#It outlines something that makes him really hard to talk about for me but also something I love dearly about him

[fruitsofhell]

I did in fact forget Galacta's birthday was on the 22nd, but I don't think my brain did cause I was literally up till 4am thinking about him for no real reason that night/morning lol

[iimplicitt]

hiii 🤠 anon here

how do you feel about writing for mafia lando where he’s married to the reader who’s not his choice it’s basically an arrangement and his family hates her and she’s having a really hard time in his house and Lando doesn’t notice and he’s cold and one day her family causes her to have a panic attack and he sees her in his room all small and scared and then he helps her and makes her a feel better and etc something about a heated confession and people being put in their place. if you do write this thank you :)

HAPPINESS IS A BUTTERFLY | LN4

pairings: mafia! lando x arranged marriage reader

an/warnings: arranged marriage, violence, mentions of abusive parents, angst, panic attacks, fluff, hea

wc: 5.2k

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

He bit the inside of his cheek as he watched the sleek back car roll up in the long drive way from his office. Windows tinted but he could make out the faint outline of a person as they moved around before Oscar got out of the car to open the door for its passenger.

His new wife.

The words tasted sour on his tongue as he drank some of his whiskey, not caring that it was nine in the morning. He needed a pick-me-up for the day that was ahead.

Gleaming hair caught in the sunlight, a delicate hand with a blinding diamond hesitantly taking Oscar’s as red bottom Louis’ met the pavement.

His eyes narrowed a bit as he watched you, mere curiosity to see how you acted when he wasn’t around. When the wedding happened it was short and extravagant. All the glitz and glamour expected of such a pair. A politician's daughter and a booming business man whose money usually came tinted red. A shame that most of the world didn’t know your fathers money was just as dirty as his.

It was an alliance in London’s eyes. A step towards peace.

He hadn’t even seen you until the white lace veil was lifted.

You were pretty but that wasn’t enough to suddenly sway his mind into liking the whole arrangement. He didn’t have much choice. Having coppers on a payroll was a deal too good to pass up, so he agreed. Shook hands. It hadn’t mattered much, not in the long run. Lando was always busy. Always working. If a marriage hadn’t been forced upon him, he didn’t think he would’ve ever had a ring on his finger.

He watched silently as you waited for Oscar to grab your bags. Your eyes flickering around the property, taking in the well kept gardens and security cameras mounted every few yards. A fortress.

His eyes took in the dress you wore, expensive silk draped over skin. Flowing like liquid in the subtle summer breeze. He took note of how your hand kept flexing, the one with a ring. His ring.

The one he had slid on your finger a week ago as he whispered, “I do.” Your own voice low as you muttered the vow, eyes not meeting his.

He could barely remember what the kiss had been like. It was quick, soft. Obligatory. Both of you seemed relieved it was over with, arms linked with one another as you left the cathedral. White flower petals falling into hair as they were tossed into the sky.

Lando set his tumbler down and backed away from the window, trying to take a calming breath before walking downstairs. He needed to make this livable. An ecosystem. Staying out of each other's way, respecting boundaries. Telling where and what was off bounds. If you needed help, ask Oscar. If you wanted someone to talk to, also ask Oscar. Leave him be, because he was busy.

You seemed reasonable enough in the few minutes of shared company. You knew this was a business transaction. It wasn’t something to get hopes up on. Lando knew you were smart enough not to be a burden so hopefully it would feel like nothing had changed. Just an extra person in the household. Another echoing voice.

He could hear the sharp click of your heels as you entered the front foyer, the soft sound of your voice as you spoke in hushed tones. Your whole presence seemed cautious. Like you were treading in a minefield.

As he stepped down the stairs and into the light, your eyes met. The air shifting. Tense. Dangerous. Your painted lips pressed into a line as you waited for instruction. Ever obedient. Compliance being woven into you as a child.

He had met your father on more than one occasion and he knew he wasn’t a kind man.

But the problems of your past were yours.

Lando sighed lightly through his nose, head tilting and hands in pockets as he let himself look at you for another moment before dismissing Oscar.

The foyer was still. The only thing he could hear was the faint hum of electricity and birds outside. Watching you as you watched him.

“Nice drive?” He asked, not quite sure on the formalities of the situation.

You laughed slightly, the sound coming out in a short exhale as you looked away from him. “It was fine.”

He hummed, not seeing a point in furthering the conversation and he gestured for you to follow him.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

The summer had gone by in a repetition of droning days and lonely dinners. The only thing keeping you company were the few books you packed, although you had already read through them all. An endless cycle of talking to the walls and sitting near your window, feeling like a modern day Rapunzel.

It’s not necessarily like you weren’t allowed to go anywhere, but it still felt off limits. Frowned upon. A burden if you were seen walking the halls.

His family didn’t like you very much. Which you both understood yet couldn’t come to terms with. They had to have known this wasn’t any more of your choice than it was his. And why shovel the blame onto someone’s child? It wasn’t your fault your father was corrupted and played a better hand.

Pressing your forehead against the cool glass, you watched as the world went by. The silent hum of air conditioning was the only thing to droll out your thoughts and lately it hadn’t been working. The room felt suffocating but there was no one to turn to. Even voicing your thoughts out loud to yourself seemed like some boundary was being crossed. Maybe even to yourself. That you were starting to get too comfortable.

Oscar seemed nice enough. Timid. Not sure how to approach you or if he even should. He brought your meals to your door like clock work. Part of you felt bad but the thought of eating in the dining room seemed like suicide. You had tried the first night, assuming that was just part of the routine. To have dinner with your…husband.

But Lando was nowhere to be found, leaving you at a large oak table alone and shoveling food around. Appetite non-existent. Oscar had told you he usually took dinner in his office. That most of the other members of the household ate out.

His words hit you dully as you stared at the polished wood, not quite believing this was going to be the rest of your life. Then again, you weren’t sure what you wanted. Did you want Lando to make an effort? Did you even want to be around him? You didn’t know much, just that he was a bad man. But aren’t they all? Apparently that’s all the world thought you were fit for. Violent men with money in their eyes.

No, you didn’t want to know him.

But god, loneliness caught up to everyone.

The hours ticked by and you sat there, tracing lines into the skin of your thighs with your nail. Over and over again till skin prickled and red lines appeared. The itch and sting foreign, numb. As if you’d shot your heart with novacaine. Your eyes unblinking as you did the action, pure muscle memory. You didn’t have to think. You didn’t want to.

At least you never wanted to think about yourself. Your situation. The listless marriage you now found yourself trapped in.

But your mind would wander. What did he get up to? What did he even do? Was it really any different from the current political affairs the nation got up to? Would he one day change his mind and want more?

The thought made you shiver, eyes trailing to your locked door. He’d never tried to come in. Hell, he’d never even been to your room. In the weeks you’d been there you had probably only seen him a handful of times. Walking down the hall and his eyes would catch yours for a moment but nothing else. Looking through you like a ghost. Cold. Indifferent. Sometimes you’d hear him in the house. Talking to Oscar or on the phone. Always business. Always something you didn’t understand.

He couldn’t seem bothered at the thought of you being around. Didn’t seem interested. And that weird, fucked up little voice in the back of your mind whispered that Lando was keeping himself entertained just fine. That he found comfort in other women. Having affairs. You barely felt married. There weren't technically any commitments beyond regurgitated vows. So why did the thought still make your stomach churn?

Perhaps it was the feeling of being unwanted. A constant companion of doubt. Your family didn’t want you, pawned you off. Your husband didn’t want you. You would never get to experience love. You’d go through life longing for creature comforts—

You pressed your forehead harder into the glass. Wanting the thoughts to stop. You pushed so hard you hoped it’d break and you’d go hurtling towards the ground.

There was a sharp knock on the door. Six o’clock sharp.

Dinner.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

You felt like you were going insane. The walls bending inward. The wallpaper swirling. The ceiling breathing.

Crazy.

Wandering the halls was reckless but you started to care less and less if Lando saw you. For the first time in months you wanted him to see you. Be reminded that you were there. Proof you were alive. You were here. Even when it never felt like it. You felt like a phantom who haunted the house, mostly only coming out at night when the rest of the world slept. Chasing the creaks of wood and following the patterns in the rug. Chasing something. Feeling wild. Deranged like a white rabbit who was late for tea.

His mother yelled at you. For something, you weren’t sure what. It seemed like no matter what you did you were wrong. Skin not fitting right over bones. Disassociating and staring at her. That only made her more mad and she slapped you. Not for the first time. Hard across the face. You hadn’t noticed till you heard the echo of it around the kitchen. Didn’t realise till some of the staff gasped, hands flying over mouths. Glowing wide eyes staring at you in shock.

You blinked again, subtle warmth creeping into your cheek. Hand slowly going up to hold your face. What had you done wrong? Why were you always wrong?

His mother scoffed. “You’re no good. You’re not even all the way there are you?” With a look of disgust she turned away, disappearing down the hall.

One of the cooks slowly approached you, as if you were some wounded animal. Holding out a pack of ice. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“For what?” Your voice sounded distant. Distorted. Like it was coming from somewhere else. Taking the ice, you left. Letting it sit in your hand instead, the bitter coldness of it sending a dull shock up your arm.

You felt like crying. At least you thought about it. But nothing would fall out. Your eyes felt dry and heavy. Staring at nothingness as you walked with your heartbeat thudding in your ears.

This was your life. This was going to be your forever. Sucked into yet another man's orbit who didn’t give a shit about you. Because fuck what you want, right?

You turned into what you thought was your bedroom. You weren’t quite sure how you got there. It had been odd lately. Like moments of time blacked out. Arriving one place and not knowing how you got there. Tuning out to your depressing reality.

You were going to die alone. It wasn’t even your fault. Or maybe it was. Maybe you should’ve tried harder. Fought your father and left as soon as you had turned of age. Why didn’t you try harder to fight back? Did some twisted part of you want this? The lack of effort. Things being handed to you. Maybe you thought you deserved it. After all, you'd been living off your fathers dirty money guilt free. Perhaps this was just your karma.

Longing for a life you’d never have.

You sucked in a sharp breath, tears finally beginning to prick at your eyes. The droplets stung so bad your vision went blurry.

You barely felt it as your knees hit the hard wooden floors. Didn’t register the scratching sound of your nails dragging against the planks, blindly trying to crawl your way out of the hell you were living. Feeling pathetic and ungrateful because you knew it could be worse. It could always be worse.

A sob left your throat, bubbling up and out like acid.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

The door flew open to his office and he was about to yell at whoever had the audacity when he turned, paused. The look on Oscar’s face wasn’t one commonly seen.

“What?”

“There’s a problem.”

Lando sighed, tapping his pen on his desk. “Care to elaborate?”

“It’s your mother and your wife.”

Lando reared back slightly at the word. It wasn’t thrown around often. Hell, he hardly saw you. And when he did, when he’d catch you wandering around well past three in the morning something was just…off. He didn't know how to approach you. Or if he even should. You’d seemed equally disinterested by his company. Staring at him sometimes like he was an apparition that wasn’t meant to be there.

He wouldn’t blame you if you hated his guts. Lando knew most women would prefer a love filled marriage compared to whatever the hell they had.

“What about them?” He asked, eyes flicking down to his papers again. Not seeing why—

“The staff said there was an altercation in the kitchen.”

Pausing, his eyes flicked up. Brow raising.

Oscar sighed, “your wife is in your room.”

That got him up. What the hell were you doing in there? And why? It wasn’t like he kept important documents in there, he knew better than that but he still didn’t trust you much. You were your fathers daughter. Maybe this was all some ploy to get into his personal things, find weaknesses, cracks.

His feet moved briskly down the hall, his polished shoes clicking dully on the ornate rugs and painted eyes followed him as he went. Lando didn’t pause as he saw his door, didn’t pause as he turned the handle.

“What do—“

Lando halted to a stop as his eyes found you. Feeling as if the earth had been yanked out from beneath him when he heard you try to smother the sound of your crying with a hand. Curled up in the space between his bed and the nightstand. Looking so small as you trembled.

Your eyes didn’t meet his. He wasn’t even sure if you heard him come in. Your breathing was too fast, too ragged. Short bursts of oxygen, your lungs not being able to keep up.

He shut the door softly behind him and quietly made his way over to you, lowering himself to his knees. Debating if he should touch you or not. You hadn’t touched in months. Not since the wedding.

“Hey,” his voice was soft and you flinched. Head shooting up and staring at him. He’d never seen you look so frightened and you tried to push yourself back harder into the wall. Shaking your head as if he’d caught you doing something wrong.

He immediately caught the red outline of a hand on your cheek. His jaw clenched. An odd, unbearably awful sensation churned in his stomach at the thought of someone hurting you. Knowing it was his mother only made the fire burn hotter. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t like you were close. But the rage was itching up his spine like a spider.

“You’re okay,” he said again. His voice was rough, but a whisper. He reached out to you, slowly. Hands gently taking hold of you as he pulled your shaking frame into his, feeling the way your lungs struggled to catch up. Your muscles coiled in tension as he touched you. He hated it.

“You’re alright, darling.” He soothed your hair back, feeling your nails bite into his skin as you twisted the fabric of his shirt. Trying to ground yourself. Trying to make sense of it all. Of why he was here.

He knew it had to be confusing. That his sudden reassurance was off putting and regret was starting to inch its way up his throat. The spindly legs tickling and desperate. He should’ve handled this whole thing better. It was selfish. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. Holding your head beneath his chin as you tried to calm down. “I’m here, if you need me to be.”

You didn’t say anything. He wasn’t sure what to do. Where to go from there. This was new territory for him. Second guessing wasn’t usually in Lando’s playbook but you were something new entirely.

He began to lean away but your grip tightened on his shirt, your head pressing further into the crook of his neck.

Sighing, he maneuvered himself into a sitting position, holding you in his lap as he leaned against his bed. Giving you time. Gently running circles into the nape of your neck. His grandmother always did that for him, it always seemed to help calm him down. Lando waited patiently, taking in the faint scent of your shampoo. Smiling to himself a bit despite everything because it was the same one he used.

Slowly your harsh breathing began to subside but your body still trembled from the aftershocks.

His fingers still ran lightly over your skin, his voice a low hum and he could feel the vibration of his own rib cage with your weight against him. “I’ve had panic attacks too, you know?”

You didn’t do anything for a moment, and then, like the first break of daylight, you slightly shifted your head and your voice was a whisper. “Really?”

“Mhm.”

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Something had shifted. Maybe others wouldn’t have noticed, but you did. That next morning there was a knock on your bedroom door. Eight o’clock sharp. You hadn’t slept much, your eyes still raw and body restless from the previous evening. The feeling of his light, delicate touch on you was on replay in the back of your mind. You hadn’t been held in what felt like years.

You hadn’t expected such kindness from him.

Padding over to the door, you rubbed at your eyes, trying to look alive before opening it. “Morning, Oscar–” you blinked at the form of Lando standing in the hall. Wearing a casual linen shirt and dress pants, jacket draped over one arm and he looked at you expectantly.

“Ready?” He asked.

You felt dumb as you continued to stare at him. Not expecting to see him so soon. Not thinking he’d even want to see you after yesterday’s mess. “What?”

He sighed lightly through his nose. “We’re going out for breakfast.”

“Why?”

There was a slight crease forming between his brows. “Do you not want to?”

You blinked again before reality finally caught up to you. “No, no. That’s fine. Just… let me get dressed.” You eyed him as you shut the door. He was acting weird.

It was nice.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

“What on earth are you doing?” His mother shouted over the sound of a power drill. Standing in the doorway with her arms crossed.

Lando looked at her for only a moment. Still cross with her after the kitchen incident a couple of weeks ago. He had yelled at her after he managed to get you into bed. Yelled at his whole family. The staff, for not telling him.

“She is the lady of the household and my wife. You do not touch her, you do not say a fucking word to her unless it’s praise.” He looked directly at his mother. “Understood?”

“I’m building a reading nook.” He finally said, standing back to look at his progress so far. He took you to the fabric store yesterday but you were beyond indecisive and he wasn’t sure the new couch went with the interior of his office.

He had been trying to go out more, just small places. When he found out you hadn’t left the house since you arrived he was confused and furious with Oscar. His friend and right hand had merely raised his hands in surrender, muttering how you had never wanted to go anywhere.

“Whatever for? Since when do you read for pleasure?” His mother asked, mostly teasing. Trying to weave her way back into his good graces. He doubted that would ever happen. He was on the verge of throwing her out but you managed to talk him out of it.

“It’s not for me.” Lando left it at that. Watching how his mother’s shoulders fell at the realisation and she turned away.

He smiled slightly to himself as he set up the couch, pushing it under the window so you could get good light and a nice view of the gardens. Plus, he could watch you more easily from his desk when he worked.

You looked pretty when you were reading.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ���̩͙୨

For the first time in months you were bored, and not in a bad way. Lando made sure there was always something for you to do when he wasn’t around. Part of you felt bad, following him around like a kicked puppy. But any time you’d start to back off, give him some space, it was like his hand blindly found yours, not even looking up from his work, tugging you back.

Muttering a quiet, “stay.”

You tried to ignore the butterflies that began fluttering in your stomach, chasing after whatever this was. You didn’t know why you felt stubborn over it. He was your husband after all, butterflies are supposed to be a good thing.

You took up cooking as a hobby, mostly different kinds of fresh pasta. Trying to keep your hands steady as Lando would walk behind you, fingers lightly dragging along the small over your back. Leaning over your shoulder, lips nearly brushing your neck as he quietly spoke, “that looks lovely.”

He always spoke so softly to you. His touch always delicate.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Lando fixed his cuff links as he stood in the foyer, making sure his suit was wrinkle free in the large mirror. There was a big Christmas gala that night in London. A whole cluster of politicians, businessmen, philanthropists, etc. He didn’t have much of a role to play besides being seen, given his bookies did most of the under the table work.

When he’d asked you to go with him, you hesitated. He knew seeing your father was something you’d like to avoid. Over time you slowly opened up to him about how strained the relationship was.

