#was wearing it like a choker before

[citrine-elephant]

therapist responded positively to me wishing to be sluttier and told me if i wanna wear the collar, then i should follow what i wanna do

anyways, turns out, napping with one on isn't so terrible if it's not tight as hell lmfao

[pynkhues]

https://x.com/loust4t/status/1838065208046055446

This split second was so beyond devastating, Jacob makes Louis' agony so raw here. It's one of those moments where I wonder what it was like for him filming it and what it was like for Sam lying there experiencing it.

I really want them to revisit this moment and show the full thing, Louis (apparently having left to change clothes) coming back and seeing Lestat's body and it really hitting him. I wonder if they would--if any part of Lestat was conscious for this. Just curious because Lestat's last words in Claudia's diary weren't shown, so it seems like they might revisit it. And I still think too that there's ambiguity around what Lestat was intending to do to Claudia in that last episode (I initially assumed he was trying to kill her, but having Antoinette try to wrestle her into drinking some poisoned blood doesn't seem like a great way to do that?), so it could be something they revisit.

God, I know. Jacob is so, so good in that scene, especially playing Louis at such extreme emotional intensities across the board. He really is a phenomenal actor, and I can't imagine how taxing shooting that episode was for any of them, but especially for him.

I'm curious as to if they'd revisit Lestat's murder as well? Like, it does make sense that Lestat would want to talk about it both with Louis privately and with Daniel in the interview, but I actually wonder - now that ghost!Claudia has been basically confirmed - if it might not make more sense to have Lestat reconciling it with her? It was her plan after all, and the fact that they're both sort of perceived orchestrators of each other's 'deaths' offers so much to explore, especially given they never reconciled it in the way that was always inevitable for Lestat and Louis.

It feels like a real thread to pick up with the two of them too because, as you said, it's not really clear what Lestat was planning with Claudia. I mentioned it here, but it's interesting too that the poison Claudia uses isn't actually just arsenic, it's arsenic and laudanum, and the latter is actually a sedative as opposed to a poison. It really re-emphasises it, I think, as being a tool to make the murder happen, as opposed to the murder weapon itself.

He could've been thinking he and Antoinette would use that just to incapacitate her to kill her in the same way that she was using it on him, but Claudia's strength is in her strategising and bloodlust, not in her brute force. The show's really made a point of that both in her not being able to hold someone down long enough to turn them, but in how easily Bruce had managed to not just incapacitate her, but keep her that way.

Sure, Lestat was pretty ill during that sequence, but Lestat is all brute force, so if he'd wanted to kill her, I feel like he would have? Especially given he knew what the plan was for the night well before he showed it. In that sense, it really does feel like there's more there to explore, and I want to see it both because I think there's so much there, but also because I selfishly want to see what Delainey would do in that sequence too, haha.

[fstbmp-a]

I FORGOT THE CHOKER-

[baphofemme]

yet more strangely vivid dreams i had the other day (yesterday and the day before), this time it's a twofer

[quitedisastrous]

didn't find a good spiked choker at the mall yesterday :( i'll probably order one online though

[darkclouud9]

no red hood so I have to make changes but heehee Pearlie cosplay (kinda)

also I got a fish pen and I was like, damn that'd actually go really well with Pearl bc of the fish she refused to pick up because of her task 🥰

[chikaras-garden]

Batboys as your sugar daddy

What’s the point of all this money if you don’t have someone to spend it on?

Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake x fem!reader

Contains: Sugar daddies. Possessive, controlling men. Power imbalances. They’re all a little toxic. These relationships are not aspirational babes. Oral sex (f!receiving) in Dick’s.

Notes: 18+ or you’ll be blocked.

BRUCE WAYNE 💋

“Wear the diamonds,” Bruce rumbles from behind you, lips right next to the shell of your ear. Before you can answer, his warm hands are already on your throat, and cool platinum touches your skin. A hundred diamonds arranged in three dainty layers sparkle in the low light of Bruce’s bedroom, clinging tightly to your neck.

With the choker clasped in place, one of Bruce’s hands traces up and down your neck while the other rests heavily on your hip, holding you flush against his chest. His touch is hypnotic, pulling you in like a planet pulls a moon into orbit. Your whole world revolves around him—and that’s exactly how he likes it.

But like the moon, the subtle gravitational pull you have on him keeps him in place, keeps him stable, calms his most wicked of storms.

He bows his head. The way he looks at you through his eyelashes is almost reverent while he kisses your bare shoulder, skin interrupted only by your dress’s hair-thin silk strap.

“Beautiful,” he says, and you know he’s not talking about the necklace, the dress, or any of the other jewels and silks he’s drowned you in over the last year.

When your eyes meet in the mirror, one corner of his lips quirks up into a smirk, which he buries under a kiss to your jaw. 

There, with a quick, sharp nip of his teeth, he lays his claim. “And all mine.”

DICK GRAYSON 💋

Dick’s on his knees, head buried between your legs when you hear—feel—him say, “I need you to take a week off work.”

Well. What he really needs is for you to just quit your job already, but you got upset the last time he suggested it. Baby steps. For now.

“Why?” you gasp, blinking hard as you try to focus on the fact that he’s starting a conversation now when his tongue is making you smart and shake with pleasure.

“I want to go to the Maldives,” he says as if it’s the most inconsequential thing in the world, as if he’s saying he wants to go across town, not across the world.

His tongue flattens out and dips into your weeping hole, and your thighs tighten around his head in response. He groans, and you choke out, “A week for the Maldives?”

You feel his lips twist and curve around you, paired with a little graze of teeth; he’s smiling, and the sensation makes you dizzy. There it is, he wants to say. You want more. Finally, your expectations are starting to match his bank account.

But he decides to play the dumb, pretty boyfriend he likes to make people think he is. “You don’t think it’s enough time? Wanna take two weeks?”

“I don’t have the—” He kisses up to your clit and gives it a tentative little suck, which makes you fist his hair. “—vacation days.”

“Why don’t you just take them without pay?” he proposes as his tongue laves up your swollen sex. “It’ll be okay, just this once. You’ll feel so much better after some time off; I promise.”

JASON TODD 💋

Jason is currently scrutinizing the contents of your pantry, a box of macaroni and cheese in his hand. After seeing the scowl on his face, you’re not surprised when he starts to lecture you. “You eat this crap?”

You raise a brow because he’s one to judge. “I’ve seen you eat an entire party box of tacos.”

“I’m not you,” he fires back. His voice is still low, still calm, but you can sense an edge in his tone; this conversation is about a lot more than boxed macaroni and cheese.

In the beat of silence that follows, his heated gaze dulls to a smolder. “You don’t know how precious you are.”

You open your mouth to reply, but whatever retort you were going to argue back with is silenced when Jason’s big hands cup your face, tilting your head up so he can kiss your forehead. He lingers there, and you feel him tremble. His breath is ragged, rough—as if he’s afraid.

“I’m not you,” he repeats in a whisper. It’s like he’s talking to a child, like he knows you don’t know any better. Poor little you—you need him. “Just let me take care of you like always, okay? How about I sign you up for one of those meal prep kits? No more processed food; it’s not good for you.”

When he pulls you against his chest and strokes your hair, you feel yourself nod, unable to disagree. You know he’s right, after all; and isn’t it sweet that he treats you like a delicate angel even though he’s seen the worst of the world? That nothing without his stamp of approval is good enough for you?

TIM DRAKE 💋

“Oh, you’re all set,” your manicurist smiles at you as soon as you take out your wallet, nails freshly done. 

Caught off guard, all you can reply with is, “Huh?”

She just smiles a little brighter, and there’s a sparkle of something in her eyes. It looks a little wistful, but also a little vapid—is that jealousy? “Your boyfriend paid already,” she explains as her eyes not-so-subtly look around, trying to catch a glimpse of said boyfriend, but you’re just as surprised as she is.

“For the next year,” she adds in a dry tone. Slowly, you drop your wallet back into your purse. There’s only one man alive who could figure out where you get your nails done, what day and time you like your appointments, and call ahead to pay off your manicures for the next year without you ever finding out about it.

So when you get back to your car, you call him.

“Do anything fun today?” he asks over the phone, pretending to be way more innocent than he actually is.

“Tim—”

“Actually,” he cuts in, and you hear a bashful tremor in his voice. That tremor makes your stomach do flips, which beckons you to give in to whatever he wants. “I was just thinking about you. You’ve got the prettiest hands.”

“Tim—”

“Let’s go shopping later,” he rambles on, completely ignoring you. “I think you need some new jewelry. You’d like a new set of rings, wouldn’t you?”

🔖: @mrs-kurooo; @lovely-loren05

[boneless-mika]

Well the garbage shirt does make Astolfo 60% done

[the-flaneur]

silk ribbons and scraps of lace

pairing: f1 grid x reader [headcanon]

ft. lewis hamilton, max verstappen, charles leclerc, carlos sainz, lando norris, oscar piastri, george russell

summary: your man loves it when you wear some lingerie, but what happens when you're not exactly wearing the right colours...

warnings: very suggestive AND 18+, MDNI, NSFW -> sexual foreplay, fingering

wc: 3860

[masterlist] [requests]

lewis

[you're wearing red bull lingerie]

lewis stepped out of the steamy bathroom, his chiselled physique glistening with water as he wrapped a plush towel around his waist. he froze mid-step when his gaze fell upon you, curves barely contained within a provocative red bull lingerie set. the azure fabric clung to your every dip and swell, highlighting your breasts and the tantalising v of your hips.

a look of shock crossed lewis' handsome face, his dark brows knitting together in disbelief. "what...the fuck?" he sputtered, clearly taken aback by this unexpected sight. his eyes roamed over your body, drinking in the erotic display before him. the driver's initial confusion slowly gave way to a growing arousal, his cock beginning to stiffen beneath the towel.

"i thought we agreed on mercedes branding only," he frowned, pressing slowly towards your waiting body on the bed. you giggled at his reaction, "oh come on, don’t be such a spoilsport! it’s just a little fun," you leaned closer, one hand pressing harshly against the quilt as you reach up to playfully tug at the towel draped low on his hips 

"besides, i like how the blue really makes my skin pop" you say with a wink, letting your fingers graze the hardening bulge straining against the towel.

you spun around, your ass presented like a feast for his eyes. the thong leaving little to the imagination as you arch your spine, running hands down the side to cup your ass cheeks, "what do you think, babe? does it make me look good enough to ride on your mercedes?" you smirk.

a deep, rumbling chuckle escaped lewis' lips as he watched your playful antics; he couldn't help but let his gaze linger on the tiny thong. the blue fabric seemed to glow against your skin, drawing attention to the tantalising curve of your ass. "you're certainly making a case for it," lewis murmured, his voice low and husky with lust. he allowed you to tug the towel free, letting it drop to the floor as his eyes devoured the sight of you nearly naked body.

“disappointed it’s not ferrari?” you laugh, watching him reaching for the thong before snapping it harshly back against your skin. moaning, his gaze remained fixed on you, drinking in the sight of your legs and the delicate lace of your bra

he reached out, his calloused fingertips tracing the edge of the red bull logo emblazoned across your chest. "i suppose we could make an exception, just this once," he purred, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak of your breast, making you gasp.

lewis leaned in close, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispered, "after all, i'd hate to deny my girl the chance to show off her assets."

max

[you're wearing aston martin lingerie]

max had fumbled carelessly with the hotel keycard in the final hours of the night as he returned, but he was more alert than ever at the sight before him - you, his girlfriend, clad in provocative aston martin lingerie, sprawled seductively across the king-sized bed. the green ensemble hugged your curves like a second skin, emblazoned with metallic black stripes. a matching diamond choker encircled your neck, while thigh-high stockings and stiletto heels added an air of submission to your already alluring presence.

max's eyes widened, his initial unwariness swiftly replaced by arousal as he took in the stunning view. "what...what is this?" he asked, his deep voice laced with a mix of surprise and desire.

you smiled coyly, running a hand along the sleek fabric of the bodice, "just getting into the spirit of things, darling," you purred, slowly sliding off the bed to crawl towards him. your hips swayed hypnotically with each step, the lingerie clinging to every dip and curve.

max's gaze was transfixed, following the movement of your body, mesmerised. his breath quickened, and he felt his cock stir to life beneath the pants he had worn out to the restaurant with checo and other red bull personnel.

"i thought we could play a little game before bed," you continued, reaching out to trail a finger down his chest. "winner gets to choose the dessert later.” your touch sent shivers through him, and he swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure. "and what exactly is this game?" he asked, his voice husky with growing need.

you grinned up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief, “one match of cod, then you can rip off the aston martin. otherwise i wear aston martin gear for fernando next race. he is my favourite driver after all,”

max's competitive nature flared to life at the challenge. "fine, let's do it," he agreed, a determined glint in his eye. "but i'm warning you, i'm not going easy just because you're looking sexy as hell."

as the familiar sounds of the game filled the room, you dove into the match, fingers flying across keyboards. sweat began to bead on max's brow, less from exertion than from the sheer eroticism of the situation. every so often, his gaze would drift to the tantalising display of flesh barely contained by your aston martin lingerie, making his pulse race and his resolve waver.

meanwhile, you remained focused, though you couldn't help but notice the growing bulge in max's pants as the minutes ticked by, “having problems there maxie boo?” you teased, leaning over to circle a finger over his zipper. max grunted at you in frustration, his usually steady hands trembling slightly as he tried to regain control of his character. the close quarters of the hotel room made it difficult to ignore the enticing scent of your perfume mingling with the sweat on his skin, further distracting him from the task at hand.

"shut up and keep playing," he muttered under his breath, shooting a half-hearted glare. despite his gruff demeanour, a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, betraying his amusement at your teasing. you laughed lightly, fingers dancing across the keyboard as you expertly dispatched an enemy. "maybe you should focus more on the game and less on the view, hmm?"

max's jaw clenched, a surge of determination propelling him to concentrate harder on the screen. but it was a losing battle against your intoxicating allure, the way your breasts rose and fell with each breath and the tantalising glimpse of cleavage whenever you leaned forward.

his grip on the mouse tightened, knuckles turning white as he fought to maintain his composure. "i've got this," he growled, his character finally managing to flank and eliminate their final opponent.

