Cod Nsft - Blog Posts

Regency? Royal? Fancy au? Idk, time periods are unimportant. Big bear men are what's important here

Mentions of mild feederism + breeding kink. Perhaps implied dubious consent? Implied age gap too

i developed brainworms at work

Duke who has been hardened with war. Lost good men in a noble fight for his king. Gifted a title grander than his status as a commoner born for his fight. For his leadership. A payment for the blood staining his calloused palms and bruised knuckles.

Perhaps he's widowed. Maybe he's got daddy issues. His possiblity for flavour is endless

Gifted a bride too. 'What an honor it would be!' they cried, insisting to marry off their unsociable child. The youngest. Getting to an age where they are deemed undesirable and whispers rise as still no ring sits on their finger.

Was it an honor when he now has a bride who squeaks when their eyes meet? Swallowing hard like cornered prey but then, oh then he finds it. The fight. The way your words spit out, high pitched and pinned in your throat. Words of protest. Refusal to do something. Accusing him of purposefully trying to frighten you.

When he moves too forward, acting as a commoner not as a Duke, to his new bride. Scandalized when he undresses so dully Infront of you as you bathe. He asked no permission to enter. It was his home after all.

A bunny with sharp teeth. A precious doe with sharpened horns. How precious. He'd find a way to file down those pointy edges of yours to get to the soft tender flesh beneath.

He wanted to provide. To give. He was a husband and man, after all. He grew restless without battle and no amount of labour around his own manor soothed that ache to be useful. How could he honour such a darling thing like his little bride without anything to claim, to conquer? To show how good of a life he can give.

I think what really gets him is when a maid comes to his office. Requesting a fund to get his bride new clothes - he, of course, asks why and he has to bite back a groan as the maid explains his little bride has gained weight. Explained it's obvious. Your clothes sit too flush to your belly now. Things must be adjusted or completely changed.

He chubs immediately under his desk. Almost delirious as he imagined the extra pudge now on your form. How good he's looked after you - so good that you've gained weight? He can only imagine just how plump you'd get once he successfully breeds his bride.

Rundown

Warning: dubcon/noncon themes in part one, dirty talk, scummy Price, implied age gap, babysitter! Reader, Wife is named, cheating, Price has a chronic need for a wife that makes him happy, nsft, brief breeding kink, one usage of daddy, p in v, no protection

Original prompt by ceilidho

Reblogs, likes and comments are much appreciated!

Part 1 | part 2

"Mr Price- I tried to-" You were stammering, a whole new tremor running through you. As you started with big watery eyes. "I tried to tell you..."

But you gasped as you felt another roll of his hips stutter forward. John guided your frozen body to twist around, pressing your back to the mattress as you hiccuped. Apologizing over and over as your eyes recoiled from his unwavering gaze. Pressing his cock back into your tight heat with a deep groan from his chest. His eyes glazed over as he stared down at your meak form.

Another rut made you preen. Blinking through thick tears as your lips parted. Hands reaching up and tugging on his shirt. "Please- I can't-"

"ssh." He silenced, squeezing your cheeks so your lips smooshed together. Forced to pucker as you sniffed. "Quite pet."

He was thinking with his dick. He knew. Months upon months of nothing but his hand and itchy pillows. Not even twenty men could pry him from the clench of your sobbing pussy. He wasn't lying; you felt like heaven. John leaned down as he pressed his nose to your cheek. "Feel good?" He whispered, adjusting his grip on your face.

You hesitantly nod. Because it did. If felt amazing. Felt wicked. It was. This whole thing was wrong yet nothing has felt more right.

With that, Price let out a huff as he nodded your head for you. "Yeah?"

"ah huh.." was all you could breath out as you laid there. Hands grasping at his arms, nails scratching along the hair that covered them.

And your eyes rolled back as his hips picked up pace once again. His fingers threaded between yours as the press of his wedding band burned against you. Missing the way way his fingers pinched at your ring finger.

-- -- --

Neither of you talked about it. It was like it never happened at all. As it should have been. It should have never happened. You knew that and you were sure John knew that. It felt wrong to look at Colleen knowing that you left their house with John's cum drenching your underwear and threatening to roll down your legs. The peddle back home was agonizing as you felt the the squelch of your combined juices with each shift against the bike seat.