He had lifted a hand to your cheek, gently brushing his knuckles along your cheekbones, watching in satisfaction as your pupils expanded at his touch. “I won't let him near you,” he whispered. Watching as you debated before eventually nodding, leaning slightly into his touch.

When he heard the sound of heels clicking sharply against marble flooring his eyes flicked up, watching you approach in the mirror. Looking like heaven in high heels. Your black dress fit you perfectly, the white fur shawl was draped lazily over your shoulders.

Lando felt his mouth go dry as he turned, his heartbeat pounding in his ears as you approached. The sweet smell of your perfume swirling around him, making him feel hazy.

God, if you knew what you did to him.

It seemed like every night now that he dreamt of kissing you, doing a whole list of unruly things. Despite the ring on his hand and yours it still felt off limits. Not feeling sure of what you actually wanted.

“Ready?” You asked, a small smile playing on your lips.

He blinked at you, still in a daze. “What?”

You bit your lip, holding back a laugh and he felt his stomach pool.

“The gala. Yes, right.” He cleared his throat, not thinking twice as he took your hand. “Let’s go.”

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

You felt all the eyes on you as he took you around the dance floor. The whispers. Lando Norris’ wife who he liked to keep hidden away. Apparently most people hadn’t even known he was married. They thought you were just a new date till they saw the blinding diamond on your finger and his matching gold one.

You felt stiff. Too perceived.

But he lightly took hold of your chin between his fingers, making you look at him.

“It’s just you and me, love.”

Love. You felt equally reassured and nauseous.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Lando was using every excuse he could to touch you. Hand splaying on the small of your back where your dress dipped low. Fingers lightly brushing the back of your neck as he talked to the other guests. Hand on your thigh beneath the table. When he’d first done it you jumped slightly and his heart skipped a beat when you looked at him, eyes low, before turning away again and taking a sip of your wine.

He couldn’t help it as his lips pulled back slightly when he began to rub circles with his thumb, feeling the muscles of your leg tighten. But you leaned toward him, an invitation. He felt more drunk off of you than any wine he had been drinking.

He’d only see glimpses of your father. Lingering to the side of the ballroom walls. Whispering in corners with other greedy men. His eyes always on you, though.

Lando didn’t like it. Then again he never liked anything enough for that to be a fair test. But he knew never to ignore his intuition, so he took your hand in his and tugged you along until you were outside, the cold December air twirling around them.

You shivered as you waited for the valet to pull his McLaren around, blushing a bit when he draped his jacket over your shoulders. Or maybe it was just the wind, he wasn’t sure. But he’d liked to think he made you flustered.

The engine purred as he drove away, feeling your eyes on him as city lights flicked back.

“Why’d we leave early?” You finally asked.

His grip adjusted on the steering heel, looking in the rearview mirror, always vigilant. He hadn’t realised till now that going public made you a target. Made him vulnerable.

“Just wanted to,” is all he offered. Not wanting to scare you. He knew you already had a difficult time adjusting to his world. Then again he shouldn’t cut you any credit. Growing up with your father couldn’t have been any easier.

You hummed, not believing him. Your eyes finally pulled away to stare out the window. Letting him relax. It was strange, having somebody for the first time see him. The thought was equally relieving and terrifying.

When they pulled up to the house the car fell quiet, a heavy silence falling over like a blanket. He wanted to say more to you, but what? This was all new territory and the thought of messing up this bridge he’d built—

“Lando.”

He turned, looking at you as moonlight painted your skin through the window.

You reached forward, hand taking his, “I know you’ll keep me safe.” Another pause and you played with his wedding ring. “I trust you.”

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

A loud thud woke you up, your heart beating erratically as your door handle began to move. Thankful that you had locked it but fear was still crawling up your spine. You were just about to reach for your phone to call someone for help when a ragged voice poured out from the other side, weakly saying your name. The sound of a body slumping to the floor.

Lando.

You quickly tore off the sheets, stumbling a bit in the dark and you yanked your door open. A hand flying up to your mouth as you took in the state of him. Bruised and slick with blood, one arm wrapped around his rib cage, his breath rattling.

His eyes cracked open, gleaming in the low lamp light of the hall. His lips pulling back in a bloodied grin.

“Hello, darling.”

“Oh my god,” you did your best to get him up, almost falling under his weight as you maneuvered him to your bathroom. “What happened?”

Your heart lurched as Lando coughed, turning his head to spit out some blood into the bin and he sat himself up on the sink. Wincing as he did so. Not answering you.

“Lando,” you said quietly, afraid that even loud noises would hurt him and you gently took hold of his face in your hands. Not caring blood and dirt would get on them. Gently running your thumbs along his cheek bones.

He seemed to melt into you, letting his head fall forward and rest against yours as you brushed the damp curls back. Seeing him like this was a new kind of pain you never wanted to experience again.

“Who did this to you?” Although your voice was gentle, there was a layer of conviction under it that even surprised you.

He sighed, a wheeze coming up from the back of his throat and his hands came up to hold onto your wrists. You didn’t miss his cracked and bleeding knuckles.

“I have a duty of care,” he muttered.

Your father. You felt like throwing up.

Gently pulling his head forward, you held him to you. Letting his heartbeat bring some life back into you. He was okay. He was here. He came back to you. Everything would be fine.

Slowly, Lando’s arms wrapped around you, holding you as tight as he could.

“I’m going to kill him,” you mumbled into his hair and he laughed, not caring that it hurt.

He leaned his head back slightly, eyes flicking between your own and your lips. His hand that had snaked up to the back of your neck pulling you in slightly. Hesitant. Then all at once.

Mouths colliding, a kiss that felt like a tuning fork struck against a star.

His fingers twined in your hair and you tried to be gentle with him. As much as you could. But the feeling of finally was making you feel weightless. Reckless. Desperate as he held you tighter.

You felt high as he whispered the words my wife between kisses.

“So much for a marriage of convenience,” you managed after you pulled away. You didn’t want to, but he needed your help.

He smiled again, those dimples you loved so much deepening in his cheeks. “Nah,” he said lightly. “I think this will be a marriage of inconvenience.”

And he kissed you again.

taglist: @theonottsbxtch @fortunapre @c8lap1nto @ashbone

[notafunkiller]

tying you to me

Summary: When your boss, Bucky, apologizes for being rude to you once again, things take an unexpected turn.

Pairing: boss!Bucky Barnes x marketing director!female reader

Warnings: 18+, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, sir kìnk, breasts insecurity, protected séx, bøndage, a little degrading, praising kìnk, language, implied aftercare, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 5.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you'll enjoy it!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

He’s well aware he went too far. He noticed right when he finished talking and took a look at you, but what is said is said. And the last thing he wants is Steve annoying him about the meeting.

“I don’t question the way you deal with employees, do I?” Bucky snaps, tired and really wanting this day to be over.

“What has gotten into you? What bothers you so much about her? I just don’t get it.”

Bucky sighs deeply, rubbing his hand across his face in frustration. “It’s not just one thing,” he mutters, his tone weighed down by a mix of tiredness and anger. “It’s a culmination... She’s fucking impossible.”

“Bucky, I get you’re upset, but taking it out on her isn’t fair. She did an incredible job, but you didn’t even listen to her. What’s really going on here?”

“I feel like she’s not seeing the bigger picture. We disagree constantly, and it’s making things difficult. Maybe I overreacted, but it’s been building up for a while.” Bucky leans in as he speaks, with his shoulders slightly hunched forward. His voice carries an edge that Steve notices immediately. He knows there is something about you that affects Bucky, but he can’t quite put the finger on it. Ever since he hired you, Bucky’s been angry with him too, which has happened only two or three times over twenty years of friendship.

“I can see this is really affecting you, Buck. If there’s something personal or if my decision to bring her on board has caused you any discomfort, talk to me. I just wanna make sure everything’s okay between us.”

He leans back a bit, surprised. “Personal? No, it’s not… it’s not about that,” he stammers, searching for the right words. There’s a subtle shake of his head, almost as if he’s trying to dismiss his own thoughts. He wishes there was a personal connection so badly that it messes with his head…

“Then what is it? I didn’t mean to jump to conclusions. I know you hate when things are not under your control, but I made the right call to hire her. And you were really unfair to her, look,” Steve waves around as he speaks, and Bucky turns to look at you through the glass door. You’re still there… working. “She’s not just smart and creative, but also ambitious and hard working. I know how much you value this as well.”

“I didn’t mean to come off unfairly. It’s just…” Bucky sighs, moving to shift his gaze back to Steve. “Our ways clash, and it’s hard to manage it. I value her skills, but finding a middle ground seems impossible sometimes.”

“Look, Buck, I understand it’s tough, but it’s important to listen to her ideas too,” Steve responds, his voice carrying a firm yet empathetic tone. “Today? You didn’t even look over the outlines. Try giving her ideas a chance or just suggest new things without trashing all of her work. You’d be offended too.” He pauses, and Bucky’s focus is back on you. His eyes narrow slightly, studying your determined expression as you delve into whatever you are working on that he dismissed today. And for a few seconds a pang of guilt flickers across Bucky’s expression, which Steve immediately catches. He clears his throat and continues. “I understand it’s not easy to step back and apologize, but it’s not about who’s right or wrong. And, to be honest, you were wrong anyway. It’s about ensuring a healthy workplace.”

“I appreciate your perspective, Steve,” he begins with a calm voice. “But I don’t think it would make a difference.” His gaze briefly flickers towards you before returning to Steve.

“Trust me, it’ll make a difference, not just for her but also for the team. Give it a shot.” Steve smiles, patting him on the chest before standing up. “I’ll leave you to it. It’s so late.”

“Alright, lovebird, off to your nest?” Bucky teases. “Natasha’s waiting for her captain. Better not keep her waiting too long.”

Steve chuckles. “Well, someone’s got to keep the romance alive around here. Good night.”

“Night...”

*

The audacity of this man is unbelievable. After all that shit he pulled on you today, he has the nerve to order your food! He’s the reason why you’re still working at eight pm instead of lying on your couch.

You are so close to crying out of exhaustion and anger, but you won’t give him this satisfaction. And you won’t eat his food.

“Are you seriously gonna starve yourself?”

“I’m not hungry,” you retort, your voice sharper than intended as you give him an annoyed look.

Bucky’s expression softens instantly, a hint of concern flickering across his face. “Come on, you’ve been working the whole day” he insists, trying to reason with you. “You need to eat something. Did you even drink water?”

You shake your head weakly.

“Look, I-”

“If you don’t like Pizza, I can grab you something else.”

You raise your hand, waving around. “I appreciate it, but I’m fine. I’ll eat something when I get home.”

The idea of accepting anything from him like this feels wrong. You don’t want his pity.

“Stubborn as ever,” he sighs, muttering under his breath, and you look up to meet his gaze. For a moment, there’s a silent understanding between you, an unspoken acknowledgment of the tension lingering from earlier.

What did Steve tell him to make him actually try to have a decent conversation?

“Look, sir,” you say through your teeth. “I don’t want your pity. I appreciate your concern, but I’ll manage. I just need to finish this.”

“This isn’t about pity.” His tone is firm. “You’re exhausted, and I’m just trying to help.”

“I said I’m fine. I’ll be done with these.” You lift your papers to emphasize. “And get home.”

“You’re not fine!” he shoots, surprising you. “And you’re too stubborn to see it!”

You’ve never seen him screaming before. Even when he is angry, he’s always the silent type.

“Don’t you dare!” you fire back all of a sudden, unable to hold back. If you’ll get fired, at least you should speak your mind properly. You can’t take more of this. He can’t step on you without consequences. “You are the reason why I am here anyway. Don’t play the concerned hero, just take your food and eat it...” You pause for a second before sarcastically adding. “Sir.”

“This isn’t just about the food, is it?” Bucky’s voice softens slightly despite his impulse to raise his voice again. “It’s about the meeting.” You keep looking him in the eyes, not denying the obvious. Of course it’s about the meeting. “Look, I am sorry, I know I should have handled things differently, but I’m trying to make it right.”

“You think a wannabe apology and food make everything okay?” You ask bitterly, standing up. “You humiliated me, Mr. Barnes. You didn’t even hear me out, you didn’t even listen to my ideas, what the team and I managed to do in the last few months. You disrespected them too! And I don’t get it...” You hate how tall he is. How perfectly his suit is ironed. How nice his hair is. Fuck him! “Ever since Steve hired me, you refused to communicate with me. It’s like you have decided who I am and what I’m worth without even giving me a chance, without acknowledging my efforts and results!”

“That’s not true,” he begins, trying to defend himself even though you both know you are right. “I made a mistake, I admit it, but I want to fix it.”

“A mistake?” You laugh humorlessly. “For months you’ve been treating me like shit, excuse my language.” You shake your head. “Actually I don’t. You should be the one apologizing! You look at me as if I am a scum, as if my presence bothers you. I come to you only when I have to, and you act as if I want to waste your time. Well, I wasted mine for months in this company. With you!”

Bucky snaps, feeling the frustration taking over him. “My decisions are based on what’s best for the company. It’s nothing pers-”

“That’s just a bullshit excuse to maintain the status quo!” you interrupt him, the tension escalating. You don’t care about this job anymore. Whatever will happen, let it happen. “You’re a stuck-up asshole, resistant to change and blind to new perspectives! My perspectives only, to be clear.” You see him clenching his jaw before his left hand covers his jaw. Oh, he’s angry. Good! “And it’s not even out of misogyny since you get along just fine with Shuri. So what is it? What is it, Mr. Barnes, that makes you hate me?”

“It’s not about you,” he insists, his voice strained with the effort to keep calm. “It’s about maintaining stability. It’s about-”

“Bullshit! You’re threatened by anything that challenges your authority! You’re just frustrated and insecure. You’re scared that someone else can do better things in their own way. You’re just a tyrant! I don’t know how Steve is friends with you. He’s such a great man, and you’re a dick.” You laugh. “God, I wanted to tell you this for so long. And if it’s not clear, I fucking quit!”

You’d smile widely if it wasn’t for his snort.

“You’re not quitting,” Bucky’s voice is low, but you still hear it.

He doesn’t believe you, clearly. But he will because you’re not joking or backing off. You can’t take another humiliation session, especially when you did nothing to deserve it. As much as you admire Bucky’s intelligence and company policies, he’s a fucking douchebag. To you.

“Watch me,” you retort instantly. Your heart starts racing as he takes another step toward you. He’s so close that you only need to get on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“No, you’re not quitting. And you’re not walking out that door until we settle this.”

“Settle what, Barnes? Your ego?” You try to maintain your composure, but the closeness makes it hard for you to focus.

He sighs, and your eyes find his lips again. They are pink and wet from his tongue. If only he was less of an asshole and not your boss, maybe you would...

“This isn’t just about me and my authority.”

“Then what is it?” You're confused.

“It’s about you challenging everything I’ve built here,” he admits, looking straight into your eyes.

“And you can’t handle that?” Your voice is filled with sarcasm, but for once he doesn’t focus on that.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple, Mr. Barnes.”

“I... I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Deal with this... with you.”

“Deal with me?” You puff. “You’re insufferable, I am the one who has to deal with you and your constant checkups. With your: that’s not good enough, that needs to be changed, do this, do that over and over again.” You mimic his patronizing tone. “You don’t give me real suggestions-”

“I just... struggle with change.”

“And I’m the change you can’t handle?” The question hangs heavy between you, and his eyes drop to your lips this time.

“You challenge me,” he admits, his voice barely above the whisper. “You and your crazy ambition, your undying dedication, and your incredible ideas...” He pauses just to take a deep breath. “I feel like I’m suffocating every time I look at you.”

“Suffocating?” You roll your eyes. “How am I suffocating you? Just because I have an opinion and give you arguments-”

“I am fucking attracted to you, woman!”

You shake your head. He cannot just pull this lie and expect you to fall for it as if you are dumb. “Yeah, sure. Can you be a man for once and fucking take responsibility for your real thoughts and feelings? Just admit that you hate me!”

“Jesus Christ, are you that blind? For a woman so perceptive, you surely don’t see what’s right in front of you.”

You feel the anger take over your whole body. “Fuck you!”

“I wish! This is the whole point, the whole fucking point...”

“You want to fuck me for real?” You gasp, surprised and take a step back so you can look at him properly. He doesn’t seem to be joking.

“Deadly serious. And no matter how many times I tried to push this desire away, it just doesn’t work. You suffocate me. I imagine taking you all over my desk and couch. I imagine so many things, and I cannot focus.”

Before you can stop yourself, you slap him on the face lightly. Your palm is itching and gets red instantly, but you don’t care. As much as the info makes you happy, the context makes you super angry.

“So my team and I had to be humiliated just because you’re mad you want to get laid?”

“W-what? No!”

“No?”

“No. I deserved that,” he says referring to the slap. “But I meant what I said earlier. These are separate things.”

You cover your face with both your hands, not knowing what to say. What can you say? What should you think?

“I am sorry,” he sighs, and you hear him slowly walking away from you. “I should have said nothing. I am sorry. Please, don’t quit. You won’t have to work with me or even see me after this. Steve can take over, and you like him. I apologize not only for this, but also for my lack of… skills. I should have been more open to your ideas. And about tonight, I will wait for the HR email. I am sorry once again.”

Your head is spinning with all the things he’s just said. He wants you, but he’s also a bitch who cannot handle other opinions.

But you also want him. And you’ve wanted him despite how annoying he was. And he’s genuinely apologizing.

“Fuck it,” you whisper before going straight to him, pulling him by his tie toward you to kiss him.

He doesn’t hesitate at all, bringing his hands to your ass so you can feel each other better as he deepens the kiss instantly.

You shamelessly try to thrust your hips up a little as you let go of his tie, and his tongue feels like heaven in your mouth. His moan is low and hot, but you don’t let him breathe more than a second before you kiss him again, making sure to grab his hair and pull with force.

