#strong bad e mail

[homestarrunner]

[fountainpenny]

Alright I don't know if this is just happening to me.

Strong Bad hasn't replied to any of my e-mails. I know this probably isn't personal, though he always answers e-mails and seems enthusiastic about receiving them. Does he just not want me as a fan? Is that the reason for the ghosting?

I've been thinking, maybe instead of being invested I should be investing.

[thewisemankey]

"It's such a lovely gathering of pies and pie people… Like to give a shout-out to Lemon Pretend over there…"

[jobean12-blog]

The Fine Print

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (CEO!Bucky AU)

Word Count: 4,126

Summary: You've been working under Bucky for almost a year and he's always been a grumpy ass and even though when the lines get blurred you can't seem to stay away.

Author's Note: These new pics and all the new gym shots and vids and yum! Just being fed so well! I like the idea of a grumpy CEO who just wants you and he's mad about it. No excuse for being a dick but he's not really all bad. And anyway, I'd never tell him no...haha! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Thank you Daisy for the lovely divider @firefly-graphics😘

Warnings: Grumpy ass Bucky (he's a total ass sometimes but has moments of softness), sassy reader, lots of tension, flirting, curses, fingering, light dirty talk

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You’re late. Only twenty minutes but it’s long enough that your grumpy ass of a boss will have your head for it.

Grumpy…and an ass but entirely too gorgeous.

You pick up the pace, precariously balancing your files and bags and hoping you don’t faceplant on the newly shined floors.

Getting a flat tire on the highway this morning wasn’t on your long to-do list for today, but it still happened and now you’ll have to deal with a very cranky Mr. Barnes.

You round the corner and enter your office, ready to give your usual sunshine filled greeting.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes!”

He’s standing at your desk, arms crossed over his broad chest and his eyes hard.

“Is it a good morning?” he asks, not bothering to move out of the way as you try to slip around him. “What time is it?”

You stop and meet his glare.

“I had some car trouble this morning. I got a flat on my way in.”

Your voice comes out steady and strong and relief floods through you. This was the first time you were late, and you were not going to be reprimanded.

“Trouble is quite the fitting word for what I’ve been dealing with in your absence.”

You glance up at him and his antagonizing stare, and blink away your surprise at his words.

“I would have thought you would at least ask me if I was ok Mr. Barnes,” you say sweetly and with a smile. “After all, how could I possibly manage to fix a flat tire all on my own.”  

His jaw clenches tightly.

“Obviously you managed,” he counters. “And you look just fine.”

Beautiful blue eyes wander languidly down your body before making their slow perusal back up to study your face.

You try to school your features and when he raises an expectant brow you bite back with, “Thankfully I am fine, and I got help but I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with the burden of picking up a telephone and sending an e-mail all on your own this morning. It won’t happen again.”

He takes a step closer to you and you stop yourself from swaying forward to get a hint of his scent.

Traitorous body. If only the fucker wasn’t so fucking hot.

“You’re right. It won’t,” he replies with a smug smile. “And just so you don’t forget, I’d like to see…”

He spends the next minute rattling off several project pieces he’d like to see completed and on his desk by the end of the day.

“And then you can make up the half an hour you missed by getting together a mock presentation for our meeting tomorrow.”

When your nostrils flare, he smiles triumphantly and dips his head, so his warm breath caresses the shell of your ear.

“I’ll see you in the conference room at six.”

He turns away and slams his office door behind him and you let out an exasperated puff of air.

“It was only twenty minutes asshole.”

You mutter the words under your breath as you plop into your office chair and continue to curse his name in grumbles.

There’s a light knock on the door before it opens and you know you’re about to hear the voice of your friend and coworker, Jess.

“I know you’re working through lunch,” she says. “So at least let me get you something.”

You don’t look up but smile nonetheless, your fingers flying over the keyboard with ease.

“Honestly, I don’t even think I have time to eat,” you say before hitting the period button hard and meeting her eyes.

Jess gives you a sympathetic look. “I’ll grab you something nutritious.”

She waves before gently shutting the door. You lean over to check your desk drawer for snacks, the mention of lunch reminding you that you are in fact, hungry. At the same time that you see you have nothing to eat you notice a tear in your stockings.

“Son of a bitch,” you grumble. “I just bought these.”

Less than a minute later your door opens again and without looking up from your screen you whine, “do you know what, after the morning I’ve had I think I’ll take something sweet…maybe a cookie. Or twelve. Or chocolate of any kind.”

When you receive no acknowledgement, in return you glance up and see that Jess is not standing at your door.

You quickly tug the hem of your skirt down, noting how Bucky’s eyes track the movement and linger on your legs.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes, I didn’t realize…”

“Since your morning has been so awful,” he starts, his sly smile growing, “why don’t you run down to the café and pick us both up some lunch.”

Your lips purse and once again his eyes seem glued to every action you take.

“Mr. Barnes, Jess has just come in and said she would grab me something to eat so I can continue working through lunch.”

When he doesn’t say anything, you continue.

“I have A LOT to get done.”

“I’m sure you’ll make it work,” he says before rattling off his lunch order.

He turns on his heel and takes two long strides back to his office, pulling the door closed hard behind him.

“What the f…?”

You don’t even finish the sentence when he opens the door again and pokes his head out.

“Make sure you get yourself something to eat. We’re going to be here late.”

The door slams shut again, and you abruptly stand, your rolling chair flying back into the wall as you storm off.

“Why does he care if I eat or not?” you ask yourself as you angrily stuff things into your bag and throw it over your shoulder.

The rest of the day goes by far too quickly and you find yourself cursing out the copy machine as you wait for the rest of your papers to go through. Checking your phone you see you’re already almost ten minutes late to your afterhours ‘meeting.’

You rush down the dim hall of the now empty building, your presentation materials clutched tightly to your chest and glance again at your phone.

Fifteen minutes. Shit.

As you near the conference room, you try to calm your breathing and slow to a walk. A soft light shines from under the door, and you know he’s in there waiting for you.

