#tip tap typing away at my keyboard knowing no one will see a goddamn word

[tallyhalling]

3am is the most evil time to post anything and everything

[avintagekiss24]

daddy’s girl > andy barber

|| pairing: andy barber x black!reader

|| word count: 4,458

|| warnings: DD/lg, age play, smut, sex, vaginal fingering, thigh riding, praise kink, language words

|| note: this is based on @honeychicanawrites​ incredible headcanon about being andy’s little and having to deal with neal flirting with you while at work. i hope this is okay... this is my first DD/lg fic, so I’ve been obsessing over getting the details right.. which i hope i did...

gifs are from google. if you made them, or if you know who did, let me know :)

You stand at the copier, biting down on your lip as you zone out while the loud machine runs. It beeps after a second of it being finished and you blink, grabbing your copies before you turn and sit your stack on the counter behind you. You grab the stapler and start separating the copied pages, stapling together a small packet before you move onto make a new one.

You jump and gasp when a hand slips up your skirt and drags along your thigh, “Andy, stop it.”

A broad chest is soon crushed to your back, two hands are around your middle, and two lips nip at your jaw before skimming upward to nibble on your earlobe, “I’m so glad you work with me, baby. I get to tease you all day.”

You click your teeth and roll your eyes playfully, pushing your back into him to try and get him to back away, “You want me to keep working for you, don’t you? We can’t get caught!”

“We won’t,” he whispers as his hands move up to cup your breasts, “Who’s gonna catch us?”

You turn to face him, your eyes wide, your mouth open as you try to speak but before you can, his lips are on yours. He kisses you hard and cups the back of your head with his large hand, pulling you closer (if that’s even possible). You moan, running your hands up his forearms and biceps until they rest on his shoulders. You accept his tongue into your mouth, letting it run along yours before he sucks on it softly. He pulls away from you, but not very far, just enough so that he can lick the inside of your mouth and your top lip.

“Tell daddy you like working with him.”

His voice is so deep, so firm, that it sends a shock right to your core. You feel yourself slipping into your little space at just the name tripping off of his tongue. Daddy. You love making your daddy happy, any time, and usually any place, but... You toss your eyes around and bite down into your lip, “Andy,” you whisper, starting to rock your foot back and forth to resist the urge.

“You’re right,” He groans, resting his forehead to yours, “You’re just so fucking cute.”

You giggle, throwing your arms around his neck, “Maybe we can take a long lunch,” you suggest, kissing his cheek, “You can buy me a happy meal.”

“Sounds like a deal, baby girl.” He chuckles, pulling you back in to kiss your forehead.

He starts to pull away, but you stop him, grabbing his wrist, “You can finger me now, though.” You shrug, “If you want.”

He raises his eyebrow as a smirk crosses his face, “Goddamn, I love you.” He says, slipping his hand around your waist. He pushes his large hand into your panties, his middle finger sliding between your lips to tease your slit.

You grip the lapels of his jacket and grip them in your hands as he forces your legs wider. He plays with you, flicking and rubbing his fingers over your clit until your dripping - which takes little, to no time at all. He teases your opening with his middle finger, then pushes three of his thick digits inside of you, making you squeal. 

“Fuck,” you squeak, “Andy.”

He pumps his fingers hard, his palm slamming against your clit as he fucks you up against the supplies counter. He starts to nibble on your neck again, teeth and lips nipping and biting, sucking and licking as you drop your head to his shoulder. He gets a firm grip around your waist with his free arm as he curls his fingers inside of you, massaging your insides with the tips of his fingers. 

You slam your eyes shut and bite down on his shoulder, his jacket still balled in your fists. You groan loudly, but Andy is quick to cover your mouth, “Shhh, shh, shh,” he coos into your ear, “Quiet, baby.”

He grabs your hair, pulling hard on the ends to tilt your head up towards his. He stares down at you, his warm breath washing over your face as his blue eyes pierce your brown ones. His tongue snakes out from behind his pink lips to lick your mouth, from your chin, all the way up to the tip of your nose slowly as he continues to pummel your tight, little pussy with his fingers. 

You let your head go limp, your eyes close as your body rocks with his fingers - that pull forming in the pit of your stomach. Your body tightens and you hear him growl under his breath, he knows your close.

“God, you are so good,” he groans, “Come on, baby.”

You whine, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as you start to writhe as a warmth starts to spread through your veins and across your skin. Just a little more… a few more strokes and you’ll - 

“Andy? You in here?”

You jump at the male voice coming from outside the room. You both snap your heads towards the door, “Yeah, I uh, we’ll be out in a second. Trying to get some paperwork ready.”

“Lynn wants to see us.”

“Okay,” Andy answers quickly, anger flashing through him, “Give me a minute, will you Neal?”

“She sounds irritated.” Neal continues from outside.

“Goddamn it!” Andy hisses, pulling his fingers out of you, “Fuckin’ asshole.” He pulls your skirt down, smoothing his hands along your hips to situate your clothing. He kisses you quickly before stuffing his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean, “I’ll take care of you at lunch, promise.”

“Really?” You shriek, your eyes wide as they follow him to the door.

“It’s not me! It’s that fuckin’ prick -”

“Andy?” Neal knocks again.

“I’m coming! Jesus!”

Without another word, he pushes away from you and heads for the door. You spin around on your heels to face the wall and avoid Neal’s prying eyes as the door opens behind you. You staple some papers, trying to keep it together until the door closes again before you nearly collapse. You drop the stapler and rest your weight against the counter, dropping your head as you push out ragged breaths. Fucking Neal. 

You know he did it on purpose. Lynn was just fine before he walked into her office just mere minutes ago. He’s been sniffing around your desk for weeks, slipping in little come on’s and pick up lines into your conversations, all of which you have brushed off and politely declined. He’s starting to get more aggressive - buying you lunch, walking you to the elevator at the end of the day, actively butting into you and Andy’s conversations. Andy has definitely taken notice. Their feud has intensified ten-fold since you’ve started working there to the point where you can feel the contempt between them. 

