking big.” She admired the toy, using her hand to stroke it suggestively. “If you had been good, you would have felt every inch of it slide inside me. Now you’ll just watch me ride it.” She growled as she straddled your hips and positioned it against her entrance. “Mommy, please, I won’t do it again.” You begged pitifully, quickly realizing that she had no intention of letting you cum today. “And if you don’t, Mommy won’t have to do this to you again.” She explained with a stern tone as she slowly started to sink down on the silicone dildo. “Please, Mommy, just one. I’ll be so good, I promise.” You tried again, your voice high pitched and your eyes pleading. “Oh, honey… You wanna be good? Then take it.” She cut off your request. “You’re lucky that this is the only punishment you’re getting. Next time I won’t be so lenient.” She threatened, feeling the toy stretch her walls and filling her up deliciously.

Whatever else protests you might have had fell on deaf ears after that, Wanda entirely consumed by the pleasure. She couldn’t tell what was going on with her, she just knew that she was craving this so badly. The constant hum of arousal seemed to only grow and she couldn’t help herself but bounce on the toy with abandon as you lay beneath her and stared in awe.

“Fuck, so good!” She muttered, her eyes closing in delight, when she found the best angle.

Her breasts were bouncing in front of you, perky nipples begging to be touched and teased and your hands reached up on instinct, massaging the mounds, before you started to roll her nipples between your fingers, pulling more gasps and happy sighs from Wanda’s lips.

“Yes, baby, use those talented hands of yours. Touch me.” She encouraged, never breaking her pace. “Show Mommy how you touched yourself today. Show me what you do to your pussy.” She panted, growing breathless as she got herself closer.

Feeling bold and wanting to not only impress her, but have her fall over the edge, you used your best moves on her, your hand reaching between your bodies, your index and ring finger spreading her pussy lips open, while your middle finger found her clit and started to make small circles on it that had her hips bucking into your hand.

“Oh my…” She gasped, her movements stuttering a little at the new sensation. “Yes, keep going!”

With the way she was reacting, there was no way you’d stop, you thought to yourself, your free hand reaching up and taking hold of her waist to keep her steady. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, while you chased her orgasm just as much as she was, wanting to see her fall apart for you. You loved it when she got like this, when she only had pleasure on her mind, when she couldn’t get enough of you, even when she was sensitive and probably working herself into an overstimulating orgasm.

Overstimulated is how Wanda felt, she knew she would, from the moment she straddled your hips, but she didn’t care. In fact, it was spurring her on even more, her body shaking the closer she got. And with your skilled fingers working her over, she wouldn’t take long at all. She needed a few more thrusts, a few of those delicious circles on her clit and she was right at the edge, a throaty moan rumbling out, her walls gripping the toy tightly as she fell apart around it.

You tried to drag out her orgasm as much as you could, watching her body go through the almost painful pleasure. You thought she’d be a wreck, but she looked content, sighing happily as the last jolts of pleasure passed through her and she leaned down, allowing more of her weight to rest on you as she claimed your lips in a sweet kiss.

She held the position for a few minutes, wanting to feel full as she stole kisses and whispered praises in your ears, telling you how good you made her feel. She would sometimes grind down against the strap absent-mindedly, enjoying the little waves of pleasure that passed through her, even though she had no intention of going any further than that.

When she eventually pulled away, a wave of her hand removing the strap from around your waist, she nuzzled herself against you, sighing happily. Her hands were easily gliding over you, sending shivers through you and she smirked knowingly, but couldn’t stop herself from making her point one last time.

“How are you feeling, my love?” She asked gently. “Really horny.” You managed a response, your throat dry. “Good. Remember that feeling the next time you try to touch what’s mine.” She said with a note of finality.

* * *

The next morning you woke up with the memory of Wanda’s lesson and a fresh wave of wetness that was already smeared over your pussy and underwear and you groaned. This was ging to be a long day. Even though she bathed with you last night and made sure to help you calm down, showering you with affection, you started your day already sticky and desperate for her touch and you hurried to take a cold shower, before you joined her for breakfast.

She was kind enough not to tease you, offering you some pancakes and coffee, while the two of you spoke about what your day would look like, trying to make plans for the evening and you were grateful for the distraction. Honestly, if it wasn’t for her, you would have had your hand under your skirt before you left for work, but you wanted to be good for her. You craved to be called her good girl and to have her hands on your body, to have her skilled fingers inside you, to have her mouth on you… Damn, you were getting lost in your fantasy of her and it was barely morning.

As the day moved on, you felt your resolve break down, moment by moment, one frustration at a time, one fantasy after another. Your co-workers were driving you crazy today, always needing your help and barely leaving you any time to look after your own tasks, and when you did have time, the moment you would sit down and try to work, all you could think about was sex. It was maddening, really. How much you ended up needing it. What’s worse is that you kept remembering how easy it was to do it yesterday, or how much better it had made you feel. Everyone was clueless about it too. Well, everyone except Wanda. But you wouldn’t make the same mistake this time, right? You’ll be more careful. No… This was a bad idea. You should just work.

But the more time passed, the more the idea of it gnawed at you. It would be so easy… By the time lunch roller around, you were desperate, on edge and ready to do anything for just a little relief. So without much thought, you headed to your office, passing by Alice at the door and exchanging quick pleasantries, before you found yourself closing the door.

~ ~ ~

Wanda had a much different day. Things were calm and she was feeling positive and even cheerful, something she even got a few teasing remarks about, which would have made her irritable on any other occasion.

As lunch came about, she thought that perhaps she should share some of those good vibes with you. She thought that leaving you wanting, as much as you deserved it, had served its purpose, so she decided to surprise you, maybe even give you a better office sex experience, than touching yourself, like you had done yesterday.

Yes, the thought was rather exciting. She could picture you already, perched up on your desk, your legs spread wide open, while she ate you out. Or her fingers in your mouth, to muffle all your delicious moans, while she made you bonce on her strap…

With that in mind, she made her way to your office building, carrying a box of take out, so she could use it as an excuse to see you. Just sharing a meal with her girlfriend. With that, she walked in, greeting the receptionist, who was used to seeing her by now and went straight to your floor of the building. She headed straight for your door, but was met by a woman, who almost cut her off, trying to talk to her.

“Hi, Wanda! Nice to see you again.” She smiled politely. “I’m Alice. We met a few months ago.” The woman explained, offering her hand for Wanda to take. “Yes, of course, Alice!” Wanda pretended to remember the woman, who looked only vaguely familiar. “How are you?” She asked, shaking the woman’s hand and trying not to dismiss her. “I’m good.” Alice replied with another brief smile. “Are you looking for Y/N? She went into her office a few minutes ago. She looked stressed.” She explained and Wanda nodded along, but her head was already elsewhere.

You were already in the perfect place and Wanda talked a little more with the woman, before watching her walk away. Wanda knocked on your door briefly, not even waiting for you to respond, before she was making her way inside. Her knock had startled you, but you had the good sense to pull your hand away from your panties and to try and straighten yourself, while you watched the familiar figure of your girlfriend walk into your office.

“Hi, baby!” You smiled, not really expecting the woman and almost cursing internally for the interruption. God, you really needed to cum. “Hi, sweetheart. I brought you lunch.” Wanda grinned, mischief sparkling in her eyes as she walked closer, dropping the box of food on the far edge of your desk, before she made her way to your chair and straddled you. “Why do I have the feeling that you’re not here for lunch?” You responded with a cheeky grin of your own, your hands wrapping around her and pulling her even closer. Perhaps this interruption wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. “Why else would I be here?” Wanda pretended to think, her hands playing with the buttons of your shirt provocatively. “You tell me.” You challenged, trying to stay calm as she teased you. “Well, I heard you’ve been stressed and I wanted to help.” She shrugged coyly.

But instead of wasting more time, Wanda just kissed you, popping a couple of buttons, so she’d get access to your breasts, her hands massaging them softly through your bra. She slid down from your lap, easily falling to her knees and half-way under your desk, spreading your legs, so she could have what she really came for.

Your smell drove her crazy and she wasted no time in pulling your underwear aside, so she could run her tongue through your folds, moaning slightly at your taste. You were perfect, already needy, as she knew you would be and practically begging her to fuck you.

Knowing that anyone could walk in here, just as she had done, Wanda dove right in, wanting to make you feel good. She used her fingers to tease at your entrance, while her lips wrapped around your clit, drawing circles, knowing just how you liked to cum and she watched you lean back in pure satisfaction. She felt so much better than your hand and you thanked whatever goddess had brought her to you, right when you needed her most.

The exposed, public space only added to the thrill of it all and you braced yourself on the armrests, fingers digging into the leather as you started to feel your orgasm build. It was heavenly and you were just starting to relax, believing that you’ll even get to finish this time, when another knock was heard on the other end of your door.