Taking a deep breath you knock.

“Come in.”

You walk into the large room, never failing to take in the view of the city that the floor to ceiling windows along one wall highlight.

At the head of the large dark wood conference table, sits Bucky. His suit jacket is hanging haphazardly over the back of his chair, his tie is loose around his neck, and the crisp white sleeves of his button down are rolled up to his elbows.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes. The copy machine…”

Realizing you’ve been apologizing all day, and it has made no difference, you stop yourself and lift your chin, walking over to where he sits and placing down your papers, sorting through them as quickly as possible so you can begin.

“Have you eaten dinner?” he asks.

His question takes you completely by surprise and you meet his piercing blue eyes with a confused expression.

“I uh…I had lunch.”

“That doesn’t answer my question sweetheart.”

At his sugared endearment, your eyes widen, and your breath catches in your throat, but you regain your composure.

“No. I haven’t.”

He just nods and gestures to the papers, clearly waiting for you to get started.

You lean over the table, searching for the paper you need and in your disheveled state don’t realize your entire lower body is practically draped over him.

“I just need to find…”

The words catch in your throat when you feel his fingers softly touch your thigh, slowly inching higher to reveal the tear in your stocking. His fingertips trace the sheared fabric and press against your skin, igniting it with heat.

Every muscle in your body tenses, your heart pounds in your chest and your brain screams at you to push him away but you don’t dare move.

“Look at me,” he demands, pressing his fingertips harder into your skin.

You straighten and turn to face him, his hand sliding up and over the curve of your hip to settle on your waist.

“Mr. Barnes?” you ask, keeping your eyes trained on his.

“James. Call me James.”

The intensity of his stare makes your breath catch and when he doesn’t answer and instead continues letting his hand trace your curves you battle with your emotions.

“The next time you have car trouble,” and his hand slips under your skirt again, “you call me.”

“What? Why would I?”

His fingertips graze the lace top of your stocking before he lifts your skirt higher and drops his eyes between your legs.

“Because I said so,” he murmurs, teasing along your inner thigh.

Your hand falls to the table to steady yourself and you willingly spread your legs open when he gives them a slight push.

“That’s hardly a good reason,” you breathe out.

“Fuck,” he growls, and his eyes fall closed.

You glance down at his lap and see him straining against the expensive fabric of his pants.

He smooths two fingers along the line of your panties, lightly pressing against your swollen and sensitive clit. His eyes open and he looks furious, fisting the thin material in his hand and in one quick movement, tearing it off.

He pulls you down roughly onto his lap, your skirt riding up over your hips to accommodate the wide spread of your legs as you straddle him.

An involuntary moan slips past your parted lips when he grabs your ass and drags you down over his hard cock.

When he opens his mouth to speak you grab his tie between your fingers and use it to pull his mouth to yours. Every sweep of his lips is heaven, and you release his tie to rake your fingers through his hair.

He makes a low, angry noise deep in his throat and you trail your lips along his jaw, kissing your way down the strong column of his neck.

His hand slides from your ass and slips between your legs, his fingers brushing through the wetness just before there’s a knock on the door.

You both go completely still and wait. When a second knock sounds, he quietly curses and gently lifts you off his lap.

You quickly pull your skirt down and smooth your hands over your hips. He watches your every move as he runs a hand through his mussed hair and sits up in the chair, hiding his legs and erection under the table.

“What?” he growls, loud enough for whomever is on the other side to hear.

“Mr. Barnes, we’re scheduled to do maintenance in here tonight.”

He curses again and continues to stare at you.

“I’m just finishing a meeting. Give me five minutes.”

“Of course, Mr. Barnes,” the maintenance manager, says, “take your time.”

His chest rises and falls rapidly as he splays his hands out over the tabletop. Hastily he stands and tries to straighten his tie, his eyes landing on your ripped panties that lie on the floor.

He grabs them and rubs the silky fabric between his fingers.

“Make sure you eat something,” he says and then shrugs on his suit jacket, tucking your panties into the breast pocket.

You’re clutching the table and staring as he grabs his briefcase and starts toward the door.

“It’s late. I’m going to have security walk you to your car,” he states, finally meeting your eyes.

His groan is pained as his gaze travels down your body and then he disappears out the door.

You fall back into a chair and try to calm your breathing. You’d have to be out of here in a minute and you didn’t want to look suspicious. Seeing movement outside the door you begin gathering your things and stand on still shaky legs.

With a deep inhale you straighten your shoulders and walk out the door with a serene smile, greeting the head of security and thanking him for escorting you out.

What the fuck just happened?

The next morning you’re making your way into the office when he walks in. You do nothing more than greet him with a curt nod, giving him a wide berth of space as you make your way to your desk.

You can feel his eyes on you, the lick of heat traveling down your spine. You’re wearing your favorite dress and while it’s appropriate for the workspace it accentuates all the right spots, and you smile to yourself as you bend down to retrieve something from your desk drawer.

Regardless of what transpired last night you are not going to let it affect your work. You felt powerful and confident in this dress and Mr. Barnes can fuck off.

You peek over your shoulder to find him standing halfway in the doorway of his office and staring. You raise your brows and blink.

He clears his throat and mumbles a short “good morning,” then steps into his office and slams the door.

You roll your eyes and promise yourself he’ll be the last thing on your mind as you set out to get as much work done today as possible.

As lunch approaches you grab your bag and reach for your wallet. Your fingers close around a crumpled piece of paper, and you start to smile when you’re reminded of what it is.

You knock on his office door and saunter inside when he says, “come in.” The receipt hits his desk with a smack and without an explanation you turn and walk back out.

You almost make it to the first step in the stairwell when you hear footsteps approach behind you.

“Where the hell do you think you’re running off to?” he calls.

You continue walking and make it down one flight of steps before saying, “to get lunch.”

He meets you on the landing and clutches your elbow, spinning you around and pushing you against the wall.

Your eyes narrow contemptuously.