Andy knows you’re all his. He knows there is nothing in this world that could ever tear you away from him - but that doesn’t stop him from getting jealous. Your stomach starts to twist at the thought of how angry he’ll be for the rest of the day, not being able to make you come. He’ll be brimming with anger, but what’s more, frustration. He’ll keep his eyes on you all day, making mental notes on every time you laugh too hard at one of Neal’s jokes, or get a little too close for his liking.

You don’t want your daddy mad. 

You finish up with the packets, slowly, giving yourself some time to calm down and recalibrate before you push back out into the bullpen. You sit the stack of papers on his desk and start rearranging it slightly, putting various pens back into the small wire holder, straightening up file folders and loose papers, even grabbing a tissue to wipe away any excess dust on his computer monitor and keyboard before you exit. He likes order. That’ll make him feel better.  

Your mind races as you move back to your desk, your thighs sticking together from the wetness still splashed on them. You sit, shaking the mouse to bring your computer back to life and cross your legs, squeezing them together tightly, sending another quick jolt through you. Hell, you should be the angry one. You’re the one whose orgasm was ruined. You’ll have to deal with this aching burn between your legs for the rest of the day, unable to procure any sort of release until you’re home with daddy. 

If he isn’t too angry by then, that is.

Your stomach twists again. Lunch! That’s it, you’ll order his favorite lunch, that new little Japanese place. Then you two can go out to his car, drive around the block and have him obliterate your pussy while telling you how much he loves his baby girl in the backseat of that beautiful, expensive Audi. Yes. You grab your phone from your purse and scroll through your calls list, finding the number and tapping on it right when you see Andy, Neal, and Lynn emerge from her office. 

Andy’s face is flushed red as he runs his hand through his hair angrily. Neal looks equally as annoyed - his hands in his pockets as he sucks on his teeth. You swallow hard as Andy walks past your desk, not even making the smallest attempt at any eye contact. Fuck. You mumble his order into the phone once the cashier answers and hang up quickly, glancing over your shoulder at Andy’s open door. 

He’s slumped in his chair, his chin in his hand, his fingers crossed over his lips as he stares at his computer screen. You turn back to your computer and click on your IM’s, typing out a quick message.

We can skip the happy meal… I ordered lunch for you. That Japanese place you like.

Fine. 

Your shoulders slump a little at the short response. Usually, you’d get a little emoji, or a thank you baby, never just fine. He’s mad. Goddamn Neal. 

“Hey. I haven’t seen you all day.” Neal smiles as he moves towards your desk.

You take a breath and push it out through your nose before you swallow again, “I’ve been busy.”

“Yeah,” he says softly, tossing his eyes towards Andy’s office, “Barber keeps you plenty busy, huh?”

You nod, “He’s a busy man. He is the assistant district attorney after all.”

Neal cuts his eyes towards you once he registers your little dig. He smirks and sends his eyes towards the ceiling as he takes a breath. You uncross your legs and start tapping on your keyboard, hoping that he’ll catch the hint that you’re busy and leave you alone - but it backfires. You catch a whiff of yourself, your carnal scent from your still slick muscles, and cross your legs quickly again but it’s too late. You send your eyes to Neal as he squints his eyes and then quickly looks back down at you. 

His brown eyes bounce back and forth between yours as a slow, sly smile spreads on his lips. He then glances back towards Andy. You sit back in your chair when he sits on the corner of your desk , unable to wipe the smile off of his face. You feel a pair of eyes on you, burning a hole in the back of your head and your stomach flips again. 

Neal leans into you, sniffing the air, “That’s a wonderful scent,” he says loudly, as if he wants a certain someone to hear, “What is that?”

“Chanel no. 5.” You smile, not playing his little game. 

He nods slowly, humming slightly, “It’s nice.”

You blink back at him, squinting slightly as your eyes bounce between his, “Thank you.” You respond flatly, leaning back up in your seat to grab your mouse again.

You sneak a glance up at him, blinking as you catch him staring back into Andy’s office. You turn your head, swallowing again as you glance back at Andy. He stares at Neal, an angry smirk on his face as he leans back in his chair. He blinks and shifts his eyes to you - the smirk dropping from his face as he twists back and forth slowly in his chair. Your lips part as you stare back at him, begging him with your wide eyes to not be mad - but he just turns his head and blinks back at his computer screen. 

You turn back and face your computer. Fuck.

“Are you seeing anybody?”

Neal’s question makes your breath hitch in your throat. You feel those eyes on the back of your head again -  feel your heart fall into the pit of your stomach, “N-no.” You answer softly, keeping your eyes firmly on your email. 

Nobody knows about the two of you - nobody. You both agreed it was better that way so you could work directly underneath him. If Lynn finds out, she’ll reassign you, if not fire you all together. 

“Really? A pretty little thing like you? Shit,” Neal smiles, glancing off in the distance, “Barber hasn’t tried to snap you up yet?”

You snap your head towards him, “Mr. Barber is a professional, and so am I, Mr. Logiudice.”

He throws his hands up, “I get it, I’m not implying that you aren’t. It’s just, you know, Andy has a type, that’s all.”

“What’s that?” You ask briskly, anger starting to bristle just underneath the surface. 

He shrugs, “Brunettes,” he smiles again, looking you up and down, “Why don’t you have dinner with me sometime?” You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off, “You don’t work for me, there wouldn’t be any impropriety here.”

“I don’t think so, Neal. I’m just trying to focus on myself right now. Listen, Mr. Barber’s food is going to be here at any minute, so,” You stand, grabbing your purse, “I’m gonna go grab it.”

You move around the desk, tucking your clutch underneath your arm. Just as you pass by him, Neal reaches out and grabs your arm, stopping you. You turn to face him and watch as he drags his hand down your arm slowly, his fingertips caressing your soft skin as they move, “Just give me a call, hm? You have my number.”

