#honestly I have a friend who is rich

[safety-pin-punk]

what’s your opinion on rich kids on the punk scene?

I dont think its about how much money you have. Its about what you do with it.

But also, judging a KID for having money is just as bad as judging a kid for not having it. A child can’t dictate what kind of life they’re born into. Sure they have a privilege that a lot of us dont. As long as they know the line and how to check their privilege. All is good.

And hell! Even if they dont do that yet, they might not know how!! Because they’re a KID!! And they are still learning how to be a person!!!

Now rich ADULTS are a different story. They can be here. But the minute that privilege gets waved in my face. I will lose my shit.

But no, I don’t have a problem with rich people. Especially because a lot of us look at people who are just more well off than them and say ‘rich’. But even if they are rich, that doesnt matter to me so much as what they do to help their community.

So again, I dont have a problem with rich people. I have a problem with rich classist assholes.

[notmoreflippingelves]

Naomi/Esteban: 1, 7, 16 and 55 ; Gregory/Manfred (AA): 20, 21 and 59 please!

Naomi/Esteban

Who would end a heated argument by defending their actions with ‘because I love you!’ ?

Both to be honest. Albeit in slightly different ways. Esteban is more likely to have pre-emptively made a decision/taken action without informing Naomi or asking for her permission first. And Naomi would be livid that she wasn't consulted beforehand. Esteban would be very smug and condescending and talk about how he knows better since he's older (physically, maybe but not necessarily mentally) and wiser (questionable) so Naomi should defer to his judgement. And he would use "I love you" in a slightly manipulative way to try and silence all her protestations. (It doesn't work. His love for her just makes her even more determined to save him from his own noble urges).

In circumstances that specifically involve Esteban putting himself at risk (to protect Naomi/other members of his family/Avalor), he would probably also try to pull the "I am older and less worthy/important, so I am more disposable if things should go wrong" bullshit, which would make Naomi absolutely livid.

Also I think it would be impossible for Naomi to end the argument simply with "because I love you." She would specifically end it with "because I love you, you asshole!" (Emphasis on that last part). Sure she loves him and wants him to know that's why she's behaving as she is. But she also wants to remind him that he is incredibly aggravating and often stupid and she can just barely stand the sight of him sometimes.

Would they build a pillow fort together just because?

Just because? No I don't think so. And certainly not together. That being said, I can see them building separate pillow forts under very specific circumstances for the sheer purpose of outdoing each other. One of them mentioned building pillow forts as children and being very good at it. And the other immediately follows up with "That is nothing. I built forts twice as high and just as impressive." and the inevitable response is "Oh yeah. Prove it!"

And so there just ends up being the pettiest little competition as to who can build the best fort. (Elena is named the judge since she has a foot in both camps. And she's rather shook about the whole thing. She herself would've absolutely accepted a pillow fort building challenge in an instant. But like she kind of expected Naomi and Esteban of all people to act like actual, reasonable adults--as they do in most circumstances. But no, they are the ones acting like children just because neither can bend even in a little where the other is concerned).

Not sure who would win the competition, though I might have to give a slight edge to Esteban. Simply because we know he likes to stack a pillow given the like 6+ we see on his bed in the sick day episode. (Of course, if Elena had taken part, she probably would've won because she has even more stacked pillows on her own bed and she's more stubborn than either of the others to boot).

Can they stay up all night just talking?

Could they stay up all night talking? Yes, probably. Both have a lot to say, enjoy the sound of their own voice, and like spending as much time as they possibly can with their partner.

Would they stay up all night talking? I kind of doubt it. While both are very hard workers, they are also two of the more practical characters on the show. (To an extent, Esteban can definitely have his super irrational moments). Therefore, they know the importance of getting a good night's sleep. They also seem like the sort that genuinely enjoy the sleep that they get. Like they're not going to protest too much or try to stay up any longer than necessary. Sleep is good (especially in each other's arms), so there is no strong drive to push it off.

Do they like watching clouds or star gazing?

Both of them are canonically into sailing, and using the stars to navigate is kind of a big part of that. So I definitely think they would look at the stars together. Additionally, Naomi has lived in a bunch of different places, and Esteban traveled a lot during his time as chancellor. So I think they would both know and talk a lot about the different names for various constellations in different places--as well as any legends/stories associated with these or the stars themselves.

On a similar note, they might also watch the clouds a bit--but more out of practicality than enjoyment. It's always good to be on top of changes in the weather--especially when one or both is out at sea and/or if they have specific plans outdoors in the near future. That being said, Naomi is particularly fond of pointing out any cloud that she sees that even vaguely resembles Esteban's facial hair. (Esteban's usual reply: "You do me a great disservice with that remark, Miss Turner! I would never allow such a miserable, misshapen thing to grace my face.")

Gregory/Manfred

Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

I'm sorry, but I am so bad at this. I don't know music like at all. (It's really just musical theater and artists my parents like. That is the extent of my music knowledge).

So we're gonna have a few songs from random musicals and they're gonna be angsty since that's where my brain goes with this ship.

So I don't think this one will come as a particular surprise especially given I know you are a Les Mis fan...but yeah, the whole sequence of Confrontation --> Stars--> Javert's Suicide.

Just Manfred being horrified and disgusted at being at Gregory's mercy and the audacity of this man to be kind and just and dedicated toward the Truth when he has no right. Just go ahead and substitute "defense attorney" for "thief"/"criminal" in a lot of Javert's lyrics, and you've got Manfred being a toxic, doomed, would-be tsundere.

"Damned if I'll live in the debt of a thief/ Damned if I'll yield at the end of the chase./ I am the Law and the Law is not mocked./ I'll spit his pity right back in his face./ There is nothing on Earth that we share....

"How can I allow this man to hold dominion over me...This desperate man whom I have hunted."

And as for another toxic musical yaoi ship, Judas' reprise of "I Don't Know How to Love Him" from Jesus Christ Superstar. (Arguably Mary Magdalene's original as well). Just Manfred destroying the man that he loves (unrequitedly?) as Judas has done--simply because their goals are not aligned and because he doesn't know how to handle his feelings that he can't help but feel are irrational--especially as Gregory (or Jesus in the original) is just so damned Good and Manfred knows he never would've been worthy of him.

And even though I don't particularly read MVK as wallowing in guilt nearly as much as I do with Kristoph in krisnix, I think here could be an element of that there as well.

"I have been splattered with innocent blood./ I will be dragged through the slime and the mud./ I have been splattered with innocent blood!/ I will be dragged through the slime and the slime and the slime and the mud...

I..I don't know how to love Him./ I don't know why he moves me./ He's a man; he's just a man./ He is not a King./ He is just the same as anyone I know. /He scares me so."

There's also a bit of a similar feel from Burr's parts of "The World was Wide Enough " from Hamilton. Realizing that your idealogical opposite and narrative foil and foe didn't need to die at your hands. That your victory at long last is distinctly Pyrrhic and that there was and should've been room for both of you in the courtroom (which is THE world for all intents and purposes for Manfred).

(For both of the above songs, the beginning isn't really the vibe for angsty Manfred/Greg, so I went ahead and linked to right where the relevant part starts).

And on a much, much lighter note. "Horny Angry Tango" from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. (Bonus in that both characters are lawyers and the background of this is them duking it out in court in a proxy battle for their relationship issues.) Just Manfred and Gregory getting super hot under the collar while arguing against each other in court, but also like genuinely being furious with each other as opposed to just horny and in denial.

And similarly, You're Only Second Rate from The Return of Jafar. I see this as early in Manfred and Gregory knowing each other. Manfred is just so aggravated by Gregory and thinks its so absurd that Gregory thinks he is a match for him. And he just quickly becomes overly obsessed with him in a totally not healthy or normal way that Greg in no way asked for. But Manfred just can't let this go for some reason. (It's a crush; he's got a crush, but he'll never realize it).

Who would get into a fight to defend the other’s honor? Who tends to the other’s wounds?

I'm not sure I can see either of them getting into a fight to defend the other's honor. Gregory doesn't ever think fighting is the answer, and it would take awhile for Manfred to ever get to the point where he is self-aware enough to admit that he cares about Gregory in order to defend him.

That being said, I can definitely see Manfred getting into a fight that concerns Gregory in some way. Maybe he's jealous of someone else he thinks is moving in on his man? Or someone (Gant probably) makes this mistake of teasing Manfred about his obvious "crush." Then, Manfred gets really really defensive about it (he's so in denial) and may even retaliate with his fists if the person is really pushy about it.

Greg would have to be around to bandage Manfred's wounds, but he would definitely do it and very carefully. Which of course makes Manfred even more furious about everything. HOW DARE HE BE KIND WHEN THIS IS ALL HIS FAULT IN THE FIRST PLACE?

Who tops? Who bottoms?

Honestly, I don't think I've ever seriously thought about this, lol. I am friendly with some Manfredf*ckers, though and so I have thought/heard a little bit about their thoughts re: von Karma sex in general.