“guess you won, want a reward now?” 

with a triumphant grin, max grabbed your waist, pulling you onto his thick thighs, "i think it's time for me to rip off that delicious outfit," he said, his voice low and husky with desire. you bit your lip, a mischievous sparkle in your eyes as you reached behind your back and unclasped the bra, letting it fall away to reveal your breasts.

you grin and starts to pull at the zipper, revealing his impressive erection straining upwards. "mmm, looks like someone's ready for dessert," you purrs, wrapping your fingers around his thick shaft and giving it a slow, teasing stroke.

max groaned, his head falling back as your warm hand enveloped his rigid length. the sensation was electric, sending jolts of pleasure straight to his core. he watched through heavy-lidded eyes as you pumped him gently.

"once i get started, i don't stop until i'm satisfied," he warned, his voice strained with need.

emboldened by his words, you leaned in closer, hot breath fanning over his ear as you whispered, "then let's hope you're very, very hungry tonight." with that, you sank to your knees before him, lips parting to wrap around the swollen head of his cock.

charles

[you're wearing kick sauber lingerie]

charles' eyes widened in shock as he stared at the garish neon green lingerie adorning your body through the screen. "mon dieu," he muttered under his breath, clearly taken aback by the bold choice of attire. his gaze roamed over the bright, clashing colours, the tacky patterns, and the unflattering cut of the kick sauber set - each detail a testament to the outfit's egregious lack of style.

charles swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure despite the unsettling visual assault. he cleared his throat and attempted a diplomatic response, not wanting to hurt his lover's feelings. "ah, chérie...while i appreciate the, uh, enthusiasm behind your selection, perhaps we could find something a bit more...subdued for our next video call?" he offered a tentative smile, hoping to soften the blow of his criticism.

“i thought this would be fun, a little surprise for you. besides, it’s not like you’re gonna see me in public dressed like this. and technically i am repping your old team,” you giggled, leaning in closer to the camera, and giving him an eyeful of cleavage as the neon fabric stretched taut across your breasts.

charles' jaw clenched as you leaned in closer, the stretchy neon fabric accentuating your cleavage mere inches from the camera lens. despite his initial revulsion, he found himself captivated by the brazen display, his gaze lingering on the curves before reluctantly meeting your mischievous grin.

"ahh, mais oui, i remember now why i left sauber," he quipped dryly, attempting to deflect the attention from your provocative attire. however, the corner of his mouth twitched upward, betraying a hint of amusement beneath his exasperation.

you smirked again, pleased that your outfit had gotten such a reaction out of him, “i know you secretly love seeing me all dolled up in crazy outfits.” spinning around slowly, you gave him a full view of the neon green thong riding low on your hips and the matching garter belt holding up sheer stockings.

“besides, if you don’t like it, you can always cover your eyes while we talk…” you trailed off, whilst charles frantically grabbed his phone.

"non, non, i think i'll keep my eyes open," he replied, his voice taking on a huskier tone. "the, ahem, 'dressing' you've done here is quite...eye-catching." he paused, his gaze drifting back to your exposed cleavage before meeting your playful gaze once more.

"and i suppose it's only fair, considering how often you see me in those tight racing suits," charles added with a sly smirk, his mind undoubtedly wandering to the many intimate moments you had shared after a long race, "but perhaps we could find a compromise for future video calls?"

carlos

[you're wearing mercedes lingerie]

carlos stares at you, his eyes widening as they scanned your body clad in the tight-fitting biking gear, only to land on the provocative lingerie peeking out underneath. a visible shiver ran down his spine at the unexpected sight.

"what...what is this?" he stammered, trying to process the combination of athletic wear and lacy undergarments. his gaze lingered on the way the black and silver g-string peaked out from your shorts, accentuating your hips, before his eyes wandered back up to the silver cups visible beneath your bolero. carlos' face flushed a deep crimson, his racing heart pounding in his chest. the intense desire coursing through him was undeniable, yet so was the confusion. "we're supposed to go for a bike ride," he managed to say, his voice strained with arousal.

you gave him a sly smile, hands resting on your hips as you arched an eyebrow playfully. "oh, we are, mi amor," you purred, taking a step closer to him. "but first, i need you to help me adjust this."

you reached behind, slowly unclasping the laces of the bra top. the cold air reveals your hardened nipples, poking against the delicate material, "i think these might get in the way of my aerodynamics," you tease, giving the cups a gentle tug. they slip down, exposing bare skin to carlos' hungry gaze. you let the bra dangle around your wrist teasingly, the cool air causing my nipples to stiffen further.

carlos' breath hitched as he watched, transfixed, as you bared yourself to him. his mouth went dry, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes roamed over your newly exposed flesh. the way your pert nipples stood at attention, begging for his touch, nearly undid him right then and there. "fuck, you're driving me crazy," he groaned, his resolve crumbling under the onslaught of your seductive display. without thinking, he reached out to cup one of your breasts, thumb grazing over the sensitive peak. a low growl rumbled in his throat as he felt it stiffen further against his palm.

"you know i can't resist you like this," carlos admitted, his other hand coming up to gently squeeze the other breast, fingers rolling the nipple between them. "maybe we should skip the bike ride altogether..."

you tease him that you can't, you and his friends almost approaching your apartment for the ride. carlos' hands continued their exploration of your body, fingers dancing across your heated skin as he struggled to maintain control. but the mention of others waiting for you snapped him back to reality.

"we can't, not now," he agreed reluctantly, even as his cock twitched in his shorts, straining against the confines. "but maybe we can find a quick solution..."

with a mischievous glint in his eye, carlos bent down and captured one of your hardened nipples between his teeth, giving it a gentle nibble before soothing it with his tongue. with your seductive moaning, he repeated the action on the other side, leaving you gasping and writhing against him.

"there, now you shouldn't have any aerodynamic issues. but find me after the ride, maybe we can work on them further," he said with a smirk, straightening up to admire his handiwork. your nipples were red and puffy, glistening with his saliva, just the way he liked them.

lando

[you're wearing haas lingerie]

lando sat at the kitchen table, sipping his coffee as you sauntered over, a sly smile playing on your lips. the early morning light danced across your curves, accentuating the lacy red and white lingerie hugging your body like a second skin. 

his eyes widened as they roamed over your barely concealed assets, a flicker of lust igniting within him. but then, a shadow crossed his features, his brow furrowing in displeasure. he set down his cup with a clatter.

"you can't wear that," lando stated firmly, his voice low and commanding. "those colours aren't mine," he reached out, his fingers brushing against the delicate fabric of your lingerie, tracing the white stripes that contrasted so boldly with the deep crimson.

your cheeks flushed at lando's stern rebuke, but there was an undercurrent of excitement beneath your surprise. his touch sends shivers down your spine, the heat of his palm seeping through the thin lace.

"i thought... well, i wanted to show my support," you stammered, biting your lip. the intensity in his gaze made it hard to focus on anything else. lando leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "my team wears papaya, love. not this...american red and white." his hand slid lower, cupping your ass through the sheer material. "mclaren girls know how to dress properly."

he gave your rear a firm squeeze, pulling you flush against his growing arousal. "now, why don't you change into something more appropriate... for your boyfriend's taste?"

you trembled slightly under lando's dominant touch, your heart racing at the dark possession in his tone. the rough calluses on his fingers scraped deliciously against your sensitive skin as he groped you, "i'm sorry baby, i didn't mean to disrespect your team," you breathed, pressing yourself wantonly against the thick bulge now straining in his track pants. "i just wanted to look sexy for you..."

your hands slid up his muscular chest to loop around his neck. you arched your back, pushing your breasts together enticingly above the scalloped edge of your bra. the flimsy lace did little to conceal your hardening nipples.

"what if i told you i'd wear mclaren colours later? would that make you happy, handsome?" you purred sultrily, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

a low growl rumbled in lando's chest as he felt your soft curves moulding against his abs. his large hands gripped your hips, kneading the supple flesh as he ground his cloth-covered erection against your core.

"that's more like it, princess," he murmured approvingly, nipping at your earlobe. "but i think you need a reminder of who you belong to first."

in one swift motion, lando stood, sweeping you up into his strong arms. he carried you bridal style towards the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them. depositing you on the plush mattress, he crawled over you with a predatory gleam in his eye.

"i'm going to fuck you so hard, you won't even remember what other colors look like," he promised darkly, hooking his thumbs into your panties.

oscar

[you're wearing alpine lingerie]

as oscar stepped through the front door of his melbourne childhood home, he's greeted by the tantalising sight of you standing before him in the foyer. your alpine lingerie clings to your curves, the pink and blue hues a bold statement against your skin. the delicate lace trim and sheer panels leave little to the imagination, showcasing your pert nipples and thighs.

oscar's eyes widen slightly as he takes in the provocative ensemble, a mix of surprise and arousal flickering across his features. he clears his throat, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance despite the obvious effect you're having on him.

"uh, nice... outfit?" he ventures hesitantly, his gaze drifting back to your body as if drawn by an unseen force. as oscar's eyes roam over your nearly naked form, you notice a visible bulge forming in his shorts. his cheeks flush a deep crimson, betraying his attempts to appear unaffected by your seductive display.

"i mean…you look... very pretty," oscar stammers, taking a tentative step closer. his voice drops an octave, heavy with desire. he reaches out a hand, lightly brushing a finger along the edge of the lingerie's lace trim. a shiver runs down your spine at the intimate contact, and you bite your lip to stifle a moan.

"i thought you'd appreciate the nod to my favourite f1 team," you reply coyly, arching an eyebrow, "even if you definitely don't share the same enthusiasm."

oscar chuckles softly, his touch lingering on the delicate fabric of your lingerie. "well, i suppose even a formula one driver can appreciate a beautiful woman, regardless of her allegiances." his other hand comes up to cup your chin, tilting your face towards his. oscar's lips brush against yours in a gentle, teasing kiss. when he pulls back, his eyes smoulder with barely contained lust.

oscar's hands slide down to grip your hips, pulling you flush against his rigid length. "but let's be real, baby," he murmurs against your ear, nipping at the lobe playfully. "you could wear the colours of any team and still manage to turn me on like this."

his hot breath fanning over your skin as he steps back to admire you fully. "wanna make me like alpine again?" oscar teases, his fingers trailing along your inner thigh, edging higher with each passing second. "because right now, all i can think about is how good you taste..."

he leans in, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss as his digits brush against your slick folds. oscar groans low in his throat, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core. "christ, you're soaked already," he marvels, circling your clit with deliberate slowness. "maybe we should start with getting you out of those panties..."

george

[you're wearing vcarb lingerie]

the meeting room was filled with hushed conversations and stern faces as high-level executives debated new marketing strategies. amidst this sea of seriousness, you discreetly pulled out your phone, your heart racing with anticipation. 

with a quick tap, you sent the provocative photo to george, which you had taken earlier this morning, before you had both left for work. in the image, you wore nothing but a lacy blue vcarb lingerie set, the delicate fabric clinging to your curves like a second skin. your breasts were barely contained within the cups, and the panties left little to the imagination.

as you hit send, a sly smile played on your lips. you knew the risks - what if someone noticed? what if george didn't respond right away? but the thrill of the clandestine act sent shivers down your spine.

minutes ticked by, each one an eternity as you waited for his reply.

suddenly, your phone buzzed with an incoming text. george's name flashed on the screen, accompanied by a winking emoji. your pulse quickened as you opened the message.

"i'm going to need a closer look at those vcarbs. official gpda business of course," he wrote, followed by several emojis, "meet me in the parking garage after the meeting."

a rush of heat flooded through you at his bold suggestion. this was definitely not part of your original plan, but the idea of sneaking off to indulge in some forbidden pleasure with your secret lover was too enticing to resist. you glanced around the room, ensuring no one had noticed your exchange. satisfied, you typed back, "i'll be waiting, but make it fast. we both know how strict they can be about employee conduct. especially with you,"

fifteen minutes later, the meeting adjourned and attendees began filing out of the conference room. you lingered behind, feigning interest in some marketing materials on the table while keeping a watchful eye on the clock. finally, the last stragglers departed, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the lingering scent of expensive leather. you gathered your things and made your way to the elevators, your heels clicking against the polished marble floor.

in the dimly lit parking garage, you spotted george leaning against his sleek silver mercedes. his eyes locked onto yours as you approached, a hungry gleam in their depths. he straightened up, his tailored suit accentuating his body.

"flattery will get you everywhere," you purred, pressing yourself against him. the cool metal of the car seemed to sear your skin as you moulded your body to george's. his arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against his hard chest. george's hands roamed over your curves, tracing the edges of your blue lingerie. "i've been thinking about these all meeting," he whispered hotly in your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. without waiting for a response, george palmed his hands under your skirt, before slowly tugging down your panties, watching them as they fell to the floor. left bare before him, you felt a surge of vulnerability mixed with excitement.

"you look even more stunning than the photo," george murmured, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. george's gaze raked over your exposed flesh, his eyes darkened with lust, thumb grazed your clit, making you gasp.

"you're playing with fire here," you warned, even as your hips tilted forward, seeking more of his touch. "we could get caught..."

"but that's half the thrill, isn't it?" george countered, his fingers dipping beneath the skirt again to tease your slick folds. "imagine the scandal if we got caught fucking in the company garage."

permanent f1 taglist (comment or msg me to join)

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© the-flanuer || do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platform.

[smutoperator]

Out Of Her Cage

Kim Chaewon x Male Reader, Original Character

Kinkvember Chapter 4

Main kinks: bondage, daddy kink, double penetration, wax play

Word count: 4346.

Chaewon wasn't always like this, but over the years, she has increasingly searched for new sexual experiences to satisfy herself. Each day that passes, she gets hornier and hornier. At this point, her nymphomania is well known, and she doesn't care if it's getting in her way of leading her own group.

