#rolex sir

[7ok74]

#Kaithi #Vikram #Dilli #Rolex Sir

[99dex]

Rolex Sir 🔥🔥🔥

#rolex #rolex sir #vikram #surya #motivation

[horrorartsworld]

I can’t help but think of this cute little sinner,coming into Valentino’s office asking if he knew where velvette was,because this poor girl had a meeting with her,being told to sit with him while he manages to fuck her brains out only a couple minutes later

-🎀

pretty visitor

valentino/shy sinner f!reader

warnings: smut, p in v, bit of proofread, a bit of manipulation, innocence kink??, corruption kink????, dumbification??????

Valentino rubs his temples while seated at his desk, frustrated with the film that was playing in front of him.

A video from his most recent porno was pulled up at full volume on his computer, loud moans and the continuous sound of skin to skin slapping echoed off the walls of his office as he watched out of pure anger seeing that the main star in his video wasn’t giving it their all like they should’ve been. “That fucking bitch! *squeak* wait till I find them *squeak* *squeak* *squeak* they knew what they were fucking doing..trying to cross me..” Valentino grumbled furiously to himself, not noticing the sweet figure that had wandered into his office, a soft pink glow decorated her cheeks hearing the audio from his computer making it somewhat hard to interrupt him.

“Um…e-excuse me sir?” You delicately spoke, hands fiddling in front of you seeing as he didn’t hear you it made you nibble at your lip nervously, knowingly you had to speak a little louder to be heard over the audio.

“Excuse me!” You manage to muster out a louder voice than your usual one seeing that it finally got Val’s attention.

His red eyes flickering up to you in your now bashful state, taking in your flushed cheeks and fidgeting hands. Shutting his computer completely to get a good look at you, finally canceling out the once obnoxiously loud sex noises and leaving the two of you in complete silence for a mere moment.

“You’re excused carñio..now what’re here for?” He teases, finally breaking the uneasy quietness, not helping the chuckle that slipped past him seeing you get so embarrassed by just him even mentioning your presence which seemed to help remind you why you were here in his office in the first place.

“I’m sorry sir I—”

“No need for formalities doll, just Val is fine..but go on,” He cuts you off mid sentence making you feel like you swallowed your tongue as you see him send you a toothy smile, singular gold tooth practically blinding you in the process, placing his chin in his hands when you went to attempt at speaking once more.

“Oh um…okay..” You seem to try and gather your thoughts back once he interrupted you, his sensual charm definitely getting the better of you in the moment especially with the way his eyes were eating you up with no shame. Shifting on your feet you look away finally finding your words once more, “i-i’m here for a meeting..with um Velvette but it seems that she’s not here??..do you know where she may be?”

Valentino takes a look at the rolex on his wrist and clicks his tongue, the noise prickling your senses with curiosity as your shy gaze gets the confidence to look at him again.

“Seems like you just missed her doll..she ran out a little bit ago to go look at some fabric that got shipped over...” He states, causing you to frown with the feeling that you just missed out on your once in a lifetime opportunity.

Being offered a job from the Velvette herself who was hard headed and bratty as it is was quite a big deal for you. Especially with her taking such a liking into your clothing designs that you’ve done for the past few years and wanting to use them for some of the shoots had you over the moon and beyond. You were up and out of your little crummy apartment to get there to the Vee’s headquarters and miss her just by mere seconds.

“O-oh i’ll just be leaving then…” You sniffle, turning on your heel to exit his office as you felt hopeless,

“Wait just one moment carñio…” His voice stops you in your tracks, “Why don’t you sit with me for a bit and we’ll wait for her hmmm..?”

It would only be for a little while right?

You thought for a moment of the likelihood of sitting with none other than Valentino the Overlord of Lust and how maybe talking to him about your work could look good on your end if he were to ever talk to Velvette about you.

Quickly wiping away the tears that threatened to fall down your face you take a deep breath and use all your confidence to turn back and sit amongst Val ready to spill your guts about your fashion career.

To only be spilling your cum on his cock instead only minutes later.

Everything happening so fast that you didn’t realize you were caught up in his web of words that were so devastatingly enticing, having found yourself whining pitifully for more because of it.

“Aww my little fuck toy wants more huh..?” He husks out the question as if you could even answer.

Your mind was already so dumb off his cock that when his hips started snapping against your own again all you could do was moan and babble. The overstimulation being far too much for you even though you were the one to request for more, trying to squirm away from him only for a pair of his hands to hold your waist firmly in place as he really pushed out his thrusts at a steady pace, practically recreating the audio you heard earlier from his computer with the noises the two of you were making.

“Don’t run away from me now...not when i’m making you feel this good...”

Suddenly a loud banging knock startles the both of you, causing you both to look at the door as a furious voice was heard behind it.

“VALENTINO!! YOU BETTER NOT BE FUCKING ONE OF MY EMPLOYEES AGAIN!!”

Velvette was finally back and it almost sounded like this wasn’t the first time Val has ever messed with her side of things, let alone her employees. You wanted to scrunch your face at him but the spot he was currently hitting felt so good it made you want to scream, which he quickly shielded with a hand over your mouth as you practically cried into it.

“Shut up if you still want this job..”

Nodding frantically, trying your best to keep silent with tears brimming at your eyes for a second time, but from both the pleasure and fear of being caught.

“What the hell do you want Vel! Kinda busy!!” He shouts back, your thighs trembling while your shaky breaths brush against his hand, his thrusts never letting up as he seemed to go harder. Your hands finding purchase on his back to scrape tracks along his skin, dark purple streaks left in their wake, attempting to distract yourself from the obvious bullying that his cock was doing to your cunt.

“Did my 3 o’clock come in yet?” You can hear her huff behind the door, long nails clicking away at her phone.

Valentino looks at his rolex once more seeing that it was three o’clock on the dot making you silently panic.

“Yeah i think that pretty little thing is around here somewhere..” He smirks down at you seeing you now clinging to him so tight, getting closer to your second orgasm. “I’ll have to send her your way when i see fuck- her..”

There’s a long pause from Velvette before she speaks again, “You better…i don’t need you making all my employees a bunch of whores.” She snaps finally hearing her leave down the hallway.

Your eyes widening when Valentino takes this opportunity to go unspeakably fast finally making you cum, your body spasming as the overwhelming feeling of ecstasy coursed through your veins. Val cumming shortly after with a few more lazy thrusts till he pulls out of you.

“That’s right, you’re gonna be my whore from now on..” He purrs with a soft kiss on your forehead.

He then quickly helps you back into your clothes, smacking your ass as he watches you go to exit.

“Be a good girl frme and get that job yeah? I wanna do this more often..”

#☆⋆｡𖦹 my writings #☆⋆｡𖦹anon’s #☆⋆｡𖦹 valentino #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin #hazbinhotel #hazbin valentino smut #hazbin valentino x reader #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino x reader #valentino smut #valentino

[szasfuckingwife]

SOUNDGASM

RICHBOY!EREN YEAGER x RICHGIRL!READER

WARNINGS: SMUT, Eren calls reader a slut and whore, swearing, Eren is a secret fuck boy, reader has she/her pronouns, no mention of reader’s appearance other than what she’s wearing

SYNOPSIS: Y/N is new to Marley, just moving a few months prior. Her parents are rich doctors and she wants to be a professional golfer. At the country club, Grisha Yeager introduces his son, Eren Yeager to her. As she teach him how to improve his golfing, Eren teaches her one or two new things..

A/N: it’s finally summer time, and this summer me and my friends are going golfing🤭 i hope i find my eren + soundgasm is such a summer song, reminds me of 2016 drake for some reason

It’s 1:25pm at the country club. The sun is shining, the grass was greener than the pockets of the people there. And, above all, a pretty brunette and a pretty blonde are in that field playing a good game of golf.

Eren has his club in hand, his eyes are on the ball. Noticing that he won’t get a good swing from that distance, he scoots himself back a few steps until he finally feels comfortable. His veiny hands latch onto the club a little tighter as he takes a deep breath.

“Are you gonna hit the ball or…?” Armin is tired of waiting. He’s been waiting for his best friend ever since kindergarten. Eren had to stay behind a grade? Armin was waiting. Eren had detention? Armin was waiting.

But waiting for his best friend to hit a stupid ball was so damn infuriating.

Suddenly, Eren’s club went sky high before he hit the ball, sending the white sphere flying over the sky. The green eyed boy whistled in satisfaction; he was getting better each day.