You considered quitting. It would be the right thing to do. It should be what you're doing instead of entering their house with a smile on your face and baby James gifted back into your arms. Accepting paychecks from manicured fingers as if the scent of her husband's sweaty cock hasn't stained your palm. How he's come home early, spotting you and asking in a hushed voice if the 'other misses' was home.

You should be sick with yourself. Disturbed how easily you fell down this rabbit hole. So willingly. Yet some part of you felt justified. They were miserable together and clearly only stayed for the baby. But even then, with how often Colleen left the house and called you up to do her duty as a mother you were beginning to doubt James was going to be their glue for much longer.

Did she know? Was she able to smell her perfume on your neck. The scent of her husband's cock on your breath. Did she see the missed specs of cum still in your hair? Did she care?

So many questions that gnawed at you more than any guilt did.

-- -- --

John's stubbornness was a double-edged sword. Once fixated on finally repairing his failing marriage now became an unbreakable wall to rip it to shreds. Not telling you about obvious signs of what remained of your debauchery, cooing to James late at night how his new mommy was going to be just so sweet for them both. Grinning at his son's small hands grabbing at you whenever you came over. The kid knew what he wanted just like his father.

It was a pride thing. He knew deep down. He's stopped enjoying the touch of his wife years ago. But he was a man of his word; he was committed to her happiness. Through sickness and in health. It's why he let her speak so coldly to him when her mood soured like a ripe lime. Why he kept his ring on her finger despite her tantrums and wails. He wouldn't stand for the mockery his men would snide at him being unable to keep his bird in check. Unable to keep her tucked under his arm.

But now, with you in the picture, that stubbornness could be shifted to a new track. He knew he was in trouble the minute he saw you. You weren't the most overly qualified, and your face had a glow that could have melted even hardened men such as him. He wouldn't doubt even Simon would relent to that shine in your pretty eyes.

James loved you. He seemed to crave your nurturing more than his own birth mother. And who was he to deny his son? His world.

So when Colleen was having another one of her fits; the only way you could tell James was even hers. So similar to the two, John had to cover his mouth as a smirk threatened to quirk on his lips. She slammed down the divorce papers and dared him with that glare of hers to finally give her up.

He just uncrossed his arms, nodding as he leaned forward, elbows perched on the table as he held out his hand. "Got a pen?"

"what-?!" She barked. Colleens eyes wide with shock.

"pen, love, do you have one?"

His wife knew when he wasn't joking. She's been with him long enough to see the signs. He wasn't calling her bluff this time. Her lips trembled for a moment before forcing themselves into a firm line as she slapped a pen down into his hand. Watching as how easily he wrote his signature and checked through each page.

As soon it was done she snatched the papers from him, thrusting her ring down up on the table with a noisy clatter. "I hope you enjoy that little skank of yours." Was all she could hiss before turning on her heel and storming out. Grabbing her purse and jacket and fumbling for her phone.

-- -- --

You got a call to return for another day on the job sooner than you expected. When you knocked on the door you were greeted with John's build looming over you. Expectant of your arrival. Grinning beneath his bushy mustache as he guided you into the home.

"where's Jammy?" You coo out, awaiting to be greeted by the baby but John just shook his head.

"just us, hon, she's taken him out today."

"then why-"

But he didn't let you question, cupping your jaw as he tilted your head up. And you knew instantly what you were here for. Swallowing as he led you to the couch, taking you right there. Pinning your soft body beneath his as your ankles dangled at his ears. His cock plunged ruthlessly into your needy core, heavy balls smacking against your ass as he grunted.

"gimme your hand, sweetheart." He coaxed, prying your hand from gripping his forearm as he pulled the ring from his pocket, his trousers hanging around his meaty thighs, slipping his ring around your finger and immediately letting out an almost pained coo. "Don't worry, we'll get it fitted. Looks so pretty on you."

But you were barely even able to moan from the air being punched out of your lungs with the way his cock was barging straight into your womb. Too fucked out to fully process what he was saying as your brain was replaced with cotton.

"my pretty little wife, gonna give me another one, ain't ya? Give your son a little brother, hm?"

You could only dumbly nod, probably agree to anything he said like this. Something he was going to keep a note of. Your pussy twitching at just the thought. The coil grew tighter and tighter. Your walls choking his cock making him groan.