You blink back at him, your mouth hanging open as your eyes bounce between him. You glance quickly over your shoulder but turn back just as fast, not even wanting to see the look on Andy’s face. You pull out of Neal’s grasp and take a step away from him before you hear a door slam behind you. 

You turn, watching as Andy pushes past between you and Neal, brushing against him hard enough to make him stumble slightly, “What the fuck, Barber?” Neal growls.

“Mr. Barber?” You call, “Where are you-”

“I’m leaving for the day. Transfer my calls to my phone.” He doesn’t even turn around. 

“But, you’re lunch, it’ll be-”

“I’ll get something on the way home.”

He turns the corner and is out of sight within seconds. You stand there, completely dumb founded, staring at the space where he once was. Neal shoves his hands back into his pockets and stands tall behind you, “Somebody is touchy today.”

You scoff, “You’re such a jerk, Neal.” 

“I’m a jerk? What did I do?” he smiles, “I thought you said you were single.”

“I am.” You hiss, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Does he know that?”

You roll your eyes hard and scoff again, “Piss off, will you?”

“Oooh,” he chuckles, “Feisty.” 

You stomp away from him angrily, your heels clicking against the marble floor. You feel Neal’s eyes on you until you disappear. You pull out your phone as you move towards the large front doors, pushing out into the warm Boston day. You tap on Andy’s name and bring it to your face, biting down into your lip as it rings and rings and rings. 

You’ve reached Andy Barber. Leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you.

“Andy,” you whisper, “Daddy, please answer the phone. Don’t be mad at me.”

You tap the end call button and immediately call back, still getting his voicemail. You call a third time. It rings twice and then goes to voicemail. You call again - it goes straight to voicemail. 

“Shit.” You whine, stomping your foot.

Tonight is not going to be fun.

----------

You pull into the driveway and park next to his Audi. Your stomach is in knots, you’ve been dreading this moment all day, but at the same time, you can’t wait to burst through the door and confess your love for him - get down on your knees if you have to. You just want him to know that no one could ever steal you away from him. 

You move into the house through the back door, closing it softly behind you as you walk into the kitchen, “Daddy, I’m home.” You call.

You don’t get an answer in return. You can hear the TV playing in the living room, Eddie Murphy’s distinctive laugh filling your ears. You sit your purse on the table and start pulling at the bottom of your blouse, wrapping it around your fingers as you start to make your way into the living room. As soon as you spot him on the couch, his arms crossed over his chest, his mouth set in a hard line, his jaw tight, you drop your eyes to the floor and grab your fingers in your other hand, rubbing them hard. 

You roll your ankle, pushing your foot over onto the side, rocking it back and forth as you start to fidget uncontrollably. You ring your fingers in your hand, bite your bottom lip, and blink nervously as you stare at the floor. He finally turns towards you, his eyes hard, his lips tight as he plays with your favorite pink bows in his hand.

“Come sit on Daddy’s lap.”

You bound towards him quickly. You stop just long enough to unzip your shoes, tossing them to the floor before you sit squarely in his lap, throwing your arms around his neck. He’s fuming, his face still red, his eyes dark, but he sweeps your straightened hair out of your face before he cups your cheeks, “He’s trying to take you away from me.” He whispers. 

“No daddy,” you say quickly, your voice higher pitched and innocent as you start to regress further, your words slurring slightly, “I’m all yours, he’s not gonna steal me away.”

“You have his number?” He asks, squinting up at you as he recalls the conversation from earlier.

“No!” You exclaim, shaking your head vehemently, “Check my phone daddy, it’s not in there.”

His blue eyes bounce between yours, “Are you lying to me?”

You start to pout, poking your bottom lip out as you furrow your brow, “I don’t lie to daddy.”

“You better not. What does lying get you?”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest, “A disappointed daddy.” You hate disappointing him.

“And?” He presses further.

“No tweats for a whole day.”

He nods, taking a deep breath before he pushes it out of his nose. You play with the hem of his shirt, casting your eyes away from his and down to your fingers, “Please don’t be mad at me, daddy.” You say softly.

He clicks his teeth after a few seconds, “I’m not mad at you, baby. It’s that fucking asshole, Neal. He just fuckin’,” his words trail off as he sends his eyes towards the windows, his entire body tensing beneath you, “Daddy’s sorry, baby.”

“It’s otay,” You whisper, “He’s not gonna steal me away, daddy. Pwomise.” You reassure him, throwing your arms around his neck to hug him, “I’m all yours, forever and ever.”

“No he’s not,” he says softly, rubbing your back, “He can fuck right off. You are all mine, little one.”

“All yours,” you nod slowly, grabbing the collar of his shirt and twisting it around your finger, “I love you, daddy. You’re the best daddy a girl could have.” You whisper, your eyes cast towards his lips, your voice soft and small. 

He smiles softly at you, cupping your face in his large hands again, “And I love my baby. Turn around for daddy, hmm.”

You do as he says, turning in his lap to face the television. You bend your legs behind you, straddling him as he starts to play with your hair. You smile softly as you feel him slide his fingers against your scalp, pulling your hair into two separate sections. He starts to braid it slowly, a french braid that starts at your hairline. You wiggle your hips down onto his thigh, gripping his jeans in your hands. 

You start to roll your hips, grinding down onto his thigh as he finishes the one braid, tying off the bottom with your favorite pink bow. You bite down into your bottom lip again and let your eyes flutter shut as you grind against him, moaning and grunting softly as you start to cop a feel against your swollen, sore clit. 

He moves to the second section of hair as you let your head fall back on your neck , moaning loudly for the first time, “Look at you,” he says sweetly, twisting and turning his fingers as he braids your hair, “Such a good little girl. You gonna show me who you belong to? Is that it baby?”

You nod quickly as your hips quicken and you drag in a breath between your teeth. You ride his thigh quick and hard as he finishes the second braid. He skips his fingers up your back, one hand gripping your shoulder while the other slips around your side to grab your tits. You run your tongue over your teeth as you groan and reach up to grab his hand on your chest. He teases your nipple through your silk blouse, rolling it between his digits before he just rubs it with the pads of his fingers. 