Eren turned to his friend with a smug look on his face, “See! You want perfection? Be patient.”

Armin rolled his eyes before the two heard the familiar voice of Grisha Yeager, Eren’s father and the CFO of a tech company.

“Boys! Get in, drinks are out!” He yelled, waving his hand to grab their attention but all they could see was the bling of his Rolex. “Oh, and son? Getting better!”

Eren smiled, flashing his pearly whites.

“Not better than me though.”

This was your first time at this country club since your parents moved states. Not only was it awkward as most of the girls your age played tennis instead of golf, but all the guys who played golf were…facially challenged.

“Sweetheart, smile.” Your mother spoke through gritted teeth. She had noticed your unusual (but expected) awkwardness even when you were driving to the club.

You looked at her before sighing deeply, “Everyone here is just…weird.”

“The girls play tennis. You know how to play, why don’t you join them?”

Oh yeah, join the girls that laughed when they saw my personalised club!

If anything, you wished your mother would stop trying to get you to have fun so much, because all it did was remind you how much fun you were missing out on back home. It was heartbreaking to say bye to genuine friends and say hello to well…the plastics.

“Y/N!”, You heard your father’s voice and instantly turned around to spot him. He waved you over, looking eager and excited.

“Why is he so happy? I’m scared..” You mutter at your mother. She laughs and pushed you to his direction.

You try not to draw as much attention to yourself as you walk despite your very loud father yelling your name. Upon arrival, you see Mr Yeager, your fathers new friend.

He’s also the man that prompted the idea to move states.

Your father enthusiastically put his arm over your shoulder, “This is my daughter, Y/N.”

You stick your hand out to shake Mr Yeager’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you sir.”

“Nice to meet you too. Your father tells me that you’re applying to U of M. What’s got you so interested in Marley?”

If you wanted to be frank, and boastful, you’d tell him that you didn’t apply but rather you got a scholarship. Whether it was nepotism because it was your dads alma matter or if it was your big brain and athleticism, it was the best offer you’ve gotten.

“I heard they do good Neurology courses. I wanted to go to university and well, to put it short, make sure I have a plan B.”, You reply, smiling sweetly at both your father and Mr Yeager.

Grisha nods in acknowledgment, giving you back the same smile, “What’s your plan A then?”

“Professional golf, of course.”

It sounds boring, but golf was one of those hobbies that just never went away. You remember when you were 9, going with your father to the golf course just to see what it was like. When your dad taught you how to hit the ball, you loved it.

As you grew older, hitting the golf ball became your outlet. Like that one time you imagined that it was your teachers head instead of the ball after she gave you a C in a test.

Where others prefer an ice rink or a race track, you prefer your club and the nice smell of freshly cut grass.

“Y/N reminds me of Jordan in ‘88 but instead of a basketball court, it’s a golf course.”, embarrassment filled your body as your dad bragged about you. All you could do was laugh at his strange comparison.

“Ah, my boy does some golf in his spare time. He’s not trying to go pro, I hope, but, he could definitely use some lessons from you if you’re that good. In fact…” He looks around, squinting his eyes. “Eren!”

Right then and there, you pray with every bone in your body that this ‘Eren’ wasn’t those boys you saw earlier. God knows what you’d do to avoid teaching them a single thing.

What came, however, was a surprise. And the surprise came in the form of a boy. Not too old, maybe nineteen. He wore navy shorts and an emerald green ralph lauren vest over a plain white tee.

His hair was gelled in a small bun in the back of head. You don’t mind though, since it gave you a better view of his chiselled jawline. You’re sure it could cut your mothers diamonds at home. His eyes were green. No brighter than the grass outside, no deeper than the vest he was dressed in but some odd mixture.

He’s hot, you thought.

Grisha out a firm hand on his sons shoulder as he introduced you and your father to him, “This is my second son, Eren. You’ve already met Zeke by the tennis court.”

As your father gets into another conversation about Zeke Yeager, all you can do is stare at the curve of his younger brother’s muscles. You wish that he lifted the sleeve of his t shirt ever so slightly-

“What’s your name?”

You looked at Eren, and he looked at you.

His smile was just so…genuine!

“I’m Y/N.” You smiled sweetly back at him.

After your fathers urged you to go outside, you find yourself next to Eren on the kart. He’s driving, riding across the beautiful field.

The sky is honey coloured, the sun slowly descends giving the lake a beautiful shimmer. You’d look at that view, but there’s already a good view next to you.

Eren finally stops the kart before exiting. The both of you get your equipment from the back of the kart and begin to play.

“So…uhh how do you like it here in Marley?” Eren says, grunting after he hits the ball. You stand there, semi criticising his swing, semi fawning over him. “It’s definitely different from Trost.”

You sigh, “Yeah, the air is a little different. And not too many people play golf here.”

Eren looks at you, chuckling whilst shaking his head a little, “Aren’t you glad you met me then?”

You have no idea how glad I am.

You stay silent, instead choosing to smile and getting ready to hit the ball. Eren whistles when he sees the height of your swing. “Where’d you learn how to hit like that?”

After a couple more swings (and misses from Eren), you guys sit in the kart.

“So, where are you applying for university?”, you ask looking up at him. He scoffs, taking a sip of his water.

“No clue. All these offers and all I really want to do is go to Malta ‘n relax.” You notice how careless his face is when he speaks. He must not care that much about his future.

I mean, his parents are rich enough that both him and his brother can live off them for as long as they want to.

You look down, not in embarrassment, but in awkwardness. It’s strange seeing parents not urge their kids to go to university like your parents and Trost parents do.

“What’s your plans?”

You explain how you want to become a pro at golf. Eren listens attentively but, he get’s distracted when the breeze washes over the both of you.

The hem of your sport skirts lift up ever so slightly and Eren’s heart begins to race. For the next few conversations, he can’t stay focused. I mean, he’s just seen the curve of your ass, who could?

As the conversations die down, you and Eren go back to playing golf. It’s Eren’s turn and if he’s lucky, he can get a hole in one. He does what he did earlier: pull his hips back slightly, legs apart, breathe and…

Eren swung and you swore you saw the ball fly into the stratosphere.

“Yeager, I didn’t know you were the athlete.” You chuckle, shocked that he was actually really good.

He shrugs, “I don’t try. I feel like it just comes naturally..”

You roll your eyes as you walk over to him, pointing the end of your personalised club at him, “Teach me?”

Eren licks his lips, trying to find the words to speak but, the look that you’re giving him makes him feel butterflies. “Yeah…come ‘ere..”

You begin with your starting position, y’know the position that has won you regional competitions and a 2nd place in national.

However, you hear Eren scoff. “Don’t know how you’ve been able to pull of holes in one with that position..”

Suddenly, you feel his breath on your neck as he moves your hand up slightly to your upper chest, brushing agains your boobs.

“I don’t want this to be awkward but can you move your hips back ever so slightly..?” Eren chuckles in embarrassment. You do as he says and move your hips back until you feel his crotch against you. “Now, practice your swing without the club…”

Eren was filled with glee as he felt your ass rub up against him while you practiced your swing. “Is this alright?”

“It’s perfect…So fuckin good..”

Your brows furrow and then you finally feel it. His hard cock almost bursting out of his shorts. You didn’t stop your movements, seeing the fun in making him more distracted. He was absolutely mesmerised seeing your ass go back ‘n forth on his crotch.

Suddenly, you stop, sighing with your lips tilted up into a smirk, “I feel like I’m ready now! Thanks for the hel-”

As soon as you tried to walk away, Eren pulled you back against him. You swore you heard his heart beating a thousand times per second, and his cock was still rock hard.

“I can show you a couple more tips.” He whispered in your ear, “Just gotta listen for me, yeah?”

You nod before Eren throws your club onto the ground and pulls you into the kart.

As soon as you both sneak into the lavish looking bathroom, his lips are on yours. Hungrily making out with you, not giving you a chance to breathe. He gingerly moves you against the wall, giving you more breathless kisses.

He feverishly pulls up your lilac polo top, exposing your stomach and sports bra. Nothing comes to mind as he starts to plant wet kisses along your collarbone.

You try to fondle with his dick through his shorts but Eren wouldn’t let you, deciding he wants to make you feel good before he does.

He sits you on the white, pristine counter, pulling off your shorts in the process. “Fuck, you’re so hot…”, he says in a shushed tone. You can’t help but moan when you feel his hands on you, especially when he begins to rub your clit under your panties.