You stiffened, your reaction making Wanda pause as well, while she looked at you with a puzzled expression. You were starting to panic, not knowing if you should ask the person to come in, or leave, but they knocked again and you quickly buttoned up your shirt, inviting them in.

“Y/N, sorry to interrupt your lunch, but can you take a quick look…” Alice started to speak, as she entered, before cutting herself off, looking around the office puzzled. “Hey, didn’t Wanda find you? She wanted to have lunch with you.” She said, a little confused and allowing you to release the breath you were holding.

You had thought that she perhaps saw something she shouldn’t, or suspected something, but the woman looked genuinely clueless.

“Ugh… Yeah… She went to the bathroom.” You stuttered out, looking around the room, but at least your lie was believable. “Oh, yeah, or course.” Alice smiled, walking closer to your desk and leaving a stack of papers on it. “Look, I know that you’re a huge supporter of the paperless initiative, but I had to print these. Can you take a look for me? Something doesn’t look right.” She asked, sitting on the chair on the opposite end of your desk.

Right underneath it, Wanda was getting increasingly bored, by the dull office conversation and she decided to give you the proper motivation to get rid of your co-worker as quickly as possible. With a sly smirk, she pulled your legs apart once more, finding her rightful place between them and pulling your panties to the side once more, so she could have access to your sweet pussy. How lucky for her that you had a skirt on today, she thought as she started to kiss your thighs, wanting to give you at least some warning, before, she dove back in.

In your spot, you could only squirm once more, taking the thick binder from your desk and looking at the million reports that Alice had printed out and compiled. This was hours of work, if not more…

“These all have mistakes in them?” You asked with a baffled expression, trying to sit still in your chair, while Wanda’s lips got closer to your pussy. “Well, not all, but some, because I’m getting some strange results…” She alluded with a confused expression.

Her response had you almost screaming, but you tried to take a deep breath and calm yourself. Something you found almost impossible, when Wanda started to take, slow steady licks against your pussy again and despite how much you wanted that, you reached a hand underneath your desk, your fingers pressing on her lips and pausing her movements.

“Can we talk about this after lunch?” You looked at Alice, trying to be as neutral as possible in this situation. “Yeah, sure.” She smiled, waiting for you to say something more, but finding the silence awkward and rushing to leave. “Well, I’ll see you after lunch!” She said at the door, actually waving, before she closed it behind you and you sighed in relief as you pulled away from your desk, giving Wanda more space.

You expected your girlfriend to be happy, expecting that she’d be eager to go back to your activities, but her eyes were suspicious and dark, all the lightness in her features somehow gone, leaving you confused as to what caused it.

Wanda got up from her spot, fixing you with a glare as she took your hand in hers, bringing it up to her face and inhaling deeply and the action alone had you stiffen. She didn’t have to say a single word for you to know what she suspected, or for you to realize that she’ll come to a very unfortunate conclusion.

“So last night wasn’t enough, was it?” She asked with a deep frown on her face. “Wanda, I was just so stressed and last night you wouldn’t touch me and…” You tried to defend yourself, but it was useless. “You know that if you didn’t touch what’s mine, I wouldn’t have left you needy, baby.” Wanda explained calmly. “And if you had waited just a few minutes more, you would have been cumming in my mouth right now.” She stated simply. “But you’re just so impatient. You couldn’t help yourself, could you, darling?” She asked, as a cruel smile started to form on her face. “When that pretty pussy starts to leak, you just forget yourself, don’t you?” She teased, coming closer to you once more and dropping to her knees in front of you.

She spread your legs with a grin, her smile growing bigger as soon as she saw the mess in your panties. The visible wet spot on them was too hard to ignore and she teased a finger over it as she looked up at your confused face. You looked so cute like that. You could tell that she had something in mind, that she wouldn’t just give in and make you cum, but you couldn’t figure out how she’ll torture you just yet and the needy, hopeful, yet cautious expression you had on, was just precious.

She was almost too gentle as she continued to run her fingers over your covered pussy, spreading your wetness even more, making sure to soak through the material, knowing that you’ll have to spend the whole day like this. She wanted the constant wetness to remind you of how much fun you could have had, if you hadn’t been so impatient.

To drive her point home, Wanda spent the majority of your remaining lunch break edging you. When your panties were thoroughly ruined, she pulled them to the side once more and she happily lapped at your clit, drawing slow circles over it, as she pumped her fingers in and out of you.

She made sure to keep her eyes on you as she did it, wanting to remember each whine from frustration, each strangled moan, every small movement that you made, while you writhed underneath her, begging her to let you cum. Truly, you were beautiful like this and if it wasn’t for her limited time, she would have spent hours doing just this. When she only had a few minutes left, she finally pulled out of you and put your panties where they were, the cold wetness of the material causing you to flinch slightly.

“Oh God, Wanda, please don’t leave me like that.” You begged, as you watched her get up from the floor and straighten herself up. “Ugh, you are so delicious, honey.” She said as she licked her fingers clean playfully. “Speaking of delicious, the take-out I brought for lunch should be amazing. We should eat before it gets cold.” She said happily, cutting off any protests you might have had about the situation and sitting across from you, so the two of you could eat.

You groaned in frustration, but tried not to say anything, hoping to win her good favour.

The take-out ended up being really good, just as she had promised and she tried to distract you and let you calm down, before it was time for her to leave and get on with her day.

When you watched her leave your office with a final kiss to your lips and way too much sway in her hips, you leaned back in your chair, groaning, when your eyes landed on the massive folder Alice had brought you. The woman was crazy if she thought that you’ll do her work for her, you thought to yourself and you tried to pull yourself together, while you called her in your office, preparing for yet another long day.

Surprisingly, you managed to get home early that day. Perhaps it was the frustration, or maybe it was your eagerness to see Wanda again, but you clocked out as soon as your work time was over and you rushed through the door, happy to find your girlfriend already waiting for you.

She smirked knowingly, when she watched you take a shower just as soon as you were done hugging her, happy to be rid of your stuffy work suit and wet panties, but she said nothing.

The two of you started to work on dinner together, talking about your days and things you needed for the house, making a grocery list as you went through the fridge. Afternoons and evening with your girlfriend were always your favourite time of the day.

When dinner was done and the kitchen cleaned up, movie night long behind you, you found yourself being dragged into your bedroom, your comfy home clothes pulled from your body, to leave you bare in front of Wanda’s hungry gaze.

“I’ve been waiting for this all day.” She said seductively, as she pulled you closer to her body and helped you undress her with your shaky hands. “Unlike you, my darling, I’ve been very patient.” She pointed out, reminding you of your earlier transgression. “And I want my reward.” She stated bluntly, walking backwards towards the bed and pulling you with her, when she allowed herself to fall on the soft mattress. “It would be my pleasure.” You smirked, loving the chance to be able to please her.

Wanda had you between her legs in no time. She held your hand, while your tongue traced delicious circles and figure-eights on her clit, fingers interlaced together as she enjoyed the pleasure that built and grew within her. Fuck, you were so good with your mouth and so happy to take your time with it too. You savoured her taste, dipping your tongue inside her, lapping up all her juices, before you went back to her clit and she loved it. Loved that you didn’t rush her at all.

When she couldn’t wait a second longer, her free hand grabbed at your hair, pulling you where she wanted you most, incoherent praises falling from her lips as she got closer to her edge.

“More, baby. Yes!” She moaned, when you found the perfect spot, her back arching and her head falling back in delight.

As she finally came with a strangled cry, she pulled you even closer, cutting off your air, as she writhed in pleasure, but you couldn’t care less. You just wanted her to feel good. And she really did. All the built up tension from the day, all the excitement, all the wonderful things you were doing to her, finally culminated in one long, mind-blowing orgasm and she screamed as she rode it out on your tongue, refusing to let you go, until it became too much for her to handle.

As soon as you pulled away from her pussy, Wanda knew that this wasn’t going to be enough. She’s not quite sure why, but every time she denies you, her body starts to feel on fire. And she had every intention of denying you tonight. She didn’t want to be cruel to you, she loved making you cum more than you could ever know, but she wasn’t going to let you think that you can go around breaking her rules. Your pussy was off limits to anyone but her and she was going to teach you that lesson. She was going to edge and deny you, until you learned. And there was no harm in indulging herself while she did it, right? And she knew just how to rile you up, while she’s at it.

“Fuck, baby, I can’t get enough of you.” She cursed as she took a breath, trying to recover. “I don’t think that’s gonna be enough. I want you inside me. Think you can do that?” She asked breathlessly, sitting up against the pillows. “But if I’m going to be full, I think you should be too.” She said with a mischievous smile.

Before you could ask what she meant, her fingers started to glow red, the tendrils of her magic coming together and focusing on her palm, until they formed a little jewelled butt plug. She held it up for you to inspect, your curious eyes tracing the object.