He sits up, crushing his chest to your back as he kisses a trail from the back of your neck up to your ear and grabs it between his teeth. Your hips start to move faster, pushing down harder against his firm thigh as you rock back and forth. He drops his hands to your hips, helping to guide you as his fingers press into your flesh. You start to whimper, throwing your head back as you push yourself closer and closer to a sweet, long overdue release. 

“Ooh, daddy,” you pule, your eyes slammed shut as a fire burns in the pit of your stomach, “Daddy, I’m gonna come. You’re gonna make me come so hard, daddy.”

“That’s right, baby girl,” he coos, his breath thick with lust and desire, “You come for Daddy like the good little girl you are.”

He pinches the inside of your thigh as you grind against his jeans, slowly applying pressure until your orgasm blooms through your tense body. You scream out into the room as the waves crash over you, each one stronger than the last. Your hips thrash against his thigh as your clit contracts hard - almost painfully so. Before you know what’s happening, you’re suddenly laying on your back on the couch, your legs thrust open as Andy pushes your skirt up your hips. 

He fumbles with the button of his jeans, popping it quickly before he unzips himself and pulls his hard cock free. He slaps his dick against your sticky flesh before he slams into you as your orgasms still rumbles through you. He pumps into you hard, making you squeal as each thrust pushes you up the couch. You start to rub your clit with your fingers, quick circles as your hips jump uncontrollably up into his as your synapses continue to fire. 

Your daddy always fucks you so good when he’s angry - taking out all of the frustration with Neal on your perfect, pretty little pussy, “You are mine. This cunt is mine, you hear me?” He grunts. 

“Yes, daddy!” You mewl, “All yours. I’ll always be your little girl.”

“That’s right. All mine. My little girl.”

He inhales sharply, hissing and grunting as he continues to pound his hips into yours, your hot, wet muscles gripping his cock tight. You start to come again as you rub your clit in hard, fast circles, your pussy squeezing down on him. He grunts one last time and suddenly you're all warm inside as he starts to spill into you. His cock jumps as long, hot ribbons of his spunk coat your insides. 

He bucks into you with each spurt of his cock, until he’s milked dry and your second orgasm recedes back into the depths of you, “You are such a good little girl, baby,” he slurs, “Daddy’s best girl.”

He pulls you back up into his lap, staying buried deep inside of you, and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. You both pant loudly as you try and catch your breath - you close your eyes as you rub your face against the cotton of his t-shirt. 

He rubs your back with both of his large hands as he soothes you, “You did so well for me, baby. You make daddy so happy.” You smile into his chest, “You know you’re safe with daddy, right? I’ll never let anybody take you away from me.”

“I know. Daddy loves me.”

“Daddy does love you.”

You smile wide, sending your big eyes up to his, “And I love my daddy.”

He kisses the top of your head, “You want your blankie?”

You nod slowly. He pulls you off of him and situates you on the couch, jogging up the stairs quickly to grab your favorite things. Within minutes, you are back on his lap and in his arms, his cock snuggled deep within your pussy, your body wrapped up in your favorite pink blankie with your small brown teddy bear in your hands. He leans back into the couch as he holds you to him, still running his hands up and down your back as the two of you settle into Beverly Hills Cop playing before you.

“Thirty more minutes and it’s bath time, okay? I’ll give you a treat before bed, and read you a story.”

“Go’dfish and apple juice?” You ask, smiling up at him.

He kisses your lips one, two, three times before he bops your nose, “Anything for my baby girl.”

You nuzzle back into his chest and let out a deep, content sigh. Nobody can ever steal you away from your Daddy. Ever. 

[scamperingscribbles]

Melonhead

It was Wednesday again, and Emil’s presentation wasn’t perfect yet, so it might as well have been armageddon. He sat in his cubicle, twitching nervously at his desk as the three cups of black coffee he’d downed in the last hour wound their way through his bloodstream. Perfection was non-negotiable, especially two weeks into his new position of reporting directly to the highest manager, with last week’s meeting in the books as a complete catastrophe. All he’d had to do was go over how the latest product they’d released had been selling over the past month. A simple statistic, and a simple presentation. He should have been able to get through it without a single screw up. He’d done it plenty of times before.

Instead, he’d completely frozen before he’d even turned on the projector, because Mr. Maloney had come in, taken one look at Emil’s outfit, and then decided to make an off-handed comment to a lower-division manager about the tackiness and unprofessionalism of the paisley pattern in ties. It had gone downhill from there. Emil had made an attempt to scratch his nose while answering a simple question about gross profits, and had instead spilled his entire cup of scalding black coffee down the front of his blazer. Today, with fifteen minutes left before his presentation, Emil was quickly coming to realize that it was pretty difficult to type with his head buried in his hands.

“Maria?” said a voice. “What are you doing here?”

Emil blinked through his fingers and looked up at the ceiling. Had that voice come through the loudspeaker, or was he imagining things? He wasn’t sure. Not that he wouldn’t have liked it if he’d really heard something; he’d be glad for any excuse to take his mind on a nice date to literally anywhere else.

“James Matthew Maloney, I need to talk to you.”

“I see that. You are, in fact, talking to me, Maria.”

“No, but not— I mean, talk.”

“There’s a difference between talking and talking?”

“That’s not— you’re missing the point!”

“What point? The only point you’ve made is that we’re not talking until we’re talking, and if we’re not talking yet, then I’d say that no point has really been made.”

“I—you— will you fucking stop that?”

Frozen in his desk chair, Emil was now positive that he was not imagining things. Someone in the main office must have accidentally turned on the intercom, because Maloney’s voice was now crackling through the air, accompanied by a woman’s voice that Emil didn’t recognize. He stared at his screen unseeing, not daring to move.

“Was there something you wanted to discuss?”