He starts of slow, achingly slow. All you want is for him to ruin you, rough and hard. But Eren is a tease, he wants you to beg for him.

And, he won’t stop till you do.

Eren feels your slick on his fingers and begins to chuckle. You look so cute like this: a whimpering mess, bucking your hips against his hand. He smirks when he hears you mew small ‘Please, Eren’s and ‘it feels s’ good!’s

“You’re such a pretty girl, huh? You’re doing so- ha- so good for me.” He grins. You see him lower himself, peeling of your panties so he’s at face level with your wet pussy. “What do you want, baby?”

You looked at him with jaded eyes, “I wanna cum..”

He shakes his head, tutting. He looked so different to that sweet boy who cheered you on at the golf course. “Manners, princess. What do you want?”

As he repeats his question, he slides a finger inside you. You moan and it sounds like beautiful to the brunette. You try to regain your voice as he stares into your eyes, blankly as if he was bored.

“I want you to make me cum, please.”

He chuckles again before letting his lips meet with your pussy. Eren takes his time with you, you’re not one of those valley girls that he’s fucked dumb in the past.

You’re different, so why should he treat you like them?

Nothing could be heard in the bathroom but your moans and the sound of your wetness against Eren’s mouth. He lapped his tongue at your clit whilst he continued to fuck you with his fingers, smiling against your sex when your fingers rip through his locks.

“Taste…so good, Y/N…” He muttered. You were so so close, wanting nothing more but to make a mess all over his mouth. Eren knows, he can feel you tightening up. “Gonna cum?”

You nod quickly but just then, he stops.

“Eren-” “Shhh, turn around, show me that ass..”

You do as he says, bending over the desks as he marvels at the curve of your ass behind you. You feel Eren strike your flesh a couple of times in awe before he slides his huge dick inside you.

He groans beside your ear as he hears you gasp, “Oh my fuckk…”

Every stroke feels like he was going deeper, kissing your cervix. His hands traveled to your chest as he lifted the bra revealing your perfect tits. You moan louder as he pounces on your neck again, kissing and biting you whilst his fingers were busy playing with your boobs.

“You knew what you were doing when I was teaching you how to swing, hm?” He chuckles. When he sees you nod, Eren slaps your ass again. “Words.”

“Yes!” you cry.

“You knew that it’d end up with you like this, right? You wanted this.” He asks, earning another ‘yes’ in response. “None of your boyfriends at Trost fucked you like this.”

“N-no! No, they didn’t! Fuck!” You moan. He tilts your head so you can look at the mirror and you finally see Eren, topless. You don’t know when he took of his top, and you were too fucked out to realise. “Shit, you’re so deep in me..”

He smiles at your comment, slapping your ass once more, “I know, sweetheart. Look at you. You pretend to- fuck- be a good girl in front of everyone but now look at you.”

You feel his hand wrapped around your throat as he pulls you back. Eren’s cheek is against yours as you both look at yourself through the mirror. Now, he’s fucking you harder than he did before. Harder and faster.

“You’re such a slut, hm?” He kisses your cheek before speeding up his thrusts. Your moans are louder than ever as he continues to ruin you.

“‘s too big!” It’s scary how croaky your voice sounds. He kisses your crown before leaning your head back and forcing your mouth open with his fingers.

“Stick out your tongue.”

And after you did so, a glob of spit fell from Eren’s lips and landed on your tongue. “Good fuckin’ girl! You close?”

Mistakenly, you nod again earning another harsh smack on your ass. “Yes, I’m close!”

“Gonna be a good girl and cum for me?!” He asks, his thrusts are amazingly fast and Eren’s lips are on your neck again.

The sight of him makes you cum alone, sweaty forehead that makes his hair curl upwards, his toned body and veiny hands gripping onto your waist and his green eyes boring into yours.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” you cry out. When you reach your climax, Eren doesn’t stop.

If anything, he thrusts deeper, chasing after his own orgasm. Your whole body shakes in his touch as he whispers the most filthy things in your ear.

“This pussys fuckin’ mine now, you hear me? I’m gonna be the one that makes you a slutty mess. You’re gonna come to me when your horny, yeah? Anytime, baby, just say the word and I won’t wait to fuck you like the whore you are.”

Although you know you shouldn’t, you nod again, your voice is too broken to respond.

He pulls out and grabs you, forcing you onto your knees. Immediately, you let Eren put his thick cock in your mouth, fucking your face just as quickly as he fucked your pussy.

You feel his thrusts get sloppier as you finally see the white ropes of cum shoot out of his cock onto your face. He groans out so many expletives but you’re too busy finishing him off to hear, making him shake at your mouth still sucking him.

Once he’s done reaching his climax, the two of you look at each other for a moment before laughing. You both look a mess, Eren with his mouth red from kissing you so hard and sweaty from…well, fucking you.

You look like a real pornstar, Eren thinks. If it wasn’t for you very obvious ambition in golfing, Eren thinks you’d make a great model.

“We need to get back…” You whisper, “They’re gonna kill us since we left all of the equipment there.”

You stand up and reach down to get your clothes, he helps you dress and dresses himself. Eren takes a tissue and wets it with water before cleaning his cum off your face.

“Next time, I’ll fuck you in the kart. And after that, I’ll fuck you on the field.” He whispers, causing you to giggle.

#[JMtherula] writes! #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin eren #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren smut #eren jeager x y/n #eren jaeger #eren aot #eren yeager #eren jeager x reader #eren yeager x reader #richboy!eren #aot smut

[ssweetleaf]

old money.

pairing— mean old money!steve harrington x fem waitress!reader

w/c— 3.2k

♡ summary— whilst serving table number three for the evening, a certain someone catches your eye, though he soon turns out to be an asshole. you want more.

♡ includes— SMUT 18+, mean dom!steve, he’s an asshole, bathroom sex, so kinda public i guess??, pussy eating from behind, degradation, calls reader stupid once, orgasm denial, unprotected p in v (use protection!!!), breeding kink, cream pie, no aftercare, little bit of spanking, bad ending, i repeat, BAD ENDING!!!

a/n— please let me know what you think! i kind of hate this and there’s like not much plot but enjoy!

˖ ࣪⭑

Life was repetitive.

You’d wake up, leave your sorry excuse of an apartment just to go to work— some fancy-shmancy restaurant that served over-priced food and too-expensive wine, home for the big-wigs and the rich. And then you’d go home, back to your roommate, back to your creaky bed and your ceiling that had a suspicious amount of mould growing— back to your less-than-perfect lifestyle, dreaming of being one of those little flings that hung off the million-dollar men that stepped foot into your workplace, money signs everywhere and diamonds around your neck.

Shit— a girl can dream, right?”

And that was how it went, over and over and over again, letting slimy men pet at your ass and maybe show them a little too much cleavage, flutter your lashes at them all coyly just to earn a rather hefty tip at the end.

You were starting to get pretty sick of it…

“Good evening, gentlemen, is there anything I can get you started with?”

It was late and you were serving table three— a big gaggle of bozos you assumed to have more money than you’d ever have in your life, keeping your eyes wide and speech sickly sweet, leaving a little sway in your hips, keeping your eyes on the prize at the end. God, you hoped they tipped well.

There was six of them, clad in fine suits and sparkling tie clips, already fishing around in their pockets for a light, cigarettes hanging limply out the side of their mouths. Though one stood out in particular, chestnut hair that almost touched his shoulders, honeyed eyes all hooded and swarming, angry looking, especially with the way his eyes furrowed—

“Hey, you listenin’ t’me?” You shook out of your stupor, your cheek ticking when he clicked his fingers in front of your face, earning a few chuckles from his little rat-pack when he leaned back to say, “Jesus, can’t get the service these days, am I right?”

“Apologies, Sir,” you replied, “what can I get for you?”

You would’ve almost said he was handsome until he opened his mouth, his stupid flashy cuff links glinting from the lamp that perched in the middle of the tablecloth, monogrammed SH, his initials, you supposed. He called for the finest scotch you had— the most expensive, ordering a round of glasses for the table and the whole bottle to be served, nothing less, finishing off his sentence with a quick, ‘stat’. He definitely wasn’t asking, though you couldn’t let that deter you, he definitely had the money, you knew that by the size of his Rolex.