My main feeling is that I feel like whether Manfred would top or bottom depends entirely on whom he is being shipped with. He bottoms for Gant and Blaise, he tops Udgey, Yanni, Phoenix, Miles or Kristoph (I've only seen it one fic but like...👀).

But as for Gregory...you know I have a feeling Manfred would bottom for him too. Specifically in the sense of being a rather pushy power bottom and sort of for similar reasons as Kristoph. He's super uptight and repressed--and I feel there's a part of him that would enjoy losing some of his trademark control and perfection but specifically in a controlled, safe, private environment like the bedroom. Also, he's worth it so he would enjoy making his partner do most of the work and he just sits and enjoys like the perfect and deserving von Karma that he is.

As for Gregory, I guess see him more as a service top anyway. He doesn't strike me as particularly dominant, but he strikes me as a submissive even less. Maybe it's the overall "dad" energy that he exudes, but I feel like he would be very attentive to his partner and focus on making sure that they feel good and are well-looked after.

So yeah, they're probably both switches but in this case, Greg as service top to Manfred's power-bottom.

[on-my-way-to-lesser-things]

Dear Friend Jonathon Personally Relatable Denial of Danger Moments:

1.) cannot afford to lose this job

2.) oh god, the Uber driver is doing something weird and there’s no way I’ll get another one

3.) Is my host eccentric, or actually a murder? There’s no polite way to leave, so I guess I’ll stay!

4.) lol if I end up murdered tell my girlfriend I love her (actual text I have also sent)

5.) Puppy!! Oh, oh no, not actually a puppy… much too big to be a puppy…

6.) Really! Can’t! Afford! To! Lose! This! Job!

7.) confused but comforted by external Catholicism

8.) everything is terrible!! Except for the chicken which was 7/10 stars, thanks for reading my recipe blog!

9.) *experiencing full bodied terror in a house worth more than I will make in my entire life time* Rich people! What can ya do lol?

10.) If I smile and nod hard enough, there’s still a chance I’ll come out of this with a good performance review!

[ebp-brain]

.

[anotheruntitledsong]

i did like the hidden palace but (SPOILER if anyone hasn't read it?) i'm genuinely so annoyed at how Arbeely is handled like... I wish i could be sad but i'm just fucking irritated. I was overly invested in him and that's def why but i just feel like they did him dirty

[jaylynx1412]

lunar new year holiday ending

school tomorrow

[winterdusktales]

yg has conditioned ot7 ikon to be a touring group so now even when they all left yg, all they (ikon & hanbin) do is tour and join various music festivals. like i know those guys would prefer inviting other artists to guest in their concert over inviting them for a quick tiktok challenge or something

[theriverdalereviewer]

watching a turkish drama now and its just the right touch of fucking insane

[xxlelaxx]

I'm so used to stuff just working out last minute... I'm starting to get worried this time it won't. But I'm sure it will. It will be okay. Like always.

[orcelito]

Actually that's kind of funny. I now have it in my brain that Of Course I'll be perfectly fine, financially. This is of course assuming that everything goes fine with me graduating and then getting my IT job. But things would have to go Very Wrong for that to not work out, so??? Yeah idk.

[uygfiug]

hiii just wanted to say i hope your illness isnt treating you too badly and you feel better soon <33

thank you <33333 im feeling a bit better :) i have to go back to school tomorrow though :( which i am not at all looking forward to but if i want to stay home longer id need a doctors note and idk if im sick enough to go to the doctor for a note for one day yknow

[teaboot]

Anyways as someone who has attended kink events

There are fat people at the orgy

There are elderly people at the orgy

There are disabled people at the orgy

There are trans people at the orgy

There are neurodivergent people at the orgy

People with white collar jobs are at the orgy

People with blue collar jobs are at the orgy

Stay at home moms are at the orgy

Adults who live with their parents are at the orgy

Asexuals are at the orgy

And yeah in media "kinky" shit is always thin young perfect hard bodies in skintight leather and latex but I that's the image in your head you should probably know that a more realistic link event looks less like Eyes Wide Shut and more like passengers of a public city bus attending two to three various costume parties and they're all having a FANTASTIC time that will occasionally get sidetracked by an incredibly passionate conversation regarding the history of Roman catholicism in Eastern Europe or various species of invasive birds

Which is to say that if you've managed to locate a kink community near you but are nervous about joining in because you think you're not young/fit/skinny/rich/"pretty"/normal/charismatic/abled/horny enough then honestly you're probably fine, go to the munch and make some friends

[mostly-imagines]

Sugar on the Rim vol. I

bruce wayne x afab!reader

aka the billionaires new friend

warnings: implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), mentions of sex, smut in next part

You twist the stem of the wine glass around between your fingers slowly. Your chin rests atop your knees as you stare vacantly at the tiny puddle left of the drink. You could go refill it, but then you’d have to go back out to the main room and man…you really do not want to do that. So you’ll sit here, swiping your tongue across the bumps of the roof of your mouth as if it's a fascinating new discovery.

The creak of hinges has you shooting upright, your back thumping against the stair step behind you. You’re not immediately sure how to act as though it’s normal that you’re sitting in the stairwell outside the fundraiser rather than in it, fraternizing with old and new money alike. You freeze, trying to relax your posture so it doesn’t look like you’re alarmed at the sight of another person, but not so relaxed that you look as bored as you are.

Your neutrality stutters when you glance up to find the host of the fundraiser. The billionaire host of the fundraiser. Bruce Wayne, the billionaire host of the fundraiser. Your posture straightens right back up and your mouth snaps shut as you make eye contact.

Should you stand up? 

No, he’s rich, not royalty. 

You are in his house though—

He looks you over contemplatively, “I don’t know you,” It’s not accusatory, rather he says it like it’s something interesting.

You perk up at that, immediately formulating reasons to justify your presence. “Oh, uh, no—” the words nearly spill out of your mouth all at once. You clear your throat, “I’m just a plus one for my boss—”

“Who’s your boss?” he asks, relaxed. 

“Arthur Mullins.”

He looks to the side, squinting, “Mullins…he’s the executive at Williamson Industries, yes?”

You nod and he returns the gesture, slower, like he’s processing through something. “I’m Bruce,” he says warmly after a moment, holding his hand out to you.

You nod before you can even think to get any words to come out, “I—yeah, I know,” you accept his hand, shaking it as you tell him your name.

There’s a slight glint in his eye when he hears your name, and he repeats it quietly to himself. “A pretty name.”

“Oh, it’s just…” Just your name. But rather than fill him in on that fascinating tidbit, you let the sentence die off.

He smiles kindly anyway, “What are you doing in here? Party’s out there, or so they tell me.”

“I…I’m hiding in here,” you admit sheepishly.

He leans in towards you slightly, lowering his voice. “I’ll let you in on a secret—so am I,” he smiles at you like it’s easy.

Your grin matches his, “It’s your party,”

“That’s why I need to hide.” He tilts his head, “Doesn’t give you much of an excuse though, does it?”

“I don’t know anybody here.”

He puckers his bottom lip contemplatively, “Your boss.”

You shake your head, “I’m just his assistant. I’m pretty sure he just brought me as a precaution in case he needed a designated driver.”

He laughs at that, “Based on the way I’ve seen Mullins’ attempts to operate, his assistant would have to be a hell of a lot more important than just a designated driver.”

Well, he’s certainly right about that. Your boss doesn’t exactly “have it together” per se. He’s an unorganized man with little to justify his importance in Gotham, so he tends to insist on taking on more responsibility than he has any business having. Not to mention, he’s a bit of a try-hard and you’re constantly left to sweep up the pieces of his reputation that he shattered himself. Not to say he’s necessarily unprofessional, he just will do anything and everything to prove he belongs in any given space. It’s honestly a bit exhausting to watch. It’s more exhausting to try and convince him that the exchange went well afterwards.

You nod slowly, eyes on his shoes. “Mr. Mullins has…a unique approach to business. It does usually leave me fairly busy, I’ll give you that.” You take a quick deep breath, plastering on a fake smile. “But that means I occasionally get to go to fancy parties where I don’t know anyone, so..”

“Well then it sounds like you’ve got it all worked out,” he ribs, “Or don’t you agree?”

You smile coyly, “I would never be so bold.”

“I don’t mind boldness. For example, the reason I came in here is because he spotted me.”

You laugh at that, “Mr. Wayne—”

“Bruce.”

“Mr. Wayne,” you suppress your smile as you pause, choosing your words carefully. “I think he’s just networking.” He doesn’t have the money to give.

He nods surely, “He’s definitely just networking.” He really doesn’t have the money to give. You allow just the faintest wisp of a smile to adorn your face as you look down again.

You check the time and realize that you’ve been hiding away for too long and that if he hasn’t already, your boss will notice soon. You sigh quietly to yourself, “I should..”