“Yes, James, there is something I wanted to discuss.”

“Come on, there’s no need to take that tone—”

“Oh, there isn’t? Remind me who you are to tell me what tones I can and cannot take, hmm?”

“Maria, please—“

“Don’t ‘Maria’ me!”

Emil suddenly became aware he was not the only one eavesdropping. The office had gone completely silent; clicks of keyboards, shuffles of paper, occasional bouts of cursing over spilled mugs of cold coffee— all gone. He wondered, in spite of himself, where all this rapt attention was during his presentation last week.

“Then what’s the problem? Make it fast, if you could— you’ve decided to barge into my office in the middle of my day, and I have a meeting to attend in fifteen minutes.”

“Oh my god, you’re such an ass.”

“What the hell did I do now?”

“The cantaloupe that I brought home literally yesterday, that’s what you did.”

Emil had never been aware that silence could change tone, but apparently it could, and it did. It morphed, somehow, from a quiet tension into that characteristic silence that occurs immediately after someone farts loudly in a silent auditorium. A sort of shocked, incredulous silence. A few cubicles over, somebody coughed.

“Alright, now hold on just a second here—”

“James!”

“Would you calm down? The employees will hear you.”

“Maybe they should! Maybe I want them to! Maybe I want them to know exactly what my idiot of a husband does to the fresh produce I bring home for our weekend brunch with his parents!”

A snicker rippled through the cubicles, reminding Emil distinctly of the familiar sound that used to accompany falling on one’s face in high school gym class. He cracked a smile. This was the most fun he’d had since his striped tie had gotten stuck in the fax machine. It had been a really terrible tie.

“Maria, please—“

“I told you last night that I was saving it for them, and this morning I come into the kitchen and find it full of holes!”

“You were asleep— and I couldn’t just leave for work like that, I had to do something, and it was right there—”

“The fuck is wrong with using your hands, James?”

Emil’s ribs were killing him. He could hear the snickers from the cubicles getting louder, with occasional subdued snorts— he clapped his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing, the sudden movement tipping a stack of meticulously organized notecards onto the floor. He paused— for once, he realized, literally nothing in his life mattered any less than picking them back up and putting them back in order. They could lie there at his feet for hours, for all he cared. Maybe he hadn’t even needed them in the first place. He tentatively stepped on one, and it crumpled under his polished black shoe. Beneath his hand, he slowly began to grin.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking straight, I was in a rush, it was right there— Maria, I’m sorry, but can we please talk about this later? At home? When I’m not at work, or in public?”

“Oh, of course, now he apologizes. Now he feels sorry. He’s gonna feel a hell of a lot sorrier when he ends up with a UTI from a melon, I can tell you that much.”

“I used protection, Maria, I’m not an idiot.”

“Oh? Oh, you used protection, now, did you? Tell me, did you use one of the ribbed ones, for the cantaloupe’s personal pleasure? I mean, lord knows you’d need the boost—”

“Maria!”

Now hunched over his keyboard in silent spasms of suppressed snickering, Emil came to the conclusion that he had not previously been aware of what true pain was, regardless of circumstance. His ribs felt like they were about to burst, he’d never wanted to laugh so badly in his life. The woman in the next cubicle had already excused herself to the restroom in a fit of giggles; Emil didn’t dare follow suit. He didn’t want to miss a goddamn second of this. This was gospel. Sadistic, awful, beautiful gospel.

“Look, I just want to know if you asked for its consent first, because you certainly didn’t ask for mine on the subject— not that I would’ve given it to you, but I’m not the cantaloupe, now, am I?”

“This is getting ridiculous.”

“More ridiculous than my finding our brunch cantaloupe leaking in the sink?”

Someone must have fallen over in muffled hysterics on top of the copy machine, based on the distressed beeping and giggles now eminating from the back of the office. Emil couldn’t blame them in the slightest. He stuffed his pale pink tie into his mouth, hoping it would quiet the odd squeaking noises he was now making. Evidently, Marshalls didn’t product-test their ties for flavor; it tasted like dust. And suppression. And also paisley patterned cloth, he realized, with just a tiny thrill of devilish glee.

“Maria, please, this really isn’t the time or the place to be talking about this.”

“When would you like to, then?”

“Later. At home. Like I said.”

“What if I threw the rest of the cantaloupe at your other head when you walked through the door, would that be a good conversation starter? Since that head is supposed to have a brain in it?”

“...I think we’re finished here.”

“Don’t you push me— James, we are not finished here! James—!“

“Please, Maria, go home. We will talk about this when I get back this evening, alright? I swear.”

“This conversation is not over.”

“Of course not, dearest heart. Now, would you please—?”

The door of the corner office opened, and then slammed loudly. Livid, high-heeled footsteps stormed past Emil’s cubicle and towards the elevator; he spat out his tie and tried fruitlessly to cease his spasms by thumping his fist on his thigh a few times. The sound of the corner office door opening again caught his attention, and he froze.

Black rubber soles he had once thought he feared tapped across the floor toward his cubicle. A slightly flushed face poked through the open wall, stiffly adjusting the pristine scarlet tie on its neck and furrowing its eyebrows. He turned toward it, quickly attempting to plaster on a neutral expression.

“Emil?”

“Yes, Mr. Maloney?” He thought he saw the face loosen at his respectfulness, if only slightly.

“You’re ready for our meeting?”

“Yes, Mr. Maloney.”

“We’re in room 216 again, I assume?” The expression was definitely calmer now, more confident; his nose began to lift with an air of superiority Emil had seen all too often.

“Yes, Mr. Maloney.”

“Good. Don’t be late.” He threw his shoulders back, his chest thrusted forward, composure regained along with supposed control. Emil coughed.

“Never, Mr. Maloney.”

“You may want to leave your mug of coffee in your cubicle, this time.” The face contorted into a sneer, lowering its eyebrows, searing Emil with an accusatory glare.

“Of course, Mr. Maloney.”