One of her favorite new hobbies these days is going to fetish clubs, dressing herself in skimpy leather outfits, and performing inside a cage, where she's a roaring tiger but, once out, becomes a submissive puppy to her masters.

Chaewon shakes her ass in anticipation as she stares at you inside the cage she's in. You happen to be the first client of the night, and she's always keen to get things going.

You kneel down and tease her, holding the cage keys in your hands and grabbing the chain from the choker she wears around her neck. "Are you going to be an obedient pet, my little pupu?" you ask her. "Yes, sir, yes, master," Chaewon answers. You tease her a little bit, touching the keys against the cage's bars, before shoving your thumb in her little mouth, only after that freeing her from the cage.

Chaewon crawls and gets up as you grab her. "I'm so horny tonight," she says as you hold her by the neck. "Get down and bend over," you say to her as Chaewon lays her hands on the top of the cage she was just fred from. Obviously, the first thing you do is spank her ass. "OHHHHHH," she screams. "Yessss," she says when you do it a second time. 

You touch Chaewon's hot body, getting her increasingly horny. More spanking follows, and she loves it, moaning sexily each time you hit her cute ass. "Yes, baby, spank my ass," she begs. Chaewon turns around, kissing you as she grinds her body against yours, focusing especially on your manhood area as she rubs her clothed pussy against your pants.

You grab Chaewon right at the gap between her thighs, teasing her clothed pussy as you run your hands over her panties. It doesn't take long for you to reach under them, massaging her little pussy and making more moans come out of her mouth. 

"Oh my God," Chaewon moans as you mercilessly finger her vagina. "Yes, please, keep going," she whispers as you touch her pussy, turning herself into a begging puppy for you, who quickly feeds the juices of her cunt into her mouth, watching her moans get muffled by your massive hand.

Chaewon gets on her knees and gives your pants some licks. She's really horny for your cock, licking your balls before they even come out of your pants. You take advantage of her horniness, taking your belt off and wrapping it around her neck. "Breathe through that fucking dick," you tell her, smothering Chaewon's face with your pants.

"I need your cock; please give it to me," Chaewon begs as you finish choking her with the belt, jumping like a puppy wanting a bone. You unzip your pants and shove it on her tongue, Chaewon closing her eyes and opening her mouth wide as you toy with it, giving her mouth some cock-slapping as you stroke it too.

"I want to be a good puppy; please use me," Chaewon begs as you shove your cock deeper in her mouth; she grabs it and licks your shaft. "That's so perfect," Chaewon says, quickly moving with a fast-paced blowjob, stroking it hard with one hand while massaging your balls with the other. "Yes," you say as Chaewon rubs your dick all over her face like a horny puppy.

You can't resist the urge to pound Chaewon's mouth, the warmth of it being felt all over your veiny cock. "Oh my God," you groan as you hit deep in her throat, making her gag. "Get up, puppy," you tell her afterwards, as Chaewon keeps stroking your cock. You take her mask off and choke her as she keeps jerking you off before diving down for more crazy cock sucking. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you scream.

Chaewon dives under your balls and licks them hard as you stroke your shaft. "Yes, be a nasty whore; lick my balls like a good puppy," you tell her, shoving her face against your shaft and making her sniff it. "That's it," you say, praising her ball-licking skills.

"I'll be Daddy's nasty little whore," Chaewon says. "Then come here," you tell her, bending her against the cage and pulling her panties down, quickly pushing your cock against her pussy. "Ohhh, daddy's big cock is stretching me so good already," Chaewon says as you are just barely halfway inside her. You grab Chaewon's ass for better grip as you pound her pussy fast, the tightness of her hole making you take a big effort to fuck her. You put her leg on top of the cage and pick up the speed. "Shhhhh," you say as she moans.

"Sit down," you order to Chaewon as she opens her legs while getting on top of the cage, fingering her pussy for you, who quickly dive to eat her out. "Holy shit, that's so fucking good," Chaewon says as you tongue her folds. "Daddy's tongue is the best," Chaewon moans as you lick her cunt like a maniac, her getting overwhelmed by the stimulation as you make her body shake hard.

You grab Chaewon once again by the chain on her neck; she tries to stroke your cock, but you quickly tame her, turning her around and spanking her face while she grinds her ass on your dick. You lay on top of the cage, where Chaewon had already arrenged a pillow and a mattress for more sex. She gets on all fours and sucks your cock a little more, giving you a great view of her ass.

"Come here," you say after Chaewon finishes savoring your cock. She gets on yop of you, and you guide your cock to her pussy, pounding her from down low and then letting her ride it perfectly as you caress and spank her ass. "Oh my God," she moans, riding you very hard as you suck her perky tits and dancing on your cock as if she were performing on stage.

"Fuck, you're going to drain me," you say to Chaewon, making her slow down as you two passionately make out. You then pick up the pace, firmly gabbing her butt as you fuck her pussy hard. "Yes, daddy, kill this puppy pussy good," Chaewon moans. You get up and sit on the mattress, letting her grind on your cock. "It's so good," Chaewon says, before you switch to a spooning position, opening her legs and making sexy eye contact with her as you fuck her slow and massage her boobs.

Chaewon pants and moans as your cock speeds up the pumps in her pussy and your balls smack hard against her skin. You then surprise her, staying in the same position and switching to her ass. You reach to increase your grip over Chaewon's tits. "Daddy, go slow, please; your cock is too big for my ass," Chaewon begs, as you are already balls deep buried in her butt. "That's good, that's good," she claims.

Quickly, your slow thrusts give way to fast poundings. "Be an obedient puppy and let daddy fuck your big ass," you say to Chaewon, putting your hands in her mouth. "I'm going to shove my hands in your fucking little mouth while I fuck your fucking asshole like that, understood, little puppy?" you ask her. "Isn't it good?" you keep asking, slapping her face.

"Yes, daddy, fuck that little ass, oh yes, that dick is so fucking good, daddy," Chaewon repeats as she moans. You once again stop a bit and whisper dirty words in her ear. You kiss her and pick up the speed, your legs moving really fast as you pound her ass, and she fingers her pussy.

"Holy shit, holy shit, daddy fucks his little puppy so good," Chaewon says in an infantile voice as she receives a huge anal drilling. You sit down a bit and let her climb out of her cock to taste her own butthole, which she happily enjoys as she sucks and jerks your cock off furiously. "Such a dirty puppy mouth," you say to Chaewon, who gets even nastier and rims your asshole and then puts your balls fully in her mouth.

Chaewon gets on all fours on the top of the cage as you get ready for another round in her ass, pounding her fast and hard. "Daddy is going to put that dick all the way deep in that asshole," you say to her as Chaewon turns into a moaning mess as you get more and more addicted to fucking her asshole.

"So good, such a fucking tight ass," you say to Chaewon as you spank her butt once again; she keeps moaning a lot. "Get down," you say as she lowers her head and follows your orders. "Yes, daddy," she obliges as you once again slow down and enjoy the tightness of her ass.

"I love being a good whore for Daddy's dick," Chaewon says as you keep hitting her butt with more and more slaps. The little puppy rolls her eyes as you get deep in her butthole. "Oh fuck, I'm all the way," you say as your tip reaches the depths of Chaewon's pink anus and her tight asshole squeezes your cock.

"I'm ready to destroy that little ass and make you my little pet," you tell Chaewon, getting on top of her like a bull and manhandling her butthole. "Fuck daddy, that dick is hitting me so deep," Chaewon says. "Yes, daddy, keep fucking me like that," Chaewon says. You only get crazier, punishing her butt with deep and fast poundings like a madman. 

"Spread it for me," you tell Chaewon, pulling out and marveling at the wonderful big gape in her anus. You dive in and sniff her butthole, which she enjoys a lot. Chaewon lays on the mattress and keeps spreading her butthole. "I want that cock back inside me; please, Daddy, give it back to me," she begs. You give it back to her just as she asks, her ass still very tight as you struggle to put even your tip in. 

"Oh fuck," you groan as her anus clenches your tip right from the get-go. "I love how good you luck with my big cock in your little asshole, oh my god," you tell Chaewon. You switch a bit to her pussy, keeping the same consistent pace. "Oh my god, it's so fucking amazing. Thank you for fucking me like a good pet," Chaewon says. You order her to get back on her knees and use her tongue to clean your cock. "Move that mouth; I wanna see how nasty you can get," you say, jerking your cock against her face while she sniffs your balls and rims your asshole.

"Perfect, now get up and come here," you tell Chaewon, grabbing her neck and pinning her against the cage while she masturbates herself. You two tenderly kiss each other as Chaewon starts squirting. "My holes are itching for your fucking cock, daddy," Chaewon says.

But first, you can't resist the urge of nutting in Chaewon's tummy, dropping a bit of cum all over her midriff. "I love the way you fire these ropes of sperm in my belly," she says as you keep stroking your cock while she rubs her pussy at the same rhythm. Your cock is quickly back up hard as you lie on top of the cage and let Chaewon sit her ass back on it. "Oh yes, perfect," you tell her as she impales herself on your dick.

Chaewon bounces her ass perfectly on your cock as you praise her. "Like that, like that, keep going, don't stop," you tell her, hitting her ass to ensure she keeps riding it. "YES, LIKE THAT," you groan as Chaewon sits on your dick balls deep in her ass. She keeps riding. "Daddy is so deep in my ass; I love it," she says, moving into a straight bounce. "Come on, come on," you say, spanking her ass and begging Chaewon to pick up more speed. "Holy shit, holy shit," she says. "Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, fuck, fuck fuck," you groan as Chaewon goes faster and faster.

Chaewon bends over and keeps riding. "Show me that ass," you tell her. She twerks on your cock and puts you on the edge of cumming. "Good girl, go all the way," you command her as Chaewon arches her back and bounces. You push your cock up to match her riding. "You're so pretty sitting on that cock; I love the way you move up and don't it; I don't want you to stop; that's the way, baby; that's how you're going to make me cum so hard when you move like that," you say to her. 

Indeed, it doesn't take long for you to come over and start jerking your cock off in Chaewon's face in anticipation. "Let me see that pretty face right there, ohhhhh," you say, and then start glazing her face with cum. "Look at that," you say as the streaks of your cum cover her face like they are forming a tiger mustache. "Every last drop for me, daddy," Chaewon says as she licks the tip of your dick and cleans you off before offering you a proposal.

"My next client is coming in a few minutes; I want you to join him in the other room, but first, get dressed," she says. "Sure," you tell her.

Chaewon switches to a slim white outfit and teases you and Zac, the other client. Both of you grab her petite body and tie her to an X-cross. You kiss her libs while Zac sucks her tits and runs his hands down her pussy, pulling her pussy to the side. "Look what we have here, some pretty pink pussy," you say. Both of you take turns sucking Chaewon's tits as she moans loudly. 

You and Zac come together and rip Chaewon's outfit and quickly pull your cocks out and rub them against her panties, before quickly pulling them down, already getting Chaewon completely naked. "Oh my God, ahhhh," she moans as Zac starts fingering her pussy and you grab her neck.

"Let's see if you can be our dirty girl tonight," you say to Chaewon. "Yes, daddy," she answers. Zac covers her body full of oil, and you help rub it all over her body. "Fuck, this is amazing," she says as you two then lick her tits together.

Zac sticks his fingers in Chaewon's pussy. "Fucking Godddddd," she moans as juices come out of her cunt. You stimulate her body with a violet wand, making it tremble. Zac then spanks her tits. "Thank you, Daddy, I need this so bad," Chaewon says to him. You keep using the violent wand to give Chaewon electric stimulation, even putting it in her tongue. "Thank you," she says. "Ohhh, bad girl," you tell her as you continue to electrocute her.

"How about some of that?" you ask Chaewon, bringing a cup of hot wax and pouring it over her body. "Ahhhhh," Chaewon moans as the hot liquid burns through her soft skin, and she loves it, especially when you pour the purple liquid over her tits. "How's that?" you ask her. "So good, Daddy," she answers.

"Let's turn her around," you say, giving Chaewon's butt more spanking. "Such pretty fucking holes," you tell Chaewon as you spread her ass and both of you take turns slapping her hutt. Chaewon lifts her legs. "You need some cock?" you ask her. "Yes, please," she begs.

You put your cock back in Chaewon's pussy. "Oh fuck," she moans. Zac looks at you two and jerks his cock off in anticipation for his turn as he whispers dirty words in Chaewon's ear and hits her ass while you pound her pussy. You then let Zac take his turn. "That's fucking perfect," you say. "Exactly what I needed," Chaewon answers as she moans.

"I need that big dick, thank you," Chaewon says as Zac fucks her pussy. "I'll be your fucking toy tonight; keep going," she whispers. You enjoy the spanking you keep giving her ass, waiting for your next turn, which comes soon, as Zac pulls out and both of you take turns licking her anus. 

"Look at this arch," you say, admiring Chaewon's ass as she bends over for another round of Zac's pussy pounding. You stick your cock in her mouth, beginning a spit-roasting session, before dropping down to toy with her body as Chaewon gets pounded. "I'm just a dirty little slut," she says. "Yes, you are, and we are going to use all your fucking holes tonight," you tell her.

Zac pulls Chaewon's hair and gives her a fast-paced standing doggy fuck. "Yes, fuck fuck fuck, like that, like that," she begs, diving to suck your cock hard as she gets pounded from behind. You and Zac fuck Chaewon's face and pussy in perfect sync. "Fuck, that dick is so good," Chaeown says, getting down to both rods in her mouth and bobb her head on them like an addict. "Thank you for those big cocks," Chaewon says, getting very sloppy and dropping all her saliva over them, letting it run down her tits as she takes.

"Where do these fucking dicks belong?" both of you ask her. "In my mouth at the same time," Chaewon says, taking on them at the same time and then rubbing both over her face. "I'm so addicted to those big fucking cocks," she says, moaning.