So you made priority for his table, serving their spirit on a silver tray and handing each of them a crystal tumbler, finely cut with intricate details and pretty patterns— not that they gave it any notice however, quick when ushering you to pour like they hadn’t the time to do it themselves.

It was all going smoothly, moving around table three and trying to gather the least attention possible, pouring the same two fingers of whiskey, until you got to him. Shy under his gaze you leaned forward, feeling the heat of his gaze on your tits and he was quick to sit up suddenly, causing your hand to slip. A little spillage, nothing drastic, and with the way his lip quirked you knew he had done it on purpose.

“Really are testin’ my patience tonight, sweet cheeks—” he cocked a brow, one arm spread along the back of his chair, “you tryin’ to get yourself fired?”

Oh, fuck off.

“No, Sir,” you spoke quickly, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down hard just to stop the tears slipping from the embarrassment. “I’ll clean it up right away— excuse me.”

Back and forth, back and forth. To and from their table, spilt scotch all cleaned, soaked up by the crisp white of the serving cloth, the swift dabdabdab had your tits jiggling from underneath your uniform, and you tried not to clench your thighs together when he leaned back to get a good look at your ass.

You couldn’t be serious, getting hot under the collar for some rich asshole, finding yourself all too sugary-sweet once again, gazing at him from beneath your lashes when he ordered his main, sharp jabs flitting from the tip of his tongue when you stalled or stuttered— it only had you down worse for him.

You really were pathetic.

Eventually, the night had started to round off to a close, tables emptying, though the bar still busy with drunk men hunched over in their stools, it was most probable they were complaining about their wives, trying and failing to flirt with the barmaids.

You hurried back to the table you were waiting on, plates ridden from the cloth and piled high next to the sink in the back, ready for the poor dishwasher to see too, placing down the wooden box they had requested, flicking up the golden hinges with your thumbs to reveal their pompous cigars, cutting the caps off and handing them out one by one.

“Light it for me, would ya, honey?” Him again, staring up at you all dark and handsome, it had you inwardly swooning and you made sure to give yourself a slap once you got home.

“Yes, Sir.” You opened the lighter, silver and sleek, watching the flame come to life and flicker while you cupped a palm to shield any draughts. His lips looked so pink, pursed around the thick stick, his gaze heavy and set on you, sucking his cheeks in when he took his first drag, inhaling into his lungs and puffing it out right into your face.

Prick.

You excused yourself, almost finished for the night, eager to have a smoke and then get to bed— probably touch yourself over the thought of him- SH, whatever his name was. You wondered what it could be, the thought of asking him crossed your mind and you quickly shook it away, totally pathetic and really, really embarrassing.

You would never ever stoop so low and try to get with him— no matter if his bank account included seven digits, or his face was the prettiest you’d ever seen, he wouldn’t be able to afford you…right?

˖ ࣪⭑

“Oh, fuck— Steve!”

You weren’t sure what it was that caused you to comply with his request, a short, snappy, meet-me-in-the-bathroom-in-five kind of thing, smirk prominent on his lips, a toothpick limply hanging from his mouth, much akin to the cigarette the first time you had pressed eyes on him.

But whatever it was, it had you pressed against the counter in the woman’s bathroom, skirt hiked up and panties around your ankles, his face snug against your pussy from behind while he devoured your cunt as if he hadn’t had a full three course meal beforehand.

You had learned through teeth-filled kisses that his name was Steve— Steve Harrington. And you almost rolled your eyes at what an asshole-y name it was.

The whole ordeal was messy, his spit slick with your arousal, slipping down his chin and the length of his throat, saturating his once perfect shirt and tie— you were no better, makeup already ruined, lining your cheeks in long, black streaks, clumping your lashes from the constant tears that ebbed over your waterline. You made contact with your glassy eyes through the mirror, staring at your dumbified state before they started to roll back at a certain mean suckle to your clit.

You reached behind you, pushing your fingers into his chestnut hair, going to give the roots a little tug before his palm came down on your ass in a sharp smack.

“Not the hair.” He was stern, words muffled from your pussy and you would’ve laughed if it wasn’t for the constant attention to your puffy clit. “Stupid girl.”

Steve’s tongue prodded at your hole, slipping inside with ease at how slick you were, the sudden intrusion causing you to clench around his appendage and you moaned out at the way it flexed against your walls.

You were surprised he even took the time to use his mouth on you, considering you thought he’d be selfish while you fucked, but the thought occurred to you that he enjoyed it— Steve Harrington ate pussy for his pleasure— it made a lot of sense.

“Please—” you whined, arching your back and simultaneously pushing your ass in his face, driving his tongue deeper into your cunt and he audibly growled at that— clutching at both ass cheeks and keeping you tight in place, right where he wanted you.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He spoke, it was almost hard to hear, especially over the way he slurped so crudely at your juices. “Wan’ me to pay more attention to that pretty little clit of yours, baby?”

You nodded, clutching tightly onto the edge of the sinks, knuckles aching from the constant tensing and you gazed at the door, no lock, just an emptying bar, and you hoped no woman wanted to use the restroom.

The mere thought of someone catching you in this position had your brain in a tizzy, swirling in a haze all hot and bothered, the prospect of losing your job not even encompassing your mind at all.

He stuck to his word, suckling the pearl of your clit between his lips, flicking his tongue against it and burying his face even further, shaking his head from side to side so filthily and urging a gasp out of you.

You knew he was smirking into you, you could feel it. Smug bastard.

And once you could feel the rope inside your belly tighten, tighter, tighter, so ready to snap— eager to cum and make a mess of his tongue, leave him to gulp down your cream and leave a little kiss to your clit as a thank you…he pulled away, biting at the fat of your ass and suckling his teeth marks into the flesh, your orgasm dissipating, the pleasure leaving your clit as achy as ever and the rest of your body completely unsatisfied.

You gulped down some much needed air, staring at him with wide eyes and a stuttering mouth, words stuck in your windpipe when you tried to speak, instead you hoped your expression conveyed what exactly you wished to tell him.

What the actual fuck, Steve?

“What? You thought I was gonna let you cum?” He cooed, mocking you with a pout and two condescending taps to your cheek once he got to his feet. “Y’seem a little desperate, honey, barely had my mouth on y’for two seconds.”

The smirk was back again, and yeah, maybe it had been the best head in your life, but it definitely wasn’t two seconds until you needed to cum. So yeah, fuck you, Steve.

There was a mindless pout on your lips, and you realised that must of been what he was mocking, your thighs rubbing together, still so slick and sensitive from your ruined orgasm and the way he spoke to you— all condescending and mean, it made you clench around nothing, made your cunt throb the more he spoke to you in that way.

“Please?” You were surprised the words managed to slip, staring back at him and craning your neck to see and it made him chuckle.

Steve clutched your chin between a thumb and forefinger.

“Aw, my poor girl—” he cooed, all sickly sweet and nothing like him, there was something behind it, a different meaning, though you weren’t sure what. “You wanna cum real bad, don’t ya?”

You nodded, sniffling back your un-shed tears and giving him your sweetest heart eyes, all wet and starry.

“I’ll let you cum, hon, don’t you worry.”

He gave another tap to your cheek, a little harder this time and you couldn’t ignore the little glint in his eye and the twitch of his cheek— then pressed a wet kiss to your mouth, an exaggerated ‘mwah’ coming from him at the action.

Finally, he started to work on his belt, fingers fiddling with the buckle to pull it free from the loops, pulling at the button to his slacks and unzipping them completely, letting them slip to his thighs.

And it was quite shocking, actually. Not only was he not wearing underwear, but his cock was huge— you hadn’t a clue how he even got that thing in his trousers in the first place, and you were even more baffled as to why you hadn’t had a good look at it before.

The tip was stupidly pretty, gleaming with pre-cum and you watched while he smeared it around with his thumb— his shaft all littered with thick veins, trailing down to heavy balls, so round and full of cum.

Shit, you thought, he totally had a reason for being such an asshole.

Steve pressed a big palm to your ass, spreading you open as much as he could with a single hand while his other held the base of his cock, pressing it against your opening and feeding it through with a chesty groan.

You could feel your walls stretching around him, trying to accommodate his impressive size all while he split you in half— he was mean about it too, pushing to the hilt and not giving you much time to adjust before pulling out, just to slam himself back inside.

So deep, so heavy— bordering on painful, but your pussy weeped for him and his pretty little massive cock.