“Right.”

The head withdrew from the wall again, and the footsteps tapped away. Emil blinked at his crumpled notecards on the floor, and then returned his gaze to the space where the head had been. For months, even before he’d been reporting to Maloney directly, he’d allowed himself to be crushed under rubber-soled heels that he had deemed judge, jury, and executioner. Why was he only now coming to the simple conclusion that he disliked being stepped on?

He stood slowly from his chair and turned toward the hallway; the apprehensive silence followed his footsteps as he walked towards the meeting room. Placing his hand on the door handle, he paused. He heard himself speak, his words cutting smoothly through the deafening hush.

“Anything for you, Mr. Melonhead, sir.”

If there was any sound in the world more beautiful than that of an entire office exploding into peals of wheezing, unbridled laughter, Emil didn’t want to know what it was.

[exosmutxoxo]

Artificial Love

A/N: I’ve finally managed to post a smut after so long! I’m terribly so sorry to everyone who’s been waiting for their requests to be fulfilled! This smut is dedicated to the lovely anon who requested a long time ago. On a side note, thank you to everyone for the lovely feedback and support I’ve been receiving for my moodboards. Look forward to more in the future ;) As of now, enjoy some Sub! Jongdae x

Pairing(s): Chen/Jongdae x Reader

Warnings: Light bondage, Submissive Chen

Genre: Smut

Requested: Yes

Summary: Jongdae teases you with videos of his cane-grinding skills in ‘Artificial Love’ so you decide to teach him a lesson when he comes home.

Word Count: 3445

It’s been weeks since you last saw your boyfriend Jongdae due to the touring he’s been undergoing with his band members. However, despite the never-ending distance between the two of you and the time zone differences, Jongdae never failed to drop you at least one call or text message a day. Even if it is to complain about how exhausted he feels or a ‘Hey baby, miss you lots’ message, your heart swells up with unconditional love whenever you catch a glimpse of his contact name popping up on the screen of your phone.

It’s no easy feat to live your life normally when Jongdae always plays at the back of your mind, teasing you with the promise of his return. You could be washing dishes and the thought of him would invade your mind, reminding you of the playful memories of when the two of you would flick liquid detergent at each other while doing the dishes after a meal.

You could be lying in bed and listening to his latest album on your headphones and the raw memory of having sex with him for the very first time would waltz into your head, throwing up pangs of longing in your chest.

The hardest thing of all is rolling over on your side and opening your eyes to see that he still isn’t home and that his side of the bed is still cold and empty, devoid of his familiar warmth. That’s when the frustrated burning would develop down at the area between your legs, forcing you to crawl out of bed and proceed to accomplish some other mindless task to take your mind off your racing sex drive.

The days practically crawl by, much to your exasperated chagrin. Days and days of doing nothing but pining after your man, falling asleep to the lingering scent of cologne on his old shirts and hugging your pillows close and pretending it’s him. You appreciate the sweet messages, calls and pictures he sends but none of them quell the growing frustration in you. You don’t want a stupid Snapchat, you want him.

But one day, you open your eyes and with the rays of sunlight streaming through the curtains and shining mercilessly on your face, realization dawns on you that Jongdae is coming home today. Tonight.

After what seems like an eternity, your man is finally. Coming. Back. Home. To. You.

It’s enough to prompt you to leap out of bed, swipe your phone and stare at the screen eagerly, already prepared to type out an excited message to Jongdae. But the videos sent by him stop you right in your tracks, your thumbs hovering over the virtual keyboard as you pause to peer at the thumbnails of the videos.

The thumbnails bear images of Jongdae humping a cane in his hand and curiosity propels you to tap on the video, excitement buzzing in your veins. The video fills up the screen, boldly providing you with a high-definition recording of your boyfriend performing on stage in a large arena with his group members surrounding him.

The familiar blare of ‘Artificial Love’ fills up the stadium and you would part your lips to sing along to the lyrics which you’ve memorized by heart but once Jongdae starts to dance, everything around you seems to freeze. Time grinds to a standstill, your phone grasped in your limp hand as you drink in the way Jongdae swivels his hips to the intoxicating rhythm of the song, eyes closed in sexual concentration.

His group members move their bodies in time to the tempo around him, their movements as fluid as water but you hardly pay any attention to the rest of them. Your wide-eyed stare is completely fixated on Jongdae and his sinfully beautiful body, teasingly grinding against the cane he’s holding.

Unsurprisingly, all the heat in your body shoots straight down to your core, to which you automatically clench your legs together. Maybe you’re feeling this way because you haven’t seen Jongdae in forever and you’re just unfulfilled. Or maybe Jongdae is just being a fucking tease by sending provocative videos of himself grinding on a goddamned cane in full view of thousands of screaming fans.

The egotistical part of you can’t help but silently gloat; out of the millions of girls out there, you’re the lucky one who is blessed with the gift of Jongdae as yours. You’re the lucky one who gets to devote yourself to him and have your devotion fully reciprocated, the one who claimed his virginity all those years back, the one he wants.

And yet, here he is, teasing you with a video of his artistically seductive dance moves when he’s due to arrive home in a few hours’ time. The little shit sure knows you too well; with only some time before he’s back in your arms once again, he couldn’t resist a bit of mischievous teasing, which he is fully aware of the fact that it drives you insane.

The only thing you can do now is sit and wait for your man to get home, with a kinky surprise in store for him.

“Guess who’s home?” A chirpy voice rings throughout your apartment, accompanied by the obnoxious slamming of the front door. The pitter-patter of footsteps echo down the hallway as your boyfriend strolls down to the master bedroom, dragging his suitcases behind him.

“(Y/N)? Your man is back in town!” Jongdae announces proudly, kicking the bedroom door open and barging in eagerly. Then he stops short in the doorway, drinking in the sight of you seated in the armchair in the corner of the room, dressed in your sexiest lingerie and with your slender legs crossed, elbows propped on the armrests in a business-like manner.