You push Chaewon against your cock as she gags on it. "Do you want some more?" Zac responds, fucking her face hard. "Stand up," you tell her as Zac lifts Chaewon's legs for you to fuck her pussy. "Such a good whore," he says, angling Chaewon's head down and filling it with his own cock. "Oh fuck," you say as Chaewon's pussy tightness still surprises you even after a long session. You and Zac spit roast her hard, you tying her arms up and clapping her cheeks while Zac pounds her face. Chaewon turned into nothing but a cocksleeve.

You two free Chaewon from the cross, bringing a matress where she gets on all fours. She bobs her head on Zac's cock while you lick her butthole. You quickly fill Chaewon's little pussy as she bounces her ass on your cock. "Such a perfect ass, fuck," you say, then grab her hair and booty and let her choke on Zac's cock until you make a proposal.

"Wanna ride his cock now and get double stuffed too?" you ask Chaewon.

"Yes, daddy, please," she answers. Zac lies on the mattress as Chaewon jerks his cock off before sitting on it. "Fuck," he groans. "Ohhh, look at that piece of work," you say, impressed with her fast bounce as you spank in her ass. "Are you ready to have another cock inside you?" you ask her. "Yes, always, Daddy," Chaewon answers as she moans.

"Please, please, stuff me, daddy, ahhhh," Chaewon moans as you get your cock in her ass, starting the double penetration session. "Where do these fucking dicks belong?" Zac asks her again. "In my fucking holes, that's so good," Chaewon answers as she rolls her eyes.

"You like getting double stuffed?" Zac asks Chaewon as he sucks her tits and you thurst into her ass. "Yeah, yeah," she answers, moaning. "Hply shit, holy shity," Chaewon repeats as she bounces on both cocks. "Perfect, that's how you ride it, baby; don't fucking stop," you tell her, spanking her butt once again.

"OH MY GOD, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," Chaewon screams. Both of you fuck her holes in perfect sync. Zac chokes her as you tease Chaewon. "Look how fucking deep we are on that fucking pussy and asshole," you say. "Yeah, that's good, hitting my slutty holes deep, OH MY GOD, thank you, daddy," Chaewon says as you two keep double stuffing her. 

"Pull those cheeks back; let me see all the action," you tell Chaewon as she spreads her ass. "I can't believe I'm taking both these big cocks in my holes, holy shit," she moans. "Pleae don't stop, pleae don't stop, I'm dying for this," Chaewon begs as both of you pick up the pace and make your balls slap against her skin. "FUCKKKK, I'm cumming all over those dicks; look what you are doing to me, Daddy, keep going deep in my pussy and ass," she claims, rolling her eyes.

"That's exactly what you wanted, slut?" you ask her. "Yes, daddy, that's what I liked, getting plugged by both those big cocks in my tight holes, hmmmmm," she says. "YESSSSS," Chaewon suddenly screams as you get more animalesque, mounting on top of her and stuffing your cock deep in her anus, thrusting hard as your balls make contact with Zac's shaft sitting idle in her pussy.

"Holy shit, I love that; it's so fucking big," Chaewon says as you can't stop thrusting your cock in her ass. "I love it," Chaewon moans as Zac joins and starts thrusting up her pussy real fast, both balls hitting each other now. "Thank you for stuffing me so good on both my fucking gaping holes; I'm a big fucking whore who can take it all," Chaewon says.

"Come on, suck our dicks," you demand to Chaewon, who obliges like an obedient pet. She dives on Zac's cock to taste her pussy, jerking yours off in anticipation and then taking both balls deep in her mouth before taking. "Oh my God, I'm fucking spoiled by all those cocks today," Chaewon moans as she gets sloppy with both your dicks. "Wanna sit your ass on him next?" you ask her, getting her up. "Of course," she says.

You push Chaewon's asshole against Zac's cock as he fucks her in a standing position. "He's already so deep in my ass," Chawewon says as you choke her. "Yes, all the way up your ass, like you wanted, little whore," you say to her as Zac keeps clapping her cheeks while you rub your hands on her body. "FUCK, HE'S GOING SO HARD IN MY ASS," Chaewon screams, but you just don't care, sucking her tits and choking her.

Zac gets back on the mattress as Chaewon bounces her ass on his cock really fast. "Yeah, that fucking ass can take it," Chaewon says. "Yes, ride that cock, ride until you show you deserve to get two dicks inside you," you tell her. "Yes, daddy, look at how hard I ride him; I want you to join and get inside me too; I need your dick again," she replies.

Chaewon opens her legs for you to get your cock in her pussy. "That dick in my pussy and my ass feels so good," she moans as both of you compete to see who goes deeper in each of her holes. "Fuck, that's amazing, so amazing," Chaewon says. You groan as you attack her pussy. "That's going to make me fucking cum," Chaewon says as she moans harder. You put her chin up, making her stare at you.

"I love the way you fuck me like that; it's fucking incredible," Chaewon says as you thrust so hard Zac's cock pulls out of her ass. "That's all I want to be, a little fucking slut with dick all over my holes, a stupid fucking whore for those two big cocks," she continues. You muffle her by shoving your hand in her mouth.

"How does that feel?" you ask Chaewon. "So good, I can't even think; I've just turned into a brainless fucking whore," she answers. The double penetration continues. "This is what I am meant for," Chaewon says as both of you keep stuffing your cocks in both her holes. "All I want is to be a perfect fucking whore for those big perfect cocks," she claims.

"Come down and suck our dicks again," you command to Chaewon. "Ye, yes, yes," she endlessly repeats, getting on her knees to taste her fuckholes, rubbing both cocks tips against her face, touching them against each other, and putting both in her mouth at the same time.

"Get up and put that ass up for me to fuck it again," you say as Chaewon obliges and you mount on top of her while she enjoys Zac's prick in her mouth. "You're such a dirty fucking cunt, Chaewon," you say to her. "Yes, I am," it's all she answers. Zac also comes in from behind and fills Chaewon's pussy, making her go back to getting double stuffed.

"OH MY GOD FUCK, AHHHHHH," Chaewon screams as both of you take her balls deep, showing no mercy for her little fuckholes. "Do you want both your daddies cumming inside you at the same time?" you ask her. "Better, I want both of you breeding me at the same time like a good whore," Chaewon says.

You follow her orders and stick your cock in Chaewon's pussy along with Zac's. The tightness of her vaginal hole getting stuffed with two cocks is enough to make both of you last for only a minute, as both you and Zac explode inside Chaewon's cunt, enjoying the cum ooze out of it as both of you pull out. "Thank you, daddies; you two made me a happy whore tonight stuffing all my holes like that," Chaewon says. "I hope you two get back tomorrow for more; I'm so hungry," she finishes.

Indeed, you and Zac got back on the next day, only to find Chaewon back in her cage, this time putting it in a standing position as seven other guys surrounded her. 

"We were just waiting for you two to arrive; now we can start the gangbang," she says.

[catgirlsisterbreeding]

you're wearing a choker for the first time

you walk into the kitchen, your mom is there reading a magazine and she looks up as you enter

"hey sweetie. is that new? i've never seen it before." she stands up, reaches a hand out and touches the necklace

"it's really been a privilege to see you bloom, sweetie--my son was so sad and i didn't know how to help him, but my daughter is such a beautiful happy young woman."

she suddenly hooks her finger beneath the choker and tugs it hard to the side--you feel her cool finger against your neck and the sudden pressure of the choker against your throat and a tiny moan escapes before you can bite it down, your face burning as you blush.

"Hmm~ that's good to know sweetie. I'm so lucky to have a daughter just. like. you."

(btw a sequel for this is coming out soon; watch this space)

[merakiui]

LONELY ESTATE.

sunday x (female) reader cw: nsfw, marking (hickeys), slight possessiveness from sunday, alcohol/intoxication, toxic exes, adultery, background marriage of convenience, an au wherein most of the canon is ignored in favor of plotless smut, all you really need to know is that sunday is still hopelessly whipped for you note - you and sunday are over—have been for many years. all it takes is one drunken mistake to rekindle a dangerous flame that should have been extinguished long ago. or: sunday invites his ex to his wedding. that goes about as pleasantly as you can imagine. // listen to cailin russo's 'lonely estate' if you would like extra vibes!! :D

If there’s one thing that trumps Sunday’s detestation of you, it’s his unshakable sense of duty towards his station. He takes immense care to craft a respectable image for the public, meticulously weaving words and actions together to become a pristine and untouchable chrysalis. Almost like a marble statue, perfection sculpted in his likeness. When you were dating, he used to echo the same advice: “A pleasant impression impacts one’s reputation and, by extension, the organization, occupation, and company one chooses to keep. You would do well to remember that.”

And remember you have.

It’s been eight years since you broke it off with him, but even now you hear his voice ringing loud and clear whenever you aren’t up to par with the standards you set for yourself. What can be worse than the voice of your own harsh critic? A voice that sounds remarkably like your ex-boyfriend, much to the consternation of your peace, and he’s so very keen to scrutinize every detail of your life.

You were hoping to save yourself a run-in with him, but the world (and Sunday) hates you. By the good grace of an invitation, you find yourself attending his wedding as a mostly unwilling guest. And it’s only because you’re doing the same thing he does: save face, lift your reputation, network—a brutal cycle.

That birdbrain was your initial thought when you skimmed the words cordially invite you to the wedding of Sunday Oak, and you immediately felt scammed somehow. He went and got married before I could, and now I have to sit in the audience and congratulate him. Gross.

So now you’re here, having sat through the ceremony and an obnoxious amount of platitudes, artfully dodging questions of, “You look familiar. Where do I remember you from?” You’re wearing a skin that’s only semi-immune to self-importance and schemes: a strapless black dress that wraps around your body like a smothering embrace. A matching choker is fastened around your throat. You don’t have glittering gems and pretty pearls, so costume jewelry fills in for what’s deceptive enough to pass as opulent authenticity.

This is the type of wedding that makes the headlines. Massive news for a massive event! Powerful people strut about and mingle in the ballroom beneath a coruscating chandelier, preening like peacocks when their feathers are smoothed out with obsequious flattery. You don’t fit in with anyone here. It’s another world—a world you’re relieved to have left behind all those years ago.

That was always the crux of your dynamic with Sunday. The imbalance. Different worlds. Different values. Different, different, different. And not the kind in which you make it work, fitting together like imperfect puzzle pieces in spite of difficulty—that love conquers all nonsense. Rather, it was the type of difficulty that’s reminiscent of oil and water. An impossible mixture.

No matter what, nothing seemed to blend. You’d melt into each other, but the physical and emotional amalgamation wouldn’t stick.

The fact of the matter? Sunday was primed for success ever since his and Robin’s adoption into the illustrious Oak Family. On the other side of the coin, you were primed for struggle and survival. For a litany of temporary work, a galactic hole wrenched open in your heart since your first failure, and as a result you continue to climb an unsteady ladder in search of a way to slice that pesky prefix off. Steady. You want to know what that’s like. At one point, you thought you wanted to know that bliss with Sunday. Not anymore, though.

This world is suffocating and reeks of too-expensive colognes that cloy like rot, and it’s bright in here—a blinding sort of light that sears through your eyelids to chisel away at your irises. You can’t endure another minute here.

I’ve played my part, you think, performing a sly sweep of the room. I applauded with the audience, I left my gift with the rest, and I’m telepathically sending good vibes. Time to make my grand escape.

You weave around a marble pillar, confident in the curtain call, only to stop short at the sight of an old nuisance standing just beyond the cluster of people cluttered between you—literally and symbolically, forever worlds apart. And grand your escape would have surely been had he not had the conscience to look your way at that exact moment. You watch as he excuses himself from his previous conversation, and then he’s maneuvering seamlessly around the crowd like a shark fin cutting through deep blue. They part with ease, offering him smiles and congratulations in succession.

Before you can think of running, he’s standing right in front of you.

“Miss (Name), good evening.”

“If it isn’t the man of the hour!” You flash more teeth than lip when you smile, the worst fake you’ve ever tried to force. “Congrats.”

Amusement crinkles the corners of eyes. “Are you enjoying the party? I must say it’s an unexpected surprise to see you here.”

“Coming from the guy who put me on the list, I highly doubt that.” You pluck a champagne flute from a passing waiter and school your temper into rehearsed refinement. “But it’s a very nice event, yes. I’m enjoying myself.” And then because you can’t help it, “The most handsome man in Penacony—married. Wow! Big news. What a dream. So happy for you.”

Every word is spoken with great strain.

Lifting the glass to meet ruby-red lips, you hold his aureate stare and take a long sip from the fizzy beverage. It crackles at the back of your throat in an explosion of aromatic alcohol. Sunday studies this display with a strange intensity, his gaze flicking from your face to your mouth, and then he settles on the lipstick staining the rim of the glass. Despite his phlegmatic placidity, a mask measured to muddle the manipulation lying just beneath the surface, you’re trained in Sunday’s tactics. If there’s anyone who can navigate these sides of him—the control and coercion, every unsavory facet—it’s you.

He breathes out a gentle laugh. “You’ve never possessed a penchant for dishonesty, especially not the successful sort.”

And if there’s anyone who can see through to your very soul, perceptive to a point, it’s your ex. He knows all of your best and worst qualities just as you know all of his, and much like the symbolism in wearing all black to a wedding celebration you’re a stain on his past.

It was a first relationship that was swiftly swept under dozens of metaphorical rugs. And if you’re ever brought up in conversation it’s always the angelic, can-never-do-anything-wrong Family head with his undesirable ex-girlfriend. 

“Look, this has been cute—all of this.” You gesture with your glass. Liquid gold almost sloshes over the rim. If any speckles your outfit, you can’t tell. The droplets are devoured by the dark void of your dress. “But I have places to be. Congrats again on the wedding.”

With a casual wave of your hand, you swivel around on your heel and take one step forward. His next words freeze you in place.

“Sardonic as usual. How could your most lovable trait slip my mind?” There’s a catty edge to his voice that wasn’t there before. Childish, almost, as if your very existence brings out the immaturity from all those years ago. Perhaps it’s still there and, rather than maturing, he just learned how to hide it. “How keenly you flee.”