He whips the receipt out and in front of your face. “Want to explain this sweetheart?”

You let out a wry chuckle. “You know for such a smart guy you really are an ass sometimes. It’s a receipt.”

“I can see that,” he says through clenched teeth. “What I want to know is why you’re making purchases for…lingerie…on my company credit card.”

“Some jerk ripped up my favorite pair of panties last night.”

You shrug your shoulders and try to skirt past him.

His hand meets the wall next to your head, his fingers curling and crumpling the receipt and you can feel how tightly the muscles in his body are flexed when he presses closer.

He looks tormented for the split second before his lips crash down on yours and your treacherous body melts into the kiss.

His cock throbs against your stomach as he tries to hike your dress up over your thighs. Reluctantly he steps back, making enough space so he can slowly slide your dress higher, above your panties and look his fill.

“I like this pair even more than last nights,” he simpers.

His fingers hook into the lace at your hip, and you grab his shirt. “Don’t you dare Barnes.”   

“You can buy as many new pairs as you want.”

He once again easily tears them from your hips.

Your lips part in shock but he swallows your sassy remark with his mouth. The roughness of his kiss is a sharp contrast to the way his fingers softly tease between your legs.

You need more but you’ll be damned if you’re going to beg him for it. As if he can read your inner thoughts, his eyes light up in triumph when he pulls away to meet your gaze.

“As much as I want to hear you beg me for it sweetheart, I already know how badly you want it. You’re soaked for me.”

“You’re such an ass…”

He slides a finger inside you and your combined groans echo in the empty stairwell, the insult dying on your lips.

His stare is intense as he dips his head to your ear, warm lips brushing ever so gently when he whispers, “say please and I’ll give you what you want.”

Instead, you nip at his jaw, stifling the moan of need that threatens to rise in your throat. He continues pumping one finger in and out, sweat beginning to bead on his brow and his teeth gritted.

You hiss out a curse that’s followed by a breathy “please.”

You’re expecting him to be smug but instead he slows his movements and languidly pushes a second finger inside you, clearly relishing the way your eyelids flutter closed and you clench around him.

“That’s it sweetheart. Show me how much you love it when I fuck you with my fingers.”

His words practically send you over the edge but it’s the press of his thumb to your clit that makes your legs start to shake and his name fall from your lips like a prayer.

When his head falls to your neck and he places soft kisses along your skin, traveling up to your ear to whisper, “come for me gorgeous,” you let go and dig your fingernails into his strong shoulders, finishing with a muffled cry.

He draws out your pleasure with the slow push and pull of his fingers before sliding them out and holding them between you, his skin glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights.

His fingers press to his lips, parting them as he licks them clean, clearly savoring every drop of your taste.

“I knew you’d be sweet,” he croons.

“James,” you whimper when your hands fall to his pants.

He grabs your wrist to stop you and pushes your hand away. With soft movements he fixes your dress, smoothing his hands along your curves.

“But…” you start, and he silences you with a kiss.

You’re breathless and your head is fuzzy by the time he pulls away and with a wink he steps back and says, “lunch is over. We have a meeting to attend.”

He turns on his heel and jogs back up the steps with ease. Your narrowed eyes follow him before you let out a frustrated huff and walk on wobbly legs in the same direction.

You had forgotten all about the meeting…the one you were supposed to go over the plans for the night before.

When you walk into the large conference room everyone is already seated and Bucky is of course at the head of the table. His eyes are trained on you as you walk to the front and place your things down near him.

The presentation you’re giving shouldn’t take more than ten minutes, but there’s a lot riding on it and after what just happened, you’re obviously feeling flustered.

You open your document and greet and address the room, doing everything in your power to keep your focus on where it belongs and not on him.

But when you pause your eyes lock with his and your ability to speak is momentarily stolen. His gaze is intense, the heat simmering there almost palpable.

With a clear of your throat you continue, fumbling slightly but thankfully recovering quick enough that no one seems to notice. No one but him.

His perfect lips raise in a lopsided grin, and he runs his tongue along the seam of his lips. It’s clear where his thoughts are, and you must tear your eyes away to unscramble your head. He’s obviously trying to fluster you and quickly your nerves are replaced with anger, and you use it to fuel the rest of your presentation, finishing it with ease.

You sit with a smile and lift your chin, challenging him with your eyes. He stares right back.

“Thank you,” he says, addressing you by your first name as he stands and commands the room. “That was an excellent presentation. Clearly, you were well prepared.”

You can’t tell if his words are mocking or meaningful and it sets you on edge. He moves around the room and answers any lingering questions before ending the meeting with a dismissive hand.

As people stand and gather their things, Bucky comes up behind you, pressing his chest close to your back as he leans in to pretend to grab something from the table.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it thought that” he chuckles.

To everyone else it appears he’s making a funny remark, but you can feel your skin heat at his proximity and taunting words.

“Ugh,” you say through gritted teeth. “You would have loved that wouldn’t you?”

You can feel your eyes fill with unshed tears, the emotions of the day finally catching up to you and when his gaze finds yours his expression morphs from haughty to soft in an instant.

It only sends you reeling again, the confusion flooding through you and before he can say more you gather your things and rush out the door. Unexpectedly, he’s hot on your heels all the way to the elevator.

There are several other people on it so when you stop at the next floor and more employees file in, you’re squeezed toward the back, pushed farther into him, your ass against his crotch.

He’s hard and you feel the rest of him stiffen with the sharp intake of his breath. You take a step away from him, as much as you can in the confined space, but he reaches forward and grips your hip to pull you back.

“Don’t move,” he whispers into your neck.

“I’m two seconds away from shoving my heel up your ass,” you seethe.

He leans even closer, keeping a firm grasp on your hip.

“You were deliberately trying to make me fuck that up!”

You turn your head to peer at him and his mouth falls open, brows furrowed.

“What?” he says.

“You heard me.”

When you reach the floor just before the top, everyone else exits the elevator and the doors close, leaving you both pressed together in the corner.

