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wonderlanddreamer · 1 month ago

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[Sean Wallace × Reader]

Summary: You thought it was business as usual, another chance to push his buttons. But when Sean Wallace has you cuffed to a chair with no questions and no way out, it becomes clear that your meeting isn't about intel - it's about control.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+). Power play. Restraint. Light choking. Dubcon (?).

You didn’t expect to be cuffed to a chair, locked in a private room with him - not like this.

It was supposed to be a business rendezvous. A simple threat, a straightforward trade, perhaps a stern warning. You had navigated these treacherous waters before, always tiptoeing the fine line between cooperation and defiance. Sean Wallace was a formidable figure, but his looming presence didn’t intimidate you as much as it did others. Perhaps that’s precisely why you were there.

Because this wasn’t a negotiation, at least not in the conventional sense.

The oppressive silence in the room felt almost palpable. It was unnervingly intimate. No guards stood at attention. No files lay scattered on the table. It was just you, the unforgiving coldness of the metal cuffs, and Sean’s penetrating stare.

You braced yourself for threats to rain down, maybe even for his temper to unleash into violence. Yet Sean Wallace simply sat there as if he had all the time in the world.

He was silent. Observing.

His gaze seemed to pierce through layers of your defenses as if he already knew every secret lurking within you, and he wasn’t pressed for time to unearth them.

“Are you going to ask your questions, or are we just playing the world’s most boring staring contest?” you snapped, the frustration tingeing your voice as your wrists strained against the restrictive metal cuffs fastened to the chair's legs.

Sean’s eyes travelled deliberately down the length of your body. It wasn’t an invasive leer; it was an analytical scan, a detached evaluation.

“I already know you’re not going to talk,” he finally spoke, his voice a smooth, measured current of sound. “That’s not what this is about.”

You narrowed your eyes, a flicker of curiosity mingling with your wariness. “Then what is it about?”

He rose from his seat, moving toward you with a languid grace that sent your pulse into overdrive. One hand ghosted across the back of your chair. The other hand suddenly gripped your jaw with an unwavering authority, firm and uncompromising, compelling you to meet his unwavering gaze.

“You’re going to give me what I want,” he murmured, his tone rich with quiet confidence, “without me laying a single finger where you want it.”

Despite the tension, you let out a short, incredulous laugh. “You’re really leaning into the megalomania today, huh?”

The challenge simmered in your words, the atmosphere charged with a volatile mixture of defiance and intrigue.

Sean leaned down, his breath, almost a whisper, ghosting across your ear. “You’re already wet, aren’t you?” The words were laced with an audacious confidence, an unshakable certainty that sent an involuntary shiver racing down your spine.

Your body tensed instinctively.

“Fuck you,” you snapped, the words a resistant exhalation.

“You’d like that,” he replied smoothly, as if acknowledging your retort was a casual observation rather than a pointed comeback.

His hand slid around your throat, the touch neither aggressive nor tender, just a possessive claim that demanded submission.

“You talk like you’re in control,” he continued, the pad of his thumb skimming over your jaw with a teasing familiarity. “But I bet if I slid my hand between your legs right now, I’d find out just how badly you want to be ruined.”

You clenched your jaw, your teeth sinking into your lower lip with enough force to draw blood, a futile effort to suppress any betraying whimper. The metallic taste rubbed against your lips, yet his perception was keen, he saw the flash of vulnerability hidden beneath your facade.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he murmured with a conviction that belied the threat implicit in his words. “But I will break you, sweetheart. In the nicest way possible.” The promise hung between you, potent and undeniable.

His mouth hovered tantalisingly above yours, a hair’s breadth away from sealing the impending conflict. “You’ll come for me without a single touch.”

Drawing a deep breath, you smiled, though tension laced every muscle in your body. “You’re going to have to do better than creepy whispering.”

Sean straightened, retreating with an assured composure that betrayed not a hint of impatience. He deliberately pulled a chair across from you, settled into it with an infuriating leisure, and locked eyes with yours, as if time itself was an expendable resource for him.

And then he started talking.

“I’ll start with your mouth,” he said, his voice a paradoxical blend of gravel and silk that resonated deep in your core. “That pretty little mouth - always moving, always defying. I’d make you beg with it first. Not with words, of course. Whimpers, moans. Those involuntary noises that make you despise how good it feels despite everything.”

