#also the requester has asked to remain anonymous... teehee

[stagtorccio]

SORRY, SORRY charlotte alden x afab!reader request: reader purposely being “naughty” at a party to piss charlotte off, the two of them return home and she doesn’t waste a second, bending reader over the kitchen counter and making them apologize properly. continuously edging them until they’re spent purely from that before absolutely banging reader so fucking hard that they can barely function. warnings: dubcon(?), porn without plot, spanking (like once), tease and denial, fingering + strap usage (r!receiving) word count: 591 author's note: this one's kinda lackluster... #still in angst mode. also i had to pirate status update for the formatting. enjoy 1080p charlotte alden! yippeeeee

[ mdni, 18+ ]

𓃢𓃦𐂂 ── .✦

The party was dull– until you made it interesting. 

Spilling just enough beer on Charlotte’s shirt to make her jaw twitch. Letting a friend’s hand linger too long at your waist while Charlotte watched from across the room with that polite, tight smile. 

When she said “not tonight”, teeth gritted, voice low, you only smirked and disappeared into the crowd, letting your hips roll a little too slow while she was watching you dance.

By the time you’re home, the door hasn’t even latched shut behind you before she has you by the wrist, dragging you into the kitchen like there’s a leash coiled around her fingers. You barely have time to breathe her name before she spins you, bends you hard over the counter, cheek pressing to cold marble as her palm flattens between your shoulder blades.

“You think you’re clever?” Charlotte hisses against your ear, not even bothering to take off her coat. Her knee kicks your legs apart, hands roughly dragging your jeans down to mid-thigh as she unbuckles your belt. 

“You wanted my attention? Hm? You got it. Now say sorry.”

She makes you repeat it. Over and over. Voice breaking with every pass. Hands tied behind your back with your own belt. Her fingers are cruel– bringing you up to the edge again and again, breath caught in your throat, thighs trembling, slick trickling down the inside of your leg, until you’re hoarse with apologies and soaked through. Every whimper earns a satisfied hum from her, a mockingly gentle kiss to your temple as if in praise.

Then comes the real punishment.

When she finally unties your wrists, they drop limp. You don’t even flinch when her hand grips your hair and drags your head back, neck arched, lips parted, the humiliating shine of sweat and tears catching the fluorescent light. 

Her coat hits the floor. You don’t see it. You just hear the rustle of leather as it falls, followed by the low scrape of her heels, stepping out of them like she has all the time in the world.

“You wanted to be a brat?” she murmurs, sliding her fingers down the curve of your spine, tracing slick skin. Her palm cracks against your ass, hard enough to leave you gasping, maybe enough to leave a mark. 

“That’s fine.”

She doesn't even bother with her strap at first– though you can feel the telltale bulge of it through denim. She kneels behind you, spreading you open with her hands, breath hot between your thighs. No teasing now– just her tongue, relentless and precise, turning your cries into something pathetic. Every time you clench, she stops, holds you there, dripping and delirious, until you sob for her to finish it.

Finally, you hear the slow, deliberate unzipping of her jeans. Your breath hitches. 

She tugs the waistband down just enough to free the harness, sleek black strap attached at the base. Lets it sway between her thighs. Presses the tip right to your entrance, just enough to feel it, not enough to let it in– grinding it in slow circles while you tremble, whine, curse under your breath.

And when she finally does slide the strap inside– thick, without warning– it feels like too much too fast. Her grip locks tight around your hips, pace merciless, a ruining rhythm.

She leans down over your back, teeth grazing your neck. When you shiver, you feel the brush of her lips curving into that mean, mean smile.

“Don’t worry, baby,” she murmurs, “I’ll make sure you’re sorry.”