Your fingers tighten around the slim stem of your glass, and for a beautiful moment you picture Sunday’s neck in its place. And then the spell breaks and you’re left to pivot sharply, a monstrous sneer cutting into your cheeks.

“Funny. If I recall, someone once said it’s what I do best. I guess I’m living up to the legend, huh, Sunday?”

“Nothing if not predictable, even at your most troublesome. It is as endearing as it is frustrating.”

“Ugh. Don’t you have a new wife to cozy up to? Or people to let stroke your ego? Go bother one of them. I’m not in the mood.”

“I couldn’t possibly do that. As host, it would be poor manners on my part to neglect a guest.”

The way he pronounces guest makes you think he wants to swap the word for a more fitting title, one that rhymes, but he refrains from doing so. Still, the hidden description brands itself onto your brain. Pest. Pest. Pest.

That’s all you really are to one another nowadays. A pest from the past. Thankfully, the feeling is mutual.

“Aren’t you oh-so-considerate?”

His smile does not add any shine to his already lightless eyes. To stave off the awkward, near-nuclear tension, you down the rest of your champagne. Sunday’s focus drifts once more, lingering squarely on your tongue as it darts out to wet your lips. You take notice of this and level him with a stern frown.

“Don’t jeopardize your marriage by being so obvious, or you might find yourself in the early stages of divorce. Be careful, birdbrain.”

As you brush past him, you catch his mumblings.

“As if I would fall for such blatant temptation. It’s simply unbecoming. Reckless behavior befitting that of utter fools.”

With that, Sunday flattens nonexistent wrinkles on his perfect suit and steps back into the crowd. You beeline right for the refreshments. If it’s a party on the Oak Family’s Credits, you’re determined to depart with a stomach full of fancy food and bubbly beverages.

No harm in letting loose tonight, you think. No work, no worries, no obligations. It’s a Sunday. Make the most of it before Monday.

Hours later, clutching a plate piled high with tiny cakes and skewers of cheese and fruit, you sway out of the ballroom. Diffidence cast aside, your body warm and wired with a giggly sort of inebriation, you stagger-walk until the music and thunderous din of too many conversations flushes out into a distant muffle. It takes a few more turns and a silly moment of mistaking your left from your right before you realize you are not nearing the exit. Instead, you’re just putting more space between the outside and yourself.

It’s quiet and cold in this hall, peaceful like the grave. Shadows settle in corners and beneath curtains. Maybe you’d find yourself unsettled if it weren’t for the snacks in hand. They distract you from any encroaching haunts.

The Oak Family Manor is more labyrinthine than you remember, but then it’s been years since you stepped foot in these walls. 

“Damn. Where the fuck is the exit?” you mutter, licking buttercream from your fingers. “This stupid house…”

Your surroundings tilt and blur in a dizzying splotch of color and shapes. You set your plate down on a half-moon table and grab at the wall for support. The motion of the world seems to settle momentarily like aquarium gravel sinking in a fishbowl.

And then a gentle voice slices through eerie tranquility: “Miss (Name), you’re lost.”

Forcing your eyes open, you cast your gaze over your shoulder. He looks like pure light in his white suit, a comparison that instantly sours in your stomach and darkens the drunken innocence scrawled on your face.

I must be in Hell if this is what they’re calling an angel.

“Oh, it’s just you.”

“I’m flattered by your heartwarming greeting. Even when you’re three sheets to the wind, you always captivate me with your…unique ways of interaction, to put it lightly.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.” Straightening yourself out, you cover the distance to reach him, heels clicking in time with your heartbeat, and jab a manicured finger at his chest. “You…”

With the tattered remains of your pride on the line, you refuse to admit your tipsy brain led you to who-knows-where inside your ex’s house. So instead you stare until the beginnings of a wry smile play at the corners of his mouth. He seems thoroughly entertained with your ineffective attempt at feisty intimidation. Wobbly as your legs are, you stand your ground and poke at his chest. The right words will come to you eventually. You’re sure of it.

Sunday’s slender fingers wrap around your wrist, preventing you from barraging his pristine suit with your immature prodding.

“Well?” he encourages. “You were saying?”

You examine his features for a long time—longer than what would be considered normal if you had your wits about you—and throw your head back to groan.

“You’re so irritating and you never shut up.”

“And you are stubborn to the core, hopelessly so. Shall I continue listing more of your flaws just as you have demonstrated them, or would you like a chance to defend yourself? I’m certain eight years is more than enough time for adequate self-improvement, but judging by your current state it appears nothing’s changed.”

He cuts you down with such a soft, matter-of-fact tone. You understand better than anyone why the absurdity of marriage could never apply to you and him.

Now properly irked, you try to pull your wrist free. Mischief curls his smile into that of a self-satisfied smirk. He holds firm—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to keep you still. If you weren’t so drunk, you’d realize he’s not really trapping you at all. It’s the type of grasp that would loosen immediately if you put just a smidge of force into ripping yourself free, and even then that would make your non-struggle appear laughable and feeble.

“Shouldn’t you be nicer to your guests? As a guest, this sort of behavior is simply unbecoming from the host,” you complain, mimicking him to the best of your ability.

“Well, I find it’s similarly unbecoming for a guest to carelessly overindulge and wander aimlessly in areas she doesn’t belong. That is to say, Miss (Name), it’s not very nice to explore a house without the homeowner’s permission. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Not my fault your house is dumb and big!” Puffing your cheeks out in a petulant pout, you finally tear your arm away. There’s no resistance on his part. “Just show me the exit and I’ll be out of your life for good, and we’ll never have to put up with each other again.”

With a tut, Sunday shakes his head at you like you’re a particularly stupid child who’s missed the lesson in a lecture. It’d be worse if he waggled his finger in your face and left you with an equally pettish, “Nuh-uh.”

“Or I could resolve to leave you here, disoriented as you are, to wander my house like a little lost, liquor-addled mouse.”

“Oh, please. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Sadistic…” The rest of your grumbling dies on your tongue. “Whatever. I don’t need your help.”

You intend to storm off and search for the exit on your own, but vertigo catches up to you and drags you back to a more humble stage. Again, you cling to the wall to steady yourself. Only unlike before you can’t bear to stay on your feet and so you slide slowly down the wall to sit on the ground, your legs folding up into your chest. With a defeated moan, you rest your forehead on your knees and pray for the world to stop twirling.

“Go back to your hoity-toity party and your pretty wife and your fancy food. I’ll find my way out.” You shoo him away with a limp hand motion.

Sunday remains silent, but you know he’s still there. You can feel his presence like a splinter wedged under your skin.

“You can hardly walk, let alone lift yourself off the ground. You’re about as stable as a baby bird learning to fly. Where exactly do you think you’re going to go in this state?”

“Home,” is your flat reply. And then you lift your head to peer at him through your lashes. “What do you care whether I can walk or not?”

Sunday crouches to your height to closely observe your glazed eyes, the part of your lips, the rise and fall of your chest. A cautious calculation passes over his face, waltzing elegantly through gold hues to form a pinched frown beneath his nose. A stagnant beat stretches between you and him. You know that blank slate of a look, inscrutable to even the most experienced detective. He’s practicing his words in his head, deciding which is an appropriate response. As his former partner, you’ve got a leg up on anyone hoping to solve the enigmatic Sunday. It’s a blessing and a curse.

“I don’t care. Not particularly. But it would be irresponsible to leave a guest—my ex-girlfriend—dead on her feet in a dark hallway. It wouldn’t look very good for me or the Oak Family.”

“Riiight. How could I forget? Always reputation first for the oh-so-flawless Head of the Oak Family.” A smirk sits slanted on your face. You tilt your head at him, coy. “No one’s gonna care about me. I’m not famous or rich or part of some influential family. Don’t pretend like it matters.”

I don’t matter. Not here.

Having taken umbrage at your remark and all that is left unsaid, he draws back. There’s a noticeable shift in his demeanor. Gloomy, maybe. Brooding? You can’t place it, but somehow you’ve nudged a sensitive subject.

“Perhaps my initial assessment of your character was lacking. You’ve an infuriating proclivity for getting under my skin. You always have—even now when you’re at your most vulnerable, you remain a perpetual pain in my side.”

“You sure don’t mince your words.”

His wings rustle, feathers and feelings ruffled. “I should commend your talent.”

“Gee, how nice. Hollow words from a hollow man. I’m honored.” But then you turn serious—or about as serious as you can get when you’re stupid-drunk—and lower your voice conspiratorially. “You should get back to your party. Won’t look very good if someone catches prim and proper, married-man Sunday with his ex in a dark hallway, all alone. Think of the ruuumors.”

You giggle because it’s funny. Not really, but it kind of is. Just a little.

What is funny, though, is the way Sunday stiffens, his jaw clenched tightly in disapproval. There’s only so much pushing he can take before he falls, a perfect statue chipped away and crumbling.

He kneels directly in front of you. “Do you intend to start a needless disagreement, or is the alcohol doing that for you?”

“Dunno.” You lean in closer without thinking and challenge him with a grin. “Wanna find out?”

Inches apart now, this newfound proximity doesn’t immediately dawn on you. Sunday hesitates, very obviously working out the underlying meaning to your snark.

“You would be ill-advised to play inane games with me, Miss (Name). I’m inclined to be merciless on account of the trouble you’ve caused and will inevitably cause should you continue this charade.”

“That makes two of us,” you whisper, shrugging off the thorny threat twined through his words. “Because I play to win.”

Acting purely on inebriated impulse, you grab hold of his suit and yank him towards you. Sunday stumbles and reaches out with his palms to catch himself against the wall. You close the gap and smash your mouth against his, leaving Sunday so stunned, in fact, that he can’t seem to function for a flickering moment. As if something in his brain was rewired when you touched him. There’s a sliver of hesitation, a brief separation, but then his hands peel away from the wall to seize your hips. The rest of your startled gasp is swallowed when he drags you closer, his reciprocation feverish and fervent, as if he’s waited ages to fulfill this fantasy.

Surprise slides into sensuality. You grab at his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him, your lips meshing sloppily. Your lipstick smears in the process, but the messy state you must surely be in doesn’t cross your mind then. Nothing truly does when your teeth click together and he licks into your mouth like he’s trying to taste the syrupy secrets at the back of your throat. 

In an effort to have an iota of control over the situation, half-mad with barely suppressed desire, Sunday hitches one of your legs around his waist and presses inward, his body caging you against the wall. The sudden shift in position leaves you scrabbling for a new handhold, and your fingers dig into his previously smooth suit coat, now half-shucked, his shirt wrinkled and coming untucked. You jerk away to catch your breath.

Neither of you says anything, choosing to challenge the other with a scary amount of vehemence. Yours is notably dazed, drifting down to the way your clothed bodies connect. Sunday’s attention is pinned solely on your bedraggled appearance—your mouth, to be precise, and then your eyes. Your fascinating, fervor-glazed eyes.

Sunday snaps back to himself when you palm at the tent in his trousers. His wings fold in front of his face, as if to obscure his flushed expression. An impish grin blossoms on your lips.

“This is a first. You didn’t cum right away. With your weak dick, I would’ve thought you’d be a mess already.”

He looks at you, unimpressed by your vulgarity. “That was many years ago. I do believe I’m due for some level of leniency.”

“You’re the only guy I’ve ever known who cums from kissing. So easy,” you tease, hooking your arms around his neck to coax him closer. “It’s cute. The only part of you that’s honest.”

He does not deign to offer any sort of defense. Instead his hands wander over your thighs, hiking your dress further up to expose the plush, bare skin beneath. 

“Troublesome,” he chides and rocks against you, to which you respond in kind by grinding down against him. The friction leaves both of you shuddering. So close, yet still so cavernous. “Quite the corrupting influence.”

“Am I the best corrupting influence you’ve ever had?” you ask around a giggle.

Sunday exhales through his nose. “The worst. But also the most tempting.”

Somehow that sends a bolt of giddy energy through you, and you lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth. In your wake, a faint lipstick print is stamped onto pale skin. Sunday’s mouth falls open in silent protest. Something seems to register in his brain then because his awe slithers away into a stormy sort of disapproval. As if this mark is somehow worse than everything else the two of you have done.

“Messy. Always so messy,” he gripes.

“Oops. Sorryyy,” you whine, drawing the empty apology out. Gently, you take hold of his face and scrub it away with your thumb. Enticed by the smudges on your own lips, Sunday stares.

“Don’t apologize. I’m certain it looks quite striking on me.”

“Does it? I think it looks better on me. Red’s not really your color.”

He parts from you only momentarily to slide his gloves from his hands. Like the tide, he returns to meet your shore. The heat of your bodies is volcanic, and his hands sear your skin when he roams with ravenous fingertips. As if this is the only opportunity he’ll have to explore territory that was once charted. As if you might slip between his fingers like crystal-clear water in an oasis. Like you’re nothing more than a fleeting dream.

His mouth at your ear, he murmurs his taunt, “You’re right. The color of passion suits you well.”

“Less passion and more anger whenever I think of you.”

Laughter rattles in his chest. The snipe isn’t nearly as backhanded as you wanted it to sound. The syllables and semantics are slurred, scattered like raindrops fogging a windowpane.

“I ought to do something about that messy, misbehaving mouth of yours…”

“Yeah? And what’re you gonna do?”

“A few things come to mind. Care to guess?”

“Surprise me.”

His hands settle above your waist, almost folding over the expanse of your stomach. If he wasn’t so shackled to his restraint, you’d think he’d grab hold of your dress and yank it down to reveal your braless breasts for his starving eyes. Somehow he manages to reel himself in and chooses to greedily explore the slope of your neck and shoulder instead. One of his hands reaches up so that he can hook his fingers around your choker.

“There is beauty in simplicity. A pity it seems to decorate you so naturally. I could offer you a far more exquisite collar and then you would be unmistakably mine,” he murmurs, mouthing at sensitive skin like it’s an old habit he can’t shake. Maybe you’d tug his wings in admonishment for remembering all of your weak zones, for the mewl that’s ripped from your throat is so pornographic it has both of you taking pause.