He leaned back slightly, his posture opening up as his legs spread, hands resting casually on his thighs as if this was all a perfectly natural exchange.

“Then I’ll pin you to the wall,” he continued, his tone calculating yet teasing. “One hand in your hair, the other between your legs. And I’d command you not to move. But you wouldn’t listen, would you? You’d be too lost, too desperate, grinding down, trying to find what my fingers deny you. And just as you got close, I’d stop, pulling back again and again. Until you begged.”

Your breath caught, a hitch betraying the steady resolve you struggled to maintain.

“I’ll make you look at me the whole time,” he said, the directive carrying an authority that made defiance seem impossible. “Eyes on mine, cheeks flushed with a mix of frustration and desire. Because I want to watch you unravel. Slowly. On the edge, not knowing if it’s heaven or punishment, only knowing it’s mine.”

A tremor coursed through you, and you writhed involuntarily.

Your thighs pressed together instinctively, a reflex beyond conscious control, betraying the thin veneer of composure you fought to uphold.

And that’s when he smiled, a slow, knowing curve of his lips that seemed to pierce through every defence.

“Oh, you felt that,” he observed, his voice low and intimate. “You’re trying not to squirm. Trying to keep that attitude.” His eyes gleamed with a satisfaction that hinted at victory, as if this exchange was part of a larger, more intricate game only he fully understood.

He rose smoothly, his movements effortless. Stepping behind you, Sean let his hand drift down your arm, the touch achingly insufficient, not reaching the places where you craved him most. It teased at the edge of your desperation, leaving a trail of want in its wake.

“I could leave you like this,” he murmured against your neck, his lips brushing lightly against your skin like a whisper of promises unfulfilled. “Frustrated, dripping, completely untouched.”

Your breath hitched, caught in your throat, as if the air itself was complicit in your dilemma.

“But I won’t.”

His words hung in the air, a lingering possibility as he returned to face you, his eyes piercing and intense. “You’re going to ask me to touch you,” he declared with the confidence of a man who knew he was on the brink of victory.

You shook your head, but the gesture was weak, almost feeble, a denial more rooted in pride than conviction. The pulse between your legs was insistent now, as loud as your own heartbeat.

“I don’t beg,” you whispered, the sound barely escaping your lips, as fragile as the resolve you clung to.

Sean crouched down before you, his presence a compelling gravity. His hands settled on your knees, slowly and deliberately coaxing them apart, exposing vulnerability with an ease that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

“You will for me.”

He lowered his mouth to the inside of your knee, placing a kiss as light as air. Then another, higher, the heat of his breath lingering as he moved. His lips traveled upwards in a slow, hot expedition, each kiss an electric spark against sensitive skin, drawing tremors from deep within you. And then he stopped, painfully close to where you ached for him, hovering on the precipice of fulfillment.

Your entire being strained toward him, a magnet drawn inexorably to its counterpart.

He looked up, eyes meeting yours with a demand as clear as spoken words. “Say it.”

“Sean—”

“Say it, or I walk out.”

“Touch me,” you hissed, the words escaping before you could temper them with restraint.

He shook his head, disappointment a mere mirage behind a smirk that promised more. “No.”

You blinked, confusion and frustration warring within you.

“You can do better than that.”

“Please.”

His smirk broadened, satisfaction gleamed in his eyes, the thrill of a predator savouring its conquest.

Sean leaned in, his movements deliberate, and at long last, his mouth found the place where need and torment met. He delivered one slow, devastating lick that sent a jolt through your entire being. His tongue moved with purpose, firm and sinful, exploring every inch of your desire.

He groaned against you, the sound vibrating through you, as if the taste of you stirred something untamed within him as well. His hands gripped your thighs with a possessiveness that kept you open, kept you pinned against the promise of more.

His tongue was relentless—flicking, circling, teasing, and then sucking on your clit until your cries ricocheted off the walls, painting the silence with your ecstasy. He didn’t relent as your body started shaking, didn’t pause when his name left your lips like a fervent prayer. He wanted you undone, wanted you messy.

Your orgasm struck with the force of a tidal wave, sudden and relentless. You cried out, your body bucking against his mouth, but he held you anchored to the storm, guiding you through each trembling climax.

As he pulled back, his mouth bore the evidence of your surrender. His eyes, darker and more intense than you’d ever seen, locked with yours.