“Fuck, look at you, bet you haven’t taken cock like this before, huh, baby?” He let a moan slip, and you were sure it was one of the most beautiful sounds you had ever heard. “So fuckin’ pathetic, lettin’ me use you like a little whore.”

Your eyes were practically rolling to the back of your skull and you reached behind you, grabbing blindly at any part of him you could find, until he brought his own hand up to press it to the small of your back, holding it there and using it as leverage to fuck himself into you at a heavy pace.

He had the audacity to chuckle at the way you cried out, struggling under his grasp though pushing back against him with each thrust to get even deeper, desperate for him to fuck into your cervix and fill up your tummy with his sticky cum.

“Shit— Steve—”

“Can barely string a sentence together, sweet cheeks—” he grinned, “you must really like me, huh?”

You were babbling expletives and nonsensical verses, staring back at him through the mirror with watery, swarming eyes— clenching around him like a vice, almost too hard and he struggled and spluttered at the new found sensation.

“Fuck, that’s it—” he moaned, dipping his mouth to sponge sloppy, wet little kisses to the back of your neck. “You want that tip, baby, you gotta earn it. Gonna give you a big one, too, if you’re a good girl.”

There was a double meaning — you were sure, whining out at his filthy words and it was when you eventually stared back at your reflection that you agreed with him.

You were pathetic.

Tears streaming, lips all bitten and pouty, cheeks sheened with sweat and your hair stuck to your forehead— the weight of your tits about to fall out of your bra, the buttons on your blouse already popped off mere minutes before when he got his hands on you.

‘I’ll buy you a new one’, he’d said.

Money. Money. Money. Money. Money.

That was all he was, all he spoke about, all he cared about.

You were close, embarrassingly so, keening into him when the mushroomed tip of his cock jabbed into that special spot, the thick veins sliding against your gummy walls and splitting you in two.

“G-gonna—” you could barely get your words out, sobbing into the stuffy bathroom and leaning forward to press your forehead against the cool mirror.

“Gonna what, huh? Speak up, hon.” You could hear his smirk and the way the corner of his lip lifted, all clicky and slick, and you would’ve rolled your eyes if you weren’t so inebriated from his pretty cock.

“Cum.”

“You wanna cum?” He cooed, pulling out right to the tip to slam back inside you, heavy and hard, pushing you forward and bruising your hips. “How badly? Gotta let me know how much of a whore you are.”

“So badly, Steve— make me feel so good, better than anyone else—” you babbled dumbly, “wanna feel you cum in me, too.”

“You fuckin’ dirty girl.” His stomach muscles clenched, length throbbing at your want, “wantin’ a stranger to cum inside you— just isn’t good enough, sweetheart.”

He tried to click his tongue at you, wanting to mock you and tease, though the tut soon morphed into some kind of stuttered groan when you clenched and fluttered around him continuously.

“F-fuck, you really wan’ it, huh?” His thrusts were starting to grow sloppy, and his hold on your arm grew lax. “You really want my cum— fill you up and get you nice ‘n’ round, hm?”

You nodded fervently, helping him out and doing most of the movements yourself, his mouth agape and face flushed when you stared at him through the mirror while he watched the space where the two of you met.

“Have to wait until I cum, then you’ll have your turn.” He rushed out, grabbing a good hold of your hips, kneading at the fat before pressing his chest to your back— starting his pace back up and fucking into you like a mutt in heat, chasing his orgasm with a heaving chest and a pumping heart.

One, two, three long pumps, he stilled inside you, shooting his load deep inside and stuffing you full of that old money prodigy, and you took it greedily, milking his cock of every last drop, whining out at the warmth that flooded your cunt.

“Fuckin’ take it, baby— can’t waste a drop, gotta keep it all in.”

You expected him to continue after he had stilled and calmed down a little, get you off and make you cum— however as soon as his high had worn off and all the sparkles and stars in his irises had started to fade, he pulled out of you, long, stringy lines of cum connecting you to him and his cock was slick with your arousal, a thick ring of your cream slicking the base.

Steve reached for your panties that were still hooked around your ankles, pulling them up and letting them snap sharply around your waist, tugging them snug against your pussy so his cum saturated the already dampened cotton.

Speechless, you watched him tuck himself back inside his slacks, pulling up the zip and popping the button before reaching into his back pocket and tugging out his leather wallet, thick and bulging with notes and credit cards and he flicked through the hundreds, taking a wad out and pressing them flat on the counter next to you.

Your tip.

“You promised—” you squeaked out, referring to how he had promised you dearly that he’d let you cum once he was inside you. Fucking lying little son of a bitch—

With one final slap to your ass he headed for the door.

“See ya around, sweet cheeks.”

✰

tagging <3—

@lou-la-lou @paladinshenanigan-blog @bleachvibez @qardasngan

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #old money!steve #old money!steve harrington #old money!steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x you

[makeyoumine69]

Guilty Pleasure

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: After you made a mistake in one of yours latest reports, Patrick Bateman — your boss — calls you to the meeting room to teach you a lesson.

— CONTAINS: Smut, Daddy kink, degradation, praising, dry humping, pet names, dirty talk, humiliation, nipple play/sucking, hair hulling, biting, spanking, marking.

— WORDS: 1.2k

— A/N: Sorry, I had to repost this fic due to this situation. More information about my writing challenge you can find here.

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [2k CELEBRATION MASTERLIST]

Your heart was beating like a ticking bomb inside your chest as you made your way to the conference room where your big boss — Patrick Bateman — was waiting for you. You had no other choice but to comply, even though you didn't want to go. Tense, yet annoyed, you turned the last corner and saw a small group of yuppies whose arrogant expressions made you sick. Although you tried to ignore the way one of them looked at you — Timothy Bryce as far as you could remember — something heavy dropped in your gut, you hated that kind of attitude, so you had to bite your tongue and open the door to the meeting room.

As soon as you stepped inside, you noticed Patrick sitting at the large wooden table across from the entrance, wearing his favorite black pinstripe suit with red tie and Oliver Peoples O'Malley glasses.

"You're late." He muttered, not even bothering to look at you as he flipped through a folder of documents.

"No, I'm not! You asked me to come at eleven."

Only then did he deign to glance at you — his piercing gaze instantly sent shivers down your spine. "11 o'clock was 10 minutes ago, darling."

Damn it!

A sharp breath escaped your lips as you checked your watch and realized that he was right. "I'm sorry, sir."

Bateman couldn't help but grin with satisfaction and put the folder aside, tapping his long fingers on the table surface. "Do you know why you're here?"

Embarrassed, you looked down for a second, unable to bear the way he was staring at you. "Actually, no."

His low hum bounced off the walls of the meeting room, and now you could finally admit to yourself that you were so damn nervous and even scared, but you couldn't show it to him. After all, you needed this job, you'd already done so much to get the chance to work at P&P, you couldn't let it all end like this.

"I wanted to talk to you about the last report you did for me," Patrick beckoned you with a soft smile, and you could swear that this jerk was enjoying every second of this situation, almost like having the power over you was his personal kink. "I think I found a mistake that is quite serious."

"That can't be," you gasped, moving toward his seat. "I've double-checked everything so many times and—"

"Hey, it's all right," he cut you off, watching you come closer and shamelessly checking out your legs. "Mmm, this skirt is better than your previous ones, but it's still not short enough."

Scowling, you took a deep breath to not just punch him right in his perfect face and just leave.

"C'mon, have a seat." He playfully motioned to his knee, but you pretended not to understand his gesture and tried to sit on the chair nearby. That annoyed him slightly, so he grabbed you by your hips and forced you to sit on his lap. "Are you testing me, babydoll?"

His large palm was already tracing invisible patterns along your breasts through your silk blouse, not even giving you a chance to protest. Taking advantage of your shock, he nipped at your neck, leaving a few hickeys that made you squeal.

"Mr. Bateman!"

"Shush," he growled in a raspy voice, quickly positioning you in a way that made you face him, and his knee was right between your thighs. "Do you want the whole office to know what a slut you are? If I remember correctly, you care about your job."

Smirking, he watched you close your eyes in embarrassment and pulled up the hem of your skirt to squeeze your ass. The cold metal of his Rolex brushed against your skin, making you gasp, and he used the moment to kiss you hard on the lips. He plugged his warm tongue in and your mouth and you immediately squeaked against his lips.

"Ahh, look at you," Bateman crooned sweetly, drawing a long, wet line across your face. "Such a dirty little whore! You like it when Daddy plays rough with you, huh?"