"that's it, mama. Come for daddy-"

Rundown

Babysitter reader accidentally falling asleep in Price’s bed only to wake up to a big man crawling up behind her and shoving her legs apart while murmuring his wife’s name :\\ too bad she can’t correct him because the pillow keeps muffling her screams. - prompt by ceilidho

Warning: dubcon/noncon themes (reader doesn't verbally agree to sex but has wanted to fuck John secretly), somno kink, dirty talk, drunk! Price, implied age gap, babysitter! Reader, Wife is named, cheating, p in v sex, no protection, John's a nasty dog, Price is sloshed and can barely hold off his orgasm

Did i write this instead of sleeping? Yes. Do I have regrets? Many. I just couldn't stop thinking about this and knew I had to atleast try my hand.

Reblogs, likes and comments are much appreciated! Part two is available!

Part 1 | part 2

You've been babysitting for the price family for almost a month now. A small bundle of joy surprisingly docile in your arms after the wailinig for the baby boy would have cradled in her embrace. You hated the glare Colleen would snap your way as soon as her son shushed. You weren't sure why, at first you chalked it up to coincidence. Just the baby being well- a baby. But then you let yourself linger in her presence and found yourself curling away from the sting in your nostrils from the strength of her perfume. A lovely brand you had no way to afford, truely she was a woman to envy. Even in her years she's aged like wine; Rosé to be exact. She was primped and refined. A polished diamond with every sharp edge pointed in your direction. The many necklaces she adorned on her neck were chunky and sparkled with real gems that surely John has gifted to her over their marriage. Though, it made an uncomfortable resting spot for the babe.

But little James had much to protest about the way his mother's nails were too long and dug into his soft skin. To cry and scream when her perfume was just too much. When her makeup smeared against his chubby cheek and the new texture roused him into another fit. Only soothed once back in the arms clad in soft cardigans and sweaters, the smell of gentle floral soap and smooth skin against his own.

You've heard Colleen before bark at John to find a new sitter making small comments about how her baby clearly hates her. How neither of the men in her life seem to want her presence always resulting in a heavy sigh from John, firm words of curt comfort but she'd just bare her teeth and curl her painted lips. Not taking his words as anything more than another spew of thoughtless support. Not stopping her cries of woe until John has enough and grit words of defence through his grinding teeth.

You tried not to listen in; it wasn't your business after all but you couldn't help but feel pity. Some days it was for Colleen, clearly stressed and trying to latch onto something she can't quite grasp. But other days you felt a deep pity for John; peering in with little James bouncing in your hold as he sat at the dining room table with his head in his hands. Shoulders sagging down with the weight of the world digging into them.

Poor little James having to hear all this. Often, you tried to keep him distracted with the jingle of your keys or read out of a storybook to drown out their thunderous voices.

There's been a time Johns found you like that, huddled up by the crib shushing and slowly rocking the baby to sleep. A storybook in your lap and a relieved slumped as you stare at James' sleeping face. And so, to avoid waking up his son, he'd get close to your ear, ruffling your hair and giving your shoulder a firm squeeze as he muttered, 'Good girl. Such a sweet girl for keeping him happy' and 'sorry you had to hear all that, love' as he insisted on slipping you another small stack of pound notes for the extra stress. No matter how many times you've tried to decline.

Just as many times you've tried to convince yourself you didn't touch yourself that night because of his words. You definitely didn't imagine him mumbling sweet nothing's of how good you are, so perfect and sweet for him. He was a married man, for God's sake!

A soon-to-be divorced one if things continued to persist the way they were.

You didn't dare let these feelings show; for fear of losing your job and the possible disdain that would cloud over his aged features that you'd have the audacity to think of him that way. Unable to bring yourself to even consider baring the thought of his disapproval. It was too much. It made your stomach twist in ways stressful university exams never did.

-- -- --

RIIIIING

You rose from your afternoon nap, a startled sound ripped from your throat. textbook and laptop discarded clumsily at the table. The sofa creaking as you pulled yourself up, eyes squinting as you tried to find your phone in the darkness. Eyes already aching from staring at your laptop screen for hours even when it grew dark. Took engrossed in finishing your assignment to care that you were in pitch black. Only napping to soothe the sting.

You plucked your phone from the floor and saw it was Colleen calling you. Your eyes widened as you hastily answered. "Mrs Price! Is everything okay?"

"I need you to come over as soon as possible, Im already running late to meet with the girls and I need someone to watch James."