“You came for me," he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours, a final acknowledgment of your defeat, "just like I said you would.”

With a deft movement, he unlocked the cuffs, setting you free.

Yet you didn’t run.

Instead, your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, your voice a sultry challenge. “Shut up and fuck me properly.”

His eyes flared, a fiery promise igniting within them.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, lifting you effortlessly, as though you were weightless. “I was counting on that.”

With purpose and possession, he carried you to a table you hadn’t even noticed, laying you down gently as if you were something treasured before claiming you with the fierce urgency of something irrevocably his.

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spaghettificationandpretzels · 1 year ago

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Friendly Encouragement

A/N @darklydeliciousdesires thank you for introducing me to this man. So writing this took like six turns, and it's now become a multi-part childhood best friends-to-lover anthology; this is part one. My confidence is still pretty trash, especially because this is a new fandom/character so I'm not all that happy with this even with the seven rewrites.

Contains: Fluff, supportive Sean, childhood best friends to lover, mild smut.

1.7 K words

After getting some help from Sean, there ends up being some revelations.

The daylight was well and truly gone, and Sean had been pouring over your rejected grant proposal for hours, trying to figure out why it hadn't made the cut.

He lifted his head off his hand, looked away from the paper and shook himself awake before throwing the folder onto the ground and turning to you with his jaw clenched. "I don't get it, love, it's flawless."

You shrugged. "It's also apparently too client focused. Too much about helping people and not enough about the bottom line."

He rolled his eyes, clearly ready to rant about what the heads of charities really got up to, before he stopped himself. "You're going to go back in there tomorrow and demand he reconsider."

You looked at him for a moment, hoping you'd heard him right. "Yeah, that's not going to happen, I don't even know where to start. I'd go to the CEO, but she's travelling, and he'll get ahead of it before I even try."

He was off the couch like a rocket, marching over to you with a determined look set on his face. "Then we'll practice."

He wrapped his strong hand around your upper arm and dragged you to his home office, letting you go a few feet from his desk before sitting down. "Pretend I'm this finance arsehole, we'll work through it together."

You wanted to protest, to tell him he was being silly, but the look on his face told you that you wouldn't be leaving the room until you did what he asked.

You sighed and threw your hands up. "Fine, but I don't see how this is going to help. I am capable of getting things done, it's just him."

He almost looked offended. "I know that, I've known that since you called Mr Bollen a pompous baboon in the fourth grade."

He paused and smiled softly, that disarming smile you had seen him use so many times before. "Think of me as an empty space, I'm not going to do anything other than sit here so you can bounce your ideas around."

You huffed. "Fine."

You left the room and closed the door, taking a deep breath before knocking twice. "Come in."

You walked in, head held high and back straight like you did that morning, and met Sean's eye, his serious look preventing you from laughing. "Mr. Campbell, I think you should reconsider my grant. The numbers page on page six made it clear that it's doable and…"

Your thoughts left you, and you flopped down onto one of the office chairs. "This isn't going to work."

Sean wasn't put off and reached across the table to grab your hand. "He's not the first pig you've had to deal with, he won't be the last. Now what's tripping you up?"

Sean had a knack for getting information out of people, so there was no point in lying, you just had to say it carefully so no one ended up dead.

It wasn't really that hard to relent with the way he was looking at you, his face neutral but his eyes full of twinkling affection that almost looked more than friendly, it made your heart flutter. "I'm pretty sure I lost the grant because I refused to go to the luncheon. I didn't think the money that could be going to the program should be spent on drinks."

You saw the fleeting glimmer of anger in his sea blue eyes, but it was gone in a flash, and you continued. "This isn't the sixties. He gave the grant to one of his drinking buddies, and it's not going to help anyone, and I can't do this because if I'm alone in a room with that prick, I'm going to hit him."

Sean chuckled and patted your hand lovingly. "Ah, love, you might not want to hear this, but you need to sink to his level." Your eyes went wide, and you stuttered about being unable to do that, but he cut you off. "I'm not talking about blackmail, just let him know that all it would take for him to lose his job is an off hand comment in the lift while the CEO is there."

You sighed, he was right, as always. He took in your look of resignation with a smile and waved his hand. "Well then, up you get. Once we can get through this without that bleeding heart of yours balking, I'll order in from your favourite restaurant."