“Stop… Stop talking.”

Sunday hums and consoles you with a playful nip to your neck. Warm, moist kisses trail along the length of it until he locates another spot—the same one he once lavished with love many years ago when you were both young and dumb and exorbitantly affectionate in private. You turn your head to offer more of your exposed neck. While he sucks at your bare shoulder, moving steadily over to your collarbone once he’s pleased with the bruise bitten into a previously unmarked canvas, you grab at his jacket. Sunday shrugs out of it with minimal difficulty, and the article is cast on the glossy floor in a forgotten heap.

Your breathing grows shallow, spotted with the occasional moan. They’re soft in Sunday’s ears, tickling like the very feathers protruding from behind his ears.

“More… Keep going,” you whine, hooking your other leg around his waist and yanking him closer. You grind against him, desperate to feel more of him. “Please, Sunday…”

His hands halt beneath your dress, and he lifts his head to study you, caught off-guard by your pleading. And then his features smooth out with surprising fondness.

“Of course,” he whispers around a gentle chuckle. “For you, my dear, I would do anything.”

Your legs are adjusted so that he can lean over you with ease, and when he captures your waiting lips in another hedonistic kiss you drag him down so that he can melt into you on the floor. Something sticks then. A sentiment unearthed. You’re not sure what it is.

You don’t get to find out, for the night and its pleasures finally catch up to you and the intoxication pulls you deeper into the shadows of unconsciousness.

The afternoon sun is high in the sky when you finally emerge from dreamless slumber, your body tacky and gross. Rubbing the crust from your eyes, you roll over onto your back and glance at the ceiling. Crapulence drapes itself over your heavy form like a shroud. In fact, you feel dead as you lie there on the bed, in an unfamiliar room that feels more like a morgue despite its homely furnishings.

And then the realization sinks into the marrow of your bones.

The ceiling. The bed. The silken sheets. The room. None of this is in your home and it wouldn’t be.

This isn’t your home.

Slowly, you sit up and feel the cushy mattress beneath your palm. Despite the fog clouding last night’s events, you manage to wade through most of it to reach a worrying conclusion.

Calm down. It could be worse.

You got drunk. That’s an easily proven fact, if the hangover currently kicking your ass is worth anything.

You tried to leave the party, but you took too many wrong turns and found yourself lost. You remember that because the journey filled you with so much irritation. So many memories etched onto the walls of that mansion—memories you were hoping to never revisit.

You ran into your ex-boyfriend, and he said something about mice or mazes… It’s so hazy, but whatever it was you’re sure it was nonsense.

And then…Sunday.

And then Sunday.

Sunday.

In a panicked rush, you pat yourself all over in search of any sign—an imprint or a mark or a scratch. Hell, even a scent! You sniff at your wrist and arm as if you’re going to find him there. Evidence of something very, very bad. You’re still wearing your panties and your dress isn’t in tatters on the floor. That’s a good sign.

“Fuuuck!” you hiss, grabbing at your face.

I hooked up with my ex. With my married-man ex! 

It could be worse? Correction: It is worse.

Before you can wallow in your internal self-flagellation any longer, a knock at the door breaks your concentration. Your heart drops down to your stomach. Scrambling like a headless chicken, you gather bunches of the duvet and hold them protectively in front of you. Fluffy defense.

Should I pretend to be asleep? Dead? Should I jump out this window and make a run for it?

“Come—” you cringe at the rustiness of your voice and clear your throat— “C-Come in!”

Please don’t be Sunday. Please don’t be Sunday. It’s a Monday, so it can’t be Sunday. Please, please, please.

The knob twists and the door opens, revealing the last man you want to see right now.

He stands in the doorway, simply watching you, after which he steps inside and shuts it behind him. His unsmiling features are much too impassive for you to discern anything other than perfect neutrality. Silence thickens in the room, and if it could take on the characteristics of smog you’re sure it would choke you. Awkwardly, you curl your fingers into the blankets and meet his cloudy stare.

You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat, or maybe that’s his heartbeat. Maybe both of your hearts are going at speeds so wild their resonance is an echo of a war drum. You’ve no idea what to say. Should you feign ignorance, pretend none of this happened even though it so clearly did?

This is bad. This is so bad.

Seconds stretch into minutes. You think you might have to break this ridiculous staring contest, but Sunday beats you to it.

“You’re finally awake. I was beginning to wonder how long you’d stay bundled up in bed.”

There’s a trace of exasperation. You understand what he’s really trying to say: You’ve overstayed your welcome. Make yourself scarce.

And he doesn’t need to be cordial anymore. Not when you’re both accustomed to the other. You’re not a guest anymore. The party has ended. Now you’re more like a trespasser or a particularly stubborn stain.

“You demon,” you snap, scowling at him.

His eyes narrow. If looks could kill, you’d be dead, revived, double-dead, and then reincarnated all so he could do it again.

“You seemed to think otherwise last night.”

Your flinch betrays your oblivious nature. Steeling yourself, you attempt to plead your case. “That… About that. It was a mistake. Obviously. It shouldn’t have happened. I won’t tell if you won’t, okay? I was drunk and…” You decide right then that you can’t do this, so you throw the covers off, hastily pull your dress down to its appropriate length, and reach for your purse and heels—both sitting patiently near the vanity desk. “I should go.”

Sunday’s eyes follow you like an immovable, haunted portrait. Just before you can stuff your feet into your heels, he reaches out. His hand falls upon your shoulder, and for a single second you think you should just log out of life.

“One moment. We have something to discuss.”

Not a suggestion. A command, spoken in that deceptively patient intonation.

“Right… No, yeah. You’re right. Okay.”

You peel his hand off of you and return to the bed, lowering to sit on the very edge. He steps in front of you and blocks your view of the door.

He gives you a stoic once-over before asking, “How much do you remember from last night? You must speak honestly. I’ll know if you lie.”

Like I’m in any position to lie right now, you birdbrain.

Shame bubbles in your heart like molten magma. You cringe all the way through the confession. “I drank too much and wandered off in search of an exit, but I got lost and then you were there. I think we talked. I don’t know. All I know is that one thing led to another and we kissed. And you…” You catch your reflection in the mirror then and notice the kaleidoscope of marks on your neck. Immediately, courage flaring up, you round on him. “You!”

Springing up from the bed, you point an accusatory finger at his chest. “What the fuck were you thinking?! You’re a married man! Freshly married. Not even twenty-four hours married!”

The clouds in his eyes shift into impenetrable murkiness. “If I recall, you were the one to kiss me. I’m hardly deserving of all the blame.”

“That’s great, but one tiny detail. I was drunk. And furthermore you didn’t have to reciprocate!” The horror from before returns. You feel along your body. “We didn’t. We… We didn’t, right? Go all the way, I mean. Tell me we didn’t.”

It takes him a second too long to utter a single word. You don’t like that.

“No,” he replies, but you’re not convinced. “We didn’t go all the way.”

“You’re sure?”

“Verily.”

You regard him dubiously for another moment, but eventually the doubt ebbs away and you heave a relieved sigh. “All right. Good to know. Let’s take our part of the blame, apologize, and put this mess behind us.”

“You make a valid point. Seeing as we’re both equally at fault, shall we resolve to forgive and forget?”

“Yes. Exactly that.” You stand from the bed, but this time it’s the stabbing pain in your head that stops you. “Fuck, this hangover sucks!”

“Don’t push yourself. You should take it one step at a time. You’re likely dehydrated, hungry, and still clinging to the vestiges of whatever remains from last night. Be careful not to trip over yourself.”

“Gee, thanks for your insincerity.”

Sunday rolls his eyes. “My sincerest apologies if I’m not falling to my knees with sympathy.” He folds his arms over his chest and frowns at you. “It seems you never do learn. Once more I’m left to put up with your antics.”

“I’m not asking you to. I can take care of myself,” you mutter, forcing your feet into your heels. “Just show me the way out of your labyrinth home and you’ll never have to ‘put up with my antics’ ever again.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“Well, I’m not staying. You’ve lost your mind if you think that’s what I’m gonna do. No way am I gonna be a homewrecker. Fuck that!”

“You’re not staying, but I refuse to let you stumble out of here looking a right mess in your current state. Until you can comport yourself properly, you’re not leaving.”

“Oh my—geez, you’re insufferable! How does anyone put up with you? How did I put up with you?” You smack your hand to your forehead and groan. “I can’t believe out of everyone—of all the ex-boyfriends it had to be you.”

“Ah, I understand. This is quite the inconvenience for you, is it? The fault lies with me for being such an insufferable wretch.” Sarcasm drips from every syllable like venom. “Perhaps you should choose a less insufferable ex-boyfriend to sink your teeth into.”

You send him a foul look. “So glad we’re on the same page.”

“Gracious…” He sighs. “To think it was possible to forget just how much work you are.”

“And I forgot how much of an ass you were. Oh, sorry. Still are.” You rake your hands through your hair. “I can’t believe I actually kissed you. What was I thinking? I wasn’t! Ugh… This is the worst.”

“You should learn not to overindulge at formal events. Conduct yourself accordingly next time.”

“And you should learn not to kiss your ex-girlfriend back! Who was it who said I was the ‘most tempting’ influence?”

“You…” He scoffs and tries again. “You initiated it. I merely did my duty as a good host and reciprocated.”

“You were the one who put my legs around your waist! What was that about?”

Sunday bristles at that. His cheeks flare with heat and his wings shudder. “That—” He stops himself to string together a coherent excuse. “That was a natural reaction to your… Ahem. It was nothing more than a rash move on my part.”

“I’m not gonna argue and play the blame game with you. Whatever it was, it happened and there’s not going to be a repeat.”

Upon hearing that, a half-smirk settles on his face. “There won’t be a repeat. I’m a married man now.”

You gaze at him, unamused. “My condolences.”

His smirk widens. “I assure you my delightful wife is happy and content. She will want for nothing.”

“Good for you. Both of you, in fact. Congrats,” you grind out. “And when Wifey makes a little mistake and cheats, it’ll all cancel out. That two-negatives-make-a-positive shit. She kisses someone and you tongued it with me. You’ll be even and free of guilt.”

Sunday scoffs. “Your irreverent reasoning is not appreciated. Do not trivialize a serious situation.”

“What? You want me to make it harder than it already is? Is that it?”

“It’s not nearly as simple as ‘canceling out,’ as you’ve put it. A kiss holds a certain level of significance. You shouldn’t dismiss it so flippantly.”

“You should if you’re drunk and there weren’t any feelings and—right, how could I forget?—when it’s with your ex!”

“It’s not that easy,” he asserts, his voice straining.

“Why? What makes it so difficult? Enlighten me.”

“There are feelings involved… Emotions.”

“Lust is the only valid emotion in this situation. What else could there be? What other emotions?”

“It’s…complicated. You were drunk and I was swept up in the moment. That’s all.”

“Doesn’t sound all that complicated when you phrase it like that.”

“We were both slightly under the influence.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why do you care so much?” he asks, turning the verbal knife on you.

“I don’t care.”

“You clearly do. A fraction of you does, at least, considering you’re so hellbent on pushing this matter.”

“It was a stupid mistake and it’s never happening again. You’re married, and I’m going to go back to my life and pretend all of this—” you gesture between him and yourself— “never happened. End of story. I’m done pushing.”

“You intend to move on?” he questions, a scintilla of skepticism hiding within those words. “Just like that?”

“Precisely like that.” You scowl at your face in the mirror and wipe at the lipstick smudged on your jaw. Dragging your purse onto the desk, you fish through it for the tube to reapply a fresh coat.

Sunday affords you a few precious seconds of silence and then he opens his mouth.

“You’re an appalling liar.”

“Brilliant deduction, detective.”

You twist the tube shut and retrieve a bottle of concealer to dress the marks from last night. Leaning towards the mirror, you work hastily to apply layer after layer. Enough to put them out of your mind for the commute home.

“It won’t take a detective to understand that your attempt at feigning nonchalance is not working in your favor.”

“Obviously! It pisses me off that it had to be you.” You tilt your head to examine the stretch of your neck. “You just had to mark me all over… Damn devil.”

In the mirror Sunday watches you carefully, enchanted by the way you stroke the little brush along your skin and blot out every bad lust bite. Because you can’t call them love bites when they weren’t put there with love and care. Or maybe they were. You’ll never know and you don’t want to.

The gloom dissipates in his gaze once you’ve covered all of them. But then the breath sticks in his throat when you, without warning, lift your dress to check for more. His eyes are drawn to your inner thighs like a hawk is to a mouse, and then he turns away with a rather loud cough. One of his wings folds over his face to shield you from his view.

“Don’t you think you’re being a touch too…thorough?”

“Oh, grow up. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” Finding no marks, bruises, or fingerprints, you drop your dress and exhale noisily.

“You’re acting as if you’re inspecting a crime scene.” Peeking out at you through a veil of feathers, Sunday allows his shoulders to droop. “Are the dramatic theatrics really necessary?”

“Sorry. Did you wanna inspect it for yourself since you’re the criminal who left me like this?!” you exclaim through grit teeth, turning on him with a frigid scowl. 

Sunday meets you halfway with a glare of his own. Gold hues rake over the area where his marks lie in wait beneath a thick coat of makeup. Classified in the most thrilling, disturbing way.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Look, I don’t care what you do to get off. If you wanna fuck your wife and pretend it’s me, you do that. Oh, but then that wouldn’t be very perfect-and-loyal-married-man of you, would it?”

He stays on your crimson lips for a drawn-out breath. “I was right,” he mumbles. “You are the worst.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” Shouldering your purse, you stride past him. “I should get going.”

He hesitates, fingers twitching at his side, but he quickly folds them under his arms. Back to prim and proper, sharp as a needle, full of abhorrence for you.

“Yes, you should. Run along and put this encounter out of your mind, if you would be so kind.”