“Come settle on my lap, baby. I want to put it in.” She patted her thighs, signalling for you to lay across them.

It wasn’t uncommon for Wanda to use such toys. She loved that you let her have all your holes. She loved having you full, making you feel her control, feel her stretching you out, even when she was on the receiving end of the strap. Even on her back, she was always in charge.

When you lay across her lap, exhaling a shaky breath of excitement, you felt her reach over to the nightstand, so she could grab a bottle of lube. She squirted a generous amount, chuckling when you hissed from the cold and she used a single finger to spread it over your puckered hole and gently work you open.

She loved doing this oh so slowly, knowing how worked up you got, how much it turned you on to feel her probe your asshole, but never fully penetrate it. Not until she deemed you ready, of course. She took her time telling you how hot you look like that, all vulnerable and open for her, your thighs trying to grind against her in an empty attempt to find some relief from the growing arousal. Not that she’d let you find true relief, but it was fun watching you try.

“Please, put it inside me already!” You finally begged, pushing up your ass against her probing finger, trying to get her in deeper.

Now that was a true delight. You must have been so worked up if you begged so openly. But that didn’t stop her from letting you fuck yourself on her finger a little longer, watching the way she slid in and out with ease, listening to your beautiful moans and whimpers as you finally took it in all the way. Fuck, you were so tight and warm. She could only imagine how good it would feel to actually fuck your cute little ass. That was definitely an idea she would have to remember to try another time.

“You want me to put the plug inside you, baby?” She asked, taking her finger away and watching your hole wink at her. “Yes, please, Mommy.” You nodded, trying to look back at her with pleading eyes. “Well, if you insist…” She smirked wickedly, taking the toy she had purposefully left in your line of vision, so it could be a constant reminder of what was coming next and squirting some lube on it, before she lined it with your asshole.

The first contact with the cool metal made you gasp, yet you still pushed up against it in anticipation. You could feel the stretch from it, as you took it in a bit deeper, even more eager to finally have it slide all the way in.

When your knees got weak, Wanda helps you, running a soothing hand up and down your back as she starts to put some pressure on the jewelled base, working it inside you slowly and smirking as your asshole swallows it up. The widest part of it stretched you deliciously, she could see it and she let you take it in slowly, until it finally sunk in and you both moaned in unison.

“Such a good girl, baby.” She praised, kneading your ass cheeks while she gave you some time to adjust to the feeling of being full. “You always take me so fucking well.”

You could hear the way her voice trembled, feel how excited she was, just seeing you like this and it made you even more eager to finally be allowed to have your hands on her. With that in mind, you got up from her lap, testing the feeling of the plug as you moved, feeling your body get more and more comfortable with it.

“Yes, I do.” You smiled proudly. “And if I remember correctly, you said something about wanting me inside you?” You feigned innocence.

Instead of a verbal response, you saw Wanda’s magic swirl in the air, tendrils of it wrapping around you and making your skin tingle as a strap-on appeared around your waist and Wanda’s favorite red dildo stood proudly at attention.

She pulled you closer to her, her hand wrapping around the dildo suggestively, while she kissed you. You looked so damn hot wearing her strap, all eager to fuck her and with the time she had to prep you, getting to stretch your ass open really had her pussy dripping.

“Go on, baby girl, show me how much you want to please Mommy.” She whispered against your ear.

The provocative words sprung you into action and you hurried to lay her down on the mattress and lined the dildo with her opening. She looked so damn wet already, but you took your time to tease the cock-head over her folds, just to drive her crazy.

“Don’t tease, honey. You know Mommy doesn’t like to be made to wait.” She reminded with an edge of warning to her voice.

You were more than happy to oblige her, pushing in just the head and watching it stretch her out, before it sunk in even deeper. She wouldn’t let you stop, her hands pulling you closer, until you had bottomed out and she was firmly pressed against you and scratching your back. You could feel the plug with every small movement of your body, the stimulation exhilarating and intensely arousing. Even now you could feel your wetness smearing on your thighs. The strap was putting pressure on your clit too and you started to move your hips slowly on instinct, chasing the pleasurable feeling and doing your best to take Wanda along for the ride.

By God, she was having fun. She kept thinking about the little plug in your ass and how it was probably driving you out of your skin with need and she really wished she could see you from the back, see the way your body moved as you fucked into her. She would certainly remember to do that for another time. But for now she just wanted to enjoy herself.

You were building up your pace, hitting all the perfect spots as you kissed her neck and shoulders and she was loving it. It didn’t take long at all to feel another orgasm growing. She could see you were getting closer too, your breathing going irregular and shallow, your pants growing into moans as you thrust inside her. Fuck, this was hot. She could only imagine how delectable it would be, if you could feel her. But you’d have to earn the privilege to come inside her. For now, pleasing her was all you deserved.

“Use your fingers too, baby.” Wanda encouraged breathlessly. “It’s those talented fingers that got you in so much trouble, it’s only right you use them to make it up to me.”

The memory of your earlier transgression was enough to have you working twice as hard to make her cum, your hand reaching between your bodies, so you can give her exactly what she wanted. Combined with the deep thrusts inside her, she was close and she could see how much you struggled to keep it up, pleasure starting to overpower you as well.

It was wicked, truly, and Wanda loved it. She was delighted to see her punishment working so perfectly and the knowledge that you’ll watch her cum, while you were left untouched is what finally pushed her over the edge. Her nails were digging into your back, her moans filling your ears as she rode out the waves of pleasure, were just the perfect way to end this evening and you hoped to be able to join her, but you couldn’t quite get there, your hips eventually stilling, so she could rest.

When she eventually recovered, you tried to pull out, but she held you close.

“Shhh, stay like that, baby.” She whispered in your ear. “I want to feel you.”

Wanda cuddled you gently, letting your head reast on her chest, as she hummed soft tunes, of songs you’d never known. One of her hands was busy running up and down your back, sometimes stroking your hair softly to soothe you, while the other played absentmindedly with the little butt plug she still had nestled inside you. She traced the little gem with the pads of her fingers, sometimes lightly pressing on it to drive it deeper.

She loved the intimacy of the moment so much, loved how vulnerable you were, how much you trusted her to take care of you. God, this was better than she ever hoped it could be. She shushed your soft whimpers with sweet praises and even sweeter kisses, making sure to stop your slow grinding, whenever the neediness inside you started to feel unbearable, calming your mind and body, until you were fully relaxed against her.

“My darling girl.” She whispered softly, when you were finally asleep in her arms. “I’m sure you’ll be such a good girl for me tomorrow.” She said as her own eyelids started to flutter closed.

* * *

The next day came and went in a blur. You were busy from the second you walked into the office and despite the stress and frustration, the constant wetness between your legs was just the type of reminder you needed that you shouldn’t make the mistakes of the previous days. Wanda would take care of you, she would give you everything you need, you just had to be a little patient.

It's the type of lesson she tried to drill into you and you were determined to finally be allowed to enjoy your girlfriend’s touch. Eager for it, you left work the second you finished and you rushed home, only to find your house empty. Wanda was running late. Something that disappointed you deeply, but you reigned it in, deciding to start dinner, in order to surprise you. She always took such good care of you. It was only right.

When everything was ready and the table set, you started to get a little impatient and you texted her, just to check in and was pleasantly surprised, when she told you that she had left you a little surprise in your bedroom.

Excitedly you ran up the stairs, opening the door to your bedroom to find the bed perfectly made and a beautiful gift box on top of it. Giddily, you pulled the bow undone and opened the lid, only to find a gorgeous lingerie set in it and a card, written in her handwriting.

“I can’t wait to take this off of you tonight.” You read, smiling at the little heart she had drawn and taking out the set she had left for you.

It was truly gorgeous and you admired her choice, before you started to undress. You went and took a nice shower first, wanting to feel fresh and clean for her, before you started to put on the underwear and you looked at yourself in the mirror with admiration. It fit you perfectly and you wondered how she got your size right, before you took a suggestive picture of yourself in the mirror and sent it to her, solely to tease her. God, you couldn’t wait for her to be back.

You wondered how you should greet her, different scenarios passing through your head and making you feel even more needy and impatient for her return. You kept picturing how she’ll walk through the door of your bedroom and see you splayed across the mattress, wearing nothing but her gift and how she’ll spend the rest of the night ravaging you in every way she knew how. You certainly needed it.

The more you thought about it, the hornier you got, your hands wandering over your body mindlessly, while you pictured her in nothing but her favorite strap, pounding into you from behind. You could practically hear her voice as she spoke the filthiest things in your ear, always happy to tell you everything she’ll do to you, because she knew it drove you crazy.

Before you could think about it, your hand had sneaked into the lacy red panties Wanda had left for you, your fingers starting to circle your clit lightly. God, it was heavenly, to finally feel relief from the endless throbbing between your legs. And you weren’t going to make yourself cum. You were just getting yourself ready for Wanda. There was no harm in that, right?