Panting, you whimpered as he tugged on your hair to make you look at him. "Yes, Daddy...I l-love everything you do to me."

"Ohh, is that so?" He chuckled and unbuttoned your blouse so he could slide his hand inside to play with one of your swollen nipples. "Now be a good girl and prove it to me."

God, everything was too much, his hoarse voice sent shivers down your spine, and not to mention the way his skilled fingers twisted your little tip, pinching it a bit too tightly, but that only spurred your pussy to pulsate even more. You let him pull you into another kiss, his lips moving greedily against yours, and you didn't even notice that you were starting to grind against his thigh, your throbbing clit rubbing against the expensive fabric of his pants, increasing the tingling in your lower abdomen.

"Mmmhm, Daddy," you clang desperately at his strong biceps through his suit, causing him to grunt in response. "Someone can see us."

"Then be quiet," Patrick licked your neck and groped your hips, forcing you to move faster. "I'm going to rip your panties off and fuck you right here if you don't cum soon."

Holy shit.

You wanted to cry at the strength which he held your thighs, pinning you to his lap and twisting your taut nipples one by one until he took one of them into his mouth.

"Aww!" You yelped quietly as he bit your peak with his sharp teeth. "I'm so… I'm s-so close… mhmm…!"

Wrapping your hands around his neck, you surrendered to his power, letting the delightful rapture consume you completely as your soft inner walls began to clench around nothing. When Bateman noticed the way you were twitching, he squeezed your hips even harder, pressing you close to his firm body as you couldn't stop shaking. You thought you would bite your lips so hard till the point of drawing blood, but Bateman stopped you by pushing his thumb inside your warm mouth, and you sucked on it as if your life depended on it.

"Yes. Just like that," he cooed to you, unable to take his eyes off your shivering body. "You make Daddy so proud."

With that, he slapped your ass and stood up, holding you in his arms. Gently, he placed you on the table and spread your legs to admire the view of your soaked pussy. He then roughly pulled down your panties — you didn't have the strength or courage to resist.

"Imagine if someone came in and saw me eating you out," he snickered, giving your cunt a quick slap that made you whimper and flinch from the overstimulation. Smugly, Patrick adjusted his pants and hid your wet underwear in the pocket of his suit. "I bet you want this."

The voices behind the door only grew louder, but you couldn't hear them because your own heartbeat drowned out all sounds. If you ended up losing your job, at least you would know who was to blame, and one day you would take your revenge, one way or another.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

[butdaddyilovehim-hs]

Rainbows and Hospital Rooms

Based of @mindofharry 's idea of Harry being a grumpy doctor and Y/N is a new intern at the hospital :)

Word Count: 1.5k

Y/N wasn’t really sure what to expect when she walked through the revolving doors of St Thomas’ Hospital. 

She’d been awake since four am, too excited about her first day as an intern. All she’d ever wanted was to help people. Before her mum passed away, she would call her a guardian angel - always around to lend a hand whenever there was trouble. Y/N believed that her mum was her guardian angel now, looking down on her in heaven. Her sweet, bubbly nature only added to her charm. She befriended everyone she met within moments, in fact Y/N was pretty sure she hadn’t met someone she hadn’t been able to win over eventually. You see, Y/N got a kick out of being kind. Whether it be letting someone ahead of her in the grocery line or sharing a coffee with the homeless man on her street, Y/N was always looking for a way to spread kindness. 

Making a good first impression was extremely important to Y/N so when she realised that she’s lost in the lobby of the hospital she started to sweat a little bit. She had decided on a whim to bake some cookies for the other interns and since it had taken her longer than expected, she wasn’t early as she had planned, but instead right on time. But being right on time and being lost in the lobby meant that now she was… late. On her first day. 

After asking for directions as quickly as she could, a rather flustered Y/N made her way to the correct room, opening the door quietly and turning red as 5 heads turned to stare in her direction. 4 were interns like her, she could tell. Young, most wearing a nervous expression and in casual clothes. The other person in the room was different. For one, he was standing in front of all the others, evidently leading the group in some sort of welcome. He was older, significantly when compared to the others in the room but Y/N couldn’t imagine he was older than 35. Compared to her 22 years, it was a rather large gap. His eyes were a striking shade of green and when they focused on her, Y/N didn’t like the way it made her feel. A swooping feeling in her stomach overwhelmed her and she felt the urge to leave the way she came, shut the door and go home. It might have been because the man standing before her was outrageously attractive. Quite possibly the most beautiful man she had ever seen, with sculpted cheekbones, those eyes, a sharp nose and lips that looked so soft, Y/N almost wanted to lean in and touch them with her own just to see if they were really as soft as they looked. 

Unfortunately for Y/N, accompanying all this beauty was an incredibly frustrated expression and it was directed at her. 

“Miss Y/N I presume. You’re-“ the man looked down at the shiny Rolex on his left wrist. “6 minutes late. Is there a reason why you couldn’t be on time like the rest of your peers or shall we just put it down to plain disrespect?” 

Y/N’s mouth opened and then closed like a fish. She was speechless.

“I’m so sorry um… sir?” She floundered for a moment, pondering what exactly to call him.

“It’s Dr Styles, to you. This isn’t military camp, although I do run a rather tight ship. Now if you would sit down, I can continue.” 

“Ok, Dr Styles it is. I am SO sorry I’m late, you see I was just-

“Please, don’t explain yourself, I don’t have the energy to listen to whatever bullshit story you decided to come up with on the way here. I’d appreciate it if you would take a seat. Every moment I waste on you, is a moment I could be saving someone’s life.”

“But I just wanted to-”

“Y/N. Sit. Down.”

Y/N blinked as he stared at her expectantly, his expression growing more frustrated by the second. She walked slowly to the empty seat in the front row and sat down, feeling rather numb. 

“Now, as I was saying before Miss Y/N decided to make her grand entrance, my name is Dr Harry Styles and I am the head of paediatrics here at St Thomas’. 

Paediatrics? Y/N thought to herself. Oh those poor children being unwell and having to be treated by the biggest asshole on earth. She wondered whether he was just as awful to the patients or whether he had perfected his bedside manner. Probably the latter, he seemed like a perfectionist. Her daydream was interrupted as an older man and woman entered the room, dressed in similar scrubs to Dr Styles. 

“Now, normally I handle all the interns myself, but since there are five of you, and my workload has grown rather heavily over the last year, I have enlisted my colleagues for some help. Dr Hannah Williams and Dr Richard Abrams.” Dr Styles explained, introducing them both. They waved and Dr Williams sent Y/N a smile and Y/N crossed her fingers and toes, hoping that she would be assigned to the nice woman with the warm smile. 

“Max and Amelie you’re with Dr Abrams. Rachel and Luke, you’re with Dr Williams. And that leaves… ”

Y/N’s heart sank.

“Y/N, you’re with me. Lucky you.” He smirked at her obvious lack of enthusiasm before continuing. 

“I’m sure you’re all aware that this is a 6 week internship. While I may not be directly supervising all of you, I will be observing you all closely. At the end of your period at St Thomas’ one of you will be offered a permanent position here. My advice? Do you best, and use what you know. You were all offered this internship for a reason, you’ve got the next six weeks to prove to me why you deserve to be here. Y/N come with me. Max and Amelie, Richard will show you where to go. Same for you Luke and Rachel, Hannah has you guys covered.” 

Y/N gathered her things quickly as Dr Styles left the room swiftly. She trailed behind him, mustering up the courage to speak. 

“Is there a reason you were so horrible to me in there?” The words left Y/N’s mouth before she could stop them and Dr Styles stopped walking abruptly in the middle of the corridor, almost causing her to face plant into his back. 

“Oh grow up Y/N. Welcome to the real world. I don’t have energy to waste on people who aren’t punctual. If this is too much for you to handle, or If I’m too much for you to handle, quit. No one is stopping you.”

He waited expectantly, but Y/N was silent.

“Good. Now if you’re done with your little outburst, we have patients to see. Try not to waste my time Y/N. Most people don’t dare to talk back to me, especially on the first day. I picked you because you intrigued me and I thought I saw potential. Don’t prove me wrong.” 

Y/N nodded, her thoughts going a million miles a minute. Dr Styles led her into a closed corridor, where the walls were filled with colour, shapes and animals.

“The first patient we’re going to see today is a 5 year old named Jackson. Jackson has stage 3 terminal cancer. At this stage it’s all about keeping him comfortable. He’s wary of new people, so just be gentle.”