It starts to move again, and you jerk backward, falling against him as he leans into the wall.

His sudden growl startles you and then he slams his hand into the stop button on the control panel.

His body cages you against the wall and his breathing is harsh.

“I would never want you to fuck anything up,” he exhales. “It’s impossible for me to think about anything but you…how good you taste, and I haven’t even gotten my mouth on you.”

You hide your surprise at his confession.

“Yet.” He adds in a promised whisper.

“This is my career at stake Mr. Barnes. You’re the one with all the power here. What do you have to lose?”

“Me? All the power?” He laughs dryly. “You’re the one who does this to me…the only one.”

You feel him throb against your stomach and you can see the truth in his eyes.

“Then don’t be such a dick all the time.”

You mean the words to come out harsh but instead they’re a quiet whisper and your expression softens.

It’s all he needs before his lips crash to yours and he slides his hands down to your ass, squeezing his way to the hem of your dress.

“I had to sit there and watch you present, the whole fucking time knowing you had nothing on under here.”

His touch is delicate as he spreads your legs and slides a finger through your folds, already wet and aching.

“I was sitting there hard as a rock just thinking about bending you over that table, tasting you, fucking you.”

Your fingers close around his biceps, the soft fabric of his suit jacket bulging under the strained muscles.

“Is that what you want?” he asks as his fingers continue to tease you.

“Yes,” you answer as you grab hold of his tie and bring his lips closer.

He kisses you, never touching you where you need it most and when he pulls away, he presses the elevator button, causing it to start moving again.

He removes his fingers and reaches up to straighten his tie and when the doors open, he backs out, his voice low and deep when he says, “I need to see you in my office. Immediately.”

He turns and glides from the elevator, his long strides carrying him quickly toward his office and you can’t do anything but follow.

@blackwidownat2814 @hiddles-rose @kmc1989 @goldylions @lizette50

[thewisemankey]

E-mailing at its' finest.

[venus-vault]

The Wife Of A Close Friend

Daniel Cleaver × Fem! Reader (18+)

Synopsis: Part 2 - After successfully ruining (y/n)'s marriage to Mark Darcy, Daniel tries to make things right.

⚠️ TW: Raw P in V Penetration, Fingering, Mention of Cheating, Mild Daddy Kink, Alcohol Consumption (All Parties of Age), General Smut.

Daniel reached out via my work e-mail three days after Christmas with an invitation to dinner for an attempt at amends, and against my better judgement, I accepted. So here we are, at Le Gavroche, amending.

"So, (y/n)... how's Mr. Darcy then? Tad depressed, I'd imagine."

"I wouldn't know. He's still not taking my calls."

"Oh. Right...right. Tragic, that. I so hoped you two might work things out..."

"Hm. For some reason, I don't believe you." I smirk.

"Wasn't asking you to believe me. Listen, I-"

A waiter sets down two glasses and a chilled bottle before us and we simper up at him for breaking the awkward tension.

"Thanks," we patronize in unison and he flashes us an 'I'm not paid enough to deal with pricks like you' smile before turning to attend to another table.

Daniel pours our glasses and I take a long, much needed swig of the chardonnay he's ordered us, inhaling the notes as I do. It's tart, sweet...strong.

Closing my eyes, I sigh heavily before looking back up at him. He plays a good kicked puppy in a navy jacket and white button down, I'll give him that. Tonight however, I am determined not to fall for it... which is going to be a challenge if he keeps looking at me like he desperately needs something only I can provide.

My eyes snap down into my glass, as though its rapidly dwindling contents are of more interest or import than the gorgeous man sat pouting across from me.

"(y/n). I'm sorry. But I did mean what I said. I adore you. Obsess over you, Genuinely. Anyone could tell he wasn't satisfying to you, in any sense, you were so tense, so... twitchy."

"I strongly advise you not to act like you've done me any grand favors lately, Daniel."

"It does take two, you realize..."

I narrow my eyes at him. He's right and ultimately I should've slammed the door in his face, I should've hung up the phone at the sound of his voice, I should've done a lot of things... but I didn't. I picked up, I let him in, I fucked him... I loved it.

My cheeks burn and I bring the glass to my lips again, taking a quick gulp to finish it off.

"Hate you," I mumble under my breath, barely audible.

"you too,"

"Hm?"

"Hm?"

"Something-something you're so incredibly sorry for ruining my life?"

"Something like that..." a playful smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"Y'know...the worst thing about it is you're actually right? I wasn't happy with Mark. But that doesn't excuse your interference. Or my response to it. At all."

"Oh no, obviously not, couldn't."

"Never."

"Ever."

I have to laugh at how thick we're laying it on and he joins me. God, we're a mess.

"Daniel?...Are we...terrible people?"

He takes a sip of his wine, pondering.

"Terrible is a stretch, flawed certainly, indulgent, but I don't think we're terrible... definitely didn't feel terrible when we ..." he murmurs and his lower lip catches between his teeth as he looks up at me. "Did it?"

I can't help but flash him a smile, internally kicking myself as I sip my wine.

"It... didn't, it was still in very bad form, though and we should be ashamed, being adulterers..."

"Well, good. We've established that I'm a very bad boy, you're a very bad girl, together we've done some very bad things, and we are both just so terribly sorry for being so. very. bad.

But answer me something, (y/n)."

"Hm?"

"Why did you agree to come here tonight? It couldn't have been just to hear hollow apologies and make empty assertions about the badness of it all and watch me sulk into a plate of overpriced scallops..."

"Mm, no that's pretty much it, actually... if you wouldn't mind having a cry though, that would make it a little more worth my while," I simper.

"Come on, (y/n). You come here looking sexy as all hell in another of these... microdresses of yours, I do know a tailored Dior trench when I see one... Jo Malone perfume... heels... either you are an extremely high end call girl in your off hours, or you came here with the intention of seducing someone. I'm not opposed to either, but for posterity; which is it?"

"Neither, unfortunately for you. I just like to dress for an occasion-"

"So dinner with me is an occasion, then?"