“Fuck me, Barnes. Fuck me right fucking now.”

He groans in your mouth once again, and you shiver.

“Jesus Christ, I’m gonna fuck you so well you won’t remember or think about anything else but my cock for days.” You instantly drop your hands so you can reach for his pants. Unbuckling them isn’t hard, but the zipper gets a little stuck, so Bucky has to finish the job for you.

“God, James,” you moan at the sight. “You’re leaking.”

He’s not embarrassed by this at all. On the opposite, he grabs his briefs too and pulls them down, letting them fall along with his pants.

You’re staring, but you can’t help it. His cock is so hard, and it even twitches as he grabs it to show it to you. It’s so thick.

“For you. This is all for you.”

Without waiting for a response, he suddenly grabs your shirt by the front placket and rips it in two. The buttons fly everywhere, one almost hits him in the face, but you don’t care. You’ve never been more turned on in your life. He’s so hot!

“Oh god, James,” you whisper, unclasping your bra before he can destroy it. It’s your best one, and you still need it.

“Yes,” he groans at the sight of your breasts, but you cannot ignore the wave of self-doubt that takes over you. They’re a little bigger than they should be for your height, so the sight is not the prettiest, in your opinion. This has always been an insecurity of yours, and even more after your last boyfriend made sure to emphasize this before you broke up. But Bucky seems fascinated. With his eyes glued to them and his mouth semi-open, he leans in, bringing his hands to both of your breasts before cupping them. You get goosebumps as he folds them eagerly, and you hear him groan when they spill over as soon as  he tries to pull them together.

“James!”

But it’s like he can’t hear you, too engrossed in watching your nipples hardening even more, and before you tell him what you wanted to, you feel his wet mouth sucking in one of your nipples.

You’re taken aback, so he uses his gloved hand to make you stop moving by placing it on your waist firmly.

He’s suckling at this point, making low whimpers as he’s looking at you.

You swear you never saw a more beautiful man in your whole life. His blue eyes are hypnotic.

“F-fuck,” you curse, bringing your fingers to his hair. You need to grab something before you fall.

He switches to the other nipple, and you feel yourself throbbing. You need his cock so much. You need his mouth... you need him to make you come. And you want to do the same to him. He’s driving you crazy.

“F-fuck me! RIGHT NOW.” You’re screaming, but he’s not surprised, rather amused as he takes his mouth off your breasts with a pop.

“Easy there, you sound quite desperate,” he giggles as if he’s just made the funniest joke ever. You are desperate.

“Fuck me or I’ll finish myself off, and you won’t be able to touch me as I do. Your choice.”

You know he doesn’t like or do ultimata, but you have no alternative. You crave to be taken on his desk as hard as he can go.

“How can I fuck you if you still have your pants on?” He asks you extremely calmly, and you’re shocked. You expected a more... intense reaction. “Earth to you?” He waves his hand when he sees you zoning out.

“You didn’t take them off.”

“I don’t take your clothes off, love.” He smirks. “I rip them, so if you want them intact, you better do it yourself.”

You nod, enjoying how raspy his voice is, and take them off without looking away from his cock. Not that he could stop staring at your breasts. His eyes are glued to your nipples. Your underwear falls, and only when you step out of the pool of clothes and finally free your legs from the high heels, he brings his hand to your pussy.

“Oh God, look at this… drenched!”

You moan, moving a little into his palm as if you’re trying to ride it. You need him so badly.

“James-”

“I know.” He smiles, spreading your lips more. “I know. So needy, my poor baby needs her cock so she can relax.”

You whimper loudly as you close your eyes. “Take me, sir. Make me your little fuck toy. Take out your frustrations. You can... you can show me how I was wrong for quitting by fucking me until I feel your cock every time I walk. I need to,” you moan again as you keep grinding onto his hand. “Come on! Show me!”

Bucky’s eyes get so grey as he suddenly pulls his hand away, making you whine. You’re about to curse him, but what he does makes you stop. He starts to take off his tie quickly, and you smile.

“Good boy.”

That remark makes his snort, and he cryptically replies:

“Ah, ah, we’ll see about that later.”

“Take off that shirt faster, and your glove, too.”

That surprises him, his eyes immediately widening, so you decide to do it yourself since he’s not fast enough.

He freezes as soon as you pull off his glove, revealing a black with golden accents  prosthetic hand.

“This is so fucking pretty, oh my God! Why do you keep this hidden?” You turn his hand around, and you gasp, realizing what you’ve just said. “I am sorry if I seem insensitive, it’s just that...”

Bucky snorts, amused, not hurt, which makes you feel like you can breathe again. The last thing you wanted was to bother him.

“You got a kink for my arm now?”

“You talk too much,” you murmur at the same time you start to unbutton his shirt as quickly as you can. Your hands are trembling.

When he’s finally naked, you let out a whimper, instantly reaching to touch his chest with both of your hands.

“You shave,” you say, surprised.

“Come on, love.” He smiles. “Touch my arm while you still can.”

You don’t question what he means by that, not wanting to worry too much. You expected this to be a one-time thing anyway, so you better enjoy every second of it. The arm is seamlessly integrated into his shoulder, and it's colder than the rest of his skin.

You trace a gold pattern all the way from his shoulder to his hand.

“I have a kink now,” you giggle when you see the sides of his neck getting pink.

“Well, I hope you have this kink, too, because…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he reaches for the tie he had on today and smiles. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

“W-what?”

“Hands behind your back.”

“You want to tie my hands?” You ask, taken aback by his demand.

“Did you try it before? Do you hate it?”

No, you didn’t try, but it doesn’t sound bad, surprisingly.

You usually hate not being in control, but it’s Bucky, and as annoying as he might be as your boss, you trust him. Plus, you quit after all, you should enjoy this as much as possible. The thought of him tying you up is really sexy for some reason, so you simply turn around and bring your hands together above your ass.

He doesn’t hesitate and quickly makes a knot.

“Too tight?”

“No,” you whisper. It’s not tight at all.

“You can tell me to stop any time, okay?” He wraps his hands around your waist and turns you toward him. “I’ll stop immediately.”

You nod, trying to get used to not being able to raise your hands.

“Words, please.”

“Yes, James.”

“Good girl.”

You’d lie if you said it doesn’t turn you on like crazy. You’ve been indirectly fighting with him for so long without getting any kind of approval or praise for your work. He made you angry and stressed more times than you could count, but you still respected him. You wanted his approval and you craved him...

You got yourself off thinking about him, you imagined choking him out of anger, but then it turning into a completely different thing. And it feels surreal this is actually happening, and he finally calls you a good girl.

“Are you clean? Anything-”

“I always used a condom, and I do checkups every six months. I assume the same about you.”

You nod, not bothering to tell him you don’t remember the last time you had sex, all thanks to him and his impossible to please ass.

“Do you have a condom?” You ask, moving closer to him again.

“In the car,” he curses, but before you can tell him that you can try without one since you are on the pill, he speaks again. “Wait!”

You giggle as you watch him run out of the office with his ass wiggling. No way he goes to his car naked, right?

You jump on top of his desk, pushing a few docs on the floor with your knee. It’s quite difficult because your hands are tied, but you don’t mind. You wait excitedly for his return just to tease him, but you’re speechless as soon as you see him unwrapping the condom package with his teeth before he quickly rolls it on.

“Won’t the neighbor mind?”

“What he doesn’t know,” he grabs your legs as he speaks. “Won’t hurt him. You’re not gonna run your mouth now, are you?” There is something about his patronizing tone that makes you hornier. Maybe because you know you’ve been on his mind so much he couldn’t focus on anything else.

“Why? You want to keep my mouth occupied with your cock?”

You don’t expect to be turned around on the table instead, with your ass in the air. Holy fuck!

“How about I keep this pretty wet pussy of yours occupied, hmm?”

You close your eyes when you feel his cock at your entrance before he finally pushes in.

He’s crazy, he must be crazy if he thinks you can take all of his cock like this.

“B-Bucky!” You arch your back without realizing, fighting against the material of his tie so you can get free. The impulse to touch his back is absolutely overwhelming, and the coldness of his left hand drives you crazy.

“What happened?” His other hand goes up until it’s in your hair. “You got nothing else to say? Are you already cock drunk?”

“More!” you whimper. “I can take more of you, please.”

“Ah? So greedy for my cock.”

“Need it deeper, James. Need you to move faster.”

You don’t care how desperate your voice is or if you’re pathetic. “I just wanna be stretched open until I cry. P-please.”

You don’t realize he is holding his breath until you hear him exhaling loudly against your back before kissing the same spot.

“You wanna be fucked like you’re my good little toy, baby? You want-”

He stops speaking when you moan, trying to move your hands so you can touch him and push him deeper inside you by grabbing his ass.

That hot ass…

“Want you, sir. Please, make me a mess.”

And he does. He fucks you harder, making your eyes roll back, and you can’t help but try again to touch him.

“Just like that,” you cry out when your face hits the desk more forcefully than before. You can sense Bucky’s hesitation so you shake your head. “I’m fine, I’m... k-keep going.”

He doesn’t stop, he even goes faster yet somehow deeper than before, a combination you’re not used to, that makes you feel like he’s splitting you in half. Neither of you can properly talk anymore. You can hear him cursing and saying your name along with: your pussy’s drowning me, so wet, think you can t-take it harder, but there is a long break after every word so he can thrust back inside you. You can’t even call him James, your voice is so hoarse, and he’s so deep you cannot even breathe.

You don’t need anything more the second he pulls your hair harder than you’d ever expect. Before you know what’s happening, the pleasure explodes inside you, making you scream. You don’t even realize that’s your voice at first, too focused on trying to prolong this feeling as you push your ass back frustrated you cannot grab his thighs, while he keeps thrusting inside you. His balls hit your clit, and you moan, a little sensitive.

“Sir, please, c-come,” you whisper, turning your head to the side on the desk. “Come for your little fuck toy. U-use me.”

You flinch, shocked, when you feel a light slap on your ass all of a sudden, but it doesn’t hurt at all. Quite the opposite. You don’t have time to say something about it, though, because Bucky’s already burying himself inside you again as deep as he can, and you moan at the same time he does.

“J-James...”

He pulls your hair even harder while he comes, groaning your name and a low fuck, that almost makes you giggle.

“Jesus...” It’s the only warning you get before you feel his chest on your back.

“Barnes, you’re heavy!”

His laugh is adorable, but he’s indeed heavy, plus you also have your hands tied. When he finally moves, you hop off the desk, almost falling since your knees are weak. Now you can feel your thighs aching too. But it was all worth it.

Quickly, Bucky unties you, without saying a word, which only makes you more nervous.

“Thanks,” you whisper as you turn around to face him. Then, you watch him take off the condom and place it on top of one of the papers you knocked over with your knee earlier.

After wiping his hands on his thighs, he grabs your wrists gently, making you almost moan at the feel of his cold hand. You’re not hurt, but they’re quite red, probably from the times you tried to get free.

“Gonna buy some cream.”

You shake your head. “No need, I am sure I have something for this.” You try to sound as casual as you can, not wanting to be clingy in his eyes even after you quit. Even after this. “Can you hand me my underwear and pants, please?”

Bucky freezes for a second, but he still gives them to you. “Are you back to hating me?”

“What?” You ask as you start to get dressed. You don’t have the blouse, but your coat is warm. You won’t freeze.

“Why are you so cold now? Did I hurt you? Did I do anything wrong?” His concerned voice and look surprise you. You know he is nice, but you didn’t expect him to be attentive after.

“No, you didn’t. I assumed this is,” you wave around when you finish zipping up your pants. “Just wham, bam, thank you ma’am.”

He doesn’t laugh.

“I told you, you’ve been on my mind for so long. Why would I... and even if it was just a one-time thing, why would I treat you like trash? Especially since we work together.”

“Worked,” you correct him before he hands you his shirt. You raise your eyebrow surprised.

“I’m not gonna help you get dressed, Barnes. You’re a big boy.”

“Put it on, it’s freezing.”

“I have my coat,” you protest, but he won’t take no for an answer, and you know it.

“On.”

“Fine!”

He helps you with it since your hands are, for some reason, still shaking. “Look, I was gonna invite you over to my place, but if I make you feel uncomfortable, or if you don’t want to see me...”

You can’t help but raise your eyebrows.

“Really?”

“We have some things to discuss, and I have a bath to run for you.”

You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to smile as he finishes buttoning the shirt. “You want me to sign a contract to fuck you again?”

“Ha, ha. No.” He leans in a bit to kiss your forehead. “We have many things to talk about that don’t involve a contract.”

“Yeah? Like what?” You start to collect the documents from the floor. “The process of writing my resignation letter?”

You hear Bucky puff behind you. “You’re not quitting.”

“No?” You bite your lip as you look at him. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

“Me.”

“Hmm,” you whisper playfully before placing his papers on the desk. “How?”

“Let’s get home and we’ll see about that.”

[splataii]

toji x male reader

cw: dom male character, sub male reader,

wc 1.5k

freeloader toji who likes to pop in at your place n take a load off whenever he’s in the mood.

no text, no call, no nothing. just him showing up to sleep on your bed, watching his shitty tv shows on your couch after draining your fridge for everything it's worth.

you don't get no chance to say no cause he's way too busy telling you just what an absolute angel you are as he slips through your door. you won't even know he's there, promise. but it’s hard for him to keep such a promise when he’s such a terrible roommate.

he walks around half naked like he owns the place, sweatpants falling so low around his waist that his dick threatens to fall out with every step he takes..

when he feels like being more annoying than usual, he hangs around you, leaning against doorways and faking a yawn or two to stretch so you can catch the outline of his dick, and the way his body flexes.

it makes it hard to look him in the eyes when you're telling him to pull his own weight for the millionth time that week, and he knows it.

“you got a staring problem or what?” he teases, following the way your eyes trace down to the dick print in his loose grey track pants. guys like you are just way too fuckin easy. too flustered to finish, you let him off with a simple warning before leaving him be. but what he really wants is to force ya to quit talking his ear off by getting you on your knees and shoving his cock down your throat. maybe then he could finally put that mouth a yours to good use.

toji also gets so heated about the smallest things, moving you out the way so he can be the one to answer the door to all your one night stands and potential future boyfriends. taking way too much pleasure in how they shrink in on themselves when he sizes them up from the doorway, being terribly sweeter than normal to you with all his pet names and touchiness. it seems like his hand stays glued to your waist no matter how much you pry him off a you.

everytime another guy runs with his tail between his legs, you're pointing the finger at toji, but that man couldn't care less. it’s not his fault they're too pussy. he knows exactly the type a man a doll like you needs and he can give that to you better than any of those little boys ever could.

what's more is he has no sense of personal space. it’s always, “i was just looking for something,”

when he hovers so close you can feel his smile on your neck while you all bent over in the fridge, caged between his arms as his bulge rubs against the small of your back.

or “an accident” when he’s spreading out on your already too small couch and practically forcing you onto his thigh, subtly grinding you against it everytime he moves as his hand slips around your waist and under your shirt. he’s just tryna consolidate space, honest. it ain't his fault he's as big as he is. and it's definitely not his fault you’ve got such a dirty little mind.

and he's such a mess.. clothes, dishes, everything. you find them scattered just about all over the place. the worst offense, however, was a discarded package laying on your living room table. a fleshlight, you realized seconds too late, toji making his grand entrance the moment you're shutting the box closed.

you can tell by the shit eating grin on his face that playing it cool won't cut it, but you try anyway, pretending to get back to tidying up the table as he inches up close behind you.

“i don’t mind sharing,” he breathes, hand hovering on your waist a second too long as he reaches around you for his box, “if you let me watch,”

you stay still, waiting for him to laugh it off and turn back around, but he stays leaning over you.

“youre such a…”

“i’m such a what?” he tilts his head, hand subtly sliding down to the waistband of your pants, massaging where it meets your warm skin. he's rubbing in circles, fingers gently raking up and down your side till they're slipping under your pants.

your eyes trace the veins on his hand as you feel him squeeze at your bare thigh, your underwear hitching farther up as his thumb presses close against your clothed dick. your mind spins every time you feel him inching closer to your soft cock, taking in the thought of him pulling you back into his lap and sliding your pants to your knees so he could take care of you like you deserved. mind falling away, you let yourself lean back into his chest, your hand firmly placed on his arm to ground yourself.

“..or i can always give you the real deal,” he hums your breathe hitching as he gropes at your growing bulge, his words hot on the skin of your neck as you feel his hardening dick grinding against the curve of your ass, “if, that's what his highness prefers,”

you can feel the smirk on his lips as he presses a kiss against the side of your neck, and you blink away whatever trance he had you in.

“dickhead,” you mutter, slipping out of his arms and away from him, pretending not to notice his eyes trained on you as you break away. not once does that stupid smile leave his face as he watches you leave him and his half hard cock alone in the living room.

and that's he worst part of it all.. the worst part a him.. how smug he fucking gets. no matter how much you tell him off, no matter how much he teases you, he knows you can’t never stay mad at him for long. just a few touches in all the right places, a couple spoken promises, and you're like putty in his arms.

it don't matter how much tension you got pent up from his antics; at the end of the day, you're his. and he's always gonna be there to relieve that stress for you the best way he knows how; by bending you over whatever surface is nearest and railing you till you can't think of anything but the shape of his dick stuffed down your ass.

<3

“i was so lonely last night, yknow that?” tojis cock drills into you as you do your best to keep upright against the couch, “left me hard in the living room. had to take care of it all by myself,”

but you been knew that. he made no effort to hide it seeing how loud he was yesterday. you could hear him groaning your name and all the ways he wanted to have you from the comforts of your own bedroom, body hot as you kept your thighs pressed together, waiting for him to finish.

the moment you were back from your shift he was on you, pressing open mouth kisses as he made quick work of stripping you down. he had been waiting for what felt like ages to have all of you underneath him like this, so sweet and pliant in his arms, leaning into his heavy hands. coming undone at his every touch.