He turns his head to the closed door where the chatter can be heard from beyond, sighing in defeat as he shakes his head looking back at you. “So should I.”

You feel a bit insecure as you stand, the gown you’re wearing is pretty but it is very much affordable and you’re sure someone as wealthy as Bruce Wayne would know the difference.

If he does notice he makes no deal of it, motioning you forward gallantly to walk ahead of him.

He follows after you, hands behind his back. “Would it be rude of me to ask you to distract him while I run for the bar?”

It’s busy, even for a Sunday afternoon, and you have to sidestep past someone nearly every step you take. You stick next to the windows of the line of boutiques down the road, trying to balance window shopping and not bumping into other pedestrians.

You're in a nicer district of Gotham, truthfully an area you don't quite belong in. So far you’ve only managed to find a couple shops that weren’t several ranges above your budget. 

A call of your name has you blinking rapidly and turning around as if you’re lost. It doesn’t take long for you to pick the six foot two billionaire out of the crowd and it’s only half a second longer before you realize he’s walking towards you. A few people collide shoulders with you as they move past thoughtlessly, no regard for the personal space of the idiot that stopped in the flow of traffic.

You let him approach a couple feet closer before you ask him, “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Wayne?” The presence of his figure in front of you allows for a break from being bumped into, as he seemingly makes for a far more easily seen and intentionally avoided target.

He sways a bit, “Bruce. I’m not sure yet,” he looks down to the couple of bags you’re holding, extending his hand out. “May I?”

It takes you just a moment to move past your surprise at the request, allowing him to hold them for you. “Are you in a rush?”

You shake your head quicker than you meant to, “No, I—not at all,” he gestures his head forward, allowing you to walk before him.

You traipse ahead in silence for a moment before deciding against biting your tongue, “What exactly is it you’re not sure about?”

He raises his voice a bit so you can hear him over the crowd, “Whether or not you’ve got plans on the 19th.”

You look back at him, “What’s on the 19th?”

He stops with you as you admire a set of jewelry inside a window display, “We’re hosting a gala for something or something else, hopefully less boring than the fundraiser.”

You blink, “You’re inviting me?” He nods. “Why?”

“I could use someone who wants to be there even less than I do.”

He said it so casually it takes you a second to even register his meaning. You blink, face contorting defensively, “That’s not—” you can barely make out the smile on his face as he continues on walking.

You shake your composure back together and trail after him, rushing to catch up. “I don’t think Mr. Mullins would be very happy to hear that I’m attending a business gala without him.”

He shakes his head as he scans over the crowd, “He can’t fire you for that.”

“He’ll try.” He would. A petty little man, he is. 

He scans across the rows of clothes leisurely. “Well, then he can speak to me about it. Besides, it wouldn’t be for business.” And then he just lets that sentence linger.

It takes you a moment to recover from those words and begin to start processing the world around you again. After a few more feet down the sidewalk he pulls you gently to the side by your lower arm, out of the rush of traffic, and looks at you dead on, “What do you think?”

You try not to waver under the weight of the eye contact, “I don’t…uh, I don’t really have…” you look down, hoping to get the message across without actually having to say the words.

He glances into the store window next to you and raises his eyebrows, “Well then I’d say we’re in the right place.”

You can’t manage to tell him that this store is definitely far too expensive for you, walking through the door as he opens it for you, albeit apprehensively.

Well. Up close window shopping is more fun anyways. 

The spotless white of the floors and walls has you intimidated, and just as much so by less by the no doubt designer clothes lining the walls. The saleswomen all look pretty highbrow themselves, hair up in tight buns and uniforms chic.

You only break from gawking at the store to look behind you at Bruce. You note the way his eyes roam around blindly, looking for something and clearly having no means to narrow down where it might be. You take one more glance around, immediately finding the women's section with no such difficulty. 

“This way.” You say, nodding your head over to the left. He recovers nicely and lets you lead the way towards the section of dresses. You peer back at him, “You don’t seem like someone that does much of his own shopping.”

Thankfully, he laughs at that. “Well, special occasions.”

You keep your gaze ahead this time, asking as casually as you can, “Is this a special occasion?”

He hums in consideration, “I’d say so.”

You stop upon approaching the dress section, taking in the immediately stunning display of options. 

“What are you doing up here anyways?” you ask, hand brushing across a particularly plush dress.

“Ah, I was headed to a meeting.”

“Oh,” you frown, looking at him. “Don’t you need to go?”

He shakes his head with a puckered lower lip, “No.”

A few seemingly heiresses roam down the aisle mindlessly, not caring much that you’re in their path. 

Bruce sees them before you do, knowing well that they were not going to excuse themselves. “Sweetheart,” he nudges you gently to the side, closer to him as the group passes. His hand remained open-palmed and flat as he guided you to the side, seemingly very careful not to touch you with uninvited boldness. Though you’re quite shaken by the chivalry of the gesture, a brazen touch wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world.

As your arm brushes against a rack of clothing your gaze follows, met with something rather appealing.

Bruce is quick to notice you admiring the sleek black dress that looks like something you’d see a model wearing on a runway. “You like that one?”

“It’s nice, yeah,” you murmur, not really thinking. You flip the price tag over and your face drops. “It’s $800.”

He nods thoughtfully, “We can find a nicer one,” he says, though it’s clear he knows exactly what your problem with the price tag was.

“I can’t—” you restart, “I would never have a reason to wear something this nice again.”

He shakes his head coolly, “That’s alright.”

Your shoulders drop and your head tilts seriously, “It’s not, though.”

“You like it?” He looks you in the eyes, his own searching for a truthful answer.

“I mean, of course, but it—”

He nods affirmatively, “Then we’ll get it. Problem solved.” He turns his back to the rack, casually observing the rest of the store goers. “Pick your size.”

Apparently not one to argue, you thumb through the row until you find one that should fit. 

You sigh, realizing that you’re running out of time to mention that you don’t have $800 to spend on a dress. “I can’t—”

“You don’t need to,” he says simply as he takes the dress off the rack and drapes it across his arm, making his way towards the salescounter.

You try to stop your mouth from hanging open as you follow, “It really is okay, I don’t need—”

His grin cuts you off, just in time for you to hear him mutter, “Sweet girl..” to himself. You stop right in your tracks, feeling very thankful that he’s not looking at you right now because you’re certain the look on your face would give you away.

He still doesn’t face you as he calls out, “Come on,” as he continues on.

Obviously you’re not stupid. You know what type of intentions a billionaire playboy must have with a younger girl that he doesn’t even really know. However, if said billionaire is offering to buy you a pretty dress…no, you’re not sleeping with him because he bought you a dress—of course not—and you’ve made absolutely no promises to do so, so what’s the harm in letting him? Really?

And yeah, maybe it’s a plus that he’s not bad looking, but how is that your fault?

You stand a bit awkwardly next to him as he puts his card in the machine, not even glancing at the outrageous number, and declines the offer for the receipt.

As you exit the store together and stand at the doors as he hands your original two bags back to you along with the new shiny black one that on its own looks like something people would pay for.

“You will be there?” he asks, eyes more hopeful than you were prepared for. 

You nod, gesturing the bag up, “Well you just bought me the dress.”

He shrugs that off, “I would’ve bought you the dress anyways.”

You linger in the midst of the ado wearing a dress that you feel far too overshadowed by, fidgeting with the half empty wine glass in your hand. Unfortunately, this time around you were invited by the host of the event and it would be extra rude to run away and hide. That doesn’t stop you from considering it, though.

A hand sliding across your lower back has you momentarily startled, and for reasons you couldn’t quite verbalize, you’d naturally assumed it was Bruce. The disappointment rings strong when you turn around to be met with the sight of an even older man, who looks considerably wine drunk. 

“Hello there, Miss.,” The words themselves are polite but the salacious smile on his face and the way his eyes have no trouble roaming your body gives you a solid idea of what this conversation is going to entail.

“Hello,” you fake a polite, tight smile and shift your attention to the rest of the room. 

This does nothing to deter him, as he takes a sizable step back into your line of sight. “Having a nice time?” 

The man is clearly from money, if his attire didn’t give it away his attitude sure did. There’s an heir of entitlement around him, like he’s inherently deservant of your attention—a quality you were notably surprised to not have found in Bruce. 

You give him your faux-smile again, this time tighter but half a second longer for the sake of politeness. A rookie mistake.

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, gesturing to the bar.

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say, gesturing your wine glass up.

A momentary flash of irritation crosses his face, but to his credit, he does a better job recovering from it than you would have expected. Though, that’s not really saying much. “Well, pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be all alone here,”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” Both of your heads snap to the side, finding a much more welcome surprise than you’d previously received. 

Your counterpart's posture straightens immediately, “Mr. Wayne,” he fawns, “What a lovely event you’ve thrown. I’m sure the Bernsteins will be appreciative.”

Bruce hums, eyes narrowed slightly. “You are…”

The man startles and rushes to finish off his sentence, “Alexander Watson, senior executive to the accounting department for the research wing of the company.”

