dreamland (bill skarsgard one shots)

01. kneel

WARNING: this work includes adult themes, including, daddy kink, oral (male on female), choking, swearing, and general filth

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"Get on your knees."

The words, familiar words, were forthright, demanding, said without so much as a thought due to them being used so often. When they were spoken, it was certain their recipient was supposed to obey.

But then the word "no," was uttered, which turned everything over on its head.

Viridian eyes laced with shock flickered to meet your own, and the quirk of an eyebrow soon followed. "Excuse me?" His voice was low, hinted with amusement and a bit of frustration.

"I'm sorry, did I stutter? I said, no." Words sure to earn a smack to the mouth, of course.

But the gentle, reprimanding tap against your cheek never came. Instead, nimble fingers curled beneath your chin, lifting your head slightly so he could fully look you in the eye. There was a smile tugging at the corners of his rosy lips, though it was clear he was trying to hide it.

"Am I missing something here?" Were the next set of words to leave his mouth.

"Nope. I just don't wanna get on my knees."

"Oh really? Well then, what does the princess want? A few smacks to her ass to remind her of her place?" Teasing, but stern. You were treading dangerous ground.

"Actually..." You walked your fingers up the buttons of his now wrinkled dress shirt. "What I really want is for the king to bow before me instead."

Those slender fingers stroked your cheek as his mouth formed a wicked grin. "You really want to play it like that, princess? Do I need to remind you that whenever you demand your way, it never ends well for you?"

He was right, after all. Often times, you would end up with a painfully sore bottom if you decided to misbehave. You never minded the spankings, but there was a difference between receiving them for pleasure and receiving them as discipline.

"Oh, but daddy," you breathed, hand now snaking down between his legs. "I just wanna have a little fun."

He grabbed your hand, quick as lightning. "And I don't remember giving you permission." This was all just a game. A dance that you both knew all too well. Bill was used to this by now. He shouldn't have been surprised that you were demanding your own way, using that tone of voice you knew made his head spin, pulling the daddy card on him.

"Hm, let me see," he spoke, lifting your hand to place it on his chest before lowering his own. "If I remember correctly, something of yours belongs to me." Then his hand was between your thighs, cupping you through your underwear. You pressed yourself against him, failing to suppress the squeak that slipped past your lips.

"Let me hear you say it."

Now he had you where he wanted you, and your sudden need for dominance began to dissipate. He always knew how to turn you to putty in his hands. "My pussy belongs to you."

He smiled again. "Mm, yes it does sweet girl." This was him. Stern when he needed or wanted to be, but wonderfully charming all at the same time. His words poured past his lips like dark, rich wine. They had the same lulling affect as alcohol, too.