A belt dangles from your hand, your eyebrows raised up at him expectantly as his hungry gaze takes in the sensual sight before his very eyes. Instinctively, the tip of his tongue darts out to run itself over his lips. “Why, (Y/N)”, he whispers, his voice dipping an octave lower, “what a pleasant surprise for a man who’s been away for several months. You didn’t have to do this for me”.

“No, I didn’t”. You agree, slapping the belt’s buckle against the armrest. “But after the videos you sent this morning, I think we need to instil some discipline in you, don’t you? Sending your girl recordings of you grinding on a cane right before you’re due to arrive home doesn’t make you seem a good boy, Jongdae”.

“Is that what this is all about?” Jongdae asks with a hint of aroused amusement, leaning against the doorframe. “I didn’t expect the videos to prompt you to doll up just for me”.

“It’s not for you”, you respond calmly. “It’s for my own pleasure. Now be a good boy and come here”.

That’s all it takes for Jongdae to push his weight off the doorframe and eagerly amble over to where you’re seated, a visible tent already forming in his skin-tight pants. He positions himself directly in front of you, legs astride as he gazes down at you adoringly. “I’m here, Mistress”, he whispers, abruptly switching up the sexual tension fizzling in the room.

The mild burning down at your core seems to increase ten-fold the longer you gaze into Jongdae’s chocolate-brown eyes, the mischievous glint in them the only evidence that he’s enjoying the situation he’s gotten himself into. Besides his rock-hard erection, of course.

“Hold out your wrists”, you command, your voice a little shakier than you’d expected it to be. But it’s not fear; it’s sex-charged adrenalin, pure excitement.

Jongdae abides by your command, obediently holding both hands to you with his wrists pressing against each other. Without hesitation, you lean forward and wound the belt you’re holding around his wrists, bounding them together securely swiftly.

His eyes widen at your actions, gaze flickering to your face. Parting his lips to make a remark, he then snaps his mouth shut when he catches sight of your smug expression.

“You’ve been a real bad boy, Jongdae”, you purr in a sing-song voice, uncrossing your legs and standing up from the comforts of the armchair. Pressing the palm of your hand against his broad shoulder, you instantly feel him tense up beneath your touch. Smiling to yourself, you allow your hand to drift down to the tent straining against his pants, your fingers fondling him through the material.

His hips jerk involuntarily at the physical contact, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. “What did I do?” He whimpers, his fascinated expression fixated on your hand massaging him through his pants.

You bear a grin at his innocent question, your free hand coming up to stroke his cheek gently. Not averting your gaze from him, you begin to slowly swivel your hips seductively, taking your lower lip in between your teeth. His eyes widen at your actions, lust clouding his pupils as you grind your clothed womanhood against his erection.

“You want to know what you did, Jongdae?” You whisper hotly in his ear, pressing your lips against the flushed skin of his earlobe as you start to ride his thigh, moving your hips in time to his. “Let me explain to you, then”, you add calmly. “If I’m not mistaken, you sent me videos of you humping a cane on stage in front of thousands of fangirls earlier this morning. And you sent them to me a few hours before you were due home, which isn’t very nice of you, don’t you think? You’ve been gone for months on end, leaving me alone with nothing and nobody but my erotic thoughts and an empty bed, and that was how you teased me?”

Jongdae’s mouth opens and closes like a goldfish at your accusatory words, about to argue but his head falls back with a silent moan as you snap your hips forward sharply, humping him mercilessly. “I’ll be doing the talking tonight”, you proclaim boldly. “Do you understand me?”

Obediently, he bobs in head agreement, glancing at you shyly from beneath his eyelashes. In that split second, he looks every bit of an innocent and unassuming little boy but you know better; underneath that angelic exterior lies a complete devil, especially when it comes to bedroom activities.

So you cut him no slack, pulling out the tie nicely hidden in the folds of your bra (yes, you are prepared for every occasion) and unroll it, smirking up at him. He watches your every move with an excited glimmer in his eyes, even as you press the silk material of the tie against his mouth and swiftly bind it at the back of his head.

With his wrists bounded together by the belt and the silk tie over his mouth, he looks every bit of the submissive boy you want him to be. And you’re going to have a hell of a fun night with him.

Flattening your palms against his chest, you proceed to shove him back against the king-sized bed, the soft mattress nearly swallowing him whole. You follow suit, pouncing on top of him and letting yourself hover over his physique lazily, eyebrows cocked up daringly. In response, he stares up at you woefully, eyes wide above the gag of the tie against his mouth and your core burns at the erotic sight of him all bounded up and ready for you.

“Put your hands above your head”, you breathe, to which he immediately adheres to. Lifting his bounded wrists, he rests them on the pillow above his head and awaits your next move patiently.

Without any delay, you undo the belt of his jeans and unzip them, yanking them to his ankles together with his boxers. His cock springs to life, twitching at the sudden cool air and already dripping with pre-release at the tip.

Grinning maliciously, you reach into your bra (yes, your bras don’t just hold your boobs but also many other mysterious things) and pull out the one thing you’ve been waiting to reveal to him for the past few hours. The cock ring winks in the warm light of the room, glittering mischievously like the glint in your eyes as you stare down at a now-squirming Jongdae.

“We’re going to have a lot of fun tonight”, you coo, slowly sliding the cock ring on him. You can practically feel the disappointment flooding through him at the crushing thought of not being able to touch you or release, which are two things men detest the most.

But it isn’t about him tonight; instead, it’s all about you and your need to dominate and teach him a lesson about what he gets when he sends you erotic videos before arriving home. So you straddle him, your legs on either side of his hips and begin to grind against his bare cock provocatively, dipping your head to lap your tongue against his earlobe teasingly.

“Do you like this, Jongdae?” You croon sweetly in his ear, your hips never slackening in their pace. “Do you like the way your Mistress is humping your bare cock and making you feel so fucking good?”