He nods slowly, no recognition actually present in his eyes. “Ah. The research wing of the company that just blew fifteen million dollars on prototype self-operating cell phones.”

You’re trying hard to fight the smile creeping up on your face.

“What exactly is a self-operating cell phone?”

Watson’s face drops, hurrying to justify his approval of the proposal’s funding. As he rambles, Bruce’s gaze lowers to where Watson has once again placed his hand on your hip, though he’s not close enough to you for it to rest fully or naturally. You don’t know him well but you can say confidently that he doesn’t look pleased. 

He looks back up to Watson, attitude challenging. “Surely you’re not poking around where you’re unwelcome?”

Watson stutters at that, blinking and shaking his head quickly. “No, no, of course not! I was just hoping to provide the young lady with some company. That’s all.”

“And so you have.”

“I—,” about two steps behind in this conversation, Watson finally decides to retreat, “Yes, good evening, Mr. Wayne.” He bows his head and shuffles away back into the crowd.

“Mr. Wayne,” you smile knowingly, turning to him. “How are you?”

The hardness of his gaze fades quickly as he takes in your appearance, quite liking how you wear the dress you’d picked out.

“Things are looking up,” he smiles, “You look lovely.”

 “Thank you,” you glance over to where Watson has made his way to the bar, likely about to down an entire glass. “Mr., uh, Mr. Watson makes quite the impression.”

His smile turns a bit sullen, “You know last year he tried to convince the board that battery-powered battery chargers were going to be the next big thing?”

You blink, tilting your head, “Thought you didn’t know who he was.”

His eyes are fixed on the wall as he tugs the corner of his lip down, knowing he’s been caught but not really caring. “I’m sorry to have been away for so long, it seems everyone needs my attention at these things.”

“At the gala that you threw? I’d imagine so.”

He rolls past that smoothly, “You’re having a good time?”

“I am,” you say with a confirming head bob.

He regards the room with a numb expression, “You know, I think I’m getting bored with all of this.”

You smile at him, brow furrowed, “It’s only been an hour.”

He looks at you, eyes wide. “It’s only been an hour?” He’s exaggerating his surprise to make you smile, and it works.

“I think we should go,” he says lower.

You stare at him, bemused. “You still have a whole room full of guests.” 

He shrugs, “They’ll filter out on their own eventually.” 

He clocks your hesitation easily, accurately noting it to be more out of politeness than actually wanting to stay at the party. “What, you’re not ready to leave?”

You look around at all the mostly old, posh guests, disinterested small talk evident all across the room. You take a breath, “Alright, yeah. Let’s go.”

He smiles and leads you out a side door and through a corridor that’s significantly longer than you’d expected. 

“Do you always ditch your parties this early?” you ask, following closely.

He makes a sharp right at the next doorway, “If I can manage it.”

You look around at the high wooden ceilings and grand furniture. “Aren’t some of them friends of yours?”

He shakes his head, “My friends aren’t here.”

You frown at that, “Then why do you throw them at all?”

“Why did you show up last weekend?”

You nod slowly, understanding. “It’s your job.”

He returns the nod, adding, “Only difference is, there’s not a chance in hell you get paid enough for the work you do for Mullins.”

For the sake of maintaining your wishful facade of professionalism, you’re going to not acknowledge that incredibly accurate statement. Instead you smile politely and continue on walking. He seems to get the implication, returning it with an even brighter adornment.

“Well, money’s money,” you say wryly.

His smile fades a bit, “You shouldn’t have to worry about things like that.” 

You shrug, “A day in the life,”

He looks sullen upon hearing that, with more sympathy than you’d have expected from someone of his stature. He’s done nothing if not surprise you, though.

“Here,” he says, taking hold of the handle of a glass door. It opens to a garden, lit up beautifully by the moon and outdoor light. A fountain sits in the middle, water rhythmically gushing out of the top and trickling down the sides. The bite of the Gotham night air burns at your cheeks a bit and you find yourself thankful the dress you’d chosen is so long.

Bruce leads the way to an expensive marble bench positioned nicely in front of it, allowing you to sit first before following suit. Your hands find a place in your lap, clasped together awkwardly in an attempt to find warmth through contact.

It takes Bruce less than ten seconds to stand, remove his suit jacket, and drape it over your shoulders before sitting back down. The material is thicker and warmer than you would’ve expected, surely reminiscent of the perks of being owned by a billionaire.

He doesn’t look at you to acknowledge the grateful expression on your face, simply carrying on like it didn’t happen. “Was hoping it was warmer,” he murmurs.

Your focus momentarily goes to the icy cold stone of the bench under your thighs, initially finding it uncomfortable before deciding the coolness actually felt quite soothing. You remove your gaze from the gray stone and turn your head to find Bruce already focused on you.

You start to say something, though you’re not sure what it would’ve been, when he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it down.

Well, he certainly knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?

His eyes stay on your lower lip as he murmurs, “You’re a pretty girl, you know that?” 

God, he’s a professional.

You look up at him and refrain from saying anything, waiting to see if he follows it up with something that will make you regret agreeing to coming out here with him.

He doesn’t.

You shift, moving your hands off your lap to rest on the stone under you. “You can’t just do this—”

He smiles and lowers his chin to look you in the eyes, “Then what can I do for you?”

“You—” you blink rapidly, “Stop it.”

His coy beam persists, “Stop what?”

You raise your gaze up to him ever so slightly, a pouty expression across your face that you’re trying to sell as serious. “You’re trying to make me nervous.”

“Do I make you nervous?” He tilts his head down further, a ghost of a smile echoing on his lips, “I don’t mean to, sweet girl.”

Your eyes drop to the ground, biting your tongue. “Yeah.”

His simper grows, “I’m serious. I’d hate to scare away a new friend.”

You laugh at that and he perks up a bit at the sound, “What? We’re not friends?”

You cock your head to the side, “You’re the one who said none of your friends are here.”

He hums, “Maybe I spoke too soon.”

“You think so?” You should probably stop flirting so much. 

“Yeah,” he leans in a bit closer, “I do.”

“Why’s that?”

“Maybe I want to be your friend,” his hand finds a place atop yours. 

Your eyes flicker across his face as he closes in, “What if I don’t want to be yours?”

His eyes are on your lips, “I’m sure we can work something out.”

You take a slow deep breath, “Your intentions are blurry.”

He smiles lightly, amused. “We’ll have to clear that up then, won’t we?” His lips are inches away and his voice is soft as he says, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

You look up at him eyes wide, barely processing his words as you nod. He gently grasps your jaw in his hand, tilting your head up. His other hand finds the back of your head, holding you in place as he kisses you with intention. Your hands hover in the air for a second before holding onto his forearms. 

He breaks the kiss only to give you another sweet one right after. Your mouths remain close when it’s over, eyes still shut, trying to catch your breath. You stay like that for a moment until he kisses you once more on your cheekbone before pulling away. His hands drop to rest on your knees, the weight of them gentle.

He hums lowly, “Sweet thing..”

Being under the heaviness of his gaze leaves you feeling vulnerable. It’s starting to get you concerned with the potential levity and implications of kissing him. The expectations.

“You…” you stare down at where his hands meet your skin, not quite sure that you actually meant to start that sentence. 

“What?” he frowns, brow pinched. Your chin lowers further as your mouth forms a tight line. He shakes his head, “No, it’s alright. What is it?” he asks gently.

It takes a surge of willpower for you to get the sentence out, “You just want to sleep with me..”

He frowns harder at that, pulling back a bit. “No. I’m…” he sighs, “I’m not trying to lure you in just to toss you out right after.”

That makes you look up again. His voice has a sincerity to it that you weren’t prepared for. 

He continues, “I would like to, yes. Yeah. You’re beautiful, of course I would, but..” he looks down at his hands before looking back up at you, “No, that’s not the most important thing to me.”

You break eye contact again, thinking over his words. If that’s not the most important thing to him, what is? You can’t think of what else he could possibly want from you, a billionaire who could have anything he wants..the only thing you could have to offer in his eyes is sex. 

Right?

He exhales, “If you want to leave, I’ll call you a car. No hard feelings.” He nudges your chin up gently so you’ll look at him, but he gives you the freedom to fight against it if you wanted to.

You let him move you.

“I don’t want to leave,” you tell him, looking into his eyes. “What do you want?”

“Whatever you want,” he says it like it’s automatic. You physically can’t help but roll your eyes at the corniness of it. He doubles down, though, “Seriously. Anything.”

You smile in disbelief, shaking your head.

“Alright,” he returns your smile, straightening, “Here’s what we’re going to do. Do you need a ride home?”

You blink at him, “I’m going home?”

“You are,” he nods softly, “Do you need a ride?”

“No.”

He nods again, more like he’s working through something in his head. “Okay. You’re going to go home and think through what you want. If you decide you want to, come back here next Saturday.” he stands up, extending his hand out to you, “Then you can let me know what else you want and we can get to work on that too.”