“I intend to.” You flash him a nasty sneer.

On your way out, though, you stop. Maybe you want to play at being the bigger, better person. Or maybe you genuinely are grateful. Either way, you soften the animosity in your voice enough to get the admission out.

“And…thank you. For looking after me.”

You flee from the room before he can say anything. With daylight brightening the mansion’s maze-like halls and your sobriety, you’re able to recall the path to the front door.

All of this, you think, stepping out into the sunny afternoon, your arms wrapped around yourself in a self-soothing hug, was not worth the hangover.

From the window, Sunday watches you depart until you’re officially gone. Sighing, he allows the curtain to fall into place and glances at the unkempt bed.

“Of course,” he murmurs, smoothing his hand over the wrinkled sheets. “You’re welcome.”

[2-dsimp]

Would Temothy like it if his darling dressed up in one of those sexy cow print undies? Complete with horns and a tail and thigh highs of course x3

『Featuring your Yandere Assistant paying your office a nightly visit』

—————-;——————

Cw: MDNI 🔞Fem!reader, Temothy going feral, mentions of breeding, impregnation, very suggestive

—————-;——————

It all started with you wanting to reward your devoted lover and Assistant. For always giving his all in producing the best results for the company. But it soon ended with you fearing for your capability to walk. Since the Bull hybrid who was trying his hardest to persuade you to let him inside you Your office.

Temothy can hardly stand it any longer - the bull’s desire for his darling boss wearing sexy cow print lingerie. Alongside the signature cow ear headband and cowbell that was dangling from the cute choker around their neck. Sent his head spinning and his balls itching to be emptied out in that sweet womb of yours.

Temothy: “My dear please open the door! I promise I won’t fuck you till my balls are empty—shit! That slipped out. Sorry, what I meant was…”

Your Assistant was trying and failing to convince you to open the door after nearly going feral. In trying to quite literally snatch you up and fuck you senseless on sight. Right then and there on top of your pristine desk. After catching a glimpse of your provocative choice in attire. By chance of walking in on you changing within the safety of your office after closing hours.

Y/n: “Tem I heard that! I’m sorry but I can’t open the door and risk having my office in complete shambles cuz of you”

Temothy nearly growled at your soft rejection as he had the insatiable urge to bully his heavy cock. That was leaking copious amounts of pre within his slacks within your velvety walls. The more you kept him away from your delectable form. The more his shaft was hardening in anticipation and need. To sink his meat deep inside your walls and knock you up with his calves. Despite his best attempts at trying to contain himself by gnawing on his bovine tail. But Your Assistant couldn’t conceal how much he looked like a bull that’s about to go rogue from seeing the color red.

The bull hybrid was quite literally hanging on his last thread of common sense before he crashes out. And turns into a polar opposite of himself that was a savage beast. Who wants nothing more than to satiate his needs than that of his sweet little cowgirl. So by total accident he broke the door off its hinges and glowered down at you with wide eyes. A big hungry expression on his face as he completely lost his mind. With you being the sole one to blame for his loss of composure.

[bunny-jpeg]

kink-o-ween - day fourteen

lando norris - collars/leashes

cw: smut/pwp, collars & leashes, dom/sub, dirty talk/degrading language, rough sex, possessive behavior, missionary sex, protected sex

kink-o-ween: formula one edition - call of duty edition

it was a choker. not a collar.

it was gold in colour and it was supposed to math your outfit for the dinner you and lando were attending. but anytime you caught sight of your boyfriend, you noticed his eyes on your neck.

and when he caught sight of you staring at him, he just smiled at you. he wished he could take a photo of you in the collar (choker). but about halfway through the dinner he decided that he could buy you something better.

something with his name on it.

it was a gift weeks later. you often got gifts from lando, he was that kind of partner. where he handed wrapped presents over to you casually with a smile that could melt glaciers.

but your surprise came when you unwrapped the box delicately and revealed the collar inside. it was black leather with padding on the inside and the charm in the front was his logo.

he turned your face to look at him and smiled, "how does it look?"

you jokingly asked, "are we getting a dog?" and soon lando's hand was on your thigh, pushing up the skirt you were wearing. he beamed at you, the boyish smile with something evil underneath.

"no, sweetheart. it's for you." his tone was sweet as he got closer to you. he saw how you held the collar, like it was the crown jewels. you'd look better with it around your throat.

"why the collar?" you asked as you felt a sexual shudder through your body. your pulse leapt at what was brewing inside of your lover.

his gaze met yours, "oh, for you wear to wear! after all, you're mine, right?" you swallowed and it only excited him more.

his hands hit your panties and pulled at the waistband to make it snap against your hip. there was something about lando norris that pulled you in. even when he bought you a collar.

it wouldn't go on you until you were naked and kneeling on his bed. the padded parts around your throat felt very comfortable, it wasn't tight enough to choke you. but, tight enough to make its presence known for you. you were wearing a symbol of him. the 'l' and the 'n' of his logo gleamed in the bedroom light.

he leaned in to kiss and you said, "you look amazing." before he pulled you into bed with you, "next time i'll get you a leash. so you don't wander too far." his joke only excited him more and you moaned against his jaw.

he got you onto your back and licked his lips. you looked up at him, you looked almost like a puppy. but, that was something for another day. while the sun shined through the trees outside, it was the two of you in his place.

"lando."

"i know. fuck, you look beautiful." he laughed a little as he rubbed his hard cock up against you. you saw that the head was dribbling a bit of precum. he tilted your chin to look up at him, "who's my good girl?"

you nodded and replied, "i am."

he leaned in to kiss you on the apple of your cheek before he let go of your chin to grab a condom from the nightstand. you were both careful that way. he laid up against you with his knees a little bent. he was chest to chest with you.

he admired your beauty below him as he got your legs around his waist. he exhaled deeply before he said, "you are beautiful. so beautiful. look pretty with my claim around your throat." he rubbed himself up against you and you moaned a little louder.

"please, lando."

"you can't stop me. i'm only saying what i'm seeing." his cock was painfully hard and it made you excited all over. his got his cock into you and you tense up for a moment.

then you relaxed and held onto his shoulders. he planted hands on either side of your waist and moved against you. your hips angled at a way to hit the perfect spot. you whined a little bit and held onto his shoulders as he bullied his cock against you.

lando wanted your collared, leashed, gagged, bound, anything he could get you in. he loved being the man on top, the one who pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you. that made you see stars with the intensity of his movements.

you deserved only the best and that was what lando was. the best of the best.

he kissed at your jaw and raised a hand to your neck, where he placed his large palm over your throat. he groaned a little bit at the feeling of you. he couldn't feel your pulse through the padding, but he knew that your heart was racing at that moment.

"next time i just might use my hand as a collar. you look really pretty like this." he applied a little pressure, not enough to choke you. but enough that it made your cunt clench around him.

he licked his lips at the sight of you as he thrusted harder into you. he could feel the sweetest parts of you. how amazing you felt under his grasp. he was a greedy lover. possessive in certain ways. he always wanted to find ways to stake his claim on you. to make sure that you'd only want him.

the idea of him using his hand like a collar made your stomach flip, especially when you felt your brain get swarmed with the heat of lust. you could feel your heartbeat in your stomach as he continued to thrust against you. his pace was brutal and felt like he was pushing all your organs up.

you held onto him tightly, you even went as far as to leave a nice purple hickey on his neck. which only enticed him more, if he was going to mark you with a pretty collar. then you were going to mark him with a pretty hickey.

not that lando cared too much about the press' view of it come the next race. he'd wear it with pride, the knowledge that he was getting what those reporters were lacking. good pussy.

his thrusts were brutal and you held on for dear life. you moaned a little louder as the heat trailed through your body. you felt electric, you felt alive. you core throbbed with need for your handsome boyfriend. only lando could convince you to wear a collar like a dog.

maybe he could even convince you to bark if he really tried.

"you feel real good, sweetheart." he purred as he admired you with every hard thrust. he could see the shift in your breasts with every hard thrust of his hips.

"mmm, lando." you tilted your head a little farther back and he eyed the gleam of the charm. you were properly owned by him and that made his heart race.

he held onto the bed under as he really worked himself against you. you were painfully pretty with a collar on. he wanted you to wear his logo at all times. and if that didn't work then maybe some hickies on your skin.

his pace began to become less steady as he worked your cunt. feeling it grip around his cock and make him see stars. you felt like a dream against him as he moved. your arms were soon wrapped around his neck and the two of you were deeply kissing.

"so beautiful and all mine." he praised. it made something curl in his gut as he held onto the covers tightly. you two were chest to chest and your kisses lingers across his cheeks.

your back arched a little bit as you felt the thrill of pleasure through you. your toes curled a little as you tensed up and eventually climaxed around his cock. you held him close and added another bite to his neck. it made him groan, he liked that.

"you are an angel." he groaned, his pace only quickened and fucked you with such force that it made your body feel overstimulated. you gasped loudly as he bullied his cock up against you.

"please, lando." you whined as you arched your back a little more. but you were trapped under him as he fucked you with a high intensity. with a few more heavy thrusts of his hips, he finished in the condom.

he tensed up then relaxed as he felt the flood of emotions in his brain. he panted heavily as he clutched onto the bed tightly. he kissed you on the lips as he slowed his pace down to a stop.

"fuck." you exhaled when he broke the kiss.

lando stopped and then dropped on the bed beside you. he looked at you as you turned to face him. his fingers trailed across the collar and he licked his lips. you looked divined, sexually blissed out and collared.

"how does another round sound?" he asked with a hint of a smile.

you held his face, "you're insatiable, lando."

"of course, sweetheart. only for you." he said as his hands dragged across your heated skin. he needed you in every way he could have you. and with the sun still in the sky, there was more than enough time to enjoy his girlfriend.

-

while the collar couldn't have been worn while you were out and about. but lando thought of that when he bought the collar. so while you were out of your shared home, you had a choker (not collar) with a little charm of his logo on it.

a reminder always, that you were his. and his only. <3

[buzz-in-your-veins]

Oops, did i do that?

Accidentally sending a spicy pic to your crush.

The reader is more fem dressed and has a vagina in this- if you want a part b where they don’t have outfits just let me know!

CW: Gender Neutral reader with a vagina and fem-like fashion, reader wears bras, no mention of having boobs.

Vox

Vox hadn’t known you for very long, you were one of the newer demons working for him. You’d applied for the job a few months ago.

In that time he’d seen you about four times, but he was honestly thinking of promoting you, you were amazing at your job, good with both the data and the customers, the only thing it seemed you couldn’t do, was look at your contacts.

You weren’t working tomorrow, so you’d gone out with your friends, you’d purposefully gone to one of the only clubs in the pride ring that wasn’t owned by a member of the V’s, in an effort not to run into your new boss.

You’d gone all out tonight, spurred on by your friends, see, you had a minor crush on the TV demon, not that you’d ever entertain it. However, your friends had picked your outfit tonight, and you ended up in a gorgeous (if a bit slutty) royal blue dress, sleeveless and short, with a glittery tulle overlay, and some beautiful electric red heels.

You were messing on with your friends in the bathroom, taking photos and just genuinely having fun, already beyond tipsy now. You were sending a photo of you and another friend in the mirror to your group chat, your friend had taken the time you were fixing your hair to add Vox onto the ‘send to’ people, you never noticed.

You also didn’t notice your phone go off when Vox opened it.

If only that was the worst part.

You finished the night absolutely trashed, your friends working together to walk one another home, most living near one another. You, of course, were the odd on out, and the odd number.

You assured your friends it was fine, you lived in VVV tower for Lucifers sake, you’d be fine! Your friends wouldn’t hear it.

One of your friends, less drunk, had messaged one of Velvettes models, whom she used to work with and asked for them to walk you back.

You got back safe and sound, still not having realised you’d sent Vox the bathroom photo, or seeing the demon’s expression as Velvettes model walked you in.

You weren’t quite tired enough to sleep when you were dropped back in your room, so you messed on on your phone for a bit, before undressing. You hadn’t got to taking your make up off or undoing your hair, you’d gotten your dress off, and just.. stopped.

You were in an ethereal lingerie set, clearly made with Vox in mind.

Pretty blue panties hugged your hips, red electric bolts providing straps, the lace comfortable against your pussy, your chest coved with a light blue bralette, lace spilling against your skin, and the most beautiful glitch effect chain snug around your belly.

You matched this with a black thin choker with a hanging blue electric bolt, and posed against your bed, taking a few photos, changing poses and taking more.

Your favourite was one where you were laid flat, the photo taken from above, you could see your entire body, including the heels you still hadn’t taken off, and you were stairing straight at the camera with your painted lips parted.

Satisfied you went to save your photo.

Never noticing you’d sent the same photo to your boss.

Afterall, you hadn’t know to take him off your list.

You were cuddled up asleep, still in the underwear, when Vox opened your photo.

You never noticed the power surge then go out, nor did you notice Vox’s name pop up on your phone.

Angel Dust

Angel had seen you around the hotel more than usual, Charlie said you’d recently quit your job to work for someone else, and it gave you more free time and flexibility.

Angel was happy for you, your boss had been a real price of work.

Still riding the high off getting a better job, you’d invited your friends out clubbing, having received a handsome final salary.

You had chosen to go to Hyper-Tech, one of Vox’s clubs, and one of the best. They had some off the greatest drinks, and, unbeknownst to you, that night they also had Angel Dust dancing.

You friends teased you relentlessly about your crush on the porn star already, and they played this off as purposeful on your part, even though you’d had no idea.

You had started the night feeling confident and pretty in your oulfit, but seeing the spider you felt a flash of self consciousness, after all, your outfit was styled on the spiders own colour theme, an off the shoulder soft pink velvet crop-top, above-knee white loose pleated skirt, and pastel pink heels with a hot pink belt and nail polish.

You friends quickly took care of that, telling you how wonderful you looked, that anyone would be lucky to see you.

And getting you drunk definitely helped, the endless stream of cocktails bought with your money, and eventually dipping into your friends supplies brought on a happy buzz.