“what, nothing to say?” he grunts, grip on your waist tightening as you clench around him, sucking him back in with every thrust, his hands pulling your hips to fuck back into his, “or are you gonna let this ass do all the talking?”

you shake your head, helplessly grinding against the back of the couch as he splits you open on his dick.

“‘s too much,” you cry in between broken moans, burying your face in the nearest pillow in an attempt to hide how good he feels inside you. but he comes to a slow harsh grind of his cock, hands running all up your sides until they're resting on your shoulder.

he pulls you out of your pillow, forcing you to hear the lewd sound of his cock pulling out and leaving you empty. toji grunts, your tight hole not wanting to let go before its clenching around nothing, his pre dripping down the curve of your ass and off your thighs.

you do your best to stay steady on shaky arms, desperate whines muffled by your own hands as you feel him lining up again.

“you can take it sweetheart,” he rasps before ramming back into you, your ass spasming at the harsh thrust of his cock as he stuffs you full. your hand falls away from your lips, unable to hide the moans he rips from you as he pulls out and forces his cock into your ass again and again, making sure that the only thing your body will be able to remember is the shape of him inside you.

“that's it, doll,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss at the tears threatening to fall from your eyes as his strong arms keep you upright, “now let me hear you,”

[munson-blurbs]

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: When you confide in your boyfriend about your difficulty getting wet, his reaction is not what you'd expected.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), reader takes antidepressants

A/N: To all the afab folks who, for whatever reasons, can't get wet--this is for you.

Collaboration with the queen of fluffy smut, @corroded-hellfire 😘

--

“Feel good, baby?” Eddie growls in your ear, his fingers digging into the skin above the waistband of your panties. His other hand cups your breast, still concealed by your bra, though you venture it won’t be long before it’s uncovered. 

You continue grinding on his bare thigh, his boxers pushed up high. The outline of his cock shows through the cotton, and you can’t help but grab it. He inhales sharply at the sudden contact, making you giggle.

“Love seeing you all turned on, Eds,” you murmur, sucking a bruise into his neck that has his eyes rolling back in his head. He moves his hand from your waist to your clit, pressing slow circles to the sensitive bud over the lace. A moan slips past your lips, quickly turning into a whimper of his name. “F-Fuck, Eddie. Right there.”

Despite your words and the drag of your cunt on his leg, Eddie can’t help but question whether or not you’re faking it. “How ya feelin’ baby?” he whispers, tiptoeing around the more direct question in a means of cushioning his ego. 

“So good.”

Okay. Good. You feel so good. Everything’s…good. Right?

Eddie pulls back, ducking behind his hair and missing your confused expression. “We can stop if you’re not into it,” he mutters. He’s not angry at you; he’s angry at himself, because he’s clearly doing something wrong if you’re not…

“Wh-Why wouldn’t I be into it?” Your eyebrows pinch together. You’d been together a few months and hadn’t slept together yet, but you’d thought tonight could be the night.

“Because you’re not really…” Eddie struggles to find the right words. “Like, you sound into it, but I don’t feel you getting turned on.”

Embarrassment heats up your body. You slide off of him and onto his carpeted floor, repositioning yourself so you’re facing away from him. You can still see him out of your peripheral vision, but you hope he doesn’t notice the tears welling in your eyes. “M sorry, baby.” Your voice is small, and despite your best efforts, it catches in your throat when you speak.

He rests his hand on your upper arm, gently caressing it with his thumb. “Hey, hey,” he says softly, trying to hide his disappointment at the unreciprocated longing. “We gave it a shot. You can’t help if this doesn’t get you going.” He gives a little shimmy, shoulders swaying back and forth clumsily.

You turn back around towards him,  “You think…no, Eds. You’re so sexy, even when you do your weird little dances.”

“I’ll have you know,” Eddie starts, giving you a playful look, “that my weird little dances have gotten me not one, but…yeah, okay, just the one hot girl’s phone number.”

“And it was mine.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He reaches for your hand and holds it tentatively. “But if I’m making you feel good, how come you don’t get…y’know…?”

Instinct has you wanting to turn away from him in shame, but his grip on your hand is enough to keep you where you are. It’s hard to meet his eyes, but once you do and that big doe stare tugs at your heart, you let out a sigh.

“You’re making me feel amazing, Eddie. It’s just…I don’t really get…I mean, I can’t get too…” The right words don’t seem to find you and frustration balls up inside of you. You slap your free hand over your eyes, partially out of frustration, but also to hide the tears that are beginning to well up. 

“Hey…” Eddie lightly chides as he rubs his thumb along the back of your hand. “You can talk to me. You know that.”

The hand falls from your face and you take a deep breath. Words jumble through your brain, trying to figure out how to come from another direction. “Y-You know how I have depression and anxiety.”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” you say, swallowing before continuing, “the meds they give me for them…they, uh…well, they kind of keep me from being able to get…”

“Wet?” Eddie offers.

You nod, a few tears breaking free despite your attempts to keep them in. 

“I can…a little…just not a whole lot. I’m sorry.” 

Eddie frowns and shakes his head. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Because,” you say, huffing a humorless laugh, “you’re so cute and sweet and I’m worried that when we actually have sex, it won’t feel good for you.”

He pauses for a moment, tongue poking out from his lips in the way that makes you melt as he reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a bottle of lube. He holds the small pink tube up between the two of you.

“Think this’ll work?” he asks.

You raise an eyebrow in amusement. The bottle is the last thing you expected Eddie to pull out of that unorganized mess he calls a nightstand. 

“Where did you get that?” you ask.

“Well, uh,” Eddie starts, cheeks tingeing pink. You notice he continues to look at the lube instead of you. “I use it every night when I think of you.”

The words take you by surprise, even though he’s your boyfriend. It’s not like you hadn’t gotten off thinking about him long before the two of you even started dating. 

“You…you think of me?”

“Well, yeah,” Eddie shrugs with a grin. “My girl is ridiculously beautiful, you think I’m not going to get off thinking about her every night before I go to bed? And most mornings before school?” He ducks his head and his bashfulness makes him look especially boyish. “Plus, there was all that time before we started dating when we were just friends…”

“So that’s why it’s more than half empty,” you say, a small smile breaking through on your lips. 

“I prefer to think of it as half full.” Eddie’s roguish smile has you breaking out into a full blown grin. You let out a chuckle as you pluck the bottle from your boyfriend’s fingers. 

“I didn’t peg you for a strawberry kind of guy, Munson.”

Eddie looks down with a shy expression on his face. Every time you make him flustered you take it as a personal victory.

“It’s, uh, it’s ‘cause it smells like your chapstick.” He leans up and presses a kiss to your nose. When he sees the effect that has on you, mischievousness creeps back onto his face. “What do you say…wanna give it a try?”

You exhale, still frustrated. The anxiety at the back of your brain is still saying that Eddie is just being nice about this. That he really thinks it’s weird and doesn’t want to have sex with you now.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? With being with someone who needs to use lube?” you double check.

Eddie looks at you with an incredulous expression. “Baby, I’d use WD40 if it meant being inside you.”

A snort of laughter escapes you and you lightly slap his chest.

“Eddie, I’m serious!”

“I am, too! Shit, I’ll go grab some Crisco from the cabinet right now—”

“Eddie!” You sigh. “I know you’re going to wanna have, like, spontaneous sex. That might not be something I can do if we don’t have lube.”

Eddie shrugs without missing a beat. “I’ll carry it around with me. Like pocket lube or something.”

“Pocket lube?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. 

He laughs, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “We can keep this one here, and I’ll buy another one for the van. How does that sound?”

The offer has your heart melting and you lean into his body. “Sounds like you’re the best boyfriend in the world.”

“Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet,” he smirks, tugging gently at the waistband of your panties. “May I lube up the fair maiden?”

“As long as you promise never to say that again,” you say, already climbing onto his bed. 

“Noted,” he agrees with a laugh before turning his attention to the panties that block his view of your beautiful pussy. He drags the lacy fabric down your legs and tosses it aside as you unclasp your bra. A goofy grin spreads across his face as he takes one breast in each hand. “Sorry,” he says, though his tone has no ounce of apology, “but you can’t just show off your tits and expect me to focus on anything else.”

You roll your eyes and giggle, a fluttering feeling in your stomach that goes beyond the moment’s lust. The way he can make you laugh in your most vulnerable moments is special, and you want to capture this joy and keep it forever.  

“Lay back and open these pretty legs for me, Sweetheart.” Eddie squeezes out some lube onto the tips of his forefinger and middle finger, gently pumping them in and out of you, going a bit deeper each time “‘S good?”

“Mhm. So, so fucking good, fuck.” Your walls clench around his fingers in a silent plea for him to be buried deep inside you. 

“Tell me if you need more, okay baby doll?”

You nod, really only able to fixate on the way his fingers feel inside you. The addition of the lubricant removes any unwanted friction, and you moan louder than you intend to. 

“Your noises…holy fuckin’ shit.” Eddie muses, palming himself over his boxers. 

You squeeze your eyes shut in embarrassment. “‘M sorry.”

He pauses his movements, drawing a whimper from your lips. “Don’t ever apologize for making such beautiful sounds. It’s crazy hot, baby.”

“Really?”

He uses his free hand to grab your wrist, bringing your palm to his tented boxers. The fabric strains against his raging erection. 

“Really.”

With that, you let yourself fully indulge in the feeling of his fingers. You barely recognize the noises you’re making; you’ve never felt this good in your whole life. 

The way Eddie’s tongue pokes from his mouth gives you another idea, and you press your thighs together to stop his ministrations. 

He looks up at you, brows knitted together in confusion. “What is it, baby? More?” He starts to reach for the bottle until he sees you shake your head. 

“Do you, uh, w-wanna taste the lube?” It’s as straightforward as you can manage, still overwhelmed by the pleasure washing over your body. 

Eddie’s cock twitches, his face contorted in amused disbelief. “Are you seriously asking me if I want to eat you out?” he asks. “Was it not obvious that that would be a yes?” 

He throws your legs over his shoulders so quickly that it has you laughing in surprise, but that laughter stops as soon as his mouth is on you. His tongue immediately finds your clit, flicking over it until your toes curl. He wraps his lips around it and sucks gently until he has you on the brink of orgasm. His fingers return to your needy hole, filling you expertly until you cum with a wanton moan. 

“So fucking good f’me,” Eddie says, still between your legs. His mouth and chin are covered in a slick sheen. “You wanna taste now, baby? Wanna know just how delicious you are?”

You open your mouth and eagerly accept his fingers. They taste of your arousal and a hint of strawberry; it does bear a striking similarity to your Chapstick. Once Eddie lets his fingers drop from your mouth, you’re whining and writhing below him. 

“Need you, Eds.” It sounds more like a whimper than a plea. But your beautiful boyfriend isn’t about to deny you a thing—let alone something that he also wants very badly. 

“Fuck, need you too, baby doll.” He launches his boxers across the room and smears some lube on his cock, bucking his hips slightly into his closed palm. He doesn’t break eye contact as he enters you, searching for any inkling of discomfort. The stretch is delicious, and you arch your back once he bottoms out. 

“Look at you, taking all of me. My good girl,” Eddie growls, watching his cock disappear into your cunt. “Holy shit; I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this perfect pussy from me.”

You shiver at the praise, blinking away the prickling tears on your lash line. 

Eddie gradually picks up the pace, snapping his hips into you. His pubic hair grazes yours and he lets out a groan of his own. 

“Could stay like this forever,” he mumbles in your ear, forearms braced on either side of your head. 

So could you. Except…

“Eds?”

“Hmm?”

You swallow your timidness. I can trust him. “I think, um…could you use some more lube?” You’re embarrassed and annoyed at yourself for having to interrupt the moment, but Eddie’s unfazed. 

“Sure. Can I just put it inside you? Cuz, uh, if I put it on my dick, I’m gonna bust in my hand.” He gives a small laugh, though you both know he’s not joking. 

Eddie gingerly fingers you, all-too aware of how oversensitive and overstimulated your pussy is. At some point, he’ll have fun teasing you with his touch, but tonight is about your comfort. 

He slides his cock back inside you. “Better?”

“Much,” you manage, re-acclimating your body to him being inside you. “Thank you, baby.”

“‘Course. Let me know if you need more again, ‘kay?”

You nod, relishing in the way he fills you. His cock presses against your walls; you can feel every last inch of him.

Eddie doesn’t stop showering you with praise as he pistons his hips. “Love when my girl tells me what she needs,” he says with a small smirk. “I’d do fuckin’ anything for you, sweet thing.” A few strands of hair cover his eye, and you swipe it away. “Thanks.”

“Any time.” You manage a smile of your own before he catches you off guard, positioning you so he can rub your clit while fucking you. Your jaw drops in surprise; it’s exactly the reaction he wanted. “Just like that, Eds. Holy shit, right there!”

“That’s what you like? Hmm? Like when I’m deep inside your perfect pussy, making you feel good?” The hand not making small figure-eights on your swollen bud grabs your ass, squeezing it possessively. “Like when I claim you? Let me show you who you belong to.”

The combination of Eddie deep within you and being claimed by him pushes you over the edge. The coil snaps and you choke out a sob of relief as pleasure invades your body. You finish on his cock, chanting his name like a prayer. 

“Fuck, c-can’t hold out anym-more,” he grunts, and with a cry of your name, he fills you with his own release. He stays inside you for a moment, catching his breath; when he finally pulls out, you can feel his cum dripping down your bare thigh. He hurries to grab the faded blue towel hanging from the back of his door, wiping you off before plopping next to you. He draws tiny circles on your forearm while pressing kisses to your shoulder. 

“Was that good? It didn’t hurt or anything, right? Because I kinda lost my mind at the end—” 

You silence him with a kiss that only ends because you both start smiling. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had. No one’s ever made me cum before,” you admit. 

Eddie scoots back slightly. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope. You’re the first. So, um, thank you?”

He puffs out his chest, slick with perspiration. “No need to thank us, baby. We’d do anything for you.”

“‘We?’” You cock your eyebrow. 

“Yeah, me and the lube,” he states plainly, as if this is an obvious fact. “We make a pretty good team, dontcha think?”

“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.”

“I dunno, I thought my ‘pocket lube’ idea was pretty damn brilliant.”

--

[asxgard]

Companionship | pt. 2

Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader

Previous | Next

Summary: You and Michael have some late night phone calls. He struggles to open up.

[ Series Masterlist ]

Note: wow! Y’all are really so nice omg, I really appreciate all of you who took the time to like, comment or reblog. I also appreciate all you silent readers too! I’m genuinely surprised with how much traffic part 1 got, so thank you all so much! Contemplating adding this to my AO3 account from the perspective of a f!oc, but still undecided (I prefer to keep my reader works strictly for tumblr, idk why). This is definitely going to be multiple parts (my rough outline currently has ten chapters whoops).

I don’t know much about sugar babies aside from what I’ve read, so I took some liberties with my guesstimates.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: age gap, slowburn, foul language, allusion to a panic attack, work stress, Robby trying to avoid his feelings/anxiety, my basic understanding of accounting, angst

not beta read

“You’re lucky. Someone only looking for companionship is a small pool of men. Not as lucrative as a traditional sugar baby, but if that’s more your speed, maybe reach out to some more.”

Your smile twisted, “I’m already uncomfortable with just one. Thinking about adding more makes me feel icky.”

Erin rolled her eyes, “Why? They know what they signed up for. If they wanted fidelity, then they should get a girlfriend.”

“I’m telling you, I could hook you up with a shift or two a week at the bar. I make great tips.” Marsi said, her eyes not flickering from her laptop.

You frowned. “I already gave him my number. My Google Voice number, but yeah.”

“That’s my girl!” Erin praised with a laugh.

You wondered if it was a mistake. He had not reached out since you had sent the number on the app, nearly four days prior. Perhaps he was having second thoughts. Anxiety filled your chest at the thought of having to go through the whole process again.

Or just drop it and take Marsi up on her offer.

—

Your night passed slowly, studying with your friends until dinner time, when they left. You kept your focus on the Excel spreadsheet in front of you, checking over your homework with careful eyes. Numbers were easy, they did not hold the complexities of human beings—

Your phone buzzed on the table, immediately pulling you away from your work.

You have any time to talk?

It was an unknown number. You watched as the three dots appeared immediately after, though it wasn’t hard to guess who it was.

This is Michael by the way.

So formal, you found yourself thinking with a small smile, quickly adding him to your contacts.

I have time.

It only took a few more moments before your phone started ringing. Anxiety thrummed through your system, heart beating like a drum against your ribcage. You took a long breath through your nose before answering the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi.” He answered awkwardly.

“How are you?” You asked out of habit.

There were several moments of silence. “I want to say I’m okay.”

“But you’re not?”

“But I’m not.” Came his quiet reply.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Another measured silence. “No. Yes? I don’t know.”

You hummed. “I understand your hesitation, we don’t know each other. But isn’t that the whole point? I’m unconnected to your life and you basically have anonymity. I won’t pry, so we can talk about something else, if you’d like.”

He was silent for a long time. You checked the call to make sure it hadn’t dropped. The seconds ticked away on the call, so he was still there. You waited.

“Just a…rough day.” He said, his tone sounding stressed. “I think I’d rather talk about your day right now.”

“My day?” You questioned, surprised.

He only hummed in response.

“Do you want the play-by-play or the cliff-notes?”

Michael exhaled a ghost of a laugh, “Give me all of it.”

You cleared your throat, “So my alarm went off at 5:20, no! 5:25, and then I got out of bed—”

He laughed, bringing a smile to your lips.

“I have early classes on Thursdays, so I was up earlier than I usually like to be…”

“Night owl?”

“Guilty.” You smiled. “But it was my forensic accounting class, which I’ve been enjoying, so I wasn’t too upset getting out of bed. Add in my morning coffee, and I was a pretty happy camper.” You paused, but he was quiet on the other end. “I had taxation today too, and despite the fact I love the numbers, learning tax law just isn’t my favorite thing.”