He opened a door, and it was almost like someone had flipped a switch. The second the door had opened, Dr Styles’ face had switched from a stern expression to a wide smile. He was so pretty when he smiled, Y/N thought, before shaking it from her head and following him into the room. 

“Hey little superman! How are we feeling today?” Dr Styles asked the young boy, who was lying in the bed watching a dinosaur cartoon on his iPad. Y/N’s heart broke at the number of wires and medical equipment surrounding the little boy. 

“I’m bored. Can I go play outside?? Please Harry pleaseeeee.” Jackson pouted his lips at Dr Styles and Y/N suppressed a giggle. She watched him as a flicker of emotion crossed his face before he shook his head.

“Sorry not today little dude, but how about I try and get Nurse Rebecca to bring you something special later on?”

“Ok.” Jackson’s face fell as he directed his attention back to the screen. Y/N shifted slightly to the side and he looked up, making eye contact with her.

“Who’s that? Is she your girlfriend Harry? She’s very pretty.”

Y/N turned bright red and Dr Styles seemed to choke on air before spluttering out a response. 

“Not my girlfriend Jackson. This is Y/N, I’m showing her what it’s like to work here.”

“Hi Jackson, it’s nice to meet you!” Y/N sent the boy a small wave and he waved back. 

“We’ll come and visit you again later buddy ok?” Dr Styles ushered Y/N slowly out of the room, shutting the door behind her. 

They stood in silence for a moment, Dr Styles watching Jackson through the small window, a pensive expression on his face. 

“He’s a really sweet kid.” Y/N spoke softly. 

“He is.” Dr Styles agreed gruffly, and Y/N watched as his eyes began to mist. But as quickly as the tears had formed, they were gone and he was blinking them away and continuing down the hallway. 

“Hurry up Y/N we have people to see and you know how I feel about punctuality.” 

Y/N smiled softly, trailing after him. There was something there, more to Dr Styles than he was letting her see and Y/N was determined to figure him out.

A/N: Hello!! This was a super short random thing that I might continue hehe

Tags:

@lukesaprince @harrys-flower @harryspirate @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @lilyrmason12 @styleslover-1994 @stylesfever @kathb59 @indierockgirrl @bxbyysstuff @gills-lounge

#harry styles #hslot #love on tour #harrystyles #harry styles au #harry styles fic #harry styles fics #harry styles x fem!reader

[anton-luvr]

# WHAT'S THE TIME WHERE YOU ARE?

⚝ ceo!wonbin x ceo!reader | angst | right person wrong time au ⚝ note ; first part of my 'something to give each other' series! + feedback would be highly appreciated ^_^

Wonbin taps his feet against the tiled floor, arms folded.

Irritated, he takes a glance at the gleaming Rolex strapped to his wrist. 

“We’ve been waiting for four minutes.” he scoffs, glaring at his assistant. “I hired you to prepare everything for me, didn’t I? Couldn’t you prepare the SIM card before this?” 

Terrified, Wonbin’s assistant shakes his head and is quick to bow in apology. “My apologies, sir. I forgot about this, I’ll try to get it as fast as possible.” 

Annoyed, Wonbin simply tuts and rolls his eyes. 

For anyone who knew how busy Wonbin was as the CEO of one of Korea’s largest companies, they would think he had urgent calls and emails to attend to. 

But deep down under those layers of annoyance, was desperation. 

He had just landed in Tokyo for a three-day-long business conference and product launch, and what was supposed to be a fourteen hour flight from Milan to Tokyo had been delayed to a total of sixteen hours.

And that two hour window that had been stupidly wasted because of bad weather was the only time Wonbin knew you were going to be free this week before you flew to Paris for a shareholder’s meeting.

As the CEO of another successful company yourself, messaging each other was the only way for you to keep in touch. Endless meetings that took forever and getting on flights like these always got in the way, and Wonbin hated it. 

There was nothing he wanted more than to spend more than an hour with you, even if it had to be over text. 

He didn’t care for money or fame. 

He just wanted you. 

It’s been months since he last saw you, and the desperation was settling in even harder.

Your genuine smile amongst the crowd of fake ones at the national business conference was what that had caught his attention, and there was just something so attractive about the way you carried yourself.

Your laugh was the prettiest sound he’s ever heard, and he prides himself on the fact that it was thanks to a silly story he told you.

Confidence and charisma oozed from your aura, and yet there was so much love and humility in your voice while the both of you talked for hours on end that night.

And for the first time in almost forever, Wonbin felt alive again.

He could feel the connection between the both of you, and he knew you felt it too.

“Sir, your SIM card.” his assistant says, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Without wasting another second, Wonbin swipes the card from his hands and is quick to slip it into his phone. 

He power walks to the entrance while waiting for the SIM card to activate, sparing no time for his bodyguards and assistant to catch up. 

Wonbin’s heart speeds up when he settles into his limousine, opening up his messaging app. 

‘just landed in tokyo’ he texts, furiously typing away. ‘hbu?’

You reply almost immediately, and Wonbin can't help but smile.

‘boarding my flight to paris right now :(‘ your message read, and Wonbin’s smile drops. 

He lets out a defeated sigh as he rests his head on the cold window, replying to you.

‘ahh i see’ he texts. 'have a safe flight! lmk when you land’

He can only sigh again when you reply with a 'yup! have fun in tokyo :p'

Now, no matter how strong the connection, Wonbin knew it wasn't going to last long if texting each other sporadically throughout the month was your only way of staying in contact.

He’d try to switch things up by sending gifts to you time to time, surprising you with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers sent to your hotel doorstep when you were in Germany, or reminding you to take care of yourself with a selfcare set worth thousands sent straight to your office.

But there was nothing more he could do about it. 

He sighs again, leaning back in the leather seat and closing his eyes.

Maybe that’s just the way love goes.

Wonbin can't remember the last time he's been to an afterparty this bad. 

Sure, the DJ was playing great music, but the atmosphere of the entire party made him shift in discomfort.

Everyone was socializing, but only with the motive of landing a new business partner, name cards given out like propaganda five minutes into each insincere conversation. 

He glanced at the small stack of name cards that he'd collected over the past hour he'd been here, and he frowned in disgust.

Making sure no one was watching, Wonbin chucks it all into the nearby dustbin. 

He just wanted to get back to his hotel and sleep all his exhaustion away. 

To make matters worse, his latest message of ‘how’s paris?’ to you from four days ago was still left on sent. 

It’s not like it hasn’t happened before, but in moments of longing like these, it made Wonbin’s heart ache just a bit more. 

All of a sudden, his phone buzzes to life, and he squints at the screen. 

His eyes run over the contact name, and he almost drops his phone as he scrambles to answer your call. 

“Hello? You’re calling me?” he asks in disbelief, a smile on his face nonetheless. 

“Yeah! I’m free right now, so I thought I’d call you and give you a little surprise." you giggle, and Wonbin's heart warms at the sound.

‘Well, I’m definitely surprised.” Wonbin chuckles. “How’s Paris? What’s the time right now?”

There’s a short pause from your side as you check your watch.

“It’s two in the afternoon here, so I’m gonna go out for lunch with my team in a bit. How about you?”

Wonbin leans against the wall, sighing as he glanced across the crowded hall. "It's almost eleven here and I'm stuck at an afterparty." he whines.

"Just talk to someone, you'll be fine." you suggest, laughing at how childlike Wonbin could be sometimes.

"But I don't want to! Everyone keeps wanting to talk to me, and I'm hiding alone in the corner right now." he complains.

"They just love you too much, hm?" you tease.

Wonbin sighs again, shaking his head even though you couldn't see him.

"I wish it was you talking to me here." he says softly, the energy of the call immediately shifting.

"Well, I am talking to you." you reason, thankful that he wasn't able to see the crimson blush on your cheeks at his words.

"But I wanna see you." Wonbin mumbles. "I miss you."

It's the first time he's ever told you that, and neither of you say anything for a moment.

"I wanna see you too, but we both know that's impossible." you whisper. "We're both so busy."

"And I don't mind waiting. I'm okay with waiting for you after all is said and done, promise." he says, determination in his voice.

It's your turn to let out a sigh as guilt creeps into your heart, and you close your eyes as you lie down on your hotel bed.

"I don't want you to do that. You'll have to wait for literal months just for us to squeeze in a call like this."