They also greatly diminished your ability to think critically.

You never saw how Angel Dust watched you the entire time you were in the club, as you progressively got drunker, to the point Angel was shocked you could still stand, never mind walk.

Your friends however, saw how the renowned demon was watching you with concern and admiration.

They quickly concocted a plan without your input.

Angels set finished around 2 in the morning, he waited in his dressing room for you to leave.

You had planed to walk home with your friends before splitting off to the hotel, but one of your friends changed the plan, stating there was no need for you to walk them home, after all, didn’t you like live in the complete opposite direction? Another friend had ‘needed the bathroom’ and had walked right by Angels door, talking about how you were leaving with the third friend.

As you were arguing about the principle of walking your friends home, Angel Dust came out of club, and said he didn’t mind walking you home, you lived together anyway.

Your friends quickly agreed and left, not allowing you to argue.

The whole walk back you were showered with compliments about your outfit, your dancing, your hair, your ability to drink, everything.

Angel walked you all the way to your room before leaving you.

You started to undress, but decided you wanted a photo for this occasion.

In your underwear, a pretty pale pink push-up bra, and a silky white thong, still in the hot pink heels, you took a photo in the mirror, sat on your knees staring in the mirror.

For some reason, you decided to send that to yourself instead of just saving to camera roll.

Only, you never send it to yourself. After the walk home, Angel had messaged you to sleep well, meaning he was your top contact.

Never thinking to check, you simply threw on a pale pink baby doll, took your heels and make up off, and went to bed.

Alastor

Alastor showing up to help at the hotel had never been in your plan.

The radio demon was always an unobtainable shadow, someone you could safely crush on from your own mind, because he would never be in your reach.

Except..

Now he was.

Now not to be foolish, you had figured from his interactions and reactions that Alastor was most likely somewhere on the Ace or Aro spectrum, and you would never push anything onto him.

But you could never even get close enough to talk to him, never mind ask about the possibility of him being on the spectrum.

So you hid. Everytime Alastor was around, you weren’t.

Alastor was cooking? You weren’t hungry. Al was helping with the daily running? You had work. Alastor was in the library? You didn’t want to read anyways.

Alastor always noticed your absence.

Instead you poured over everything and anything about the radio demon.

When he appeared, what he did, where he could have been in the seven years, his rise to power, his ability’s, his domain, everything.

Your crush on the radio demon was a foolish one, but that didn’t stop you from having it.

From dreaming of picnics and ice cream dates, of long walks down the streets of hell, to him taking you apart with his words alone, voice wrapping around you.

And when he stopped those muggers?

You went weak.

So, yea, your crush was unobtainable, in the highest scene.

You could still dress up though.

And you did, frequently.

In pantsuits of dark crimson, to the bloody scarlet ball gown, for the party.

Alastors eyes never left you that night.

Mostly, it was under your clothes.

Pretty crimson baby dolls. Black lacy thongs. Scarlett bralettes. Everything. Your camera roll was full of photos of yourself in the underwear, posing this way and that, full of imagination and hopes you would never act on.

Oh how you’d positively die if anyone saw.

That didn’t stop you.

Right now you were dressed in a darling crimson corset, embroidered with darker lace, tied tight, paired with dark scarlet panties, pussy damp against the lace as you lost yourself slightly in a fantasy, black heels and a black necklace, you had posed side on to the camera, staring straight ahead, knees folded underneath you and head tilted slightly up, arms held behind your back.

You heard your shutter go off and stood, getting dressed in a black lace camisole, taking of the corset and heels before heading to bed.

Picking your phone up on the way, you saved the photo to your folder.

Surely, you should have expected naming your folder ‘Alastor<3’ to backfire, but..

Maybe this was a Freudian slip?

It’s not like you even noticed you’d sent it, and you were asleep by the time your phone when off.

Lucifer

You’d seen the King of Hell maybe twice, once in passing, and once when he came to the hotel.

It was more than enough for you to crush on the child-like King, falling in love with his attitude and personality, drawn further in by his looks and kindness.

By the time the charity ball came around, you were completely lost for him.

Lucifer showed up in a white suit, not too different from his normal attire, only more fancy, more Kingly, so to speak.

You had taken Angels advice and dressed to impress.

Angel Dust was the only one who knew about the feelings you had for the fallen angel, and he took every opportunity to tease you for it, but he was also your biggest supporter.

You and Angel had knows each other almost as long as you’d been in hell, so his help was soothing for you, and you smiled as the spider laced up the golden gown you’d picked.

It was a golden off-the-shoulder ball gown, with a soft cover of glittery tulle over the top, the skirt flaring out, reaching the floor, covered in rose embroidered embellishments, and paired with bloody red heels, and a glittering clutch.

Charlie had told you all to go all out, and you and Angel did not disappoint.

The two of you descended together, and you caught site of the King before quickly moving your eyes, your blush almost matching your clutch.

Charlie swanned around you, telling you how amazing you looked, and look at your hair!

Angel got you a flute of champagne before leaving you to find Husk.

Traitors.

You walked around the party, dancing with people here and there, doing your best to avoid looking at the King.

You never saw that his eyes never left your form, or how he glared at everyone who touched you.

The king had tried more than once to get close to you, if not to dance with you, to at least tell you how amazing you looked, but you always seemed to move at just the right time.

Charlie had been snapping photos of you the whole night, sending them to her dad, even she saw the two of you pining for one another.

Your flute was never empty, and unfortunately for you, Angel could always recognise when you were about to bolt, and he and Husk would step in to talk to you and prevent it.

Did you mention traitors?

By the time you were finally able to leave, you were definitely tipsy, clutching Angels arm as the two of you ascended the stairs, congratulating yourself on managing to avoid the King.

Angel saw the way Lucifer was watching you, but you didn’t.

By the time you were in your room and Angel had left after unlacimg your dress, ‘we went all blessed with long arms, A——y!’, you wanted a special photo.

So you got ready.

You kept your heels on and striped to your underwear, a strapless golden bra with a red bow in the center, trimmed in lace, and panties to match, also trimmed in lace. You kept the sparkly fishnets on too, and your makeup on, before finiding a pose you liked.

Finally settling on a pose wherein you were laid on your back, your knees up and tilted slightly to the side, one hand on your breast, the other just above your head, and your face tilted towards your phone, positioned slightly higher than you, and just above your head.

You smiled at the photo, and went to save it.

You never looked.

Lucifer had got your number of Charlie to tell you how nice you’d looked. Your response?

A photo.

You were asleep by the time Lucifers own response came in.

Husk

Husk hadn’t taken much notice of you at first, only that you seemed to come and go with Angel, Husk later learned you were Angels shadow so to speak, Valentino payed you prettily just to follow and protect the star.

Husk noticed you more as you came out more without Angel, not being needed as often when you were in the hotel.

You and the barcat had had some quite good conversations, and some even better discussions.

You knew your way around cards that was for sure, and the cat loved talking with you about card tricks.

Sure no one could match him in card tricks, but hearing you talk about them? Something just felt different.

Husk worried about you and Angel a lot, especially when you both came back late, Angel looking trashed, and you looking slightly high on those nights. It took Husk months to realise Valentino was drugging you both, more so Angel. On those nights, Husk would stay up late to make sure you and Angel ate and drank before going to bed.

Husk never brought it up, and Angel didn’t remember, so you never spoke about it. If the cat didn’t want to bring it up why should you?

Husk did notice his favourite snack appearing on the bar in the mornings however.

Your crush on the cat had started before you even began talking to him, but those conversations, the way he treated you, how he never made you seem unimportant, the way he looked after you and Angel after Val had been upset?

You were gone.

And the cat was your new home.

Not that you’d ever tell him of course, you would never risk ruining such a wonderful friendship like that.

Of course, there were also nights like these. When Val needed Angel for publicity, those were the best. You both got to dress up and basically just party, no forced drugs or alcohol, just fun.

You’d dressed in an orange one-shoulder skin-tight slip dress, with a split up-to your thigh, paired with glittery purple heels, a clutch and jewellery, with black card themed earrings.

Husk had seen you just before you got into Vox’s limo and dropped his bottle of cheap alcohol, sending Niffty into a cleaning/laughing fit.

You and Angel didn’t get back until 1 in the morning, both of you slightly buzzed, but pretty much sober, not having been forced to fed any drugs and having eaten at the gala.

Husk had tried to stay up.

You feel deeper when you realised the barcat was asleep at his post because he was waiting for you. Sending Angel to bed, you walked over to the barcat and gently shook him awake, telling him he could go to bed.

From here Husk noticed the earrings, and flushed, jolting backwards and falling.

You giggled a little before apologising for startling him, which he waved off.

He headed to bed and you got back to your room. Taking your dress off you caught sight of your self in the mirror.

Pretty orange panties with a tiny club embroidered in at the side, deep orange plunge bra with a spade on the left cup, purple bracelet, necklace, and shoes, pretty orange make-up, and a heart and diamond earring set.

You needed a photo.

Fussing around a bit you finally settled on a pose with you laying slightly over the end of the bed, head and chest tilted down, knees pulled up to the side, camera angled too capture everything, arms by your head, and full body on display.

You changed into some sleep clothes after the photos, and in your sleepy state sent them to Husk, instead of simply saving them.

You didn’t wake up until well after Husk responded.

Lute.

Lute had noticed you as soon as you’d joined Adam’s ranks.

Of course she had.

You were the prettiest exterminator Lute had had the pleasure of seeing.

She pestered Adam until he agreed Lute could have her own assistant.

That of course, was you.

Lute loved having you work with her.

Yes all your conversations were about work, and you treat her like your boss, not a colleague, but it wa a better than when you weren’t talking at all.

You were still reeling from the change in position so fast, and now having to deal with the angel you were crushing on at all hours of the day?

Your poor heart couldn’t deal.

You were a blushing mess under your mask every time Lute spoke to you, praising yourself every time you got through an answer without stumbling or stuttering on the words.

Your friends were relentless with the teasing, going as far as to create hand signals to tease you even on the training fields.

Regardless you excelled.

You had to be the best.

And so you were.

Lute often asks what fuels you, and you always stumbled through a bullshit answer, never remembering what you’d said before.

You never gave her the same answer.

You couldn’t exactly tell your now boss the reason you did so well was so she would notice you, could you?

Shadowing Lute meant shadowing Adam. He usually left you alone for the most part though.

It meant going to fancy angel party’s. With out your mask.

You forced your friends to help you get ready.

Gorgeous black knee length dress, clinched at the waist, with silvery heels, a silver necklace, a silver clutch, and purple earrings, your hair done all nice and make up to compliment the outfit.

Your friends told you you looked stunning, and when Lute saw you, she had to agree.

You spent the entire party following Lute around, you didn’t know any of the people here and you were anxious.

Lute kept your champagne topped up, eventually switching you to something a little harder when it became clear you wouldn’t settle on the sparkling liquid alone, not used to the alcohol you got drunk fast.

Adam allowed Lute to leave early, so she could take you home.

Lute got you in safely and even placed an aspirin and water on your bedside table, before leaving you, messaging your phone to let you know what’s happened.

Meanwhile, you’d striped down to a gray lacy bralette, with matching high waisted panties, pretty silver heels, make-up still on and earrings still in.

You wanted a photo.

You set your phone up, and posed, on you knees on your bed, heels just visible, leaned back slightly, one hand behind your bed in a stretch and one on the bed, eyes looking just beyond the camaraderie.

Happy with the results, you went to save the picture, instead, sending it to Lute, who opened it as soon as she got home.

Bye the time Lute replied, you were curled up ontop of your covers, heels still on, sleeping deeply.

Feedback is always appreciated <3

If you want more people added feel free to ask and I’ll do a part two!

Comments are my high.

They make me write faster.

~Vyrus

[sinofwriting]

Bow - Max Verstappen

Words: 463 Word Prompt: Bow Note(s): @faithshouseofchaos showed me an (edited) picture of Max with a bow on his bicep and I couldn’t help myself.

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“Maxie!”

He pauses the match, head tilting back, lips widening into a smile as his eyes light up.

“What’s up?”

She’s smiling as she walks over to the couch, to him, and his eyes track her movements, head swiveling as she moves from behind the couch to being in front of it. His legs instinctively moving to make room for her in between them.

She steps in between them and as he looks up at her, eyes roaming over her body before landing on her face, he notices her hands behind her back.

“What do you have?” Max asks.

Her smile widens and his heartbeat quickens. Her hands slowly move from behind her back and his eyebrow quirks up as he notices a pink ribbon resting in her palms.

“A ribbon?” She nods and he reaches for her, grabbing her forearms gently and pulling until she’s straddling his lap. “What do you want me to do with the ribbon?”

He could see her maybe wanting it tied around her waist, though it looks a bit short. It would fit around her neck like one of those ribbon chokers he’d seen before and that idea is quite appealing. She could want it laced around one of her wrists, he supposes and at the thought he can’t help but raise her dominant hand and pressing a kiss on its wrist.

“I was wondering,” She pauses and he nods, giving her waist a squeeze of encouragement. “If I could tie it around your bicep.” And with the final word, her pointer finger reaches out to touch his left one, the muscle flexing in response.

He blinks for a second but nods, shifting her a bit backwards. “Okay. Go ahead.”

Her eyes brighten and she’s pressing her lips to his, but before he can return it, she’s pressing kisses all over his face and he can’t help but laugh, delighting in her excitement. She presses one more to his lips, allowing him to kiss her back before she’s focusing on the ribbon in her hands.

He watches her eyes narrow, lips pursing as she focuses. Her fingers against his skin, the muscle again flexing at the touch and he’s unable to not smirk at the small giggle she gives. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip as she wraps it around his bicep, completely focused and when she finally ties it, making a beautiful bow with the extra ribbon, she beams, hands coming up to cover her face briefly before he catches them.

Giggles spill across his lips as he kisses her and Max just knows that if something as simple as pink ribbon around his bicep makes her this happy, he’ll forever wear it, only letting it come off just so she can tie it again.