“Why do you like it? Accounting?”

“Oh, um,” you paused, deliberating. “I like turning unreadable stuff into a well-crafted report, turn a mess into an easy to read story of a company’s financial history. Plus, numbers are a lot less complicated than human beings.”

There was his quiet laugh again. “Yeah, I can see how that can be true.”

“As a doctor, I can imagine you would.” You were smiling.

“I’ve seen…a lot of complicated people.”

You waited a few moments, but he didn’t elaborate. People were the primary reason you had left the medical field early on in your college career — while you enjoyed being helpful, people could be too overwhelming.

“And my shift today was good, busy and boring, but easy enough.”

As you went on about your day as a payroll clerk (though vague about the company details), Michael was quiet. It was clear he needed the distraction from whatever his day had been. You explained your studying routine with your friends and your love of baking. You got the occasional hum of acknowledgment, but it was clear he just wanted to listen to you talk. You moved from topic-to-topic without complaint, pausing occasionally to make sure he did not want to comment, or change the subject.

It was late when you realized the time: 11:08.

“Michael? I’m sure I could keep going, but I’m not sure you want to hear my opinions on office politics.” Your tone was jesting.

Still no response. Furrowing your brows, you listened silently to the other end.

Small puffs of air, slow and steady, in and out. In. Out. He had fallen asleep.

Your first instinct was to be offended — no telling how long since he had drifted off or how long you had rambled to no one. But then you relaxed. He had clearly needed the distraction from what was going through his head when he first called, enough to quiet his brain. Or perhaps he was just that exhausted. Either way, you did not take it personally, you would have likely been up this late anyways.

You ended the call at two hours and seventeen minutes.

—

Are you available at 9?

You checked your phone when you moved into the living room, dinner cooking in the oven, finding a text from Michael. Per your agreement, you usually talked about once a week. He usually gave late notice, though it usually reflected how bad his day had gotten. Your last talk, however, had only been three days prior.

In addition to the one only days ago, you had talked two additional times since your first, typically at night, where you did most of the talking. You almost found your talks therapeutic; plus you were getting paid to just talk. Though, you wished he talked more — part of you felt like you were taking advantage of the situation and he was barely getting anything out of it.

He had already put money on the prepaid Visa card you had picked up after your first phone conversation. Michael thought the card would be more discreet and confidential than Venmo. The $400 dollars you had agreed on for the month had done wonders with relieving the pressure on making your rent payment.

Erin had encouraged you to set up an online wishlist as well, adding things periodically in case he wanted to buy something extra for you. “As a tip,” Erin had told you, a wide smirk on her face. That same day, Erin had coincidentally brought her new Valentino canvas bag that you were sure cost more than your rent payment. You held off on the wishlist, but you kept a few things in your notes app. Just in case.

You sent him a confirmation that you were fine with nine. He must work late hours. He had said he was a doctor, but you wondered in what specialty or where, but you had never broached the topic. You both valued your privacy when it came to your arrangement, not wanting to muddy the waters.

Surprisingly, he did not call at nine. He was usually pretty punctual when it came to a time he asked for. You waited patiently for several minutes before moving to start some hot water for tea, looking out the window at the rain. You figured to give him a bit of extra time before turning in.

At 9:24, your phone rang. Part of you nearly picked it up on the first ring, but you gave it a few moments before picking up. When you answered, he spoke first.

“Please just talk. About anything.” He sounded out of breath, talking quickly. His tone sounded more stressed than you had heard before.

“Are you alright?” Was your first instinct instead of doing as he asked, standing from your chair at the dining table, mug of tea forgotten.

“Fuck. No, I’m not. Please just talk to me. Your day. Your job. The fucking traffic this morning. Anything,” Your name was so quiet on his tongue, you nearly missed it.

It sounded like a plea.

You swallowed, pulse quickening, before running with it, “This asshole actually cut me off this morning, which considering his bumper stickers, wasn’t all that surprising. No blinker, nothing. I swear, sometimes the subway is less stressful, though I hate the morning crowds.”

Suddenly realizing talking about stressful things might not be the best way to calm him down, you pivoted, pacing across your apartment. Deciding quickly on something boring to most, you began to explain your most recent accounting assignment. How you came up with the financial analysis from the numbers your professor had given, to the tax implications of several of the (fake) business’s decisions. You explained it as best you could in layman's terms, trying not to make the math too complicated, before walking him through your report and your thoughts about how to help the business improve.

You paused long enough to hear his breathing, not quite as ragged but still loud and quick. “I don’t need you to respond, but think of five things you can see.”

Oh this was cliche, but you did not dwell on it.

After a few moments, “Okay, four things you can touch.” You paused, finding four things of your own to ensure he had time. “Now three things you can hear.”

“You.” He croaked, much quieter than he had been. “I can hear you.”

“That’s good. Now two more things.”

“…the rain. The cars outside.”

“Good,” you breathed out. “Two things you can smell?”

He didn’t answer, though his breathing had slowed tremendously from when you had first answered his call. It felt relieving, and you finally made your way to sit on the couch.

“Last is one thing you can taste.”

He let out a long deep breath, but kept whatever it had been to himself.

“Are you okay?” You asked again after a few moments.

“No.” He said. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

You nearly huffed, but the annoyance was fleeting. You smiled, “I can tell you more about accounting, but most people find it incredibly boring.”

“You seem to really enjoy accounting. Though, I can’t imagine being cooped up in an office all day.”

“Well I wasn’t quite cut out for psychiatry, and I’ve always enjoyed a good spreadsheet.”

“Psychiatry?” He sounded surprised. “That makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“What does that mean?”

“You would’ve been good at it.”

Oh?

“Thank you.” You whispered. “Um, can I interest you in what my professor assigned today or how my manager nearly fucked up payroll this week?”

He cleared his throat, “I’ll take ‘how my manager nearly fucked up today’ for $200, Alex.”

Your lips quirked back up at the Jeopardy reference, trying to shake off the feeling his praise had given you. With a long sigh, you rubbed your fingers along your hairline.

“He messed up the new employee’s tax deductions by misclassifying his title. When he backtracked to fix it, he cleared out the entire category — thankfully I caught it when I was putting my own numbers in for the small team I oversee.” You told him, looking at your nails. “Led to quite a frustrating day.”

Despite the fact that it had led to quite a hectic start to your workday, adding several tasks that interrupted you workflow, you felt mildly pathetic knowing his day had clearly been so much worse. You tried not to compare, your days had just as much value as his, but it was still a creeping feeling in your gut.

You continued on after a beat of silence on his end. Fixing the problem hadn’t necessarily been the issue — it was redoing every employee's numbers that led to your annoyance. That, and the lack of accountability from your manager.

Time ticked on, Michael only adding in his thoughts here and there, mostly staying quiet.

He coughed awkwardly during a lull in your conversation, “Uh, thank you for tonight.”

Beginning to feel your exhaustion, you smiled tiredly. “No thanks necessary.”

“Goodnight,” there was your name again.

“Goodnight, Michael.”

[ Next ]

want to join the taglist? shoot me a message!

[sugarypinecones]

DODGE!!!!! god i want dodge so bad i want to lay between his stretched out legs and wrap my arms around one of them and rest my head on his thigh while he plays with my hair while we watch smth together but it's all background noise because his dick is so close to me mouf and i js wanna run my nose against the little outline from his washed out jeans IS THAT A CRIME IS THAT SO TERRIBLE please oh my god his strong rodeo arms i just wanna sit on his lap and rub my hands all over him im sorry i think im ovulating

(in lois griffin voice) whoever that was.. thank you….

NO because ur SO real.. like i audibly went holy to this, had to screenshot, send to council, and come back to re read again like that one sarah paulson video.

this was meant to be a tiny tiny blurb but it turned out way longer than expected so sorry lolz + f!reader

ALSO! if you sent an ask i am working on it, but i was on vacation so now im finally home and yupppp

send more asks. anything. i will try and match ur freak as hard as i can pls god, and anyways that being said:

like, get me; it starts out somewhat innocent. tired and lazy because of all the panic bullshit, you two decide to just stay home rather going out to all the random parties and events thrown between each game.

dayna and his mom don’t care that he has you over — they find it nice he found someone, a nice distraction from inside his head.

as for the show, it’s probably some random documentary or reality show: first thing he saw when logging into the streaming platform. he, genuinely, is probably engrossed in it, but you’re engrossed in him: how close you two are.

you’re laying between his legs, obviously, and his hands are strung around you messily, just wanting to have some sort of hold on you. how he’s holding you, you probably have no idea what, focused on the washed-out jeans of his — weathered from wear by rodeos or helping anne or anything else.

he’s probably yapping about something on the TV — “i don’t see how bestfriends could do that to eachother..” bla bla bla, you’re not really focusing in on it - humming, trying to sound interested in whatever it is he’s actually talking about. some “oh really?” and “i know..” are strung throughout the humming, but you have no idea if it’s actually appropriate to his talking.

he seems to catch on, though, unbeknownst to you. it’s hard not to notice his pretty girlfriend’s eyes focused directly on his crotch every few minutes, head shifting back and forth ever so slightly — making his dick twitch with need.

you wondered if his jeans are always this tight — wondering if you looked earlier you could’ve seen it, but the truth was, you really couldn’t. this only happened after the fact you got in the car — but obviously, you weren’t keenly aware of his crotch up until the minute you got in bed.

his hands run up and down ur back softly, and god it just makes the URGE to run ur face along the outline so much worse !!! he’s fallen quiet, so u slightly wonder if maybe something’s wrong or maybe he caught onto your disinterest in his words, so you glance up out of the corner of your eye, only to realize he’s been watching you for god knows how long.

he probably says something stupid, like: “you know the tv’s over there, right?” or “interesting?” something really dumb and smart-assy. you roll your eyes, probably say something back, and one thing leads to another and he’s nonchalantly trying to suggest you could do it if you wanted to.

so you do. and god !! does it feel as good as u thought it would. he twitches beneath u and tries to act like it’s really not turning him on as much as it is, but it’s hard not to, a sticky, wet patch is already forming at the tip of his cock; itching to bleed through the light jeans.

he ends up pulling you closer, forgetting all about the tv, bringing you into a hasty kiss, needy and desperate but still filled with tenderness.

you fix yourself on his lap, smiling into the kiss, glad you got your way, like it was ever a fight to begin with — it never was, he would give you anything you asked for whenever you wanted.

he’s so gentle when he touches you. his large hands wrapping around your waist as he pulls you even closer into his lap, his eyes closed, enjoying the kiss for a few more moments before pulling away, panting softly, breathless.

"you’re really not very good at paying attention." he mumbled breathlessly, a small smirk on his lips as he looked down at you.

he moved his hands down your sides, running them up and down your thighs, his thumbs brushing against the skin beneath the hems of your shorts as he shifted underneath you slightly.

“what’s going through your pretty little head, hm?” he mused, tilting his head slightly as he studied your face.

you hummed softly, looking up at him with a small, playful pout on your lips.

“well… i was listening,” you pouted, “kinda.”

he chuckled softly at your response, his hands continuing to run up and down your thighs, the touch of his palms warm and rough against your skin.

“you’re so cute,” he murmured, “but i don’t think you were listening at all.”

he leaned forward, planting a soft kiss on your nose, before continuing to trail his lips down your jawline and down your neck.

“i think you were too distracted by something else,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin as he nipped at your neck softly.

he knew you far too well - he knew the way your body reacted to his touch. he knew how to make you melt.

he continued to nibble at your neck, gently, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to send shivers down your spine.

“can you even remember what i was talking about?” he murmured playfully, his hands still running up and down your thighs.

“of course,” you retort, clearly defensive. “you don’t get how best friends.. could do that to eachother.” it’s clear you were listening to him, but not the television.

he chuckled softly, his lips pressed against your skin as you spoke.

“of course you remember that part,” he teased, knowing damn well you were paying more attention to his jeans than the television.

he gently nipped at your skin, sucking on a small patch of it for a moment, before pulling away.

“you were paying more attention to something else, weren’t you?”

you flush. obviously you were — who could blame you ?? :(( he was just soo close to u and so there..

he caught the flush of your cheeks, a smirk playing at his lips as he lifted his head to look at you.

“aww, you’re so cute when you blush, you know that?” he teased, “especially when you realize you’ve been caught.”

he chuckled softly, his hands moving up to your waist, his fingers slowly slipping beneath the hem of your shirt.

you pull him into a needier kiss this time, hands roaming all over, as if trying to find the right place to grab: but all seemed so promising, that you couldn’t actually settle.

he groaned softly into the kiss, matching your neediness with his own. his hands gripped at your waist, his fingers digging into your skin, as he pulled you close into his lap.

he ran his tongue across your bottom lip, requesting access that you happily gave him. his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring it hungrily, as his hands roamed across your body.

he trailed kisses down your jawline and down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of fire on your skin. he nipped at your collarbone, leaving small, love bites in their wake.

he slowly pushed himself back against the back of the bed, pulling you with him so that you were now laying on top of him, your legs on each side of his hips.

his hands roamed down to your legs, gripping your thighs as he shifted beneath you, his hips rolling up against yours.

he groaned softly as he felt the pressure against his lap, his lips still moving across your neck, leaving little love bites in their wake.

“you drive me crazy,” he mumbled against your skin.

you hum in response — too overwhelmed with pleasure to say anything other than jumbled messes, so simplify yourself with a hum.

his hands moved up, slipping underneath your shirt, and running his palms across your skin. he could feel the heat radiating off your body, and it only made him want you more.

he pulled away from your neck, looking up at you with his blue, lust-filled eyes.

“i want you,” he breathed, “so badly.”

your breath hitches — and you want to tell him to have you — right there, however much he wanted, but you can’t strangle any words out.

he moved his hands up to your hips, his grip tightening as he pulled you tightly against him, grinding his lap up against yours.

he let out a soft groan, his head falling back against the back of the headboard as he felt the friction against his straining jeans.

“you’re so beautiful,” he panted, looking up at you with a look of need in his eyes, “so damn beautiful.”

he slid his hands up further, pushing up your shirt as he did, exposing your stomach. he ran his hands up across your stomach and up to your ribs, his touch leaving chills in their wake.

he bit his lip as he looked up at you, studying your face, taking in your features as if he hadn’t seen you a million times before.

“i want you,” he repeated, his voice slightly hoarse with need, “all of you, darling.”

you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips before pulling away.

“well,” you said, your voice low and sultry, “what’s stopping you?”

he looked up at you, his eyes darkening with need.

“nothing,” he replied, his grip on you tightening as he spoke.

he shifted beneath you, pushing himself up so that he was sitting up properly against the back of the couch.

“except for these damn jeans,” he muttered, his hands moving to the button on his jeans.

you’re quick to help him — eagerly pawing at the button, undoing it with ease.

he let out a soft gasp at your eager touch, his hands moving to grip your waist as you undid the button on his jeans.

he lifted his hips as you began to pull down the jeans, a small, needy whine escaping from his lips as the fabric slid down his legs and hit the floor with a toss of your hand.

“so fucking needy..” he groaned softly, his hands running up and down your sides.

he pulled you back down onto his lap, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he settled you against his lap.

his hips bucked up slightly, his arousal pressed against your thigh as he moved.

“you’re so good to me,” he panted, his hands roaming up and down your back as he spoke, “i’m so lucky to have you.”

he tilted his head, his lips tracing a path down your neck, nibbling at sensitive spots along the way. he left a trail of little love bites, his teeth grazing against your skin in a way that made you shiver.

“i want to touch you,” he murmured against your skin, his hands running up your thighs. “please let me touch you.”

you could give him permission a million times over — and he’d still ask before doing anything else in the process, so gently; a contrast difference to his rough hands.

“please.” you retort softly.

he groaned softly at your response, his hands gripping your thighs tighter as he pulled you closer.

“always so polite,” he muttered, his lips still trailing down your neck.

he slowly moved his hands up your thighs, his fingers slowly sliding under the hem of your shorts.

“i need you so badly,” he panted, his hands moving higher, “can i..?”

you nod vicariously.

he let out a soft sigh of relief at your response, his hands moving further up your thighs, until they reached the edge of your panties.

he ran his fingers along the edge of the fabric, groaning softly at the realization that he was so close to what he wanted.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, “so perfect..”

you hum contemptibly, smiling.

he smiled at your hum, his hands slowly moving up, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties.

he ran his fingers over your skin, his touch gentle and soft, as he slowly moved towards your center.

he could feel you shiver with each touch, his own hips rolling slightly beneath you as he grew impatient.

he slowly moved his hand down, his fingers sliding across your sensitive flesh, his touch sending shivers up your spine.

“you’re so warm,” he murmured, “so ready..”

he gently began to rub at your sensitive bundle of nerves, his touch light and teasing, as his other hand moved to your hip, holding you in place.

he groaned softly at the feel of your reaction, his eyes studying your face intently.

“so beautiful..” he repeated, his fingers slowly increasing their pace.

he watched as you began to move against his touch, your hips rolling in response to his touch.

he groaned softly as he felt you press against him, his own arousal growing more and more with each small movement you made.

“that’s it,” he panted, “just like that..”

he continued his movements, his fingers quickening their pace as he felt you growing closer.

he could feel your body shaking with need, your hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders.

“just relax darling,” he murmured, “let go for me..”

he continued to rub at your sensitive core, his fingers moving in a steady rhythm, as he watched you grow closer and closer to the edge.

he could feel your body growing tense, your grip on him growing tighter, as you began to whine and pant with need.

“that’s it, just like that..” he repeated, his own hips rolling up against you as he continued his ministrations.

he watched as you grew tense, your body trembling as you reached the edge, your eyes squeezing shut as you arched your back slightly.

he kept up his movements, his hand still rubbing at your sensitive flesh, continuing to bring you closer and closer to release, “come for me, please..” he panted, his own need growing stronger by the second.

he could feel you growing closer and closer to the edge with each second, your breath coming in soft pants and moans as you teetered on the brink.

and finally, you came, your body shaking as you reached your climax, a soft moan escaping from your lips.

he continued to move his fingers gently against you, helping you ride out your orgasm, as he spoke softly, “so perfect..”

he gently pulled his hand away from you, his eyes watching as you came down from your high. he studied your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and messy hair.