The slamming of your bedroom door and an angry witch staring you down, quickly told you that she disagreed. It had been maybe 10 minutes since you were lost in your little fantasy, when she had come home, to see that you had made her dinner. She smiled fondly, seeing how well you set the table and she was even more eager to find you and give you a proper thank you for all your efforts, but quickly grew disappointed when she opened your bedroom door, only to see you touching yourself yet again.

“Wanda!” You exclaimed, startled, hurrying to pull your hand away from your pussy, but she had already seen you. “You have no idea how close you came to getting what you wanted…” She practically growled, as she stalked towards you. “And you just had to ruin it.” “No! It’s not like that!” You tried to defend. “I was just… Getting ready… I wasn’t going to cum! I swear!” You tried to defend yourself.

Wanda had crawled onto the bed like a predator, your squirming body turning her even more infuriated. Damn, she had such big plans for you, she wanted to make you feel so good tonight, wanted to take care of you and give you the pleasure she knew you were missing. And she knew you held out all day, so why did you have to ruin it at the last minute. Your impatience was really starting to bother her. But she was going to correct that, no matter how long it took. She could be a patient woman, if it meant you’ll learn.

“You were just warming yourself up for me, huh?” She asked condescendingly. “Getting that pussy ready?”

She was looming over you, eyes dark and predatory as she waited for you to say something as if it would make any difference.

“Yes.” You managed a weak nod, your eyes imploring and sincere, but she didn’t care. It didn’t matter if you broke her rule a little, or if you had went all the way. “How thoughtful of you… ” She snarled down at you, pulling your wet panties to the side, so she could have a better view of your pussy. “You wanna see what Mommy had prepared for you?” She asked, already starting to pull down her pants. Her boxers were next, but you didn’t need them removed to know what was underneath. She had a strap on. Your favorite. She was going to give it to you too. Fuck you nice and deep with it… Before she realized you had disobeyed her.

Wanda tossed her boxers on the floor, leaving the strap on display and running the tip of the dildo over your wet folds. You had started to drip even more and from your position you could see her sliding her cock over your pussy lips suggestively, imitating the way she would fuck you, without giving you a single touch, leaving you mesmerized.

It was only when she had made it nice and wet with your juices, that she pulled away, but not before she slapped your pussy with the heavy toy. She pulled away from you and you instantly missed the comfort of her warmth and her touch, but she didn’t let you wait for long. She settled against the headboard and she patted her thighs, asking you to take off your ruined panties and straddle her legs, facing her.

Wanda pulled you in another deep kiss, her hands on your waist, so she could guide your movements against her. She could already feel your juices leaking out of you and dripping on her bare thighs and the thought of making you this needy drove her crazy. She could never quite believe the effect she had on you.

“I love that pretty pussy.” She mused. “If only you were good today, I would have played with it more.” She teased, as she ran her fingers through your folds and covered them with your wetness. “But since you’ve been bad… Mommy has to settle for your ass instead.” She whispered against your ear.

One of her hands pulled you flush against her, kissing your neck and making sure that you’re firmly pressed into her body, while the other reached around, her fingers tracing patterns on your ass cheeks. You couldn’t help but gasp at the thought alone, but her touch… Oh, that sent shivers down your spine.

Wanda was the first to ever take your tighter hole, the first person you trusted to be careful and to take things at your pace and she had shown you just how wonderful of an experience it could be. She made it feel special, made you feel cherished, she showed you that it’s an act of intimacy. Because of that, you felt more confident to explore this part of your sexuality and you knew she’ll always make you feel good and you knew tonight won’t be an exception.

“It’s yours Mommy.” You nodded into her neck.

You could feel the gentle smile that adorned her features and you nuzzled even more into her, clinging to her as she reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube, squirting some on her fingers, before she started to massage your hole. She took it slowly, oh so carefully, teasing fingers running circles there over and over again, making the ring of muscle relax.

When she knew you were ready, a slender finger started to probe there. Just the tip would enter you, before she pulled out, allowing you to get used to the intrusion. God, it was maddening. You loved it, you did, it felt so good when she took you like this, but it was your pussy that craved her and you desperately wished that she would give you at least some stimulation there, but alas, she was having none of it. She wouldn’t let you grind against her, no matter how badly you needed to. She held you firmly in place as her finger sunk in deeper, the intimacy of it so overwhelming, when she held you so lovingly, that you practically melted in her hands.

It took a few minutes, before she dared to sink in entirely, but she knew it was worth it, when she heard the low gasp, when you felt her knuckles. Her fingers were all slippery and wet from the lube and the one she used slid so easily in and out of you, while her free hand moved up and down your back in a soothing motion.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good.” She gasped in your ear. “Mommy’s precious girl.” She mused. “Do you like it when Mommy plays with your ass, honey?” She asked softly.

You could only hum in response, your mind feeling more submissive by the second. That one finger she used to stretch you felt both so good and not nearly enough, even when it was all the way inside you. But Wanda had no intention of rushing this. Her ministrations were slow and tender, drawing out each small movement, so she could turn it into pleasure. And God, were you loving it. Your pussy dripped with juices and they smeared across your thighs and hers, but she didn’t care. She loved it more, knowing how badly you needed her.

“I bet you wish Mommy’s fingers were inside your sweet little pussy instead, isn’t that right? But bad girls don’t get rewarded, do they?” She teased. “Don’t you wish you were good now, my love? Don’t you wish you had waited for Mommy to come home, so she could be treating you to a nice orgasm?” “Yes, Mommy.” You whined in her neck, your hips canting into her, to find some pressure. “Mmmm… But your ass feels just as good, my darling. So nice and tight. I should play with it more often. Stretch it out on my cock, since your pussy doesn’t deserve to be played with.” She teased you again, pulling her finger almost all the way out, before she started sliding back in.

The minutes stretched as she continued her gentle torture, building the arousal within you to new levels and pushing you even further into subspace. Your body was on fire with every small movement she made, every caress, every teasing comment, yet it was somehow calming. You were hers, in every way, and everything she did only solidified that feeling. You wanted her to continue, to touch you and claim you, even if it meant she wouldn’t let you cum. It was still gloriously good to have her inside you.

When one finger wasn’t enough, she pushed in a second, the stretch pulling out a gasp from you that quickly turned to a moan, as you fully melted into her once again. Her embrace was like a warm blanket, her scent filled you with serenity and her voice soothed you into a space of pure bliss and that slow, deep thrusting of her fingers only made it better.

As your legs started to shake, the pleasure of the moment overwhelming, Wanda knew that she had two choices. She could stop, help you wind down for the night, knowing that you’ll need her more than ever, or she could give in and finally help with that ache between your legs. In the back of her head she wanted to stay strong and deny you, as she had done the other nights, but she couldn’t this time. She was listening to your thoughts, looking for any discomfort, but she found none. All you thought about was her. Pleasing her, being good for her, being her sweet girl and it melted all her resolve. She just couldn’t deny you. Not this time.

At first, you barely registered, when her fingers pulled out of your asshole and paused their ministrations and she waited for you to pull away from the crook of her neck before she kissed your face softly and greeted you with a smile.

“There’s my pretty girl.” She praised. “You’ve been so good for me tonight, you know that? Mommy’s so proud of you. You’re just the best girl in the world, isn’t that right?”

You barely nodded for her, clinging to her and almost leaning back down on her shoulder, so you could nuzzle your face, where it had been, but Wanda pulled you away softly.

“My pretty girl deserves a nice reward.” She said, lifting you enough to be able to help you lie down on your back. “When you’re this good Mommy just can’t hep herself. I just want to make you feel so good. Do you want that, baby? For Mommy to make you feel good?” “Please.” You looked up at her with hopeful eyes, nodding your head. “Of course, my darling. You just lie back. Mommy will take such good care of you.” She promised sweetly.

Wanda claimed your lips in a passionate, tender kiss, before she started to descend your body. And in an uncharacteristic manner, she even skipped the usual teasing she’s put you through, before she gave you what you wanted. You had taken quite a lot for her tonight and you deserved the treat, so she quickly settled between your legs, the sight of your messy pussy leaving her practically breathless. She knew you were drenched, she still had the evidence of it on her thighs, but the sight of it was something else entirely.

“My God, baby, you’re so wet. I’ve never seen you this wet before.” She gasped. “But I’ll make it better, I promise.”

She licked across your pussy experimentally, the taste of you awakening a familiar hunger that only intensified, when she watched your clit twitch in anticipation. Now that was something she could never resist. So she quickly wrapped her lips around your clit, tongue swirling in circles and figure-eights that had you moaning underneath her.

“Mommy!” You moaned, more desperate than she’s ever heard you and it only made her work harder.