"You are insufferable-"

"I am just asking,"

"Better question, why'd you invite me here? Is this really about 'making amends', or did you just want to take me out?"

"I don't see why it can't be about both."

I feel my smile grow wider at his words and he is charming.

But he did destroy my marriage, ruin my life, tarnish my reputation... give me the best orgasm I've ever had... and I let him do those things. In a way, the weight of our actions are a shared cross to bear, and with new year's eve tomorrow... I'd rather not feel its weight so heavily.

"Daniel...If I were to take a chance on you... let you in... I'd expect and require you not to make a fool of me."

"I don't think there's a man in the world who could successfully make a fool of you."

"You came pretty close."

"I don't remember coming at all, actually," he smirks. A beat. "Anyways, what I meant to say is: thank you, (y/n), for being here tonight. Your forgiveness would mean the entire world to me, if you do ever find it in your heart to offer it."

His brow furrows, eyes big and innocent as they study my face, he does seem genuinely sorry and maybe people do change.

"No promises."

We feast, drink, laugh, exchange Christmas stories, and after dinner Daniel orders us a cab to his flat for a nightcap.

As we step out of the car, I feel myself stumble a bit and he catches me, arm snaking around my waist to usher me into the lobby. We make a way to the elevator and as he selects a floor, I lean back against the wall, letting my eyes close for a moment.

My body is flushed and warm, head fuzzy, mind whirring, and all I could ever want right now, is for him to touch me... to kiss me. Instead, he speaks.

"(y/n), I just want you to know, there's no pressure for us to do anything here, yeah? Just...drinks. Just conversation. No tricks, no dancing, no Carly Simon, you have my word."

"I know better than to take you at your word, Mr. Cleaver."

"And I know," he steps closer, tilting my head up for eye contact "that when a pretty girl like you calls me 'Mr. Cleaver', it isn't because you respect me..." He smirks down at me, leaning in slowly.

As we kiss, Daniel's hands find their way under my coat, under my dress, and-

bing!

His floor.

I watch him fumble with his keys a little as he unlocks the door for me, hand wandering to the small of my back as he guides me inside.

He flicks on the lights, helping me shed my coat as we meander in, and this place is gorgeous. Open concept, spacious, white tiled floors, suede couches, exposed brick, it's glass walled... and overlooks the whole of the city. As I stand at the window, swooned by the skyline, Daniel extends a glass of champagne to me and I take it.

"What are we toasting?" I sip, looking up at him.

"You, and your generous decision not to hate me forever."

"Well-"

"Your generous decision to very kindly pause your hatred of me for the evening?"

I nod and we clink glasses, sip and stare out at London for a moment. Somewhere down in those bustling streets, Mark is holed up in his office, sullen, filing our divorce paperwork. But I've decided that tonight, just for one night, in this stupidly expensive downtown high rise, for the first time in 5 years, I do not need to be concerned with the goings on of Mark Darcy.

I'm snapped back to reality as Daniel's arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer as he finishes off his champagne. "So, contrary to what you've seen in movies, wistfully looking out the rain-pebbled window thinking about him will actually only make you feel worse, who knew?"

"I wasn't, I was just... admiring the view."

"Right. Come on Eleanor Rigby," he takes my glass and his own in hand, setting them down on the coffee table nearest the window. Daniel sweeps my legs out from under me and I let out a surprised squeal as he carries me, bridal style, into the bedroom, gently plopping me down onto the edge of his enormous bed.

I prop myself up on my elbows, confused. "Wh-"

"(y/n), I may be a posh twat with...ambiguous morals, doesn't mean I'll stand by idly and let you needlessly depress yourself over Mark-wanker-Darcy." He lifts a finger "Donnez-moi un instant, cherie."

Of course he speaks french and I watch him shed his belt, dress shirt and trousers, discarding all into a hamper in the corner of the room and tugging on a plain cotton t-shirt from his dresser. Daniel stands at the end of the bed before me. "Now then," he picks up one of my feet, working at the fastenings of my shoe, "let's get these dreadful contraptions off you..." he mumbles, popping the shoe off and tossing it aside before doing the same with the other.

"That's better. Stand for me, yeah?"

I slip off the end of the bed onto my feet before him and he steps closer, hands settling around my waist as he presses a kiss into my forehead. "Gorgeous,"

I feel one of his hands undoing the zipper of my dress and he helps me out of it, placing it on a hanger in the closet. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Daniel's eyes meet mine and he lets out a heavy sigh. "I'm always nice to you. In fact, the last time we saw eachother, I believe I was extraordinarily kind to you..." his eyes flick down my frame for a moment and I watch him nip at his lower lip, brow furrowed as he opens up the dresser again, selecting a random rugby shirt and handing it to me. "There, pop that on and get in bed."

I do, and he's not far behind me, climbing under the covers and pulling me into his arms. Spooning. "I don't like seeing you in distress, (y/n)-"

"Pfft, yes you do-" I laugh.

"Well, sexually speaking, sure but... I just meant," he nuzzles into the hollow of my neck "I don't like seeing you unhappy," a peck "so, I'd like to do," his hand slips over my hip, fingetips ghosting cautiously over the front of my panties "everything in my power to please you, if you'll allow me?" He murmurs.

"I'd appreciate that, " I sigh.

"Would you?" He presses his body up against mine and he is hard. I gasp. "Daniel-"

"Mm?" he hums, "God I've misssed this, (y/n)...the way you feel..." He rubs slow, gentle circles into the front of my panties, I am wet and the friction is delicious as his other arm wraps around my torso, hand resting around my throat and squeezing just slightly.

I've missed him and I moan as he continues grinding against my ass, my core tensing as his grip on my neck tightens. "Those gorgeous little sounds you make..." He lets out a low groan and my mind goes foggy. Heat takes my body over as his fingertips finally find their way under the hem of my panties, gently exploring my folds, slowly gliding up and down the center of my vulva and another gasp escapes me as I rock against his fingers. He carefully dips them into me, curling upward, and I feel myself clench around them in response. The hand around my throat snakes under the hem of the shirt and comes to rest over one breast, lightly playing with a nipple and I need him. "D-Danielll?" I breathe

"Mhmm?"