“that’s it darling,” he murmured, “just breathe..”

he moved his hands to your hips once more, holding you tightly in his lap as he waited for you to regain your bearings.

[recareels]

it’s a craving, not a crush

so anyway, i have an obsession with sunday’s white trousers and i rly just wanna make him make a mess in them (*ﾉωﾉ) | title credit: lunch by billie eilish

character: sunday warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, dom/sub power dynamics, daddy kink, talks of punishment, cock worship if you squint, noncon/dubcon as reader refuses to take no for an answer, cum licking/swallowing, pet names (darling, sweetheart, etc), bratty reader, one use of the word sir, overstimulation words: 2.6k

“Sweetheart, come now,” Sunday says, glancing over at you—splayed on your tummy across the carpet, elbows bent and chin in palms, a fraying novel open in front of you—with a small grin. “What are you doing? The floor is not a proper place to read—especially not when there are so many suitable alternatives.” 

Sunset eyes sweep across the circular room, pointedly lingering on the various chairs and couches scattered about—plush blue velvet, overstuffed and detailed in gold, with freshly fluffed pillows arranged meticulously, accentuating them.

With a huff, you look down at your book, index finger outlining the edge of the page idly. 

“What if I prefer the floor?” 

“Oh?” he turns toward you, placing his pen down on the desk. “And why is that? Are the couches not to your liking?” 

Amusement tugs at the corners of his mouth, his head tilting in question. You stare at him for a moment, your own mirth glimmering in your eyes, before finally pushing yourself up onto all fours.

“Well,” you drawl out, crawling on your hands and knees toward him, something sly smeared across your face. “Maybe there’s something I want on the floor.”

A soft chuckle vibrates in his throat as you reach his knee, propping your chin on his thigh and gazing up at him. 

“Whatever could that be?” he hums out the words, sweet as honey, a gloved palm coming to smooth baby hairs back from your brow.

“To kneel between your thighs,” a hand begins creeping up his leg, tracing the inseam of his immaculately pressed trousers, “and play with you a little.” 

“You know that isn’t appropriate, darling,” he says, his voice paradoxically both stern and soft. “I’m working right now, and you promised to behave.” 

“What?” you pout, finger stopping a millimetre shy of the growing lump in his pants. “Sucking your cock through your trousers doesn’t make me a good girl?” 

Sunday’s eyes refocus on the papers strewn in front of him, beginning to gather them in a haphazard pile. 

“Not when Daddy’s trying to sift through these documents, no. There is a time and a place for everything, you know that.” 

“But—But what if I really want to?” 

He sighs, squaring up the papers between his hands and tapping them on his desk a few times to align them before placing them back on the surface, conscientious not to mess them up. Features gone hard and flat, he casts you another glance, bordering on exasperated. 

“When has whining ever gotten you what you want? Hm?” 

Never, of course—that would instil bad habits in you, and Sunday can’t have that. 

Doesn’t mean you’ve stopped trying. 

“Please, Daddy,” you whimper, index finger sketching out the shape of his cock, touch feather-light. “Please, let me suck on it, just for a little bit? You don’t even have to take it out! I just wanna—”

“It seems the word no has vanished from your vocabulary. Does Daddy need to reinstate it?” 

“No,” you look away, cheeks burning at his reprimand, eyes downcast as a finger draws nonsensical shapes on his flesh. “I just wanna be close to you, that’s all.” 

The pout in your voice is palpable, heavy and contorting your words into something shy and mumbled. Your eyes shift up, shining with sincerity, beseeching him to understand. 

“I love being close to you; I love making you feel good.” 

You also love pleasing; this he knows for a fact. You love bringing him moments of pure bliss, creating them using your body as your tool and gifting him fragments of absolute rapture in the rawest, most authentic sense.

A large sigh crushes his chest, the edges of Sunday’s resolve beginning to melt beneath your veracity. 

“I swear I’m not trying to be bad or upset you,” you say, voice painfully earnest. “I just want you.” 

The hunger in your eyes is saturated in desire, deep and intense and almost scathing with it’s craving. Your pupils have teeth, your ardency having swallowed up any remnants of mischief, leaving behind nothing but genuine want.

“How about…A compromise? You can suck my cock when I’m finished with my work.” 

An enticing offer, to be sure. But not what you want. 

He sounds unaffected, voice cool and crisp as if he’s striking a business deal—but his cock tells you otherwise, already half-hard and beginning to strain against white linen; yearning, and you’ve barely even touched it yet.

Daddy wants it just as bad as you do; you know he does. He just happens to possess a stricter sense of self-control and a stubborn dedication to his work, that’s all. 

“But that could take ages,” you groan out dramatically, brattiness beginning to seep back into your tone; inherent, irreverent, revived by the prospect of not getting your way. “I’ll probably have to go to bed before you’re even close to finished!” 

Austerity returns to his face, unimpressed by your unwillingness, gaze set in stone once again, and he returns to his work, resolute and relentless. 

“I am tiring of this conversation,” he says, vaguely spit from his tongue as he cards through manilla folders.

“Your cock isn’t—”

“And I have better things to do than go in circles with a little girl intent on misbehaving,” he speaks loudly over your voice, drowning it out. 

Something barbed sinks in your chest, the watery sting of refusal beginning to well up beneath your tongue. It seems he’s made up his mind, a certain finality ringing in his decision—a finality you know intimately, a finality that is engraved in permanence. 

Because once Daddy’s decision has been made final, you know there’s no chance of revising it. 

You are not getting what you want—not with permission, anyway. 

“M’sorry, Daddy,” you murmur softly, true remorse in your voice. 

Sunday doesn’t answer, but to your surprise he doesn’t demand you remove yourself from between his legs, either, an act you perceive as a non-verbal allowance to stay there.

And, for a little while, that’s all you do, resting your head on his thigh as your fingers map out nonsensical patterns along his other leg, lips occasionally planting a smattering of kisses to his warm, clothed flesh. 

You’re drifting between states of consciousness when his voice sounds again, smooth and soft, a palm cupping the crown of your head. 

“My, you really do miss me.”

“Told you so,” you drool out, the words slurred and sleepy. “Still wanna suck you off, too.”

A sigh depresses his chest, chased by a disapproving click of his tongue. “Stubborn little thing.”

And although it’s an insult, his voice is tender, his fingers doting, his eyes filled with fondness. 

“You aren’t going to give up, are you?” 

Sowing a trail of kisses up his thigh, you shake your head, accompanied by a quiet sound of denial. Laying your cheek on his firm muscle again, your tongue darts from between your lips to poke lazily at the bulge between his legs.

His cock is already filling again—gosh, for someone who claims they don’t want it, you sure are easy to arouse, Daddy—jumping a little beneath your dreamy coo, damp breath seeping through his pants to warm his most intimate parts.

Another sigh leaves his lips, charged with resignation and surrender.

“Stop that.” 

A hum of mock contemplation vibrates on your tongue, eyes closing briefly as you nuzzle into his groin. 

“Doesn’t feel like you want me to stop.” The tip of your tongue slips past your lips again, tracing a slow, lazy circle around his clothed head. “Doesn’t really seem like you want me to stop, either.” 

And it’s true, he doesn’t seem like he wants you to stop, refraining from administering his usual warnings or enforcing his usual preliminary discipline, instead doing nothing at all. 

“It has been made clear to me that you won’t learn your lesson if I forcibly stop you. Only when you do it of your own volition can I be sure that you’ve actually learned.” He pauses, allowing room for a response, but you only burrow your face further into his lap. “Manually halting you doesn’t seem to help.”

Your lips traverse the trajectory of his cock, now fully hard, planting another row of soft, wet kisses across it as he speaks, more intent on your work than his words.

“You know if you go through with this there will be consequences, yes?” 

“I’m aware.” Your tongue curls, a sweet little flick over the head, punctuated by another peck.

“So long as you’re—ah—aware.” 

The promise of punishment weighs hefty in his tone—it will come, and it won’t be fun, you can be certain of that. 

But in this moment it doesn’t matter; in this moment you don’t care, too enamoured with him to be concerned about the inevitable consequences looming in the future, too starved for an ounce of him, any way you can have him. It’ll be worth whatever punishment he conjures up, you’re sure of it. His cum is worth anything.

And you tell him so, a half-swallowed moan wadding up in his throat in response. 

“Anything for attention, huh?”

“Any attention is good attention when it comes from you,” you murmur, nestling your cheek into his thigh.

A hand pets your head, gentle and warm, his stern tone mollified by love. “That’s no reason to misbehave, though.” 

You answer with a kiss to his cock, followed by one slow, heavy lave over the lump, dragging your tongue along the curve and leaving a wide streak of saliva in your wake. 

You’re done talking. 

Sunday sucks a hiss through his teeth, a jolt of rigidness freezing his entire body for a moment before he forces it to relax—legs, thighs, arms, fists, face—and exhales a drawn out breath, long and controlled.  

His eyes, unblinking, stay trained on the documents spread across his desk, but his gaze is motionless, stare focused on a singular spot. 

A smile spreads across your lips, still pressed to his cock, and you stifle a giggle, remnants of it still playing on the back of your tongue, planting another hot, damp open-mouthed kiss to his clothed head. 

Your pace stays leisurely at the start, tongue rolling over the length of his cock in lazy repetitive laps—up, down, up, down, savouring the soft noises you manage to elicit from him with each cycle through the routine; those little hitches of breath, stuttering in his throat on the inhale, those faint whimpers that vibrate in his chest, snuffed out long before they can reach his lips. 

All non-verbal pleads to go faster. 

But you don’t. You won’t, not until his trousers are thoroughly drenched, your saliva stretched thick and sticky on the linen of his pants, aiding your tongue in its slick glide.

Only then do you begin to accelerate, tongue flattening against the straining lump and massaging in broad circular motions, gaining speed with each lick. It hurts, scalding little pricks erupting across your sensitive flesh, tastebuds beginning to chafe from being repetitively ground into the starched fabric. But you persevere, unperturbed by the pain, dedicated to your pursuit of pleasure.

Head tilting upward, your tongue flexes, stretching itself taut and tense as you endeavour to stare up at him. And oh, what a breathtakingly beautiful sight you are, eyes glittering with a coltish mischief and lips spread into a wide, open smile as your tongue works, hard and fast, smearing a dense lacquer of spit across your chin. 

There’s something desperate in your gaze, wanton and wanting, your need to please contradicting your misbehaviour, and Sunday’s hips twitch, an involuntary action that only serves to spur you on further, nurturing your enthusiasm.

It’s nasty and messy and so fucking hot, Sunday just barely able to smother the groan that claws at his chest when he glances down at you again, looking up at him with such potent devotion it almost feels suffocating, pouring from your eyes and permeating the air, curling around his neck and squeezing. 

Blood rushes from his brain and leaves his skull full of tingles, stalling his breath in his lungs and feathering the edges of his vision.

“Ha-ah, fuck,” he chokes out, hips jerking again and you whine a little, nose nuzzling into him in a yearning caress. 

He’s been trying to keep quiet, you can tell; murdering his sweet sounds of pleasure by clenching his teeth and swallowing firmly, intent on not giving you the satisfaction of knowing that it feels good, that he’s enjoying it. 

Because, really, what kind of deterrent is that?

An unconvincing one, that’s what.

And you prove his hypothesis, slick tongue curving around his cock as best it can, embracing the shaft in tight, wet warmth and siphoning it into your mouth, drawing him in as far as his pants will possibly allow.

Lips puckered and cheeks hollowed, you suck on his clothed cock, the force of your suction keeping it steady as the tip of your tongue flicks over his soaked slit, outlined by the fabric clinging to his flesh. 

Another moan pries past his lips, fading into something airy and light, and the speed of your motions increases, tongue rubbing over the head in strong, tight little licks. 

You’re mouthing at his cock with a vengeance now, starved for more of his delicious noises, eager to tug another from him in spite of his strives to restrain them—each sound a prize to be coveted, cherished and collected—lips slurping at his head in thick smears while that slick muscle continues to work, smoothing over his leaking slit in sloppy little strokes. 

You can taste his pre-cum, oozing through drenched material and watered down with your own spit, a whimper sounding deep within your throat, a greedy plea for more.

It’s sweet and tangy on your tongue, infused with his favourite roast of coffee and the copious amounts of sugar he drowns it in, and another little whine reverberates against his cock, loud and drawn-out.

Three more swipes over the head of his cock have him cumming with a sharp gasp, pristine trousers stained hot and sticky as he fills them, hips bucking into your face. 

But you don’t dare move, eager to lap up and swallow down every drop he’ll give you, desperate tongue blotting up the thick dribbles of cream oozing through linen. 

So devoted, so desirous. 

That avid tongue continues to lave and suckle until his thighs are jerking with each flick, his breath stammering with shocks of overstimulation, a gloved hand rooting in the hair at the back of your skull and pulling gently.

“Hungry?” he asks through a smirk, the question a wispy chuckle. 

“Always for you, Sir,” you garble, words tangled in spit, sounding as if you’re drunk on him, eyes gone dreamy with lust-tinted love. 

The palm at the back of your head follows the curve of your cheek in an affectionate caress, coming to cup your jaw, thumb running along your bottom lip. 

“Are you sated now?”

“Mm, never,” you hum out, lips puckering against his thumbprint in a sloppy kiss, blinking up at him with star-encrusted eyes. 

His thumb presses against your mouth in response—a chaste kiss of its own—as he stares down at you, lips mollified into an endearing smile, eyes gone melty with absolute adoration, resting tenderly on your face for a moment.

They’re mostly pupils now, gaping orbs outlined by a thin ring of gold. They linger on each of your features, devouring your devout expression with a careful meticulousness, before sweeping to his crotch, now saturated with his cum and your spit, glazed material shimmering delicately beneath the lamplight of his office.

“You sure did make quite the mess,” he muses, eyes surveying the damage slow and thorough, hips shifting a little, as if to assess from all angles. 

His gaze flits back to you after a moment of contemplation, something glinting in his irises, mischief toying with a corner of his lips. 

“Now it’s time to clean it up.”

[revelboo]

I love the way all your stuff blends together sometimes

Do you plan that from the start? Or has it just kinda happened as you go?

Also all the different storylines you've got going is insane and admirable, I love reading your stuff(esp Alcohol eyes and Attractive today! Oh oh and the Future freaks me out <333)

Is there a certain plotline or character you've loved writing for the most so far?? Or one you weren't expecting to enjoy so much but do??

- can I call myself the taking care of Rumble anon lmao that was my first ask I sent to you

I knew when I started separating the storylines out into the broad categories on the Masterlist, that I’d want to weave the ones in those categories together as much as possible. It’s easier to do that writing them simultaneously. These short fics are a mimicry of how I outline actual stories. I get a ton of index cards and just write short form scenes on them.

I really wasn’t expecting to have as much fun with Metroplex as I’ve had- I had honestly initially thought the request might be a joke request and just kept thinking about it until I decided to do it anyway.

Gotta take of Rumble. 18+ content. 🌶️

Alcohol Eyes Pt 5

Rumble x Reader

• Groaning, you drag a pillow over the top of your head as the light slicing in through the blinds finds your face. Leg sliding until it connects with something warm and hard to mingle with your headache and it all comes rushing back. A bit too much to drink, your ex. Rumble. Breaking the bed at some point apparently.

• Optics squinting at the bright daylight, there’s a faint worry that Soundwave might just kill him when he finds him, but as he sits up some and sees your leg you’d kicked out from under the sheet and follows the bare skin all to way up to the middle of your back, his spike is hard all over again. Soundwave becoming a later problem. Reaching for you even though he knows he needs to suck it up and talk to you. Because at some point you’re going to figure out he’s not a human in a costume and he’s not looking forward to that or your reaction. Right now, though? “Come here,” he growls.

• Hearing the bed creak dangerously as he shifts behind you, grabs your hips and settles himself between your spread thighs. Draping himself against your back, his weight driving the air from your lungs before he braces himself on a forearm and hooks the other under your hips. “Baby, I’m not even awake,” you laugh, voice wavering into a moan when his servos cup you, stroking. Definitely not the worst way to wake up as he uses his arm to tip your hips up and buries his spike inside you in a slow drive. “Right there,” you sigh, fingers fisting the pillow as you rock your hips back to meet his lazy thrusts.

• That wet heat grips his spike as he moves against you, in no real hurry this time. Just savoring the feel of you. He’s been with Soundwave so long, but he’ll need his own quarters now, for you and him. Soft things like humans like. Hips curling as he moves faster, you make those lovely sounds as he thrusts deep. You’ll be happy with him, he’ll make sure of it. Groaning as you tighten on him, hips rocking against you as you milk his spike. Pressing his mouth against the back of your shoulder. “Hey,” he says.

• “Good morning to you, too,” you laugh, feeling him lazily buck his hips against you again even as his excess wets your thighs. “That’s some dedication sleeping in all that,” you add. Because he’s still in his costume. The arm hooked under your hips shifts as his mouth brushes the curve of your shoulder and slides along your neck and up behind your ear. And in the light of day, it’s a bit too real. Like this means more to him than just fantastic, toe curling sex. You like the guy, but aren’t sure how to break it to him that it was just sex and after your ex, you’re not sure you want a relationship. At least not right now.

• “So,” he begins, reluctantly sliding free of you and you roll half on your side to look up at him, arching your brows at him. Easing back to sit, your bed creaks dangerously as he stretches out to catch your smaller hand. “Not a costume. And I’m not human,” he says, bracing for the fear. Not expecting you to start laughing as he grimaces. Because you don’t believe him.