You raised your eyebrows and shook your head. "Bribery, Sean, really?"

He still hadn't let so of your hand, and his thumb rubbed your skin affectionately. "Only the best for my favourite girl."

****

You were still riding the high of how well it all went when you showed up at Sean's. There was no point in knocking; the Wallace house was your second home, and you practically lived there. You waved to Mrs Wallace as you walked by the kitchen, and she gestured towards Sean's room to let you know where he was.

You rapped on the door, and his voice floated through the wood. "Come in." He grinned when he laid eyes on you and popped up from his small desk to greet you. "You're smiling, so it went well. Tell me everything."

It all came out in an excited flurry, going between telling him what had happened and explaining how the head of finance had squirmed like a coward the more you spoke. Sean's grin only grew until he was close to laughing, accepting your thanks graciously as you wrapped your arms around him.

He could feel your excitement as you spoke and he couldn't find it in himself to let you go as you finally slowed down and it became his turn to speak. "I'm very proud of you y/n." He paused, wondering if the tone of the hug was really changing or if he was just imagining it, but he took his chance anyway. "And it is I that should be thanking you, the way you have handled the last year has been admirable."

He didn't know how to put the rest of his thoughts into words, that you were all he thought of when he was away, that despite being back at the top, he felt achingly lonely when you weren't around, that he's loved you since he was sixteen. He tightened his arms around you and buried his nose in your hair. "I love you."

It wasn't a strange thing for him to say; you said it to each other all the time; it was the way he said it that gave you pause, but you replied nevertheless. "I love you too Sean."

"Not like that." He pulled away from the embrace, but only enough to place his hand on your cheek. "I've loved you since you showed up on my doorstep in that bubble gum pink dress the night of that stupid year ten dance."

It felt like a dream, the way he tucked a strand of hair behind your ears as he gazed at you like you were the most precious thing on earth. "Your mother bought me that dress. It was hideous."

The distance between you got smaller as you both leaned in, and he whispered against your lips. "I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen." His nose brushed yours, and his other hand left your back so he could hold your face in his hands as you moved yours to his shoulders. "You are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

When his lips found yours, it was like you had the last breath on earth between your lips. Your hands wove into his hair, and you moved in step towards his bed, finally stopping when the backs of your knees hit the edge. You pulled away from each other breathless, his hands moving to your shirt as you spoke. "I knew before you."

He chuckled as he pecked your cheek, his beard brushing your skin as he made his way to your neck. "Is that so?"

"It is." You broke contact only long enough for him to pull your shirt over your head, his polo following as you took in the sight of his bare chest. He was all lean muscle wrapped in pale, freckled skin.

He licked his lips as his eyes raked over your bare skin, then his lips were down your neck to your chest as he reached behind you to unclasp your bra. "When?"

It was hard to reply with his plump lips sealing around your nipple, but he looked at you through his red eyelashes in a way that let you know that silence wasn't an option. "Two weeks before the dance when that Harrison freak ruined my science project after I turned him down and you punched him."

He smiled against your skin before nipping you, the bite of his teeth sending a shiver up your spine. His lips found yours again as your hands moved to his belt, your fingers played with the buckle for a moment, but it was your turn to smile as you moved your hand down to palm his rapidly hardening cock through his black trousers.

It seemed to be tit for tat with him because he slid his hand down from your rib cage to use his long and dexterous fingers to pop open your pants, dispensing with any teasing so he could graze his fingertips over your bare flesh. Your breath caught in your chest as he slid his fingers through your slit, stopping for a moment to rub your clit before they continued with their nonsense patterns.

He parted from you briefly, his face flushed with lust as you managed to get his pants off and pushed them down enough to get your hand on his cock. He gathered himself enough to look at you like he wanted to swallow you whole and kissed his way to your ear to speak. "We have some catching up to do." With that, his hand left your pants, and he brought his fingers up to his lips to lick you off of them.

The sight was enough to make your knees buckle. "Yes, we do."

His lips were restless as you moved onto the bed to lie on your back, and then he was ripping your bottoms off, underpants and all, before shedding his own. "You're not leaving this bed until midday tomorrow."

His fingers were back on your centre, and the look in his eyes was positively heartstopping, a mix of lust and love that made it feel like your skin was on fire. "That's fine with me."

Fin

@daydreaming-belle

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