You start to shake your head, “I can—” 

He drops his chin seriously, “Think on it.”

You relent easily, taking his hand and coming to a stand.

“Alright?” Again, his question is genuine. He does really want to know if you’re on board with this plan. 

Already going against his request, you agree without a thought, “Okay.”

He starts to lead you back over to the garden door with a head nod and a kind smile.

It ultimately was not a decision you had to think very hard on.

You’d considered every scenario of how this could play out and none of them ended with regret as far as you could guess.

You’ll still admit though, there was one scenario you had missed, apparently, which is why you were immeasurably confused when you showed up and he invited you to play chess.

He’s not wearing a fancy three piece suit this time, but his clothes are still very nice. With the sunlight peeking through the windows, you’re able to see the manor more clearly than you had been the other night. It really is a beautiful home, clearly very old and charmed, but there’s a lot of little details of character and history scattered around. There’s portraits and photographs of his parents from when he was young and furniture decorated with trinkets all throughout, kept absolutely spotless and dust free. Everything is neat and tidy but there’s still traces of the house being lived in with the patched throw pillows and worn carpets. Still, it’s very, very placid.

You’ve met new money plenty of times over the course of dealing with countless businessmen for Mr. Mullins but old money is something entirely different. You don’t really have a frame of reference here. New money is almost always brash and demanding, they like things done quickly and correctly the first time around. They’re usually not very interested in hearing what you have to say (even if it would save them a lot of trouble) and prefer it when the assistants women keep their mouths shut. Bruce has proven to be very different from these standards already and you’re not sure where to begin with placing new ones.

You’re about halfway through a second game, and while you’re not awful at chess, you get the impression that he’s easing up on you considerably.

You sit on the floor in front of a short coffee table, the game having no clear lead so far.

“I think this is stressing me,” you mumble, no actual weight behind your words.

“It’s just chess,” he says, not looking up from the board.

You watch him move his knight forward as you ask, “And that’s all we’re doing?”

“As it stands, yes,” he looks up at you, though you don’t return his gaze.

“Yeah,” you sigh, sliding your rook, “But later?”

“Later?”

“Well, you said...” you meet his eyes, “You said you wanted to sleep with me.”

He nods slowly, “I do. Is that alright?”

You consider it for a moment. You already knew that, if you really weren’t okay with it you wouldn’t have come here. And yeah, the idea makes you a little shaky, but in a good way.

“Yes,” you tell him, moving your queen forward two spaces.

“Are you sure?” he presses, moving to sit on the side of the table rather than behind it.

You do the same, sitting on your knees. “Yeah, I just..” you shift your weight, eyes wandering. “I’m not…overly experienced.”

He just smiles at that, like it’s endearing. Your words didn’t quite convey your meaning but your tone did. In any case, he understands the implication. “That’s alright, sweetheart. I’m not going to throw you in the deep end.”

You nod, looking down again.

“You’re nervous,” he comments.

“No, I’m—I mean, maybe,” your voice is barely a murmur by the end of the sentence.

He’s quiet for a moment, observing the way you fiddle with your rings. “What if we get you something pretty to wear? Something that makes you feel pretty. Whatever you want.”

He fishes his wallet out of his pocket, opening and pulling out a lump of cash without even looking. He holds the money out to you wordlessly and you can see from the bill on the outside that it’s at least a couple hundred dollars.

You shake your head instantly, “I can’t take that.”

He doesn’t put the money down but his eyes turn to begging. “Please. I just want you to feel good.”

“Bruce—”

He wavers a bit at that but it’s more of a falter than you’ve seen from him before so it’s easy to take notice of. “What?”

He shrugs barely, “I like when you say my name.”

Your eye contact holds for a moment and your resolve starts to shake almost instantly.

You exhale, “I’m not taking more than a hundred.”

“Two hundred.”

“Bruce.”

He smiles and picks out some of the cash and pockets it, handing you the rest. You don’t comment on the fact that it’s a hundred and fifty more than you’d agreed on.

You look down at the money in your hand like it’s a foreign object, shaking your head. “I don’t even know what to get.”

His thumbs start to rub reassuring circles by the bend of your knees, “Anything you want,” he tells you. “What do you like? Silk, lace, cotton, anything.”

You look up, tilting your head at him with a furrowed brow. “It doesn’t matter what I like, th—”

“It only matters what you like,” He says seriously, lowering himself to meet your gaze. “I’ll love it, no matter what you pick. Don’t worry about that.”

You lean forward a bit instinctually, “Okay.”

His eyes scan across your face in something that you can only recognize as awe.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you whisper.

“I want to kiss you again,” he says, voice even quieter.

Your eyes go to his mouth and you can only manage a nod, lips already parted.

He moves forward not a second later, kissing you with more fire than you’d gotten to see the other night. His hands grab at your waist, squeezing lightly as you hook one hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

You hear the clatter of chess pieces falling over as he moves nearer to you, large frame leaning over you. You push up on your knees, meeting his lips up at his level. His hands caress around your hips as the kiss gets deeper.

You just start to fumble with the hem of his shirt when he takes your hands in his, pulling them away before breaking the kiss.

“Easy, sweet girl,” he smiles, nudging you back with little force.

You groan, “Why?”

He barks out a laugh at that, stroking your hips again. “I’m not fucking you for the first time on the floor.”

“Then let's go somewhere else,” you nod up towards the stairs.

He shakes his head, that soft smile still playing on his lips. “Not tonight.”

You sit back on your heels again, frowning.

He brushes your hair back, murmuring, “No. But for now, I'll kiss you ‘til you can’t think if that’s what you want.”

You really hope you didn’t perk up at that as much as you think you did.

part two

🌾🌽 i heard a rumor that if you like without reblogging your crops will be cursed but hey what do i know 🌾🌽

[thesacrificialdove]

𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐒 1.6k words rich yandere x gn!reader — ko-fi | patreon | masterlist | inbox | taglist | home | req. & comms

tags sugar daddy, rich yandere, low-key obsessive behaviour, first meetings, college student reader, age gap, brief mention of a rapist (no description or anything more)

—📜" Being a broke college student, you decide to try your hand at getting a sugar daddy. You find someone who is... quite eager to know everything about you. It's weird because he doesn't seem to be the same person he was online.

They say to spend your youth on nightclubs and partying with friends. But really, they don’t know the true beauty of being in a jazz club and drinking all by yourself. There’s no ill intentions, there’s no partying until the sun goes down—just some nice music and good drinks.

People find it odd, sure. But nothing can beat this feeling for you. As you lay in a couch that’s worth double your college tuition, you drink champagne that's triple your college tuition. 

How you ended up here is another embarrassing story. Hunting for a sugar daddy online is a clear plan for destruction. It could end well with a decent allowance every now and then, of course. Yet, fear gets the most of you. The thought that you end up with a fat well and alive man who asks for sex with his small dick looms over you like a gloomy cloud. That fear is there because your sugar daddy is anonymous.

Sighing, you drink another sip of the champagne as you fix your posture. Again. The seat in front of you is still empty. You’d think he wasn’t really being honest with you but he did have a reservation ready for the both of you.

It’s not bad to wait. Even if you do look dumb getting stood up, at least you’re enjoying yourself.

“You lonely there?” someone asks behind you.

Turning your head behind you, you see a towering man with a smile so bright you think you could be blinded by it. He looks elegant—the way he’s holding a glass like a connoisseur and his long black hair pulled into a slick ponytail. Fuck, is he your sugar daddy? He looks the age for it and honestly, he aged really good.

You tell him, “Maybe. Are you lonely?”

He chuckles and takes the seat opposite. Finally. “No,” he says, “not anymore, at least. All thanks to…?” he gestures to you.

When you tell him his name, he parrots it like he’s tasting it. “Beautiful. Your mother picked it out?”

“I’m sure so,” you don’t know, who the hell would know that? “It’s a generational name, really. In our family we keep reusing names.”

“So are you the second? The third?”

The third was your great grandfather but he ended up being a rapist. Eugh. “The fourth,” you answer. “But I never tell anyone that, actually. Bit embarrassing if they call me the fourth, so.”

He laughs, somehow finding you amusing. “Nicolas,” he says, “very nice to meet you.”

Was… his name Nicolas? You’re not so sure about that. From the site he only revealed his last name so that you could get the reservation. Huh.

“Nice to meet you, Nicolas.” The little twitch in his lips is unavoidable to your eyes, “You look very nice tonight,” maybe that’s why he took almost an hour to arrive here. “Do you live near here or?”

“Oh, no,” he shakes his head, “I come from Bolzano. But I came here from Portofino, where my heart currently is.”

You nod like you know where those places really are. Italy, you assume. “Very nice. I heard it’s a beautiful place.”

“Beatiful even more with company,” he puts his drink down. “How about you? What makes you come here?”