Your brows pinched in confusion. Checking the time and saw it was 10 o'clock. Surely there had to be someone more local.

"where's John-?"

"being useless as always, drinking and leaving me to do all his shit for him."

Your eyes practically bulged out of your skull; sure you've heard her be nasty but this was the first time you've ever heard her be so brazen with her dislike for her husband. Her voice oozing with venomous spit as each word punched out from her throat.

You thought it would be for the best not to say anything. Swallowing what words of defence you had for John, you slid off your couch. "I'll- uh- I'll be on my way."

You slipped on your shoes and your warmest coat, thankful your keys already sat in its pocket. You rushed out of your door, having to cycle your way over. Usually you'd catch the bus and then cycle the rest of the way but night buses weren't running where you needed to go.

Never have you peddled so quickly. Your legs were on fire by the time you arrived and Colleen was hissing at you as she scurried out the door for how late you were making her. Muttering the whole time she got in her car and was driving off into the night. You stumbled into the house and immediately went upstairs to check on James and thankfully he was still sleeping.

Hours you spent waiting for John to return home or even Collen. Anyone to bid you off so you could go back home and sink into the plush of your bed. Sleeping on the sofa and then all that peddling has strung your body until you were nothing but knots. Sitting down almost the entire time as your legs protested to any further usage.

You only went into the bedroom to grab the spare baby monitor to check if it was still working, but you got nosey. Peeking around and finding colleens vanity, staring at the unflattering reflection. Your hair was a mess, and your clothes were screwed on your body. You could smell your sweat and it wasn't even hot. With great hesitance, you picked and sniffed at the collection of perfume that sat there. All were much too strong for your tastes until you found a bottle tucked into the very corner. It looked like it hadn't been touched for a while, not even half empty, but it wasn't old. The brand's logo was chipped at the edges, and the bottle was sealed the wrong way. You couldn't resist giving it a small sniff and were pleasantly surprised to find such a kind smell. It was vanilla and rose water; with a small bit to your lip and against all your better judgment. You sprayed a shy spritz on your neck and dabbed it into either side. Already feeling like a grander woman.

But your curiosity died as the king-sized bed seemed to be calling your name. Sheets are neatly folded, and pillows are fluffed. With James back asleep after some fuss and a diaper change you slinked into the covers with mumbled apologies.

Sleep claiming you faster than you ever expected, slumped heavily against the mattress as your nose was filled with John's scent. A heady mix of both his natural order and the shampoo he used. Your nose sinking into the pillow even in your dreams as you inhaled deeply. Happy hums filling the empty room before soft snores took their place.

-- -- --

John on the other hand was not so lovingly dozed off. He wasn't partying with friends and running his mouth about all his stresses. No he was haggard as he just barely pulled himself away from the sticky counter. The bartender muttering something along the lines of him getting back to the misses.

His misses.

He was nothing but a stubborn bastard. That was his ring on her finger and he couldn't swallow the uncomfortable bitter pill that was his reality. He's been finding his ring 'mistakenly' left on the bathroom counter. She was already bringing up divorce whenever he glared at her a second too long.

He couldn't have it. What kind of man would he be if he stood by and let her go prancing off. That was his wife. His.

His fist hit the counter with a determined sneer and he shoved himself away. Wobbling for a moment before he was able to muster his legs into a familiar march. His footsteps were unsteady but persistent in their journey. The bar was within walking distance and what was a little fresh air to help sober him up so he can face his woman how he should. Steel in his composure and fire burning in his eyes as he was going to-

To-

Fuck. There are so many things he's been wanting to do. It's been too long. Much too long without being in between her legs. The heat of a welcoming cunt was now foreign as he had to rub himself with the rough callouses of his hand. No amount of spit could replace the heavenly slick of a woman's arousal. Didn't sound the same when he fucked his fist. Didn't smell the same. Didn't feel the same.

She was truly a cruel woman. He could withstand her sneers and moaning, but to deprive him of the luxury of a husband was the devil's work. His own personal torment after so many years of bloodshed and muddled honors.

Perhaps if that walk was as sobering as he told himself it was, he would have noticed the car that was missing. The bike parked in its place. The tranquil quite of his home shattered, 2 am in the morning, as he heaved himself through the door and winced at the thud of the door. Pausing to hear any cries of his son or the pissed off yell of disappointment but he was met with nothing.