Previous

Next

[yuujispinkhair]

Can't help thinking how boyfie sukuna would tease u w his little home workouts cause he knows 1 look at his sweaty flexing muscles turns u into a puddle.

Also reverse w u & yoga. Can't do yoga w him home cause he always sneaks up on u to help u stretch or change positions.

Anon, I feel so dizzy!! To imagine him working out in front of you, showing off, and knowing how sexy he is aaahh fuckkk. I need him so bad!!

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: smut + fluff Word Count: 500 Warnings: 18+, smut, sweaty sex, teasing, dirty talk, creampie. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Sukuna looks so sexy when he's working out in front of you. And, of course, that asshole knows it and does it on purpose!

Always shirtless, always in his grey sweats that show his dick outline. Always flexing his muscles extra hard, always making sure to get all sweaty because he knows how enticing his flexed pecs and abs look when the sweat glistens on them. Always doing those workouts that make his biceps flex while he's looking over at you with that rude smirk and that knowing glint in those beautiful maroon eyes.

"Princess, you are drooling. Do you need a towel?"

"What I need is for you to stop being such a tease, Kuna! This isn't a strip club!"

But you laugh while saying it, and Sukuna is already on his way over to you, leaning down to grab your hand and put in on his flexed abs. His skin and muscles feel so hot and hard to the touch and so wet from the sweat.

"Want me to fuck you like that, all sweaty and stuff? Does that turn you on, sweetheart?"

You only look up at him and lick your lips, and a moment later, Sukuna slams you against the next best wall, tearing off your shorts and hastily pushing your panties to the side.

And you find yourself getting fucked hard against the wall, your legs wrapped around Sukuna's hips, his sweatpants pushed down just enough to free his cock and heavy balls, so he can ram his aching hard cock deep into your wet heat.

He smells so sexy, a mix of cologne and sweat, and his hair falls into his face, wet and messy. His muscles are so buff, the veins on his arms accentuated from the heavy workout, and his skin is slippery from the sweat, where your hands slide desperately over his tatted muscles in your need to feel more of him.

It's a dirty, rough fuck. Sweaty and fast, with Sukuna snapping his hips against you at an unrelenting pace, fucking you with almost brutal thrusts, making your back slide up and down the wall while you cling to him and mewl his name because his fat cockhead hits that sweet spot over and over again.

He groans when your pussy tightens around his cock, already so close to your orgasm, and he fucks you even harder while whispering in your ear,

"Yeah, like that, princess. Cum on me. You like it dirty, huh?"

You clench hard around him, screaming his name, not caring about the neighbors as you shudder around Sukuna's fat, sweaty cock.

Your nails dig into his buff muscles, and you force yourself to open your eyes and look at your man, moaning when you see the moment when something flickers in Kuna's eyes, and you feel him tense up before he fills you with his hot seed while groaning your name.

You both breathe heavily as your lips find each other in a deep, passionate kiss while you still feel Sukuna throb deep inside your twitching pussy.

He laughs softly when you pull away from the kiss, still holding you safely in his strong arms. That irresistible boyish smirk is on his handsome face again.

"This was an even better workout than the one I did before."

You feel dizzy, your head spinning from getting fucked so good and hard, but you manage to smile at him and brush his sweaty hair out of his face.

"And I really enjoyed being your workout partner, baby."

Both of you laugh as Sukuna wraps his arms tightly around you,

"Hold on to me, princess."

And he carries you to the bathroom, where you take a long hot shower together that leads to more deep kisses and needy touches, but this time it's shower gel that gets spread all over his flexed muscles and used to lather up his hard cock until he is ready to fuck you again.

This drives me so INSANE!! Hot sweaty sex with boyfie Kuna aaaah please gimme!! Ahahaha thank you so much for sending me this thirst!! I hope you enjoyed this little drabble! I will think about this all day grrrr.

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

[icyhottodo178]

Kinktober Day Three: Toys- Tsukishima Kei

𝘼𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧’𝙨 𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚: 𝘿𝙖𝙮 𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙩𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧 2024 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧, 𝙞𝙩’𝙨 𝙏𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙢𝙖 𝙆𝙚𝙞 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙃𝙖𝙞𝙠𝙮𝙪𝙪. 𝙄 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮!!

𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨: 𝙐𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙫𝙞𝙗𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧, 𝙨𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙥𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙘 𝙨𝙚𝙭, 𝙢𝙤𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙜𝙧𝙤𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝘿𝙤𝙢!𝙏𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙢𝙖, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛𝙡𝙮, 𝙨𝙚𝙭𝙪𝙖𝙡 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 18+ 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩.

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 823

Being out with Tsukishima and his friends seemed like a good idea at the time but not while you tried your best to not moan due to having a vibrator inside of you as you bite your bottom lip in order to prevent you from moaning. You, Tsukishima and a few of his friends from his old volleyball team at Karasuno High were out at a bar drinking but you shift in your seat since you were starting to feel the vibrations become a bit stronger than they had previously been.

“Hey. Are you alright? You seem uncomfortable. Is your stomach hurting or something?” Shoyo asked as you shook your head and you told him that you were just trying to sort out your dress. Thankfully Shoyo understood as he went back to talking to Kageyama and you were glad that he believed your lie since you couldn’t tell anyone that you had a vibrator inside of your core. You look over to your boyfriend, Tsukishima, as you could see the outline a tiny remote in his front pocket and you felt another vibration course through your body.

You could see Tsukishima smirk for second before he turned up the vibrator up again as you groan but realised it was too loud and all eyes were on you. You laughed sheepishly as you apologised and you told your friends that you were having cramps which again was another lie but you didn’t care.

“You should go to the bathroom if they get worse,” Kageyama said to you as you nod and you got up before you excused yourself, heading to the bathroom but you shot a look of need to Tsukishima. He nods as he also excused himself before he headed to the bathroom too while his friends went back to chatting to one another and you knew Tsukishima was going to follow you to the bathroom. Once he made sure no one else was going to come, Tsukishima follows you to the bathroom as he pulls you into one of the stalls and locks it before he kisses you on the lips while he turns up the vibrator once again causing you to moan into his mouth.

“Tsuki! Please get this thing out of me already! I’ve had it in for the past hour or so and I’m very close to cumming. I’ve been good and haven’t cummed yet so please let me,” You said after you pulled away from the kiss as you were sat on top of the toilet seat which was put down by Tsukishima and you spread open your legs after he pulls down your leggings along with your panties. He could see how wet you were as your pussy was dripping wet and he heard the vibrator making a small hum noise.

“You’re really wet, baby girl. You want to cum huh? Alright then you can but I want you to make as little noise as possible. Wouldn’t want you to get any sort of attention by our friends so make minimal noise. Got it?” Tsukishima said to you as he turns up the vibrator to the highest level which cause you to moan in pleasure but you did so not too loudly and your legs trembled at the vibrations coursing through your pussy and your body. You could feel Tsukishima’s eyes on your pussy as the sounds of the vibrator and your pussy squelching was the only thing, apart from the two of you breathing, that could be heard.

You tried to tell Tsukishima that you were about to cum but your mind was hazy in pleasure as you couldn’t form a single sentence and you ended up cumming hard while muffled your moans with your hand. Your body trembled as the orgasm racked throughout your body and you slumped into Tsukishima’s chest once your orgasm passed. You could hear your boyfriend praise you for being such a good girl but you weren’t paying much attention to the rest as your mind was still hazy at the moment and you sighed. Tsukishima turned off the vibrator with the small remote as he takes it out from your pussy and he cleans it using a tissue before he puts it back into his pocket.

“Good job baby girl. I’ll reward you once we get home alright?” Tsukishima said to you as you nod and you clean yourself with some tissue before you clean the toilet seat. You pull up your panties and leggings as you lift the seat up before throwing the tissues inside, flushing the toilet afterwards. Tsukishima unlocked the stall as you both got out to wash your hands before you dry them and then leave afterwards. You made a mental note that you would buy more toys next time and let Tsukishima use them for sex. After all, you loved the first toy you got and you were hoping to try some more soon.

𝙎𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝘿𝙖𝙮 𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙩𝙤𝙗𝙚𝙧 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙢𝙚 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙪𝙮𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨. 𝙄 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝘿𝙖𝙮 𝙁𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙬.

𝘼𝙣𝙮𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 @icyhottodo178 𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛𝙛 𝙪𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚!! 𝙋𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙩!!

[kakuvibez]

Hey can you make a eah x twst fic one with apple reader x rook vil and epel

yandere one shot+quotes; Pomefiore Dorm

requested by ; anonymous/ @user / none,,

fandom(s) ; Eah, Twst,,

fandom master list(s): master | specific

character(s); Vil, Rook, Epel, Apple

outline; "Where Apple! Reader find themselves in a boy school as a transfer student,, "

warning(s) ; Yandere behavior, obsession, unhealthy relationships, delusional love, manipulation, dark themes, toxic affection,,

Signature spell: CHARMING,, With her powers of charming, [N] Apple can literally hypnotize anyone with her looks to do a good deed. She can also summon any good magical creature or regular animal to aid her.

"There's a lot of pressure when you’re next in line to be "the fairest of them all"

"The most fabulous of them all"

"Let me just say I will preside over this school like I will my future kingdom: perfectly!"

"Well, it's eating that carrot awfully fast! Which will give it a really EVIL tummy ache!"

"True Hearts Day! Aren't you just totally excited? It used to be such an important day on the Royal Calender. Ah, love. Finding our pre-determined princes."

Being the fairest wasn’t just about beauty—it was about perfection.

And at Night Raven College, you were perfection personified.

The moment you stepped into Night Raven College, it was clear that you were special.

Your beauty, your charm—everything about you demanded attention. And the students of Pomefiore took notice immediately.

With your dazzling looks, regal presence, and signature spell Charming, you could effortlessly sway even the most stubborn of hearts to do good. But here, in Pomefiore, that perfection came at a cost.

Vil was the first to claim you.

Vil had expectations. You were to embody grace, discipline, and refinement in every aspect. There was no room for failure.

"You must always look your best," he’d murmur, running a critical eye over your outfit, adjusting a stray strand of hair. "After all, perfection is expected of someone like you."

Rook? He adored you in his own unsettling way. Every move you made, every word you spoke—he was there, watching, admiring, whispering about your beauty like an artist enchanted by his muse.

Rook was more… poetic in his obsession.

"Ah, mon trésor, you are like a golden apple glistening in the sunlight!" His eyes would glimmer with admiration, always watching. Always knowing where you were. "I must keep you safe from any who wish to tarnish your splendor."

And Epel? He was different. He didn’t want to be captivated by you, but he was. No matter how hard he tried to act tough, one glance from you, one sweet request, and he was completely under your spell. He wasn’t as direct as the others, but his grip on your wrist would tighten whenever another student tried to talk to you. "Why do you even need to talk to them?" he’d grumble. "Aren’t we enough?"

But being the fairest meant more than just admiration.

It meant you belonged to Pomefiore.

And they were never letting you go.

"Perfection isn’t an option. It’s a requirement."

Your reflection shimmered in the grand mirror of Pomefiore’s dorm, Vil standing behind you with a critical gaze.

"Chin up. Shoulders back," he instructed. "A queen does not slouch."

You obeyed instinctively. Years of royal training had made it second nature, but there was something different about Vil’s expectations. More… rigid.

"Remember, dear," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "You are the fairest of them all. You must act accordingly."

Behind him, Rook sighed dreamily. "Ah, ma belle étoile, you shine like the dawn itself!"

You offered a polite smile, but inside, your stomach twisted.

Epel, standing by the door, frowned. "Ain’t like they’re some kinda doll," he muttered, crossing his arms. But even he couldn’t meet your eyes directly. Not when he knew one glance would have him melting into obedience.

Vil’s gaze sharpened. "Epel."

The boy flinched.

"Mind your manners," Vil warned before turning back to you. His violet eyes softened just slightly. "You belong here, [Name]. You wouldn’t want to disappoint us, would you?"

The way he said it—so sweet, so gentle—sent shivers down your spine.

No. You couldn’t disappoint them.

Not when perfection was the only thing keeping you safe.

Being the fairest in Pomefiore wasn’t a privilege—it was a cage, an expectation that you set yourself to be. Vil molded you into his ideal of beauty, Rook worshiped you like a divine being, and Epel—despite his protests—was drawn to you in ways he didn’t understand.

"You’re spending too much time outside Pomefiore," Vil’s voice was silky but firm, his violet eyes narrowing. "That is unacceptable."

"I was just talking to—" Your sweet voice tried to explain but was intruped

Vil held up a perfectly manicured hand. "Enough. You belong here, with us."

Rook chuckled from the doorway, his green eyes gleaming. "Oui, oui~! The fairest of them all should not waste her time with peasants!"

You swallowed. "I-I don’t think—" as you fix your crown as a nervous habit.

Epel stepped forward, his lips set in a stubborn pout. "It’s better this way. Just stay with us. You don’t need anyone else." The heavy perfume of Pomefiore’s halls suddenly felt suffocating.

You tried to turn away, to run or just hide from the wrong smell, but Rook was already behind you, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders.

"Now, now, mon amour," he whispered. "There’s no need to be afraid." You cover your nose as the smell got stronger.

Vil’s fingers traced your cheek, his touch deceptively gentle. "You should be grateful, dear. We’re simply ensuring that you remain… perfect."

You felt your stomach drop. This wasn’t love. You didn't know about love, but you knew whatever this was, it wasn't it. You felt Epel's hands gripping your waist. And no matter how much you struggled, their grip on you would never loosen.

After all—who would let a perfect apple rot in someone else’s hands?

Vil Schoenheit

- "Imperfection is unacceptable. If you falter, I will correct you."

- "A ruler must be flawless. I will shape you into the queen you were meant to be."

- "You are the fairest of them all. But only because I allow it."

- "Perfection must be maintained. And you, my dear, are too precious to let anyone ruin you."

- "If you think you can escape me, you clearly don’t understand how this world works."

- "A diamond like you belongs in my crown. Nowhere else."

Rook Hunt

- "No one shall harm you, ma chérie. Not when I am always watching~"

- "Ah, how exquisite! Your beauty, your grace—I must capture this moment forever!"

- "You cannot escape the eyes of a hunter, my dear apple. And I am the greatest of them all."

- "Ah~ mon trésor! No matter where you run, my eyes will always find you!"

- "You shine brighter than any star! It is my duty to keep such radiance untouched by unworthy hands!"

- "Ah, but you do love us, don’t you? After all, we only want what is best for you!"

Epel Felmier

- "I ain’t under your spell! I’m not—!... Okay, maybe a little, but that ain't fair!"

- "Vil says I gotta protect ya. Like you even need protection when ya can make anyone do whatever ya want..."

- "Tch… why do ya have to be so… so damn mesmerizing?"

- "I hate when others look at you. Makes me wanna break somethin’."

- "You don’t need those guys. You’ve got us. That’s enough."

- "If they think they can take you from us, they’ve got another thing coming."

You may be the fairest of them all… but in Pomefiore, beauty is owned. You are their prized possession, their treasured jewel, and they will never let you go.

You were their crown jewel.

And a jewel like you?

Could never be stolen away.

After all, a perfect apple… must never fall into the wrong hands.

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

Mr. Walz

Featuring Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz

Back in the late ‘90s, Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz, and now Vice President Kamala Harris’ running mate, was a high school teacher and football coach in rural Minnesota. I attended Mankato West from 2000-2004, having Walz for 11th grade history. Being gay at the time, I initially expected to hate Walz, because he was a football coach and a hunter. But he was accepting and really friendly with me; with everyone really. He’s genuinely the goofy teacher that was in the hallway greeting every kid every morning, giving high fives and fist bumps. He and his wife, also a teacher at the school, provided vital support during my formative years. And to be honest, I thought he was cute.

He was in his late 30s and about 21 years my senior at that time, about my height, which is just shy of five foot-nine. He was chiselled like most middle-aged men with a gut. He dressed conservatively, usually a short sleeve solid colored shirt with a tee shirt under it and trousers which seemed to be a few sizes too small. I couldn’t help but find myself staring at his tightly held manhood, which showed a clear outline of his thick cock. That bulge had me daydreaming during our meets and school outings. I would jerk-off with this image in my mind every night.

After graduation, I didn’t see my ex-teacher again until I attended a campaign dinner in Falcon Heights, Minnesota. He instantly recognized me, smiling broadly and gave me a big hug. We’re talking 20-something years ago, and to have your 10th-grade geography teacher remember you after all of that time, it means something. I couldn’t call him Gov. Walz, because he will forever be Mr. Walz.

We talked a bit then, and a couple times throughout the evening. He asked me about what I was up to, if I was dating, the usual chit chat. I was so giddy to see Mr. Walz that I confessed that I had a crush on him in high school. I told him I thought about him every night when I jack off. How I use a big carrot up my ass, and pretend it was his dick. And I told him I knew he would never like me, that way, but I had to tell him.

Surprisingly, he suggested I should come over to his hotel, later, placing his hotel room card on the edge of the sink right next to me.

"Wait here, I'll have an agent escort you to my room in an hour." He said before leaving. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed, but no one had, so I quickly grabbed the key.

Sure enough, an hour later, a secret service agent escorted me to his hotel. The journey upstairs was unbearable. Reporters to dodge, people for the agent to nod away. By the time I got to Mr. Walz’s room, I was afraid he’d think I wasn’t’ interested, but when I entered the room, he was ready and waiting. The lights were dim, Mr. Walz was in a hotel bathrobe, and he’d ordered porn on the television.

"Is this what you really want?" I asked.

"More then anything." He replied.

I made the first move, leaning in to kiss him and as soon as our lips met, his arms went around me. Quickly, he started unbuttoning my shirt, unzipping my pants, and basically tearing my clothes off as he moved his tongue around inside my mouth. His hand was on my hard dick, feeling and testing the size.

"Oh, yeah." He moaned, as he ran his hand down my tender, sensitive cock before squatting.