You, actually. You wanted to go here. “I was raised by my grandfather and jazz was his favourite. Every corner of the house Hank Mobley would be playing. I have his old records that he passed down to me and whenever I play it, I can see the way he dances.”

“So, come down here for a little trip to memory lane?”

Before you could answer, you think about it even more. The man you were talking was definitely not Italian, right? No, his name sounded British, at most. And Nicolas sounds like he has little to no knowledge about the fact that you two are supposedly on a date.

Fuck, did you get him wrong? I mean, he is interested, you think.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” you hum. You put your glass down too, clasping your hands. “I think I do need to go now. It was nice to have your company—”

“Going so soon? A bit rude especially if you came here to be mine for a price, no?”

You pause. Though you’re ready to leave this embarrassing meeting, you’re caught. You turn to him in confusion. So you were… wrong? Right? 

“Sit back down, this champagne is a bit too new to me.” He raises a hand and someone immediately finds their footing beside him. Nicolas speaks in his own tongue, requesting something you don’t understand.

You’re promptly back on your seat with a small wave of his hand. “Come on, I think we have a lot to learn about each other. But I know you.”

Did he send in a private investigator or what? Fuck, man. You didn’t think that those things were real in real life. “How much do you know?”

He doesn’t answer. His legs are crossed as he watches the busboy leave to prepare your drinks. “How are your classes?” he asks, making idle conversation of things you’re a bit worried to talk to him about. “Hope you’re dealing well.”

“Yeah,” you say, unsure of this now. “It’s all fine, yes. Just a few projects and classes.” You wonder for a moment how rude it would be to ask for a price on your body right now. “Nothing interesting, really.”

“I’m sure anything you say is of interest,” he says, all too fond of you. “Tell me, love, you mentioned having difficulties with some of your professors.”

He wasn’t interested in all that before when you were talking. “It’s fine. Well, not like I can say no. It’s a bit hard when you’re paying for an education and you’re not being taught,” you laugh, “Self-taught learning, he excuses.”

“That’s simply lazy,” he excuses. “Fine arts is such a nice career path. No reason to be dismissive of students who want to learn it.”

Did you tell him what you’re studying?

The busboy returns and brings a drink to the both of you. The song changes and it sounds familiar. You could almost see your grandfather dance behind Nicolas.

“I’m going to guess that’s your doing,” you say, “Thank you. It sounds lovely.”

He smiles, “I’m not one for jazz myself.” He reaches for his glass and swirls in, taking a whiff of its scent afterward. “But I’m curious as to who you are. How you grew up is one of those things”

When the both of you talked online, you expected him to be more lustful than this. Maybe it’s the repeating innuendo in his messages. All of that persona is gone now as if it never existed. It’s concerning.

Both of you make small conversation. Mostly it’s about you. He asks every little detail about you, asking for things that not even your friends would care about. It’s the little things.

‘Do you like soft cotton or silk?’ You don’t really know the difference but cotton is nice.

‘How often do you see your family?’ Every or so month, you’d wager. But you make sure to keep in contact.

‘What’s your thoughts on caged animals?’ A bit cruel, but you can see where it can stem from. Still, it’s cruel. You’d never do it.

The night come to a close when you start to feel a bit light-headed with the drinks you’ve ingested. Nicolas puts aside your glass as he stands to go on your side of the table. “Maybe it’s time to take a break tonight, love?”

You groan. “Yeah, I guess that’s fine now. I’m really thankful for tonight.”

“I’m glad,” he says, pulling you up and helping you walk. You don’t need it but it’s nice anyways. “I can take you back to your dorm, yes? You don’t need to worry about anything else when you’re with me.”

In your pocket, your phone buzzes. You don’t get to check it when Nicolas wraps both of his arms around your waist. He pulls you to the exit and you swear you hear ‘Signore Giordano’ come out when the men bid him goodnight.

Which is weird, because his surname is Abbot.

The ride was a blur, literally. Maybe you’ve had too much to drink. The next thing you know is that both of you are in front of your dorm. It’s too dark outside. The streets are dead silent. The low rumble of his car is the only thing you can really hear.

He calls your name. “It’s time to go home. You can’t stay with me yet, love.”

You stretch in the seat. A car seat has never been more comfortable. “Been nice, really. Thank you.”

As you unbuckle your seat, he leans forward. His arm drapes over your shoulders as his hand comes to your face. “Then can I get a little reward? Just a little?” He turns his cheek, a grin on his face.

It’s stupid but oh well, he would pay you. You press a kiss on his cheek and he looks like the happiest man alive. He laughs, looking at you with stupid heart eyes. “Thank you. Call me with this number—” he places a card in your hands—”and delete that damn app. I’ll come find you after your classes tomorrow for your contract. You don’t need to find anyone else now.”

He leaves shortly after you get inside your dorm. You hear the revving of his car go in the quiet night. It’s relieving. You’re tired on your feet, unable to really process what happened tonight.

It’s whatever. It’s all done now.

You delete the app on your phone, swiping away a message you got from it. You’re pretty sure it’s from another match you had last time but again, you don’t need it anymore.

do not redistrubute this work as yours/without permission or feed to AI 📷 art by @ L0tus_Ren_ & @ Ivan Belikov

[luvsupa]

JUST ONE HOUR!

tags: exhusband!toji x fem!reader, businessman toji (guys pls he’s rich in this </3), petnames, smut (p in v), unprotected, mentions of reader being a mother again, etc. mdni.

w.c: 1.4k

a/n: sawryy been kinda ia bc of uni </33

you step into the crowded venue alone, the air thick with chatter and the lively notes of a string quartet filling the beautifully decorated hall. everyone around you is dressed elegantly for your ex-husband’s extravagant charity event. you hadn’t wanted to show support for him, but after much convincing from your friends and children, you reluctantly gave in, promising yourself you’d only stay for an hour.

as you navigate through the crowds of familiar faces, many of your old friends greet you, their compliments on your long, black, sparkly dress feeling insincere. awkwardly making small talk, you realize how distant you’ve become from these people since your divorce from toji.

“how are your children, mrs. fushiguro?” a married woman asks, her arm linked tightly with her husband’s—who, as you know, is traveling abroad to cheat on her.

“i’d prefer if you didn’t call me fushiguro; we’re not married anymore, remember?” you respond, lifting your empty ring finger to emphasize your point. gasps of shock ripple through the group at your “rudeness.”

“oh, darling, I completely understand your desire to drop the fushiguro name. it’s not like you have the charm or elegance to carry it anyway,” another married woman chimes in, laughter erupting around you, igniting a fiery rage in your chest.

“honestly, if toji were with someone like me, I’d take care of his every need in ways you can only dream of. I know how to keep a man satisfied, which is clearly something you’re not equipped for,” a third woman interjects, pushing your anger to its peak. the background chatter fades away as your breathing becomes heavy and your vision narrows.

“well, it’s a shame you think you’re so special because, from what I hear, your husbands are cheating on you. I guess when you can’t satisfy them, they go looking elsewhere—”

before you can finish, toji strides in from behind you. his large hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to his broad chest as he leans down to your ear. “easy, brat. I can’t let you go on with that mouth of yours,” he scolds, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. you can’t help but hitch your breath at the intoxicating scent of his cologne.

the expressions of the married women shift, their eyes darting to their husbands, who stammer awkwardly at their words. you suppress a giggle as chaos erupts around you, arguments bubbling up as they turn on their partners. with everyone distracted, you push toji’s hand away from your waist and turn to scoff at him. but fuck, he looks good. his black, luxurious suit hugs his frame perfectly, the white button-up shirt undone just enough to reveal a hint of his toned chest. toji smirks, the scar on the corner of his lips rising as he notices how you scan him.

you push past the crowd, making your way up the large spiral staircase while exchanging polite greetings with those you pass. you can feel his eyes boring into your back—an almost burning sensation—as you glance over your shoulder to catch him in the sea of wealthy businessmen, sipping on champagne. your heart races when you see him flaunting the matching wedding ring you once shared, its brilliance shining in the bright venue.

hastily, you rush up the steps, opening door after door in search of an unoccupied washroom. frustration mounts with each locked door, but hope reignites when you spot double doors at the end of the hall. as if your prayers have been answered, the doors swing open to reveal the most beautiful room you’ve ever seen—a private lounge. your eyes sparkle as you take in the elegant decor, complete with a private kitchen and balcony.

your heels clack against the polished marble floor as you place your clutch on the large island table, relief washing over you as you settle into the quiet space, far removed from the pretentious crowd downstairs.

“trying to slip away? don’t pretend you’re not enjoying the chase; I know you’d miss me way too much,”

a low voice booms in the serene atmosphere, startling you. you turn to see toji standing there with his hands in his pockets, slowly striding toward you until he’s right in front of you, looking down at you with a smirk.