He lumbered through his house after kicking off his boots. His coat was thrown somewhere in the darkness as he crept up the stairs and shuffled into his bedroom. There, he saw the lump of a figure in his bed, and his brain clicked into gear. Licking his dry lips, he dusted his hands off his jeans, already undoing his belt as he stepped out of the fabric as soon as it pooled down to his ankles. Crawling onto the bed as he stared at the sleeping miss in his bed, eyes beyond blurred and too blinded by his determination, maybe he would have noticed the obvious differences between you and his wife.

He presses sloppy open mouth kisses to your shoulder. "Col- Colly, He slurred out as each kiss grew higher and higher. The untrimmed scruff of his mutton chops scratching against your cheek ear as he babbled in gruff murmurs. "Wake up, honey."

But he had no patience for his 'wife' to rise from her slumber. Your stirring only egged him on as he caged your slumbering body in with hands on either side of your shoulders. Moving the blanket down to reveal your covered form. He huffed in disapproval. "Tuckered out? Didn't even undress." He scolded but there was no heat to his words as he began to undo the buttons of your jeans and eased them down your legs. Shifting your shirt as high as he could before grunting as your unconscious form was no help.

"this why..you need me." His chest pressed heavily down onto your back as his large hands wandered along your curves. Pinching at the chub he didn't remember Colleen having but it's been so long he just dismissed it. "Keep ya nice and warm."

John couldn't wait any longer. Pushing your underwear to the side and his fingers curled against the fabric as he rutted against your silky folds through the fabric of his briefs. Like a dog in heat his hips grinded hard against your sex. His nose burying in your neck as he huffed the smell of perfume - he got her that for their anniversary. He knew she was still missing him. All that bullshit of insisting she'd never wear one of his gifts again. Throwing out jewelry that was now deemed tacky, all because he bought it, and clothes she just shunned as old news.

With a growl he yanked his boxers down as he grabbed his already half hard cock. Rubbing it through your glistening sex, already so wet for him. Perfect little wife. He didn't take long for him to chub to full mass as he huffed at the floral scent on your neck. "Gonna fix it- gonna fix everything-"

As soon as his cock pressed into your entrance you were startled awake. The sudden sting making your eyes pry open. Your breathing hitched as you heard John's voice mumbling something into your skin as you opened your mouth but he just shushed you. "None of that. Don't start, just need you tonight." He presses his hips frimer to your ass as the fat head of his cock speared your cunt. He groaned deeply with a curse knocked out of him. "So fucking tight-"

Your cheeks burned as you tried to squirm away from the blistering heat of your poor fluttering walls being pried apart by his sheer girth. Gasping into the pillow. With a huff John yanked you further down with a sharp tug on your underwear, his free hand pressing down on the back of your neck to keep you nice and arched. Any words you tried to squeak out immediately muffled.

"that's it, just open up for me, Coll." He cooed, the stretch of alcohol thick on his breath as he squeezed your neck. Feeling the way your pussy betrayed you, crying all over his big dick as you heard each grunt and groan rattle in your ears. Just able to hear it over the sound of your own heart thumping so loudly you thought for a moment it lodged itself into your skull. "Atta girl."

As soon as your ass was flush to his pelvis you let out a whimper. Clutching at the bedding your eyes squeezed shut. The pain faded into a dull numbness before the tug of a vein rubbing against your walls had you softly moaning. So full. You could barely breathe with how far it was pressed to your stomach. Surely shoving your organs up and lodging them into your throat. A knot tight in it as your eyes fluttered open.

Unable a moment to breathe as he guided you back onto his cock with every thrust that sent you jolting forward. The stitches of your underwear screamed as he set his pace. sloppy but reaching deep within. Kissing your cervix with each thrust as you trembled. Blinking you didn't even notice the tears that poured down your heated cheeks as you kept shaking your head. Any attempt of protest cut off by your own traitorous moan.

Fuck it feels good. Why must if feel so good. You've imagined what his cock would feel like but you never imagined this. Never thought you'd actually be feel it drill into your poor cunt as you sniffled and sobbed.

John could barely restrain himself. When did her pussy ever feel this good? So tight and clamping down on his cock as if it were the first time. Has it really been so long that her body became as foreign to him as it he was to her. That made his teeth grit as he panted. "Shit- gonna- fuuck-"

He didn't need to say if for you to know. Your stomach clenched as your thighs tried to squeeze tight together like that would stop anything. Not with his thick thighs spreading your legs wide and welcoming for him. "J-John-" you hiccuped.