She held your thighs open as she licked up your essence and savoured your pleasured cries, building you up in minutes, just like she knew she would. With how worked up she’s gotten you, it was almost too easy. But she loved that too.

When you reached your edge, fingers tangled in her hair and holding her, afraid she’ll pull away, she almost chuckled. You were so eager. She contemplated teasing you a little, maybe edging you, but she took mercy on you, helping you to fall of the edge and ride out your orgasm on her tongue.

As the first wave of pleasure hit you, you practically screamed, moans and gasps filling the room as each wave brough with it more extasy than the last. Intense and unyielding, it took over your entire body, until nothing remained. Just her and what she was doing to you.

You thought that once your done, she’ll pull away, but she only chuckled against your pussy, her tongue continuing its assault on your clit. You tried to push her away, to ask her to stop, but you could only moan, until even the overstimulation morphed into pleasure and she had you writhing for her once more.

“Mommy!” You squirmed. “I need more, please. Need you inside me.” You pleaded. “Of course, honey.” She smiled knowingly, her clean hand removing itself from its spot on your thigh, but you stopped her quickly. “No… Not there.” You pouted, not sure how to ask for what you wanted. “No?” She smiled knowingly, unable to pass up the opportunity to tease you at least a little. “Then where?” She asked, knowing she wouldn’t get an answer. “Do you need me back in your ass, honey? Is that where you want my fingers? You want me to stretch your sweet little hole again?”

You could only nod, feeling the blood rush into your face and turn your cheeks pink. But Wanda didn’t mind. She loved when you got all shy.

She reached for the bottle of lube once more, wanting to make sure that you’ll be comfortable and she squirted some on her fingers, rubbing the substance on your asshole with slow ministrations. She adored that she could look in your eyes this time, to watch your facial expressions as she entered you. You were a masterpiece. Hauntingly beautiful and all hers and for a moment she forgot herself in the moment, just moving in and out of you slowly, until your pleading eyes reminded her that she promised you so much more.

One finger became two, before her mouth returned back to your clit and you gasped out in pleasure, your hands fisting the sheets and your back arching from the overwhelming pleasure of it all.

“Oh fuck, that feels so good!” You muttered. “Please, don’t stop.”

But Wanda had no intention of stopping. She wanted to see you fall apart underneath her and she was going to do whatever it took to make that happen. And she knew that with how intense that feeling was, you wouldn’t take long either. You never could hold out, when she filled your tighter hole.

Her mouth returned back to your clit, starting out slow and letting you get used to the feeling, before she moved faster, added more pressure with her tongue, before she drove her fingers deeper inside you. She had you arching your back and desperately clawing at the sheets in minutes, reaching the edge with strangled little cries and a string of “Yes, right there!” and desperate pleas for her to continue. It was spectacular to watch really, and she hoped she could admire you more, but with a few more flicks of her tongue you were thrown over the edge and into an earth-shattering orgasm and Wanda focused on letting you ride it out, helping you through it as you writhed in pleasure.

The second orgasm was even more powerful than the first, every muscle in your body tightening, every nerve ending aflame. It started from the pit of your stomach and it spread, all-consuming and so utterly satisfying. It felt so good, Wanda had to hold you down with her free hand, just so she can keep the stimulation going, wanting to draw it out for as long as possible.

When it eventually became too much, she pulled away, letting you catch your breath and relax, as she held you. She gave you a few minutes to wind down from it, before she helped you up and guided you to the bathroom, helping you clean up and shower, kissing and cuddling you every chance she got.

She spent the rest of the night pampering you like a princess, drying you with a fluffy towel and leading you to the kitchen, so the two of you could have dinner, even if a late one, she held you while you watched a movie together, playing with your hair and letting you nuzzle into her, beaming proudly at how good you had been for her.

* * *

Your next day started surprisingly calmly and Wanda was a huge part of that. She made you coffee and breakfast and brought them to bed for you, something she usually wouldn’t do, but for today she could make an exception.

She drove you to work with a smile on her face, the two of you talking the entire way and she promised to also pick you up, when you’re done, not wanting you to do a single thing. She wanted to coddle you.

But her loving intentions were quickly thwarted by the rest of your co-workers. Everything was tense at work, people were on edge and they needed you more than ever, so by lunch time, you already had to call her and ask her to come in much later. At least she understood. She always did. And it just reminded you how lucky you are to have her.

Wanda, on the other hand, came home at her usual hours and was greeted by an empty house. She tried to busy herself with some household chores, just to distract herself, but it didn’t work. She wasn’t in the mood for chores. She wanted to spend her time with you. She wanted to give you a nice, romantic evening. Last night had been such a treat and she wanted more of that, wanted to see you in that subby space again, wanted to take her time to explore you, to build you up, to make you really feel her, feel her love for you, feel her deep longing for you and the knowledge that you were so far away from her and her embrace was driving her crazy… So much so, that she eventually decided that your work won’t get in the way of her plans. Everything else be damned, you were her girl first and everything else second.

With that in mind she packed a small bag, passed by your favorite restaurant for take-out and she made her way to your office. By the time she arrived, most of the building was already dark, just your floor and a couple others still had their lights on and that only strengthened her resolve. You shouldn’t be working at such a late hour, you should be at home, letting her spoil you, the way she wanted to.

Exiting the elevator at your floor made her shiver. It looked so surreal and kind of wrong, with the ugly fluorescent lights and the empty cubicles and she hurried to make her way to your office.

Knocking on your door and entering your space settled her nerves a little. Seeing your pretty face always made everything brighter and she made her way to you with a sway to her hips.

“Wanda!” You smiled, getting up to greet her. “Hi, my darling. I missed you.” She said with a pout. “You work too much.” “I’m sorry, love.” You apologized, pulling her further into your office. “I’ll make it up to you this weekend. I promise.” “How about you make it up to me right now?” She suggested, lifting the bag of take out. “Have dinner with me?”

You could never refuse your girlfriend, you were very well aware of that, so you didn’t even try to protest, helping her take out the boxes of food from their bag and letting her place a few candles on your desk. She lit them with her magic, making you smile and blush at how charming she could be and you allowed yourself to be swallowed by her magnetic presence, falling into a conversation with her, all your work forgotten.

When you finished your dessert, sharing a delightful tiramisu, that Wanda fed you one spoon at a time, you thought that she’ll take you home, but you were surprised to see her get up from her spot and settle into your lap with a mischievous smile.

“You know… Yesterday we got interrupted really rudely.” She started. “And, of course, you were naughty, so you didn’t deserve to have any fun… But maybe tonight we can have some fun together.” She suggested. “I’ve always wanted to take you right on your desk.” She whispered in your ear, like she was telling you a secret. “Wanda…” You murmured against her. In the back of your head, your thoughts were telling you that you were still in a public space, even if seemingly almost everyone had left… And this was your place of work… But her lips on yours felt so good, that even those thoughts of warning fizzled away when her hands started to unbutton your shirt. “You always look so damn hot in your work suits, baby.” She continued her assault, nimble fingers pulling your shirt out of your skirt and dragging it down your shoulders, revealing a lacy bra. “What if someone sees us?” You gasped, feeling her hot breath on your neck. “Let them. I want them to see who you belong to.” She practically growled, biting into your neck and then soothing it with her tongue.

A surge of possessiveness washed over Wanda at her own words, countless reminders of such instances flashed before her eyes and made her blood boil with annoyance. A feeling that was wholly unwelcome, because it conflicted with the tender appreciation she wanted to show you tonight. This was meant to be a romantic night, full of gentle devotion and careful adoration, but damn, she wanted something different now. The beautiful, sweet feelings she had for you were still there, but were mixed with this craving to claim you, to own you, to dirty you up and show you that no one else will ever be able to give you what she can.

Wanda pulled you out of your chair, her strong hands circling your waist and moving lower, cupping your ass in the tight pencil skirt you wore and squeezing the cheeks. Fuck, you felt good. Nice and firm in her hands and so eager to let her do anything to you.

She pulled up your skirt with a swift motion, letting it bunch up around your waist and revealing the matching lacy panties you wore.

“So beautiful.” Wanda mused, eyeing you slowly. “I could eat you alive.” She growled, grabbing you and pushing you against your desk, effortlessly bending you over it, so she could have a better view.

In a moment of pure arousal, she kicked your feet apart, hearing you gasp at the action and steadying yourself against the desk, while Wanda played with your panties suggestively. They were starting to get covered in your wetness, while you kept pushing back against her hand, offering yourself to her so shamelessly.

She chuckled at your neediness, pressing herself against you, letting you feel the bulge in her pants, just to tease you. But she wouldn’t just give it to you. Not so easily. She wanted to play with you first. It was maddening how quickly her emotions switched. She wanted to make love to you and ravage you at the same time and she just couldn’t chose which one she’ll do.