“you look so good, doll,” he says, his voice low as he leans against the island table, biting his lower lip as he admires your figure in the elegant dress.

and you really—really tried to resist him.

but it was impossible to think straight with the way he was pounding into you, hitting every perfect angle and reaching the deepest parts of your throbbing hole. your slick walls clenched around his thick shaft, making it all the more maddening. toji had you bent over the island table, your dress bunched up around your waist, leaving your bare ass exposed in the private lounge. your eyes rolled back as his relentless thrusts sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, his grip on your hips nearly bruising. the room filled with the sinful sounds of skin slapping and the broken melodies of your moans mingling with his low groans.

“my. . . pretty. . fuckin’. . wife.” toji growled, each word punctuated by a deep, punishing thrust that slammed into your sweet spot, sending jolts of pleasure through your trembling body. his hand shot up, tangling in your hair as he yanked your head back, forcing your back to arch while he relentlessly pounded into you.

“t-toj’—” you stammered, your voice barely coherent between breathless moans, your body jerking with each rough thrust. “’s too m-much…” your words trailed off into high-pitched whines, your mind too hazy to form anything more than desperate pleas.

leaning down, his lips brushed against your ear, his hot breath igniting every nerve in your body. “you can take it, you’re a big girl,” he rasped, nibbling on your earlobe, his voice dripping with dominance. “look at you, babbling for me.”

the wet, obscene sound of your cunt squelching around him only fueled his pace, your moans intertwining with the sinful symphony as he continued driving into you without mercy, pulling more helpless words from your lips.

in a swift motion, toji hoisted your leg up, his grip firm and unrelenting, holding it in place as his hips snapped forward at a brutal, faster pace. the new angle sent shockwaves through you as his thick tip pressed deeper, practically rearranging your insides. the intense sensation made you crumble, barely able to hold yourself together as he drove you closer to the edge with every thrust.

“gonna make you a pretty mama again, mmm? all filled up.” toji rasped in your ear, his voice low and teasing as you sobbed loudly, tears spilling down your cheeks, nearly drooling at the thought of being filled to the brim. a smirk tugged at his lips when he felt you clench around him,

so fuckin’ nasty, he thought.

he snaked the hand on your neck down to your sensitive nub, pinching your clit between his fingers and sending jolts of pleasure coursing through you as your leg began to shake.

“i can feel it—hahh— you in my tummy,” you whimpered, the realization igniting a rush of pleasure and desperation within you. toji lost it at your words, his breath hitching as he looked down, watching the outline of your stomach stretch against the fabric of your dress, the bulge unmistakably visible.

the sight drove him absolutely feral, a primal hunger surging through him. “hn, f-fuck, baby,” he whimpered, the words slipping from his lips as he struck even harder, each powerful stroke pushing you closer to your limits.

“mr. fushiguro, i-it’s time for your speech.”

your heart dropped at the sound of a female voice behind the doors, a stark reminder of the world waiting just outside. but toji—oh, toji—his primal instincts kicked in, and the thought of being interrupted only fuelling his desire to finish inside you. nothing would stop him from pleasing his baby.

“t-toj’… you— ngh— you have to go…” you squeaked, desperation lacing your voice as he harshly slapped your slick, throbbing cunt, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent room. your thighs sticky as cobwebs of your arousal clung to his fingers, causing you to tremble uncontrollably.

“upp we go,” a smirk spread across toji’s face as he stepped back, maintaining his cock snug against your gummy walls. with a firm grip, he lifted both of your legs, carrying you as he approached the doors leading to the balcony where the majority of the guests awaited his speech.

fuck.

“just a little longer, baby,” he growled, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “i want them all to know you belong to me.”

[sparklyskies0]

𝙙𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧 ౨ৎ m.s

pairings: badboy!bf!matt x goodgirl!virgin!reader

( 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 ) you and matt have been seeing each other for some time now. your parents don’t approve of him but you couldn’t care less─that’s the whole point, to prove that you’re no longer the little girl that follows the rules despite how it makes her feel. When your parents are away for the weekend, you invite matt over. Finally deciding to take the next step and give yourself to him completely.

warnings/disclaimers: smut, unprotected sex, virginity loss, mentions pain, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), nsfw..

As you awaited matt’s arrival, you paced around your dimly lit room. The smell of your vanilla scented candle filling the air. You fiddled with your fingers; you were nervous. Matt has came over countless of times, behind your parents back of course. And you were never as anxious as you are now. Because you knew, how this night was going to end. Both of you, tangled in your satin bedsheets, your naked form against his. You knew you were going to finally lose your virginity. Give him all of you.

Your relationship with matt has been going on for a couple months now. Behind your parents back and even sometimes in their face. They don't like matt at all, he's exactly the kind of guy they had warned you to stay away from. They have expectations for you, they want you to become a lawyer to follow in your mothers footsteps, marry a man they think is perfect for you and basically be unhappy. Being with a guy like matt, would simply wound that perfect life your parents want you to have. Your whole childhood was dedicated to making them happy; skipping your dance classes, which you desperately wanted to go to for those stupid dinners with their rich friends who did nothing but brag about how smart and capable their kids were, getting straight A's instead of playing outside at the park with the other kids. You were always afraid of getting dirty because your parents made you. You weren't allowed thrill or excitement. Because clean, perfect good girls who are going to law school don't get dirty, ever.

Matt was the bad boy. the whole school knew about his record and the amount of girls he slept with. He had tattoos and a motorcycle and never went to class or followed any rules whatsoever. Girls want to be with him and guys are afraid to cross him. You never wanted to speak to him ever, he was far too intimidating. But that's exactly why you wanted him so bad. He's the complete opposite of you, his world doesn't, shouldn't align with yours. Your parents freaked when you brought him home and you loved it.

After a couple minutes you were snapped out of your worried thoughts by a knock at your window. you turned around, meeting him. He crouched down outside of the dormer window. A sly smirk on his face. A wide grin plasters on your face as you walk towards the window, pulling it up and open. As soon as he fully sets inside he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist pulling you closer towards him.

You squeal at his action. Your arms wrapping around his neck. "why'd you come through the window? i unlocked the front door for you, y'know" you look at him.

"where's the fun in that?" he responds, causing a soft giggle to leave your lips. Your eyes glued to his, occasionally roaming over his features, which is something you do a lot.

His blue eyes that are sparkling in the dim room mixed with the soft moonlight blaring through the window. His soft pale skin, pinkish lips, long perfect nose. You were honestly obsessed. You could stare at him all day.

When people look at him, they see a boy with a bad reputation. drugs, motorcycles, tattoos and fighting, someone who's going nowhere in life. But you don't, you see an actually sweet (when he wants to be) guy, who's trying but also can't help but rebel against everyone's wishes. They believe he's bad news, so he's giving them bad news.

You're almost starting to believe that you're in love with him. you know you are. But you won't tell him that, at least not yet. But you trust him so much, with everything. You know you're ready, ready to take all of him in every way.

Youve seen him naked before, and you know how big he is. Which is why your hearts beating so fast out of your chest right now. "what're we doin tonight, doll? a movie?, please don't say baking cus i don't think I'm mentally prepared for that this time" he says.. The last time you forced him to bake with you ending up with him burning his hand and a mediocre cake. You don't show it but your heart kind of flutters at the fact he didn't mention anything sexual despite the countless times he fingered you and ate you out, he doesn't expect it to happen all the time. But he didn't know that none of the things he listed were on your agenda for tonight.

you tilt your head slightly, "actually, i was thinking..." you trail off, hoping he can answer for you. his face changes, the smirk on his face growing wider. You feel him tug you closer. "oh.. i see" he brings his head down to your neck, placing a soft kiss to the flesh. His lips continue to pepper kisses all over your neck, and collarbone. your head falls back slightly, biting your lip.

a soft hum escapes your lips as you bring your hands to cup his face, bringing him to look at you. his eyes already filled with desire. "i think I'm ready" you state

you watch his face contort in confusion, instead of elaborating further you press his lips against yours. His breath hitches into the kiss, a deep sigh escaping both of you.

you back him up, towards your bed. When the back of his legs hit the furniture, he falls down onto it. The kiss yet to be broken. You climb on top of him. You're not quite sure where this confidence is coming from, but you like it. It's perfect to have, especially for tonight. Your thighs straddle his sides, you break the kiss, your lips leaving trails over his jaw and neck. His hands grip your waist, loving whatever has gotten into you. He didn't know yet that it was going to be him.

You grind yourself onto him, moaning softly. He lets out a few low groans himself. "i want you inside of me.." you whisper moaned by his ear, your hot breath sending shivers down his spine. Once he registered your words, his grip on your hips got tighter. you continued to kiss his jaw, about to make your way to his lips when he stops you. "wait-what?" he speaks. You lift your head, looking at him.

you bite your lip. "ive been thinking..and i, i want you to fuck me. Like for real this time" you say. "im ready"

Matt's face softens. he lets out a soft sigh. "You think you're ready or are you actually ready?" he asks, with genuine concern

You nod "i am ready. i swear... i want you. i...i trust you" you say softly, you mean every word. He lets out another soft sigh. "i don't wanna force you to do anything, you don't have to do this..we can keep doin what we always do" he says. He's deep-down terrified right now, he doesn't want to say or do the wrong thing, he doesn't want to scare you or make you regret it. You two always just stuck to oral. he knew you were inexperienced, and you were pretty open about being a virgin and wanting to trust someone enough. He's never pressured you, he wants you to be as comfortable as possible, no matter what.