Jongdae whimpers softly behind the gag, his back arching off the mattress at the intoxicating rhythm of your hips rocking against his. “Does that feel so erotically good?” You add, your voice dropping an octave and dwindling into a throaty growl.

His soft whimper escalates to a muffled whine as your hand trails its way down and latches itself onto his rock-hard cock, your fingers wrapping themselves around the length and pumping it rhythmically. From your position, you can see that he’s so hard that the cock ring looks like it’s about to explode and you can’t help the grin creeping onto your face as your hand turns its attention to his neglected balls.

Stroking your fingertips against them lightly, you resume the intoxicating snap of your hips against his, ensuring that your clothed womanhood grinds down hard against his length. Jongdae’s back literally flies off the mattress at that, his eyes squeezed shut as he moans around the tie, saliva already soaking the silky material. “You had no idea how much I wanted to be the cane you were humping”, you murmur wistfully, observing as his facial features contort with pleasure at your words. “You wanted to play me by teasing me early in the morning. Well, I’m the one who’s going to have my fun now. You’re addicted to this, aren’t you, baby? It’s an uncontrolled addiction for you”.

The pace of Jongdae’s hips increase in speed in response to your sweet murmurings in his ear, desperately searching for the friction his cock badly craves. Dipping your hand, you press the pad of your thumb against his tip and smear his pre-release all over it, then proceed to lift your release-soaked thumb up to your mouth and lick every bit of it off, never breaking eye contact with him.

He whines around the gag, mumbling something that sounds a lot like “Please let me come, (Y/N)”. You know him well enough to decipher even his most incomprehensive words at this stage so you feel yourself cave in, drinking in the priceless sight of his flushed face, swollen cock and desperate eyes.

“Now do you know how I felt when I watched you dance to ‘Artificial Love’?” You ask bluntly. “Or do you want to endure an equally artificial orgasm?”

Jongdae shakes his head frantically at your last sentence, mewls escaping from his mouth with a hint of impatience. You can’t help but chortle wickedly at the state he’s in; gagged and bounded, he’s not exactly in a position to argue with you but your heart still melts at the thought of him being denied of an orgasm. No matter how much he made you mad by teasing you with his cane-grinding videos, you still don’t have the heart to leave him unfulfilled.

So with a sigh, you relent and reach down to slip the cock ring off. Gazing down at him sternly, you say, “The next time you tease me before you arrive home, the cock ring stays on for a longer period of time. Do you understand me?”

Eagerly, Jongdae nods in agreement, his eyes glimmering with erotic excitement. Smiling down at him fondly, you proceed to shimmer out of your lingerie and chuck it on the floor. There you sit, utterly naked and in full view of Jongdae’s greedy eyes. From your neck to your defined collarbones, down to your bare breasts and stomach, to your soaking chasm of a womanhood, his lust-clouded gaze seems to undress you down to the bone.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, you position your soaking core over his erect cock and allow yourself to slide down on his length, your hands gripping onto his hips for some support. Your folds react beautifully, tightening around him accordingly as you ease yourself down on him.

Jongdae’s eyelids flutter shut once more, obviously relishing the wanton sensation of your womanhood clenching down on him. Lifting his hips up an inch, he assists you in getting his full length into you, giving a powerful thrust as a subtle encouragement. It allows you to rest back on his thighs comfortably, his warm cock buried deep within you and almost causing you to see stars beneath your eyelids.

Taking a deep breath, you snap your hips forward daringly and ecstasy floods through your veins as you feel his tip brush against your sweet spot almost immediately. It’s one thing to get his full length in your chasm in a matter of seconds but for him to actually hit your sweet spot in almost no time is like hitting the jackpot.

“Jongdae”, you croak out, “start thrusting, please”.

He adheres to your weak command instantly, lifting his hips off the mattress and snapping them forward against yours, ramming into your sweet spot with such sinful erotica. Your back arches itself automatically, profanities leaving your lips rapidly as your boyfriend never slackens in his pace. The wanton sounds of skin slapping against skin reverberate throughout the steamy bedroom air as the two of you fuck each other to paradise.

Jongdae’s moans are muffled by the tie and in the moment of sexual frustration, you reach down and yank it out of his mouth, the pleasured sounds coming from him echoing through your ears. Free from the constraints of the gag, he proceeds to curse out your name roughly as your hips move in perfect sync with his, the folds of your slick womanhood clenching down on him mercilessly.

“Fuck, baby”, you gasp after a few more repeated thrusts against your sweet spot, “I’m so close”.

“Me too”, he breathes. “And I can’t feel my arms”.

You emit a chuckle in between your ragged breathing, gloating silently at the fact that his wrists are still bounded by the belt. But your giggles are cut short by the sharp heat pooling in the depths of your stomach, threatening to engulf your entire form. Instinctively, the pace of your hips slackens as you dig your fingernails into Jongdae’s hipbones for support. In return, he substitutes for your pace by giving his last powerful thrust, relishing the way your soaking folds tighten around him greedily.

The heat in your stomach bleeds through your every vein as Jongdae fucks you through your orgasm, white strings of your release spurting all over his length and the sheets as you throw your head back in sexual ecstasy, screaming out his name as you do so. White blinds you as you float through orgasmic heaven, the sensation of your boyfriend’s length sliding in and out of you the only feeling you are aware of.

Without warning, he explodes after you, his warm release filling up every inch of you as his hips eventually grind to a halt, your name leaving his lips breathlessly. You fall onto the mattress next to him, his release still dripping from your folds and filling you with a warm sensation.

Jongdae’s throaty voice pulls you out of your daze. “Sorry for being such a bad boy and teasing you, Mistress”, he mumbles in a cutesy voice, batting his eyelashes up at you innocently.

You giggle, reaching over to undo the belt that’s holding his wrists together. “Give me round two, then”, you shoot back flirtatiously. “Like I said, I would do anything to be the cane you were humping so put those hips to good use”.

He grins, reaching over to pin you against the mattress. “You have no idea how long I waited for this”.