So she settled on teasing you. Falling to her knees behind you and taking hold of your hips, so she could keep them open, while she leaned in, letting her tongue run a long, wet line, across your panties. The wet fabric held some of the delicate taste she was hoping to get to the source of, but she was in no hurry. Licking your cute pussy through your panties really seemed to rile you up and she had to hold you in place to continue her little game, while you tried to push back against her.

“Please, I need you.” You finally begged, face pressed on the cold surface of your desk. “You need me, huh?” She chuckled from behind you, getting back up and rubbing her bulge on your backside. “All right then.” She agreed, breathless with anticipation. “Take those panties off.” She instructed.

Wanda watched you pull the wet fabric down your legs, while she unbuttoned her pants and pulled out her strap. She had already enchanted it and she had spent the previous minutes with the feeling of it twitching to be set free and the sight of your drenched pussy almost made her lose all her control.

She pulled you up by your hair, pressing you against her with one hand, while the other held her cock and ran it up and down your wet slit, collecting your juices. You were both panting, both so needy, that she wasn’t surprised, when you tried to get her to slide inside you, but this time she indulged you. She held her strap steady against you and watched it slide into your pussy. You were practically impaling yourself on her, your pussy squeezing her cock tightly and taking it as deep as it could go.

Intrigued by it, she let you move against her, letting you pick your own pace. You looked so damn hot doing it too. Your ass hitting her front and bouncing off of it, while your pussy swallowed her strap. She was mesmerised by it. Her eyes glued to the way you were fucking yourself on her. Your pretty ass was bouncing so cutely off of her and it reminded her of last night, of the way it swallowed her fingers, the way she was sliding in and out of your tight little hole and turning you into a mess. Fuck, that’s exactly what she wanted right now too.

Once she had realized what she was missing, she couldn’t ignore it a second longer and she stilled your movements, burying herself as deep as possible, before she moved your hair to the side, nuzzling her face against your neck and your ear.

“Fuck, baby!” She gasped, her breaths ragged. “You have no idea what you do to me. What the sight of your cute ass bouncing off of me does… I can’t stop thinking about it. How good it felt to be inside it. How well it took my fingers last night.” She whimpered, your walls pulsing with arousal around her. “I want to be inside it again, baby.” She added in a whisper, kissing your heated skin and running her hands over your breasts, massaging them through the bra. “Will you let me fuck your ass?” She asked, feeling another twitch of excitement, your walls clamping around her cock. “I promise I’ll make you feel so good. I’ll make you cum so hard, baby, you’ll see. Just let me be inside.”

Hearing Wanda beg so openly was a rare occasion. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever heard her this desperate for anything. She usually took what she wanted, it’s what you both liked. But this time was different and you had to admit that you were loving it. Her desperation fed your own and after just a few seconds, you found yourself agreeing, your head nodding happily to her request.

“Yeah?” She asked, amazement and excitement clear in her voice. “You want that too, baby?” “Yeah.” You managed, your voice hoarse. “Fuck, thank you!” She whispered behind you, placing soft kisses on your neck once more. Her hips were moving on their own, rutting into you and she found herself almost cumming at the thought of fucking your ass alone. “I’ll make you feel so good, I promise, baby!”

Before she could actually spill her cum and ruin the moment, she pulled out, her cock throbbing with need. God, she wanted to fill you up. She was mere seconds away.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Wanda summoned her magic, a bottle of lube appearing in her hand. She laid you back down on the desk, running a soothing hand over your back, before she spread your ass cheeks and squirted a generous amount of the liquid over your puckered hole. The coldness made you hiss, but she soothed you once again, teasing fingers spreading it over your hole, until it warmed up and you relaxed under her touch.

When she knew you were ready for her, she started spreading lube over her cock as well, wanting this to feel comfortable, when she realized that the dildo she had chosen, even if one of your favourites, might be a bit too big for your tighter hole and she used her magic to adjust the size. She felt bad having to do it, almost whining at seeing it shrink, even if she mostly adjusted the width, but she knew it would be far more comfortable this way and she stroked it a few times, to get it well coated in lube, before she lined it with your asshole.

She teased your hole with the tip of her cock, giving you a chance to back out of it, but you did no such thing. In fact, you tried to press yourself against her, trying to get her to put it in you already. All her teasing, her touch, her kisses had you just as wound up as she was and you needed something, or you were going to explode.

“Mommy, fuck me already!” You begged. “I want you inside me, please. Your cock feels so good.” “Anything for you, baby girl.” Wanda smirked.

She pressed herself more against you, watching the ring of muscle open up and stretch around her tip, tighter and more overwhelmingly good than anything she’d ever felt. She was so tempted to just fill you up to the brim, barely holding herself back.

Despite the unbearable pleasure, she let you take over, allowing you to take her in for the first time, entirely at your pace. She watched her cock sink in, inch by inch, engulfed by the tightness and the warmth of your ass, until you reached the base of her strap with a strangled moan and a shiver that ran down your spine.

Lifting you off of the desk and pressing you against her again, Wanda stayed still. One hand wrapped around your middle held you close, while the other removed the strands of hair from your face. She showered you with kisses and quiet praises, allowing you to adjust to the feeling of her stretching you out.

“God, you’re so good for me, baby.” She gasped, kissing your flushed cheeks. “Mommy’s best girl.”

When you were ready, she slowly started to pull out, one of her hands reaching down and finding your clit, so she could start rubbing gentle circles on it, helping you relax and feel good. Your wetness was practically dripping on the floor beneath you, your folds drenched, just from this and she knew you were feeling just as good as she was.

Her rhythm remained slow and steady, almost sensual in the way she fucked you. She had come to make love to you after all and she intended to do just that. It didn’t really matter which hole she took, she still wanted to make love to you, so her thrusts were gentle and deep, her hands tender, her kisses full of her passion and devotion.

“My God, you’re so beautiful.” She gasped, kissing your cheek and jaw. “So beautiful with my cock deep in your ass.” She continued. “If only you knew how good you feel around me, baby girl. Gripping me so tightly.” She moaned in your ear, barely even moving. She was almost humping you, hardly pulling out, before she drove her hips forward again and it felt sensational. “I wish you could see yourself right now. Messy hair and glazed eyes, lips all read from my kisses, your pretty body on display… Taking me from the back and loving it…”

At this point you could hardly hear her words, your mind going blank. All you could do was take it. She was driving you crazy. The slow, careful way she handled you was almost reminiscent of the way she made love to your pussy. On the nights when she wanted to make you feel adored and loved, she did it like this, keeping you full and fucking into you sensually. But your pussy was so empty, and her cock was so deep in your asshole, yet the way she did it felt so damn good, her fingers bringing you to the edge.

“Mommy!” You cried out for her, completely forgetting where you are. “Shh, honey, I know. You’re so close, aren’t you? I can feel it. Look at the way your legs shake.” She spoke soothingly. “Mommy is close too. We should come together, baby.” She said in a whisper. “I want to feel you come with my cock deep in your ass.”

And that’s all it took. With a few more circles over your clit, you came, your pussy clenching around nothing, yet you felt so full. Your tighter hole was filled to the brim, Wanda’s hot cum spilling inside it, while you felt the first wave of pleasure start to wash over you. It was new, yet so powerful, that it shook your entire being. And it only got better. Each wave of pleasure more powerful than the last, washing over you again and again, until you were fully spent. Only Wanda’s hands kept you up and you were grateful that she had you firmly pressed into her, otherwise, you would have fallen.

As soon as Wanda felt you coming, your clit twitching beneath her fingers and your asshole pulsing around her cock, she let go, spurts of white filling you up as she rutted into you, prolonging her pleasure for as long as she could and only stopping when you were both spent.

“Fuck, that was amazing!” You chuckled, bringing her back to reality. “You have no idea.” She breathed, nuzzling her face into you. “We should get going. God only knows who heard us. I’m afraid security will barge in any second.” You almost laughed. You tried to pull away from her, her cock still nestled inside you, but she kept you in place. “Not just yet.” She whispered. “We don’t want all that cum to go to waste, do we?” She asked suggestively. “We can’t have that.” You shook your head in understanding, already knowing what would come next. “No, we can’t.” Wanda confirmed, laying you against the desk again, so you’d be more comfortable.

She used her magic to summon your favorite plug, lubing it up quickly, before she started to pull out. She pressed the tip of it against you immediately, her eyes sparkling as she watched your tight muscle stretch for her once again, swallowing the plug and nestling snugly against you.

“There. Now you’re perfect.” Wanda mused, helping you up and kissing you deeply and you just knew, that there was so much more in store for you that night. ____________________________________________________ If you liked this story and you want more, please visit the Masterlist with all my works. Happy reading!

#lesbian #writing #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff smut #bottom!reader #top!wanda #scarlet witch #mommy kink

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dragonnarrative-writes · 3 months

Text

Part 7 - Date Activities

Slasher Handler Masterlist

NSFW under the cut.