Voice so strained it became high pitched. Needy. It made his head spin or maybe that was just the alcohol catching up to him. Groaning deep from within his chest as he flooded your tight hole with hot ropes of cum. Rolling his hips lazily with each squirt. "Sorry...been too long-" he kissed your shoulder and your cheek. "You feel like heaven, love."

But John was never a selfish lover. He let go of your underwear as he remained snugly slotted into your warmth. Relishing in its slick heat. Thick fingers finding your clit with startling ease as he rubbed in circles. Fast and his rhythm broken but with how your clit was already throbbing needily it didn't deter your body from singing out. Hands clawing at the pillow your face was buried against as you bucked into the friction. Shaking your head as you tried to fight off how good it felt.

Whines spilling out of you as you chanted pleas and curses but it all fell on deaf ears. "Ohh- oh!" You pulsed around him as your own orgasm tightened in your lower belly. No matter how much you tried to deter it, John was insistent of your pleasure.

"c'mon on, Coll, make a mess on my cock." He cooed as he pressed more of his weight down into your back to keep you from squirming too much. "Know you miss it."

You cried out as it crashed over you. Stars filling your already blurry vision as stray droplets of tears fell down. The cover of the pillow damp with your tears and specks of drool you desperately tried to swallow down.

Both of you just laying there for awhile. You were stiff as a rock and he was slowly rolling his hips. Fucking his cum deeper into you with more kisses to your sticky skin. His hand weaving up to your hair as he tugged your head from the pillow. Blinking sluggishly as he expected to be greeted with the face of his wife but instead he was met with his babysitter. Cheeks streaked with tears and your lips parted with a small gloss of drool. Sniffling as your eyes latched to his dumb stare. Just looking down at you with an unreadable expression.

"you're not my wife."

Sugar sweet

Pairing: John price x assistant! Reader

Warning: unspecified age gap, 'bratty' reader, brief description of past, implied emotional neglect, mild/tame bits of angst, reader is kinda pathetic but we salute her, AFAB/female! Reader, suggestive content at the end, Mild NSFW at end, brief sexual fantasies (oral - male receiving) , John is pining in his own way

Tag: msil

Apologies. I've never written for Price so please bare with me if he's ooc. This is my firt time posting writing on here 🙏 but I got a spark of courage from some encouragement!I absolutely love this idea and couldn't help but be inspired. Full credit to Dante for the prompt. I just got writing fuel from it.

Was it so wrong to want some praise for your hard work? To want to hear “good job” for once in your life? You did a good job, and you know that. Your salary reflects it, along with a few appreciative pats from others. You often hear murmurs from colleagues who say, “You just work too hard; take a break,” along with their well-meaning concerns. But you liked being busy—helping those who sacrificed so much for everyone else, often with little reward, just paperwork, bruises, and bleeding wounds. Your hands were rough from the grit on your gun grinding against your palms and fingertips.

You were just being grateful. Helpful.

And a helpful little bird you were—always fluttering around Price’s office. This time, you brought him a fresh cup of coffee and a bagel: egg, sausage, and spinach. You left it at his desk to the side so his arm wouldn’t knock it over. Taking a silent breath, you stood there, lingering, hands clasped behind you, as your eyes flitted over the man currently hunched over his desk and the food you had brought.

Another beat passed. Nothing.

He let out a small grunt as he shifted in his seat, giving a small sniff as he continued to drag his eyes along each word, scratching a few out with a thick black Sharpie. His thick brows were pinched tight, creasing his forehead—a look you were all too familiar with when it came to Price. It always made him look older, though the air he gave off already did that just fine, making the wrinkles forming around his eyes and on his forehead more prominent. He squinted at the words as if each one were an offense.

“I thought you’d like something to eat; I haven’t seen you have anything for a few hours, so—” you gestured to the bagel, a smile curled on your lips. The tinted lip balm gave them a pleasant shine and a healthy hue, and a faint taste of strawberries lingered on your tongue from when you had licked your lips, nerves tight in your core before entering his office.

And once again—nothing.

He only vaguely acknowledged it, barely glancing before he reached for the coffee and took a sip. A small gruff sound escaped him as the warmth pooled down his throat.