"I need you t-to fuck mee, please...pleease..." I whine.

"And I will. But only because you ask so nicely..." he withdraws his fingers, giving them a quick taste before helping me shimmy freshly saturated panties down my legs, pushing his oversized shirt higher up my hips. "Turn over." I lay on my stomach and look back at him as he undresses, first goes the shirt... the boxer-briefs... he props my hips... de ja vu.

He's beautiful with swollen lips and disheveled hair, and I watch him align himself with me, eyes locking onto mine.

"Are you ready?"

I nod.

"Words, (y/n)."

"Yess, pleease-"

I gasp and he's inside me instantly. The dilation is intense as he sinks into me and I let out a small yelp.

"Come on, pretty girl... You can take it...Doing so well for me..." I watch Daniel bite his lip, letting out a low groan, and he allows me a moment to adjust to him before starting to move in and out of my center in long, steady strokes.

"Still tight as a fucking bow-string then, mm?" I hear him mutter under his breath.

"Not. For. Long."

I feel myself clench a couple times and seconds later he's ramming into me at a rapid pace, our bodies clapping against eachother as he holds my hips firmly in place. I feel fingers lace into my hair, he yanks my head back fiercely as he continues fucking me and I'm panting, close.

"Danielll?" I whine, tightening up.

"Yesss??"

"Daddyyy?"

"Mhmmm?"

"I-I'm gonna come!"

"Ohhh, oh fuck me-!"

Our orgasm is simultaneous, mind-blowing and Daniel buries his face in the crook of my neck as he finishes, hips slowing gradually.

"Hmm... that was fucking sensational...you. are. incredible. "

"Thank you-u" I stammer. He pulls out of me with a squelch and retrieves his t-shirt from the floor, first cleaning himself off, then placing it gingerly between my legs as I let my body go completely slack against the bed.

Daniel situates himself behind me so we're spooning again and pulls the covers up over us, arms wrapping tightly around me.

"Are you feeling any better, then?" He huffs, draping a leg over mine.

Part 3》

"Much..." I nod, trailing off. My mind is a haze and I feel my eyes start to close as Daniel presses a soft kiss into my temple.

[fallingtowers]

save the last e-mail for strong bad

[dragonnarrative-writes]

I had a dream last night that I was pen pals with slasher Johnny while he was still locked up and now I'm depressed that he didn't really show up at my door unannounced despite never having given him my name or address and he ate Chipotle with me on my couch before fucking me within an inch of my sanity 😭

You know what's absolutely hilarious to me about the whole Slasher Handler universe? I'm not actually a Horror Girlie. Having dreams about slashers showing up at my house - with or without food - sounds like the most hilarious nightmare. Soap???? John "Soap" MacTavish???? That unhinged motherfucker???? In my house??????!? Have a drabble. CW: Kidnapping/reader is taken hostage, implied stalking/surveillance, disrespect to a puzzle, implied dub/non-con

The knock at the door should have been the mailman. He was nice, a bit more chatty than you really wanted, but you never complain. It’s nice to have a friendly face while you adjust to your new city. But the man standing on your porch hadn’t been James, the affable, middle aged mail carrier.

Your whole body had locked up as blue eyes you’ve only ever seen through a google search met yours. You'd stopped sending letters two years ago, but you were undeniably face to face with John “Soap” MacTavish. He had grinned like a devil as he held up a wicked looking knife and a brown paper bag. Chipotle.

“Brought yer favorite!”

That had been two hours ago. Now, arms and legs bound to a chair in your kitchen, you feel almost calm. Soap sits across from you, sorting the edge pieces of one of your new puzzles and chattering like you aren't gagged and unable to answer.

“And then,” he declares, pointing at you. “Nae more letters from my bonnie pen pal! Figured ah was bein’ punished, that maybe yer letters were bein’ returned to sender. Nae yer fault, nothin’ f’r it. But in the last letter you said you was movin’, an’ ah didnae get the new address. Too bad, that!”

He puts his chin in his hand and taps the table with an index finger as he contemplates the box of the puzzle. Something in him shifts. The silence, the way his eyes go intensely focused, makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Ye ken why ah like puzzles? Because all the little fiddly pieces fit together,” he turns the box toward you. “So why in the fuck would anyone make one with pieces that stick out the sides like this?”

He gives you a significant look, so you make a muffled noise behind the gag and shrug.

“Bonnie as anything,” he says, apropos of nothing, reaching out to take your chin in one strong hand. “Used to think about fuckin’ you all over that house of yours. Especially that old leather couch.” His grin turns predatory at the way you jolt, heart in your throat. “Oh, hen, the dreams ah’ve had of your old place. Used to jerk off to a picture of that laundry basket. Cute pair of black knickers right on top. O’ course, we’d’ve had to lock the cat out. Much as ah love an audience, ‘e don’t need to see his mam that way.”

You never mentioned a cat, or your furniture, or anything like that in your letters. Certainly, you never sent photos. The terror that had clenched around your heart while he bullied his way into the house and forced you into your kitchen comes roaring back.

Please, you try to say around the gag. What do you want?

“Ah’m only in town for a couple more days,” he says, carelessly dumping all of the pieces he’d separated back into the box again. He stands, one hand going to his belt as he gives you an exaggerated wink. “Hate to rush, but we’ve got to christen your new place. An’ if ah’m not back tomorrow, the Ghost will come lookin’.”

[thewisemankey]

If Vince were still around, he'd probably use one of these gimmicks in the WWE. (At least the ones not directly parodying older talent.)