CW: Non-descriptive mentions of torture, numbers and math, brief nudity, allusions to cannon-typical violence (Ghost's backstory), red herrings, bones

“Where ‘m I?” You slur around a dry tongue. Struggling to balance your weight on your hips, try to wrap your arms around yourself. Too late, you realize that there’s not enough slack on the chain to complete the motion. “Where‘re we?”

You want to scream. You want to cry and hide your face. You’re horrified to realize that you want Simon, your version of Simon, to materialize on the edge of the bed and comfort you. Unfortunately, all you can do is blink and sway.

“If you’re dizzy, you should lay back down.” Simon’s voice from that jaw-less skull is so disconcerting. In your nightmares, the skull mask sounds inhuman. Distorted, echoing. The burning bush overlap of every person who’s ever made you unsafe. Now, it’s just Simon’s measured speech.

But the rest of him is just as big and dangerous as you remember. He’s dressed like he expects to have to fight someone. His black jacket is covered by some kind of utility vest with a bunch of pockets. A handgun sits in a thigh holster, and on his other hip is the Big Knife. He’s not wearing his usual boots, these are heavier looking. If you weren’t so overwhelmed, you’d be terrified.

The masked killer on the other side of the room tilts his head and regards you for a long moment. The weird silence is such a Simon thing to do that you let yourself take your eyes off of him enough to take a quick look around the room. His chair is by the only door, a solid looking wood. To the left side of the room, there’s a bare folding table. On it, from what you can see, sit bottles of water, a bag of grapes, and some brown packaging. There’s another folding chair. At the foot of the mattress, there’s a huge, black hard case. The kind you’ve seen in action movies.

“Right now,” Simon finally answers. “You’re in the safe zone."

You blame the drugs in your system. It’s the only reason you can think of to look him in his eyes and blurt, “That’s not a fuckin’ answer, you cryptic asshole.”

You’re glad you’ve learned to read his eyes, because they’re amused when he stands. Even across the room, he towers over you. You clutch at the blanket to, what? Protect yourself? But Simon just crosses to the table and picks up a bottle of water and a sleeve of saltine crackers. He chucks both of them at your legs before returning to his seat.

“Sip the water, eat slowly,” he instructs. “And I’ll tell you the rules of the game.”

You can’t think of a reason not to, so you struggle for a moment with the bottle cap before bringing the bottle to your lips. Your mouth feels gross and fuzzy, but the water is cool. The crackers, when you finally tear the packaging, are exactly what you needed. You wish you had some ginger ale.

“You told Kyle that I’d taken you hunting,” Simon starts. “But I hadn’t really. First time was a happy coincidence. Second time, you planned the date activity and I kind of hijacked it, yeah?”

If your neck wasn’t so thick, I’d strangle you, you think. You take another sip of water.

“So I thought to myself, what parts of hunting might my sweet, clever girl be interested in? How can I make sure she’s having just as much fun as me? And I remembered your little cubes.”

You narrow your eyes at that. The Rubik’s cubes were one of the first signs that he’d been breaking into your apartment. By now, he knows that you know how to solve them. Two weeks after he’d moved in next door, though, he hadn’t figured that out. It had made your skin crawl to come home from work and see the colors in the wrong places. Now, sometimes, he’ll present the cubes for you to solve while you talk. When you hand him the completed puzzle, he scrambles it up and hands it back.

“You didn’t kidnap me to make me solve a giant Rubik’s cube,” you say.

“No,” he answers. If you could see his face, you think he’d be smirking. “But the first part of the game is a puzzle. You have to get out of the room.”

When he doesn’t say anything else, you want to scream. Instead, you slowly eat your way through the crackers and sip your water and think. The metal cuffs on your wrists are far enough apart that you can easily reach the locking mechanisms. They’re just tight enough that you can’t wiggle out, but they’re not uncomfortable. You can’t see where the chain to the ground is latched, so if there’s a clasp on that end, maybe this will be more simple than you think. You doubt it.

Daylight is streaming in through the window behind you. The shadows of the bars are very obvious, so the only way out of the room is going to be through the door. Simon’s sitting on the hinge side, but the only way you’ll get out before he blocks the way is probably if he’s on this side of the room. Facing the table, maybe. Preferably not standing.

Maybe you can strangle him with the chain.

You freeze as soon as the thought enters your mind, cracker halfway to your mouth. Wrapping the chain around the neck of that death mask only makes sense. But the idea of killing Simon makes you feel like vomiting.

When you look back at him, his eyes are as heated as they ever get. “Don’t worry, precious. I made you a promise last night. No killing, no wounds. No “Saw” puzzles. Just a little escape room. Told me you like those.”

Had you? That sounds like something you would have said, back in the beginning, to see what he would do. You take another sip to clear your mouth and settle your stomach. You’re already feeling better. “What are the rules?”

“You’ve got ninety minutes to get out of the cuffs and get into the chest. Once you’ve done both, the timer stops, and I explain the next part of the game.”

“Can I ask you questions once I get started?”

“Of course,” Simon says, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

You bite your lip. “When does the timer start?”

“You tell me when you start,” he says. “We’re not in any rush.”

“What’s in the chest?”

“That,” he answers, eyes crinkling with an obvious grin this time, “you’ll have to find out for yourself.”

That is not an answer you want to hear, but there’s nothing to be done about it. You rack your brain for any more questions. There are, of course, about a million. But the one that sticks out is, “Why were you so nice to me, last night? You could have just drugged me. You did, anyway.”

Simon doesn’t say anything for a long time, just looks at you. He holds eye contact, so you don’t look away. After a full thirty seconds, he hums. “You said you missed me. That you wanted to be with me. You asked me to stay. I liked it.”

The way he says it, warm voiced and slow and soft, makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. There’s a spark of something in his eyes that you don’t want to examine. You’re too afraid to look away. But then he blinks and lets his eyes drift up and away from you. The breath you didn’t know you were holding whooshes out of you.

“Guess I’d better get started,” you say.

When you stand to the side of the bed, you find that you’re wearing one of his shirts, a pair of underwear, and a pair of socks. The room isn’t unbearably cold, but it’s not comfortable. The chain to your cuffs is much longer than you expected. You think it’s long enough for you to walk all the way around the room, unimpeded. If so, it’s long enough to get out the door, with a little extra slack. It’s locked to a loop bolted into the floor with a key lock.

You walk around to the table to get a good look at everything. There’s the water. The brown packages are four MREs, which you recognize from camping trips back when you were a teenager. There’s actually a few different fruits - grapes, apples, bananas, a bowl of chopped watermelon of all things. All of that is gathered on one side of the table. The side close to the empty chair has a manila folder. A glance inside shows printouts, three pages of text and forms, with some of the information redacted.

You let the folder fall closed and walk over to the chest. There’s two combination locks, each with four dials, one with numbers and the other with letters.

That’s two wrist cuffs, the lock for the chain, and two locks on the chest. If the cuffs share a key, this might be doable. If not… “Two or three keys, and two combinations?” you ask.

“Two keys, two combinations,” Simon confirms.

You do a quick calculation in your head. “A little more than 20 minutes per puzzle. That’s pretty tight, but doable. What happens if I don’t get it done in time?”

You turn to look at Simon and catch him looking at your legs. When he meets your eyes, his are smirking again. “You lose time in the second part of the game. And you’re going to want that time.”

With a sigh and a shake of your head, you walk to the wall across from the table. There are some cracks in the paint, a couple of scattered, discolored spots. But it doesn’t seem deliberate. So you leave it and head back to the table. The folder is tempting, but obvious, so you start with the fruit.

Bag of grapes, three apples, five bananas. You open the package of watermelon and poke around in it. No keys. Not in the bag of grapes, either. The apples and bananas are whole. But one of the bananas has a series of numbers followed by Xs written on it in black ink. 11 21 32 XX. You pry it from the others, carefully, and take it over to the folder.

The metal chair is cold when you use your hand to pull it out. You turn back to the bed and grab the thin blanket to cover it, then have an idea. You shake the pillow from the pillowcase and strip the sheets from the bed. No key, but the pillow has another set of digits and Xs written on it. 7 13 26 XX. You lift the mattress to look under it, but there’s nothing else, so you let it fall.

“Can I have a pen?” you ask, absently. You’re surprised when Simon plucks one from his vest and holds it out for you. You snort as you walk over to take it. “Can I have the key to the cuffs, while you’re at it?”

Simon’s eyes do something complicated as you take the pen. Then he tilts his head, reaches up, and pulls a thin chain from under his shirt. On it dangle two keys, one a tiny cylinder of a thing, the other a proper key. He lets them both drop against his collarbones.

You dart your eyes between the keys and his eyes. “Are you serious?”

“’D prefer if you opened the folder,” he says with a shrug. “But I do have the keys. Cost you… 15 minutes for one.”