With his mouth at my crotch, he ran his tongue up all seven inches, before gently pushing me towards the bed. On the bed, our bodies melded into one. His hard dick was teasing mine, as once again, our tongues found the other's mouth. Hands everywhere, as we hugged and rocked each other. Kissing my way down his chest, I left a trail of saliva all the way to his cock. Taking him in my mouth, I began to suck while I swirled my tongue around his boner before he started thrusting into my throat, making me gag. I guess he got pretty turned on by what I was doing to him as he turned me around and put us into 69 position.

As Mr. Walz took my dick in his mouth, I took his dick in mine. I worked on it with such skill that he began moaning deep inside his throat as he sucked my dick. And he could really suck; he knew how to please a man. I began to feel him starting to breathe rapidly and shake. I knew he was going to explode soon. I was getting close as well.

Wanting Mr. Walz to fuck me, I quickly seperated, and rolled off the bed leaving him laying there completely naked with a huge hard-on. Hurrying to my pants, I pulled a tube of lubrication out of his pocket before I bounded back to the bed. After telling him I wanted him to fuck me, I tensely watched as Mr. Walz applied the lubricate to his cock, knowing the pain I was about to feel. I couldn’t help but thinking back to my high school years when I first saw him. I had always wanted Mr. Walz to fuck me since then. Now was the time.

“You got a nice tight asshole.” Mr. Walz told me as he rubbed some of the KY onto my asshole.

He lifted my legs and stared me straight in the eyes as he guided the head of his cock to my ass. As soon as his dick made contact, he immediately thrust all 8 inches into me. I gasped loudly, so loudly in fact that I’m sure the people in the next room heard.

“I’m going to really open up your asshole.” Mr. Walz called out with a wicked smile on his face as he slowly started fucking me.

Noticing each time the fat head of his cock passed my hard prostate, pre-cum would squirt from the tip of my dick. He reached down and scooped it up with his finger, brought it to his mouth and licked it clean.

"Oh, man, that's good." He said, as he scooped up more, but I pulled his finger to his mouth, and sucked it in.

We smiled at each other before he leaned forward and kissed me deep, our tongues caressed each other, sharing my pre-cum. Then as we kissed he sent his cock plunging deeper into me. I arched my back as I was forced to take more cock deeper into my ass than ever before.

“Yes, fuck me, Mr. Walz.” I found myself saying when he broke our embrace, “Give it to me, Mr. Walz. Make me yours!”

And he did just that. Mr. Walz started fucking me hard and fast. I took each of the strokes of his his old manhood willingly. I wanted to give him total pleasure and I could tell from the far away look in his eye that the old man was as lost in me as I was in him. I knew he was getting close, and I didn’t want to stop him, so I didn’t say a word about pulling out. Having only had sex with his wife for all those years, he didn’t think of it either. Soon he was filling my ass with ropes of cum, and I felt it filling me up.

After we got off and caught our breath, he looked at me and we both started laughing and telling each other how glad we were that we'd just met up today.

[sleepingdeath-light]

affogato cookie, licorice cookie, pure vanilla cookie + body worship hcs ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (05/02/25)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | epic | ancient

character(s) ; affogato cookie, licorice cookie, pure vanilla cookie

outline ; “Hiii okay so this is my first time every requesting nsfw (im over 18 I’ve just been very awkward about it lol) but could you maybe do body worship with licorice, pure vanilla, and/or affogato (I didn’t see anywhere in your rules that has a character limit, so if you only want to do one, licorice is my favorite). Preferably male/ftm or gn reader? Ty so much your fics have been giving me life throughout my hyperfixation”

warning(s) ; sexually explicit content, dominant!affogato cookie, submissive!licorice cookie, soft dominant!pure vanilla cookie, body worship, praise kink

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

affogato cookie

with affogato cookie, body worship is something that is either a conscious and intentional reward for good behaviour or an unintended consequence of his preference for taking his time with you in the bedroom. the only real difference between the two is the language he’ll use towards you — with the former always being paired with a whole lot of praise while the latter is usually accompanied by his usual teasing dialogue towards you

the way he goes about worshipping and appreciating your body, though, is always the same no matter the mood of the evening

he always starts by undressing you, slow enough to border on frustrating while still tiding you over with careful touches and flirty remarks to reassure you that you’ll get exactly what you want if you just be patient

then he always starts off by kissing along your throat and collarbones, nipping and playfully biting down hard enough to leave a mark and make you yelp without being hard enough to drW blood, before moving on to your arms — kissing from shoulder to elbow to your fingertips before kissing back along the other side and turning his attention to your other arm, his eyes never straying from your own as he does all of this

then he always turns his attention to your chest and stomach, now mixing in some praise or teasing with his gentle touches — remarking on your sensitivity and reactiveness, complimenting your appearance in ways that vary from lecherous to earnest, praising and encouraging you to be more vocal, and so on — while he alternates between groping, caressing, kissing, and biting you

next he always turns his attention to your legs and ass, especially your thighs: marking them up, groping them, caressing them, kissing from the creases of your thighs down to your ankles and back up again, etc. — and this is where he gets the most talkative, encouraging you to tell him exactly what you want and either slowing down or outright playfully threatening to stop altogether if you refuse to speak up

then, and only then, will he turn his attention to where you really need him — making you cum over and over again from his hands, then his tongue, then his cock until you’re all limp and fucked out

(he’s also the type to incorporate bondage, blindfolds and sensation play into body worship to keep things interesting: tying you up so you can’t squirm out of his hold, blindfolding you so you’re forced to focus on the way he’s making you feel and the words he’s saying, and caressing you with different fabrics as he worships you just to keep you on your toes and to keep things exciting even during something as slow and intimate as body worship)

licorice cookie

body worship is something that licorice cookie engages in the most when he’s taken on a submissive role in the bedroom and wants nothing more than to make you feel good — using this form of foreplay as, almost, a way to prove his worth to you as your boyfriend and as your bed mate

he puts on an act, presenting himself as confident and experienced and as cocky as they come when in reality he’s anxious as hell and terrified of disappointing you — and, try as he might to hide it, it’s really really obvious to you… of course you never mention it (goodness knows his ego would never recover from that) but the signs are all there, clear as day, to anyone paying the slightest amount of attention

the way he shakily exhales every time he removes a new garment from your body and more of your bare skin is exposed to him, and the way his eyes flicker desperately between your body and your eyes before he makes any movements — searching desperately for any hesitation or any sort of guidance before remembering himself and just going with whatever his instincts tell him to do

the way his fingertips tremble when he touches you — caressing your sides, tracing swirling patterns against your hips and shoulders, groping tenderly at the softest parts of you, etc. — and the way his hands never stay in one place for very long. never lingering, almost as if he can’t believe you’re all his and he doesn’t know what to do with himself now that he has you beneath him like this

the way his voice gets all quiet and shaky as he praises you, words at times disjointed and stuttered over but their meaning no less genuine for it as he kisses every part of your body he can reach and whispers his adoration into your skin

a thousand ‘love you’s whimpered into the crook of your neck, and the insides of your wrists, and the plush of your stomach

a dozen ‘so perfect’s whispered against the meat of your thighs and the expanse of your chest

‘all mine’ repeated, like a mantra or a prayer, as he grins, drunk on your scent and presence, and traces a shaky fingertip along the scars and marks and freckles and moles that cover your body

and, impatient as ever, when he finally breaks and dives between your thighs to worship you in ways that simple words and gentle touches don’t allow, it’s done with a reverent fervour that leaves you clutching desperately at his hair and crying out his name so loudly that you’re sure you’ll be left unable to speak for the rest of the day

pure vanilla cookie

technically speaking, pure vanilla cookie never sets out to engage in body worship with you. it’s just something that ends up happening whenever he gets you into bed because of how dedicated he is to making you feel good and making you feel loved

but the fact that it’s unintentional doesn’t make it any less flustering or flattering

because, regardless of intention, pure vanilla cookie can still spend hours at a time worshipping every square millimetre of your body — finding new things you kiss and praise from the very crown of your head all the way down to the soles of your feet, and everywhere in between

he’ll trace winding patterns and memorised protective runes along your back and sides, his touch feather-light and bordering on ticklish without ever pressing down with enough pressure to do more than just allow you to feel what he’s doing

he’ll smile warmly as he kisses his way down from your lips to your jaw to your throat and chest and stomach and further still, whispering confession after confession of his adoration against your goosebump-ridden flesh until you’re so flustered you can barely stand to look at him as he settles comfortably between your thighs

he’ll brush his fingertips first, and then his lips, along the stretch marks and scars and moles and freckles that litter your body, having long since memorised their locations to such an extent that he no longer needs his sight to find and shower them with his attention

he’ll tell you how much he loves you, how handsome you are, in between the kisses that he presses to your lips and inner wrists and thighs as he finally turns his attention to where you need him the most — and then, with a smile so warm and bright it’s damn near blinding, he’ll thank you for being so good and patient and promise he’ll make you feel good

and he does, because he always does

the whole time whimpering and moaning out your name and various types of praise, and allowing his hands to wander just enough to let him continue worshipping and revering your body even as he focuses on bringing you to orgasm over and over again

constantly compassionate, constantly selfless, constantly adoring

because that’s just who he is

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

fang i need 119 with yuuta so bad i think my world will collapse if i dont get it

✮  119 + yuuta okkotsu | “do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

✮ tags ; fem!reader (no gendered language. reader is wearing a skirt + blouse and has boobs), femdom, dirty talk, boss yuuta x subordinate reader, some alcohol, premature ejaculation yippeee.

✮ a/n ; don't even rmb what prompt list this is from but here. do not know if this is what u mean anon but this is what i got for u.

Yuuta is not very subtle when leers at you.

You try not to make him anymore self-conscious than need be. He's your superior for one, and for the most part - he's mature, empathetic, and calm. You're fond of him both in general but also as your boss and appeciate his competency when the rest of your team is making your head spin. You'd hate for anyone else to take his place.

He's got a knack for keeping things in order when they're about ready to fall apart.

And he's nice - well loved by women in the office for being handsome and kind and hated by men for being popular with them.

You don't know when it is, exactly, that he starts looking at you in that way. You only know that you don't especially mind.

Yuuta has little tells when he's staring at you during work.

The soft jut of his lips, the mild nerves of his smile, the way his eyes don't stay in the same place when you talk or wear something with the slightest bit of skin. It's weird. Before you noticed this about Yuuta, you never saw him in any sort of way.

He's a nice guy and he's a good boss, but you're not one to crush easily. You like Yuuta as is, and have never considered complicating that on the whims of things like attraction or a passing thought. You don't particularly need to get laid nor are you starving for that sort of attention.

Before you notice, you never have anything but work appropriate thoughts. But after you notice, you think that you really, really want to bully him about it.

When the opportunity presents itself to do that, you do - even though it is a bad idea.

Your boss is pretty cute when he's tipsy. He's also, maybe predictably, easy. It didn't take any amount of pushing to get him to bring you home. One pouty word of concern about going home so late and a little pushing up against his arm and he practically collapses under the pressure. The fact he let you cling to his arm and rub up on him the entire car ride makes you think he's probably letting you do this for one reason or another.

So, it's easy to convince him to take you home. Just like it's easy to convince him to take you inside, to help you on the couch, to get you water, to stay a while or maybe stay the night since the last train is about to go anyway.

This is how you get Yuuta on your couch with his pants unzipped.

"Yuuta-san," Your voice is sing-songy. Normally, you're a touch more careful with this kind of thing but you're not sober enough to bother with it as you slide up next to him. He's flushed pink, wide-eyed. "You look nervous."

"W-we shouldn't," He swallows and looks over at you where you're pressed against his side. Your blouse is unbuttoned, nothing but your pencil "I shouldn't've—"

"Oh, don't be like that. You've been giving me looks for a while now, right? Did you think I didn't notice?"

He looks like a deer caught in headlights. How cute. "I'm very sorry."

"It's okay," You nuzzle up to him softly and he does not bother pushing you away even slightly. "I'm saying I don't mind it. But a little won't hurt right?"

He's stiff as you scoot in as close to him as you can, reaching you over to the front of his slacks. His hard-on, half-mast, betrays his sense of hesitance. You watch as he drops his head back, palm cupping the hard outline with amusement. You lean, lips close to his ear.

"Can't go home like this, Yuuta-san. I'll help you if you say please, okay?"

He looks at you from the corner of his eyes before shutting them. "Please..."

You grin a little. "Good boy."

He lets out a pathetic little whimper that makes the corners of your mouth twitch. Wordlessly, undo the zipper of his slacks - reaching your hand into his waist band and sliding it over his cock. It's hard now, twitching under your touch. Yuuta is sensitive. You're sticking so close to his side you can feel the rise and fall of his chest, the way he's holding it all in.

You pull his length out slowly, spitting into your palm before wrapping your hand around his shaft. His cock is long and pretty. The tip of it is already drooling like you've been touching him for hours, ruddy with need. You stroke him in your hands, feeling for all the veins under his shaft. Holding it and seeing the length and weight. You crass him like that slowly, cupping his balls lightly before jerking him off again.

All of the touch leaves Yuuta gasping. He tries his best not to make any noise, but his voice comes out in a whine anyway. Usually such a gentle, kind of voice - broken and throaty as his dick twitches and leaks helplessly in your hand.

"Yuuta-san, be honest." You hum curiously. "Do you think of me when you touch yourself?"

He makes shameful face, closing his eyes even tighter. "Yes. I'm sorry,"

"Oh, you said it so easily," You reply, amused. "Pervert."

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry - I won't do it again,"

"Instead of touching yourself, isn't this better? Don't you think my pussy will feel good around your cock, Yuuta-san? You can peep as much as you like but that means this is mine for the time being, okay?"

You're barely stroking him hard when you feel him twitch suddenly. Glancing down, you watch as balls tighten - expose stomach flexing it's muscles as Yuuta lets out a loud choked moan. You feel him in your palms - hard, hot cock trembling before it shoots out a thick load of cum into your fingers.

Your eyes widen in mild surprised as you watch him squirm, chasing the high with his hips - aimlessly fucking into the little hole made by your hand. He can't stop cumming. It's drenching your fingers, making them sticky as you stroke him through it.

He finishes with his chest heaving, still cumming in little spurts. You can't help but giggle at how whiny he is.

"Didn't think you were such a quick shot, Yuuta-san." Before he can respond, you bring your fingers up to your mouth and lick the cum off. "Not bad."

He stares at you jaw dropped, looking so embarrassed he could die. You think he looks a little cute like that.

"Oh, it's already up again," You smile, watching him go half hard so quickly. His blush deepens. "Since you were honest, guess I should let you fuck me forreal."

He looks at you with wide, wet eyes and pouty lips. Yes, you know the look well by now.

He takes a deep breath and stares at you longingly.

"...Please."

[lululandd]

── 𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

word count: 700

warnings: hurt/comfort

note: have you hugged your simon today? :3 (also on AO3)

summary: oh. he’s having those thoughts.

“Why are you with me?” 

You turn around, tilting your head to the side, confused at his words. “You never liked grocery shopping, Simon.” Trying to hold his hand, you can see him flinch away, “So I came with you.”

He has lapses in memory, for sure. A lot of the time Simon lives in his own world, the one where he relives the most horrible moments of his life over and over; as he lives his real life on autopilot. But to your experience it had never been this bad. He had asked what day it is three times in a row, he had forgotten the address you’ve lived in for several years, his own birthday, favourite foods, but never where he is.

“No. I mean why are you with me, with me.”

Oh. He’s having those thoughts.

“Really Simon? At the groceries? Now?” You slowed your pace, waiting for him to catch up to you.

He looked down at the trolley he’s pushing, defeat written all over his body language.

“We’ll talk all about it at home, okay? Let’s just get some food right now. I’ll make that parsley butter you really like.”

“No.”

You were caught off guard, heartbeat spiking as he said it with a hard edge that you have never heard used towards you before. “You don’t want parsley butter?”

The resigned sigh you hear lasted for what seemed to be a full minute. “Just leave me alone.” His eyes focused on something far away.

It was your turn to sigh as you place whatever it is you were holding back onto the aisle and walk towards the front door to wait for him there.

That seemed to snap him out for a bit. His brain is so mean to him, and you know he doesn’t mean whatever it is he said, but you’re just so tired. Grabbing your hand, he looks at you, eyes red, and you know groceries will have to wait another day.

It’s odd, being with him. He exudes power and confidence when he’s with his friends, and yet he becomes a sad hopeless blob when he’s with you. You missed his boisterous personality, the man that tells dark jokes and puns every single sentence he could. Sometimes you wonder if you’re doing this to him. If you’re the villain in his life, sucking all the happiness out of him.

Walking him to the car empty handed, you placed yourself in the driver’s seat. You see him hunched on his seat, fists balled on his thighs, his mind is probably wandering somewhere horrible again.

“Simon can you face this way?” You gently requested.

The man did as told but looked at anything but you. He made a cutout of your outline with his eyes and you held the urge to laugh. You slowly put your hand up and hugged his neck, burying your face on that sweet junction on his collarbone. It took a long while before you felt his hands around your waist.

“M’sorry.” His voice a low whisper.

“Don’t apologise.” You patted the back of his head. He mirrored the motion by patting you on the waist with his thumb.

“Didn’t mean anything I said.” He sounded close to tears, “Didn’t actually want you to leave.” 

You nodded sympathetically, “I know those weren’t your thoughts, Simon.” You released your hold a bit and kissed him on the chin, the only place you could reach right now. “You’re not that kind of person.”

He shuddered against you, something akin to a sob tore through him; you didn’t know what else to do but wrap your arms tighter around him. You held that position for as long as you could, but ultimately you had to let go. His eyes searched yours, the sombre expression etched onto his face mellowed just a little bit as you felt your heart beats a little less painfully at the turmoil he seems to be facing. He leaned forwards as you sunk your forehead onto his chest.

“Can we continue shopping or do you wanna just order in?” You offered.

“Parsley butter.”

His nonsensical answer brought a smile back to your face. Now that’s your Simon.