Fact 122:

In sbemail yes, wrestling, although it is said that they are competing in the All World Mid-Pro Shirtless Championship Entertainment, most of the competitors wear shirts or other types of top covering clothes

[homestarrunner]

the Compé deserved better

[yuujispinkhair]

cant stop thinking about sukuna treating me so good while on my period…. 🤭🤭

Awww your boyfriend Kuna will make sure you feel better ♥️

Pairing: Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + some mentions of smut Word count: 500 Warnings: 18+, reader is menstruating, small mention of blood, period sex if you want (only as an option), making out. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Modern boyfie!Sukuna cannot stand the thought of having no control over this thing that causes you pain and puts you through an emotional rollercoaster every damn month. He is so worried when he sees you burst into tears over the smallest things. The only tears he wants to see on you are those of joy when he says something sweet to you or brings you roses or when he has you on his cock, and the tears spill over because it feels so good. It is unacceptable that your period makes you feel so bad!

And so your boyfie Sukuna does anything he can to make you as comfortable as possible. You are his princess, so you will also get treated like one!

"Why are you getting ready for work? Come on, princess, stop doing all that shit and lie down!"

"But I have so much to do, Kuna!"

"No, you aren't going anywhere today. Fuck work! I will write an e-mail to them saying you are sick!"

You have to admit that he is pretty cute when he is so indignant. And it makes you feel so loved to see this protective side of Sukuna. You aren't immune to the warmth spreading through you when you see the unveiled worry in his maroon eyes. And those strong tattooed arms wrapping around you and hugging you to Sukuna's tall and very warm and comfy body are very convincing, too.

Of course, you stay at home. You slip out of your work clothes and put your sweatpants on again, smiling when Sukuna hands you one of his comfy hoodies.

He makes sure you take painkillers and that you rest on the bed. And Sukuna is right next to you. One of his large hands is on your tummy the whole time, rubbing soothing circles on it.

He picks your fave show to re-watch with you and brings you sweets and cooks for you. He is so caring that you can't help but fall even more in love with him. Especially when you see his boyish grin when he is like,

"See? It was a good idea to stay home and let me look after you. Sukuna 1, stupid period 0."

And then Sukuna kisses your neck, being a tease once again, running his pierced tongue slowly over your sensitive skin, licking you, kissing you, sucking on your pulse point until he has you squirming needily and your hand lands in his soft pink hair to pull him into a deep kiss.

A long makeout session with Sukuna is the perfect way to forget about your cramps. His tall, muscular body lies half on top of you, warm and comforting. And his tongue in your mouth feels so good that it makes your head spin.

And if you need more, Sukuna is very willing to give it to you. He isn't squeamish about the blood or about periods in general. If his princess feels better with his cock in her aching pussy, he will make sure to have you on his cock for hours, trying to fuck your pain away.

But whether you want sex or not, what Sukuna will definitely provide to you are cuddles. He is softer than usual, sweeter. Holds you even tighter than on other occasions, snuggling against you like the world's biggest heating pad. Your back is pressed to his chest while Sukuna's muscular tattooed arms are wrapped around you, one hand rubbing your belly and the other holding yours, making you feel warm and taken care of.

You can't stop smiling when Sukuna murmurs sweet nothings in your ear. That sexy, low voice laced with so much affection. There is still some of his usual teasing, but always followed up by a sweet "I love you, princess." Not wanting to risk another emotional outburst and instead just make you feel loved and taken care of.

I hope this could make you feel better if you are on your period atm <3<3 Kuna being so adamant about making you feel better and "win" against this menstruation thing is so funny to me aahahhaa I love him so much!!

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments would be very sweet <3

[spiralinghours]

“Personal Assistant” pt 2

Fandom: Saw franchise

Characters/Pairings: Mark Hoffman x reader (afab)

Rating: PG-13 (? for this part anyway)

Tags: switchy dynamics, pet names, brat behavior, light daddy kink

Summary: More indulgent drabbling about Hoffman’s secretary being a pain in his ass.

Author’s notes: By “switchy” I mean Hoffman likes to play boss but he also acts simpy and “Anything for you, baby”… And the secretary/reader is very “Yes sir” with him, but takes pleasure in lightly manipulating Hoffman into letting her do what she wants, no matter how much it annoys him.

Pretty much just entertaining myself with these at this point.

Probably has spelling errors, whatever.

“I told you, Hoffy, my computer isn’t working. I gotta finish checking my e-mail. It’s part of my job, isn’t it?” You kicked your heels around giddily, stiletto stems nowhere close to reaching the ground. The wiggling little movements elicited a grunt from the hulking frame under you, hunkered down on his hands and knees. Somehow you had sweet-talked your way into using your boss as a chair. Just for a quick moment, of course.

“‘Hoffy’,” he scoffed in a near whisper. “You mean ‘sir’, don’t you, baby?”

You were feeling particularly bold today—particularly obstinate. But it wasn’t with any ill intent. You were just playing around. And he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t find your small bratty streaks somewhat endearing.

“Maaaaaaybe,” you mocked, biting out the tip of your tongue.

Hoffman turned his head up enough to see the face you were making, grunting with more frustration a second time. “That’s enough, honey. Daddy’s back hurts. You can finish checking your e-mails later.”

“But I’m sooooo comfortable,” you giggled, crossing your arms. You were laying the brattiness on thick. “You’re so sturdy, Hoffy. So cushy too.”

You had become so wrapped up in your own diabolical glee that the sudden drop jarred you severely.

Hoffman was now standing, hovering above you as he reached down to scoop you up by the waist. In a swift procession, he had pulled his office chair under him and draped you over one of his knees, making the whole act seem effortless. He was a strong bull indeed.

“You’ve been particularly irritating today, sweetheart,” he started through gritted teeth. While still dopey and soft, a warning intensity cut through his glare. “Are you trying to make things difficult? Are you trying to get in trouble?”

“N-no, Hoffy.”

SPANK!

He clicked his tongue. “Now, now. I know you only call me that when you’re trying to get on my bad side. You trying to be a little shit to Daddy?”

You shook your head, fully lying. A tiny smirk couldn’t help but crack through. You loved taking the piss out of him, draining the smugness out of his expression.

SPANK!