You faltered, but your smile remained brave in the face of his stoic behavior. “Well, I’ll leave you be,” you said, the words coming out cheery in your desperate attempt to not sound as awkward as you felt.

You shuffled toward the door after a few more seconds of waiting. Maybe, just maybe-

“Love?”

Instantly, you whipped around, chest puffing out as your heels squeaked against the floor. “Yes, sir?”

“Blue suits you.”

Your face twisted as you paused, about to ask what he meant. Looking down at yourself, you saw a crisp white blouse snugly tucked into a black pencil skirt—one that was smaller than you had anticipated. You had noticed it seemed to draw his attention more often than not, so the purchase didn’t seem to be all for nothing. There was only a single hint of blue on you, except for your—

Blood rushed to your cheeks as you let out a sharp gasp. Immediately, you twisted around to see that the skirt had ridden up, revealing the edge of your baby blue panties stretched across your backside. The lace trim was exposed for all to see. Hastily, you pushed down the fabric of your skirt, adjusting it to sit better on your hips. Smoothing it down was when you saw it: his eyes finally lifted from the paper, a steaming mug pressed to his lips. A pleased crinkle appeared in his eye as he took in everything.

You had never left his office faster. Your face was too warm—much too warm. Before you knew it, you were stumbling into the bathroom, splashing water onto your face to cool down. Lifting your head to stare at your reflection, you cursed. Your mascara had smudged, streaking down your cheeks as if you had cried. The light, natural shade of your eyeshadow was now splotchy and smeared around your eyes. You pressed your lips together in a tight purse, scolding yourself for your forgetfulness.

Yanking rough tissues from the dispenser, you dabbed at your face, trying to salvage what makeup remained.

Standing amid the dim lighting of the bathroom, you couldn’t help but stare. What were you doing? A woman your age prancing around in short skirts and makeup? Sure, you had always been inclined to doll yourself up, but it had usually been a treat—something to anticipate after a rough week. Now, it felt like a routine, ensuring you had a pretty glow and your best features enhanced. When did you become so desperate for such minimal attention?

Perhaps it was when your father always hummed in stiff, dry tones whenever you spoke. Or when your mother would glance up from her phone, scrolling while you tried to show her something you were proud of, only for her to finally respond to something you had said five sentences ago.

Maybe it was when you did your best at everything—school work, getting a job as soon as possible, and even landing an office position mere months after finishing your education. Always made sure the house is clean and never ask your parents for help, despite feeling sickly and overwhelmed. Always doing your very best to remain as pleasant as possible and chase any spontaneous kiss to your head and word of approval from either of them. But the majority of the time, it was nothing. After all, you were expected to do well. So independent and mature at such a young age. How well they must have raised you to be so self-sufficient. They would praise so highly to their friends. Expected to have a good job and a happy air to you.

After all, you were so lucky. They were people having it worse than you. Why would you ever feel so low you wanted to quit everything and grovel in your bed?

Or it could have started when friends would always have an excuse to decline your plans or something last minute came up. Dates always having you carry the conversation after having to endure hours of dry texting and inconsistent messages.

A nagging need to just hear one satisfied hum. To feel a ruffle to your hair or a firm pat on your shoulder. The sweet euphoria of hearing a pleased “Good girl”. You craved it like how a chef always twitched to snag a cigarette between their lips. An itch you could never scratch no matter how many times you self-affirmed with loving post-stick notes on your bedroom mirror and muttered endless approval to yourself for the most simple of things.

You huffed as you shook your head. Why bother with such a man like Price? The only time he seemed to even bat an eye in your direction was when you flashed your legs or your shirt hugged your breasts too tight. You were mere meat and he was a hungry dog. A frown grew on your lips as you patted your cheeks. Glaring at your reflection as you fixed yourself up and pushed out of the bathroom.

It started with your wardrobe; wearing trousers that looked smart enough for your job but gave your shape no compliments. Its rigid seams even making your hips look boxier and your legs shorter as you trade your polished heels for simple flats. Your blouses no longer hugged the curve of your chest. And if you wanted the relief skirts gave then it was unshapely skirts – pleated or plain and sleek – that ended half way down to your calf.