“Did you just make that number up?” You laugh. Then it hits you and you glare. “You’re distracting me and stalling.”

“You asked,” he points out, chuckling as you whirl on your heel to go back to the folder.

That is neither disputable or worth responding to, so you don’t. You drop into your seat and open the folder. The first thing you do is jot down the numbers and where you found them on the inside. None of the numbers are repeated, so you leave them for now. Then you pick up the first sheet of paper.

It’s the service record for one Simon J. Riley.

A lot of the information is redacted. Most of the page is blacked out lines. But you see that he enlisted in 2001, had some kind of redacted gap from 2003 to 2004, then resumed his service. Then it jumps out at you. 2007, KIA. You can’t help but look up at him, and find him watching you already. You scour the page for any other information, but there’s nothing. So you flip the page.

This one is some kind of tactical… memorandum? Too much is redacted for you to be able to get much information about who the report is for, so you just start reading.

Mission to Mexico. Drug cartel, name redacted. Compromised leadership. Someone got double crossed. You start feeling sick at the description of torture, but most of the details are obscured, so you push through. Then a line makes you pause, and you have to re-read it. You flip back and forth between Simon’s service record and the report.

“Simon,” you say slowly. Your stomach is really twisted in knots, now. You’re afraid to look at him, but you make yourself meet his eyes. “Were you buried alive?”

He says, “Yes.” Your heart breaks.

The next few lines are blacked out. You really don’t want to ask, but, “How did you get out?”

“Blood, sweat, and tears,” he says, vaguely. “Probably not something you want to think about, sweet thing. Don’t want to waste time.”

“I need to pause the game,” you tell him. “because I just read that you were buried alive.”

“An explanation will cost you an hour,” Simon offers. His eyes are crinkled like he’s smiling.

“Simon.” Your voice is sharp to your own ears. “What the fuck?”

“Tick tock.”

You know from past experience that getting any more information from him will be like getting blood from a stone. So you make yourself read on. There’s a confusing bit about… brainwashing? Without the full context the report is a mess. Multiple civilian casualties, then… mission objective complete? Lots of blocked out text, surrounding a single word. ROBA.

You jot that on the lower half of the folder, then skim through the documents again for any numbers. Besides the years in the service record, there’s nothing that jumps out. So you jot down 2001, 2003, 2004, and 2007.

You decide this is a good enough place to start with the puzzles. The numbers on the pillow seem simple enough. You’re not good at math, but you’re good at patterns. You eliminate a few possible addition patterns, recognize it probably isn’t pure multiplication. Considering who Simon is, you gamble that there’s probably no fractions or decimals involved, so it’s probably going to be some combination of multiplication and subtraction. And as soon as you think of that, you see it. Times two, minus one. So the last number is 49.

The the second puzzle, from the banana, tickles your brain because you know you’ve seen it before. The numbers aren’t doubling. And it’s not simple addition. Adding in sequence seems to work. Adding 10 to 11 makes 21, then adding 11 works to get to 32. Plus 12 would make the next digits 44. That seems almost too easy, but these kinds of puzzles usually are. And it is a possible answer, so you write it down.

The only other potential numbers are the dates. If you pick the last four digits, that’s 1347. Another code. Unless it’s 2222. Or 0000. Or 2020...

Now you have a few potential 4 digit codes, and a possible 4 letter code.

“Time check?”

Simon looks at his watch. “Sixty-two minutes left.”

You hum an acknowledgment, and flip the pages in the folder, and the folder itself. There’s nothing else, so you leave the papers on the table and take your notes over to the crate.

Simon makes an interested noise through his nose. “That was fast.”

“Haven’t found the keys, yet,” you answer, “Gotta get a move on.”

You start with the letters, because it seems straightforward. And then you’re a bit stumped, because the lock doesn’t have a B available in the third slot. Or an A in the first. So you’ll have to find a cypher or something before you can tackle this one. Disappointing, but you still have time. You move over to the other lock and hope you have what you need. 4944 doesn’t work. Neither does 4449, 9444, or 4494. 2222, 0000, and 1347 are all a bust. You make your way through 1374, 1437, 1473, 1734, and 1743 before you give up.

“Fuck,” you grumble.

Crouched as you are, you have a new vantage point to consider. You scuttle your way under the table without putting your knees on the ground, and look at the underside. Sure enough, there’s a doodle of two bananas with a pillow in between. The dates were most likely a red herring. Or they’re the cypher to the letters.

“I got the numbers wrong,” you grumble.

“You’re a smart girl,” Simon says. “You can figure it out. Fifty-seven minutes.”

You scoot from under the table and make to stand up, but something on your leg catches your eye. Dropping onto the now bare mattress, you lift the edge of your shirt, Simon’s shirt, and see writing on your inner thigh, upside down so you can see it easily. Four digits, 01 10, and another fucking banana.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you groan.

Simon snickers from his chair.

You grab your folder and pen and jot the new string of numbers down. 01 10 11 21 32 XX. Obviously, adding in sequence no longer works. It’s gotta have something to do with the number of 1s in the sequence, so you try to let go of math related assumptions. The first two numbers swap their digits. Then two ones. Then a two and a one. Then a three and a two. Zero plus one is one. One plus zero is one. One plus one is two. Two plus one is three. Three plus two is… five as the first digit? Sliding the tens to the ones place is one, zero, one, two… three. 53.

Banana pillow banana, then, is 5493.

Before you go to check, you stand up to lift your shirt up to look at your belly, then higher to look at the skin of your breasts. You ignore the low wolf-whistle Simon makes to do a quick inspection. Nothing jumps out, so you let the shirt drop a bit and pull your underwear away from your hips. You feel a bit silly staring at your own crotch, but it’s Simon so you figure nothing’s really off limits. And you’re rewarded with the discovery of a piece of tape with a doodle of a heart on it. The tape is garment quality, which explains why you didn’t feel it.

The heart doesn’t really give you much, but you pull it out and slap it on the folder anyways.

“Forty-nine minutes,” Simon says when you look up at him.

Back at the chest, you click the dials to the number sequence you identified and grin to yourself when the lock gives an easy snick as it opens. The other lock is still a mystery, but you’ve got one down, and still plenty of time to request the cuff key if needed.

You turn to look up at Simon from where you’re crouched. “How much does a hint cost?”

He pretends to think for a moment. “For that lock? Flash me your tits again.”

“Nasty,” you roll your eyes as you stand up. You lift the shirt up to your neck and are startled when he sits forward to rest his hands on your hips. The skull mask gets even closer, and then he’s kissing over your heart, eyes locked on yours. He leaves his lips against you through his balaclava, thumbs rubbing over the place where your hips meet your belly.

You stare down at that bone face from less than two inches away. You used to hope it was plastic. Now you know for a fact that it is not.

And then he lets you go and sits back, crossing his arms over his large chest. He looks at his watch.

“Forty-six minutes.”

You gape at him. “Where’s my clue?”

“That was your clue.”

“That’s the least helpful clue ever,” you complain.

“You found all the other ones,” Simon points out. “But I’ll tell you the solution if you let me fuck you.”

You scoff. “I don’t need you to tell me. I can figure it out.”

“I know,” Simon’s grin is easier to make out this close. “My clever girl.”

You grumble, but you can’t help but grin as you try to think of what the four letter sequence could be. On a whim, you try TITS. The letters are present, but that’s apparently not the combo. Heart has too many letters, but maybe has something to do with feelings. The lock doesn’t have the right letters for LOVE, forward or backward. Same with HATE. You try SRSK for Simon Riley the Serial Killer, but that’s not it. You’re on a date, so you try combining his initials with yours where it fits, but that’s not it either. In a fit of pique, you try TITS again.

Then you take a deep breath and think about Simon and you. Your relationship. DATE, KILL, and CARE are a bust. AMOR, EROS, HOLD, BOND. None of them work.

You’re getting antsy because you still need at least the key for your handcuffs and you're running out of time, but you make yourself take a deep, slow breath. SLOW and DEEP don’t work. And then you pause and look up at Simon’s face. At the skull.

BONE.

Nope. But it was worth a shot.

But thinking about skulls and bones makes you think of skeletons. Dead bodies. Cemeteries. Simon’s service record, breaking your heart.

BURY.

The lock clicks open.

You’re giddy as you swing the lid of the chest open. And, almost immediately, you scramble backwards, shoulders colliding painfully with Simon’s knees. Without thinking, you clamber up until you’re perched in his lap, staring in horror at the human skull grinning up at you from atop black cloth.

A piece of tape is on the right temple. In Simon’s scrawl, it simply says BRANDON.

#dragonnarrativewrites fanfiction #cod #fanfiction #simon ghost riley #dark fic #simon riley x you #slasher handler #simon riley x you smut #manic pixie dream ghost

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