“Out loud, babydoll. Talk to me.”

“Yes, sir,” you giggled, though voice a little hesitant and reserved. The throbbing sting on your ass was an indication to cool it. But you wouldn’t.

At this point, your velvety black pencil skirt had been raked up to your lower back, revealing strappy, complicated garters running over seamless, pink panties. And, of course, a reddening behind.

“Oh, so you’re actually going to be honest with me now, huh sweetheart? Well, that’s very kind. But you were kinda pushing your luck, weren’t you? You can always use Daddy as your teddy bear—I’ll be whatever you want. But when I tell you to stop and you don’t? It’s not very nice, is it?”

There was that almost fatherly tone of disappointment. It tore you up a little. And also riled you up.

SPANK!

“Hoffman!” There was a hollow voice ringing at the closed door accompanied by rapid knocking. It sounded like Fisk.

Hoffman hurriedly slid you off his lap, at which point you slithered underneath his desk. You took in the view of his shiny black shoes and the way his rounded lower belly pressed into the edge of the desk.

Fisk had already entered, his conversation with Hoffman muffled and uninteresting above the wood surface you hid under. It seemed like mundane trial scheduling was the topic of discussion, so you decided to entertain yourself.

You lifted your chin past the edge of the rolling chair, reaching your teeth to graze Hoffman’s thick side. Even though your bite through his shirt fabric was tender enough, you felt how he jolted, immediately slinking a hand down to swat your face away. It was funny how you could hear the brief shift in his breath, but he managed to keep cool—voice low and dull as ever.

The footsteps at the front of the desk abruptly trailed out, door clicking behind. Uh oh, you were definitely in trouble now.

“Think you’re funny huh?” Hoffman’s eyes looked down with those unamused lowered lids. “I dunno what would be worse: more spanks or me canceling dinner tonight… But now that I think about it...”

“Don’t cancel dinner,” you fake-whined, jutting your lower lip out. You crawled out from below and stood up.

“Fine. But knock off this annoying shit. I’ll be good to you if you’re good to me, babydoll.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbled against your sternum as he pulled you close where you stood in front of him. “Anything you want. Just be a little nice.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“I know,” he exhaled.

[thewisemankey]

Best cereal name ever. XD

[linos-luna]

𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨!

𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑠𝑘, 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑎 𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑐 𝑜𝑓 𝑺𝒐𝒐𝒃𝒊𝒏 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒆𝒔, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑜 𝑜𝑛. 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑠𝑜 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑐 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟, 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒? 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑧𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑜 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒.

𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑖𝑡.

𝐾𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑢𝑔𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑃𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑢𝑔𝑎𝑙. 💚💛❤

(I can't believe that I'm writing this like an e-mail Haha)

Lol. It’s cute actually ☺️

————————————————————————

Your Bunny 🔪

Yandere!Soobin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: obsession, Yandere. Stalking

————————————————————————

You kept the window open at night. A small breeze would come in, a great feeling for summer nights. You lay peacefully on your back, the covers not even over you as you slept. Actually, there was still some eyeliner and mascara on you as well. You unexpectedly fell asleep while reading.

As you slept, you dreamed of meeting up with your boyfriend tomorrow. You loved him, really, but he could be a bit much at times. You’ve been debating whether or not to break up with him for a while now and that conflict made it to your dreams.

What you didn’t know was that he was here. Soobin took advantage of the open window and climbed in with ease. He sat next to you and stroked your hair. Soobin loved watching you sleep.

“We’re done……. No soobin…” you muttered in your sleep while shaking your head.

Your boyfriend raised a brow as he heard you.

“Stop… it’s… over…”

Soobin couldn’t help himself. Were you planning to break up with him?! Is that what the meeting was about for tomorrow??

“You’re breaking up with me?!!” He yelled suddenly, shaking you awake. You shrieked when seeing him. You quickly sat up while in a panic. Soobin was holding onto you by your shoulders.

“Soobin, what are you doing here?!” You yelled.

“You wanna break up with me?!” He completely ignored your question and kept shaking you. “How could you?! You can’t break up with me!! You can’t!”

“Baby—”

“I can’t live without you, noona!” He interrupted.

“Soobin… how long have you been watching me sleep?” You were asking about this night specifically but his answer scared you even more.

“Every night, noona.” He responded, “you’re just so pretty when you sleep.”

“Soobin!”

“I can’t help it!” He pouted. “I need to see you!”

“You see me almost every day!” You sighed while getting up. “Please leave… we’ll talk tomorrow…”

“No!” He got up and ran to you. “You’re gonna break up with me!”

“Baby—”

“You can’t do that!” He interrupted while grabbing your arm.

“Soobin… you—”

“Please noona! Don’t leave me!” He said with some tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’m your bunny! I can’t live without you!”

You couldn’t help feeling bad for him. Yeah he was obsessive but he was also very loving. He treated you like a queen. You love him. But how much more could you handle?

“Ok… I’m not leaving you…” you sighed. “But can you please not watch me at night? It’s creepy.”

“Yeah ok! Anything you want!” He replied quickly while grabbing your hand.

“Alright. Go home baby… I’ll see you tomorrow okay?”

“Can I sleep here?” He asks with a pout.

“No, baby… I need some space to think right now.”

“What kind of space?!” He blurted out. “Why would you need space from me??”

You didn’t know what to say at this point and you laid down, patting the spot next to you on the bed.

Soobin gleefully laid next to you and kissed your cheek. He put his arms around you and held you tight.

“Soobin… it’s hot…”

“I thought I was your bunny!” He yelled.

“Yes… bunny! But it’s hot!”

“Nice try, noona. You’re not getting away that fast.” He giggled while hugging you tighter.

He must’ve been really tired because he fell asleep fairly quick. Although he still held on tight. It was hot but he was too strong for you to struggle. There was nothing you could really do…

[incorrecthsrquotes]

Dear Lulu, thanks for the e-mail, why don't you take a long walk off a short pier?

Strong Bad, recovering from the Tandy exploding in "gimmicks"