And then it was the coffee. It tasted the same? Then why bother with saving an extra palmful of cash for the fancy brand. You served it in John’s signature mug with the same beaming smile and didn’t waste your time to linger. To wait for any response. Bustling down the halls with files tucked to your chest. With the extra cash now staying in your pockets you treated yourself to paying for a nice cake or an overpriced coffee of your own that gave you that needed rush for the busy day.

Head held high as you gave up your pursuit. You were always such a independent girl.

And Price? Well, as soon as he tasted the bland blend of coffee he frowned. Lips smacking as the familiar graininess of the bases blend hit his tongue. His head lifting but you were already gone. Huffing like a bull every time he drank from it. In the end, it went cold half drunk and staining the white mug.

And your clothes; what happened to his pretty bird? Sure, your beauty wasn’t easy to conceal and the lack of powder to your face didn’t change the natural charm of your features. But he had to hide his scowl of disapproval as he saw you were in another long skirt. It was flowy and dull. Those pretty legs hidden from his view. His hand digging against the scratch of his facial hair as he glared at the skirt. Half tempted to make a house call and strip every offending cloth out of your wardrobe. His jaw twitching as it clenched tight.

That smile. That sickly sweet smile you always flashed his way. He wondered if you’d smile like that to him after he’s lodged his cock from your bruised throat, cum and spit smearing on those perfect lips. Glossier than any lip balm or lip gloss you insisted to wear. A breathy ‘thank you, sir’ spilling out with tears making those insistent eyes of yours sparkle. He almost thought he went crazy when he couldn’t feel your expectant gaze boring into his skull.

He was much too old to be entertaining a sweet thing like you. Always making sure his boots were polished, his office tidied when he was gone for too many weeks, adding sticky notes to files and color coding each one to make sure they were in perfect order. Treating him to good coffee and pleasant meals. It took everything in him to keep himself glued to his paperwork when you came in and was so kind. So needy. You didn’t need a grump like him. A man with too many burdens on his sunken shoulders and blood staining more than his hands.

He tried to dismiss your quirks by giving it no attention. Mutters of disapproval whenever you spent money on him. But it just made you more keen. Trying again and again to get him to say something. To look at you but he knew if he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. But now he was finally getting what he wanted? He couldn’t help but swallow each bitter grain of his efforts.

His day was long. His team giving him their usual shit but it was giving him a bigger headache than ever. Any bark of demand towards him had his hand clenching in a tight fist behind his back. Most of his paperwork had fallen to you and this time, it was his turn to come into your little space, knocking on the door with a coffee much too sugary for any of his teeth to withstand.

There you were, cramped in your chair with a flood of paperwork looming high to your shoulder. He cleared his throat and you snapped your head up, perking in surprise at his appearance. Wide doe eyes blinking at him as didn’t stop at your desk. No, he pressed a big calloused hand to the back of your neck, his thumb caressing the peek of skin between your hair and your shirt collar. Pressing the coffee down as he looked down to see how much you’ve done. His breath warm against your ear making your whole body turn to stone.

“atta girl. That’s it, love.” John murmured as he gave the back of your neck a small squeeze and stood back up. Leaving you gawking at the door as he left just like that. The warmth of his hand lingering on your skin. A blood that was meant to go to your cheeks oozed down, pouring between your legs as your sex throbbed at the simple praise.

It didn't take long, no, It only took the next day for you to be back in those little pencil skirts and a new blouse that embraced your figure nicely. Heels on your feet signaling your arrival as you leave a fresh mug of coffee on his desk and a small pile of files. All colored and checked, sticky notes paper clipped to each.

One file slipped from the stack making you bend down and scramble it back into your hands giving John a beautiful eyeful of those baby blue panties hugging your ass and a small chub of your sex teasing him as it peered between your thighs. A pleased growl, deep from his chest rumbling out as he took the file from your hand.

“good girl.”

something about mean old bastard price and his sweet new assistant who just wants his approval so bad but can never seem to get a positive response from him

your sweet gestures, like using your own money to buy him fancy coffee instead of the generic brand on base are only met with an unappreciative grunt followed with, “fuckin’ waste of money. tastes exactly the same.”

barely looks up at you when you drop folders on his desk, only nudges his empty cup towards you. a silent way of commanding you to make yourself useful

until one day when you catch him shameless checking out your ass in the new skirt you bought, his usual grunting response actually seems to be out of approval for once. doesn’t even acknowledge your eyes watching him as he rakes his own down your legs before adjusting himself in his trousers and going back to his paperwork