"matt i promise, i want to" you cup his face. your eyes glued to his. he was finally convinced. licking his lips he speaks, "well in that case.." he sits up, flipping you over so now he's hovered over you.

he looks down at you, the way your eyes glisten, the way your chest rises and falls. By the look on your face, he can tell how ready you were, and that only egged him on.

His head dropped down to your exposed neck, trailing hot wet kisses down to your collarbone, then to the top of your chest. You let out soft moans at the way his mouth worships your body, the way his kisses are gentle yet hungry. He kisses down to the middle of your stomach. When he stops, he looks up at you. "take this off for me, doll" his voice hoarse. He tugs at the bottom of your tank top, you bite your lip as you look down at him.

You arch your back to assist him in removing the tiny top. He lifts it up, revealing your breasts, perky and perfect.. for him. The sight made him moan "so beautiful" he doesn't hesitate to bring his head back up to latch onto the flesh. A sharp moan escapes your mouth. His tongue circling around your hard nipple. he trails a couple kisses in between your breasts licking along your skin. It doesn't take long for him to give your other breast some attention as well. He trailed his mouth down to your lower stomach, stopping at the top of your pajama shorts. he looks up at you, a grin growing on his face. "this is about you doll, all you" his voice low in a mumble. His fingers hook your bottoms. bringing them down slowly, your white lace panties revealed to him. You squirm slightly, your teeth tugging on your bottom lip as he works.

Once your shorts were brought down to your ankles you kick them off. Matt places kisses up your thighs, his hands spreading your legs apart. after your legs are as open as he wants them to be he stands up. "take those off." he says his head nodding to the clothing that's blocking what he considers heaven. You obey, removing them from your body. While you do that, matt pulls his shirt over his head, discarding it somewhere in the room. He's now shirtless in front of you. "get yourself nice and wet for me, doll" he says, his hands coming down to unbuckle and tug his pants along with his underwear down.

You take your fingers into your mouth, getting your index and middle finger wet, bringing them down to your already dripping core.. wetting the flesh more. You run your fingers along your folds, moaning at how his cock springs out when his pants fall down to his ankles.

He strokes himself, the precum visible on his pink aroused tip. he makes his way back to you. "im gonna stretch you out with my fingers first okay?" he says softly. You nod, your eyes on him. He's fingered you before, but this time it feels far more different.

He settles himself between your legs again. wetting his fingers with his mouth before bringing them across your slimy folds. You moan at his fingers, your hips rolling against them naturally. He eases his fingers into you, causing you to hiss slightly.

He continues to push his fingers inside you, stretching you out. You moan at the feeling. As soon as you adjusted his fingers curled and he began to finger fuck your tight cunt.

"mm fuck" you moan, your body arching up. "yea baby, y'like that?" he murmurs, his fingers keeping up his torturous pace. Your moaning becomes more louder, and struggled as you feel the pit in your stomach grow. "mm shit just imagine how you'll sound with my cock inside you"

His fingers pick up. Your orgasm crashes over you, you let out a loud strong moan as you release over his fingers. "mm..thats my girl" he hums, his fingers still pumping inside you slowly, riding out your high. Once his fingers leave your core he brings them to his mouth, soaking up your juices and licking his fingers clean. He brings his head back down to your center, his tongue comes out to taste you. Dragging in between your folds, sucking up the rest of your juices and wetness. After he licks you clean he leaves a kiss to your pretty pussy.

He comes up, hovering over you once again. "you ready doll?" he asks, his eyes scanning for any doubt, wanting this to be just as real and perfect for you than him. When you nod, your eyes looking up at him, almost pleading for him; he knew.

"okay, its gonna hurt, but only for a second...tell me if its too much and we'll stop" he speaks. letting out a nervous sigh. "hold onto me baby"

You bring your arms up to wrap around his neck, pulling him down closer to you. He kisses you gently, yet passionately. He was waiting for this moment, and so were you.

As he kisses you, his hand grips your leg, lifting it up more, he does the same to your other one. He's settled deeply in between you now.

His hand latches onto his member, lining it with your entrance. His tip rubbing teasingly against your wet glistening folds. He places multiple kisses along your cheek and jaw before attaching your lips back together. Wanting to be able to swallow the sounds of your pain for you as he slips in.

He slowly pushes himself inside of you, his thick member barely in yet you still broke the kiss with your hiss of pain. "shh shh i know doll i know" he comforts against your lips. continuing to kiss you

"just relax.. i got you, m' right here"

he continues to push himself inside you, your moans of pain honestly breaking his heart. But this is what you wanted, and he knew it will subside eventually.

Once he was fully in. he stayed still, wanting to give you time to adjust to him. "its okay, you okay?" he lifts his head up to look at you. His thumb coming to wipe away the tears at the corner of your beautiful eyes. "i-it just hurts..im okay though" you admit.

Matt nods understandably, "we can stop if you want" He gently caresses your face

You shake your head, "no...no i want this" you say

you suddenly feel the pain that was once invading you slip away. You had adjusted to him, to his size, to the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you. "you can move.." you speak

And with that, he thrusts into you slowly. You let out a soft sigh, the pleasure slowly creeping back into you.

"you feel so good babydoll" he hums, the feeling of you clenching around him. So innocent, and so his.

"mm matt" you moan, as he thrusts his cock into you at a slow sensual pace. "it feel good, doll? my cock deep inside you...is this what you wanted?" his voice low

You nails dig into the back of his neck as you hold onto him. The pleasure, the feeling of his thick cock stretching you out too good to bare.

Your moans were like music to his ears, giving him the permission and encouragement he needed to increase his movements and move into you faster. "o-oh fuck" your mouth opens wide. His hand reaches for your thigh, lifting it up more for him to fuck you deeper.

He continously hits a certain spot inside you that has you squirming underneath him. "mm just like that doll, your s'good" he moans

"tell me how it feels baby...how does my cock feel inside you"

"fuck matt, it feels s'good.." you moan. you pull his face closer, nipping on his shoulder to silence yourself. "mm fuck dont do that baby," his hand cups the side of your face "i wanna hear you..hear how good im making you feel" he looks you in your eye.

His pace quickens, wanting to bring you to the edge. He can feel it, with the way you clench around him, the squelching sounds being the tell of how wet and close you are.

"i want you to cum doll, cum on my cock please" he pleads

your eyes squeeze closed as you feel a pit in your stomach, you've felt them before.. but this one feels stronger. his cock so deep inside you making you feel things that were far more foreign to you before.

"no no no, open your eyes f'me doll. let me see you" he groans. you open your eyes, meeting his lusty half lidded bedroom eyes. "look at me while you cum on my cock"

He continued to thrust into you deeply, your legs trembling from the sensations. His hands let go of your sides, coming to find yours from around his neck. He intertwined your fingers, holding both your hands. He brought them to both sides of you. Holding them tightly, not wanting to let go. Pinning your hands down he smashes his lips against yours. His hips moving at rapid speed, slamming into you.

You squeeze his hands, your moans muffled and uncontrolled as he swallows them.

You break the kiss moaning loudly, your breath shaking and uncontrolled "ah.. ah fuck im cumming!" you announce. that only made matt let out a gutteral groan and fuck into you faster.

"shh.. yeah thats it baby..come on doll" He encourages, kissing your neck, leaving bites and marks. You moan loudly, your body shuddering as you cum.

Matt immediately takes you into a kiss, swallowing up your beautiful sounds. He was right behind you, one single thrust and he stilled inside you. The feeling of his thick warm load shooting inside you. You could barely keep your eyes open. Trembling from your release, and still feeling matt fuck his cum into you. Riding out both of your highs.

His face buried into your neck, his own body shuddering against you. "you did so good doll...my good girl" He places wet kisses to your flesh.

He waits a moment for you to calm down, before slipping out of you. You gasp at his action. your body jolting up. Matt winces for you, "i know, m'sorry" he apologizes knowing how sensitive you must be

He collapses next to you. you turn on your side facing him, your head resting on your hands. He leans over, placing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder. "you okay?" He asks. His voice filled with genuine concern.

You nod "yeah, I'm okay..im happy" you answer, the corners of your mouth curing slightly

"good." he says, relief taking over him. "was it..how you imagined?" he asks, needing to know if there's a chance of regret.

"Better." you smile.

He returns a smile back, his hands trailing the curves of your side. "c'mon, lets get you cleaned up"

ᥫ᭡ Authors Note

this is so long lmfaoa

obsessed with matt as a bad boy