"I really don't mind." Wonbin insists.

"But I do. It's not fair to you." you groan.

Wonbin pokes his tongue into his cheek, anger starting to build in his chest.

"Come on," he reasons. "I already told you I don't mind. I really don't."

"But we’ll be so tired and so busy… won’t it get worse if we’re together?” you continue, starting to get upset too.

The terror of realising he was losing you made Wonbin's heart pound, his hands sweaty as he tries to convince you to stay - or at least give this a try.

"Hey, if we never try, we'll never know." he points out. "Please? Can't we just... try?"

His question is left hanging in the air as you stay quiet, a million thoughts rushing through your mind.

It just seemed so impossible and so impractical to you.

What's the point of being in a relationship when you'll never have the time to be with each other?

"'I don't know." you lie, feeling a headache set in. "I need to go now. I'll talk to you next time."

"Oh." Wonbin whispers, his voice choking up. "Okay."

"Bye." you say softly. "I'm sorry."

Your apology does nothing as the repeating echo of you ending the call rings in Wonbin's ears, his eyes filling with tears while raw pain tore at his heart.

He knows you want more.

No, he knows you need more.

He knows you need someone to offer their shoulder for you to cry on, someone to welcome you home with warm arms every night.

He knows he can't do that.

But couldn't you just give him a chance?

Wonbin can only slowly sink to the floor as tears start to flow down his cheeks, the loneliness and desperation burning into his shattered heart.

He'll never get to love you.

© anton-luvr, 2023.

taglist: @wonbons @mxlly143 @keehobaldboy @junhuiste-ficrec @numberonetaleprince @chwenott @shawyle @yenart (tags in bold couldn't be tagged)

#riize #riize angst #riize fics #riize fluff #riize imagines #riize drabbles #riize x reader #riize wonbin #wonbin #wonbin riize

[softshuji]

𝟏𝟏:𝟏𝟐𝐏𝐌 | 𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐍𝐀 𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀

Title: Little Black Dress

Summary: Working for Bonten has always had it's perks, like the anonymous gifts you receive every morning. But surely your secret admirer and the Boss you're sleeping with can't be one and the same... right? (see a/n at the bottom) reblogs appreciated! Link to masterlist here!

cw: fem!reader, boss/employee relationship, pet names (pretty girl, good girl) izana and reader both have a sir kink (I'm sorry), alcohol, assumed unrequited feelings (he's a bit dense and awkward), jealousy, implied panty stealing, unprotected sex, ptv, possessiveness, thigh riding, foreplay, a hint of degradation (it's not much promise), biting, marking, orgasm denial, breeding, hair pulling, light choking, loads of praise, it's pure filth i'm sorry. MDNI. This is my first time writing NSFW so be nice yeah?

You and Izana like playing games.

The kind where you pretend like you’re using each other for some purpose or other, ravenous appetites that you sate till you’ve had your fill, two equally gluttonous, hungry people who don’t mind the copious sex and the copious money and all the splashed cash that you think might suffice enough for you not to talk about the type of relationship you have. 

Maybe it’s because he’s your boss, and you’re his subordinate and you have long foregone that boundary that separates you as something more but you’ve never questioned it, why he calls you into his office to sit you on his lap with his fingers dancing over your skin, a ghost of a touch that often slips between your legs. By accident of course, as if it’s your own needs and desires that he’s relieving, and not the fact that his skin thrums and his stomach jumps when you buck your hips against his hand to chase the friction he’s denying you by pulling you along to cynically laugh at in desperation.

Maybe it’s because in the late hours, long after the sunset has bled into a cobalt blue night, he finds you still here, at work in an office, the dress he gifted you still sitting pristine in a box on the desk, looking over accounts and reports and emails that you’d sworn couldn’t wait till morning.

And maybe that’s how it had started, closer to midnight, and he’d found you for the first time, in the dress you’d been sent by an anonymous sender that swelled from where your hips were flush against the fabric, all curves and shadows and accented silk that had his cheeks flushing, as if he hadn’t stolen into your house to read your sizes during your absence. 

Not that he’d stopped after that, and perhaps if you’d bothered to check your undergarments drawer you’d have noticed the worryingly thin stash of black lace panties that you could swear wasn’t half as short in supply last time you checked.

Some habits are hard to break, no? And really, did it matter when there was always something on your desk to make up for it at the end of the week? A pearl necklace, coral shell pink and rose gold that sat against your skin, jade earrings and dainty Rolex watches that the others marvel at when they catch your eye in the mornings, all sleep and slumber still caked under their eyes marred by half-shadows.

‘That’s Pretty,’ Ran says and holds up your wrist to the light, your palm now stroked by his long and lithe fingers, the callouses grazing the sharp indent of your wrist, enough to have you sucking in a breath when he grazes your knuckles achingly slow, torturous in the way he likes. ‘Someone get that for you?’

You’re too drunk on his touch to notice the dark and heavy glint in his eye, violet rays that splash over your arms, roaming over the silk that hugs your body, the curve of your neck where the amply applied concealer hides the heavy purple bruises left by your boss the night before. 

‘Yeah, an anonymous sender,’ you say and flush when he smirks, half hidden by the way his mouth ghosts over the veins in your wrist, soft and warm breath that tickles your skin down to your stomach where the ache settles unremittingly. 

‘Uh-huh… They’ve got a good eye. Pretty things for a Pretty Girl huh?’ 

You pretend it means nothing when the others let their gazes slide over and away from you, some forbidden thing, when Izana walks into the room, a stiffness that permeates the air then and never a moment after, once he has left and they release a collective breath trapped in equally lustful lungs. 

‘Something came for you this morning,’ Kakucho says, a card slid over the table, a boutique name you don’t recognise, and a velvet box inlaid with burnished gold. You feign surprise, a raise of your eyebrows, as if it’s something new, as if Kakucho hasn’t had the conversation so many times already. 

‘Why not just tell her how you feel?’

And Izana scoffs, turns towards the window where the rain falls in droves, a darkened shadow against the grey velvet curtains, the thin slap of it on the roof where it drowns the aching pulse of his heart against his ribs. It should be easy, everything else considered. He’s killed before, bled out in the snow and lived, but it seems trivial when he considers the frown that could accompany your rejection, a slice of fresh pain across his lungs that he’s convinced could be enough to kill him outright. 

‘Again?’ you say, and the thin gold chain slips out onto your palm, the light dancing on the marbled ceiling, a shaft catching on Kakucho’s ivory white eye. ‘There’s never a return address so I can’t even give it back.’

‘Someone must really like you,’ he says, offhandedly, his waistcoat shuffling as he lifts a coffee cup to his lips, turning away towards the mahogany table as the others shuffle towards the door, a smirk hidden behind the hair dancing against his cheek.

‘Mhm, I don’t really deserve all this though, and I don’t even know who they are.’

He turns, an eyebrow raised over the lip of the cup, a graze of his gaze along your collarbone where the dainty chain sits, a kiss of gold on your skin. ‘You deserve that and more, clearly someone else thinks so too.’

Often, you wonder if there is a game being played here, a cat and mouse that you can never grasp, constantly clutching at the end of the string as it’s pulled. They never seem worried and it should bother you, would bother you, if you didn’t feel so safe in the warm encompassing circles of their arms, your heart cradled by their rough hands, a soft touch and graze along your cheek that you pretend is only ever part of the job.

Izana finds you like that on the same night, the rain slapping against the windowpane, the soft and tinny clink of it that slips in through the open window, smooth jazz that fills the empty space in your office, underlaid between the scratch of your pen on paper and the click of your nails on the keyboard. 

He knocks once, a whispery, ‘It’s me,’ that slips underneath the draught at the bottom, before the door swings, a creak on the hinges and the soft pad of his feet on the beige carpet. He holds a hand against the door, as if he’s ashamed of the sound, a frequent glance back at the empty corridor, where the overhead lights seem to pull the shadows closer, a quiet beckon into the safety of your office. 

‘Izana sir,’ you say and lift your head from behind the monitor, the blue light pulling at the taut skin of your cheeks, where the tiredness clings to your skin, a thin sheen of exhaustion curling at the faint shadows under your eyes. ‘Is everything okay?’ 

It’s not uncharacteristic, though the two of you like to pretend it’s new every time, like it’s the very first instance of him coming to you for comfort, for warmth, a quick grab of your light that he eats so ravenously, that he wishes he could swim in and perhaps if you believed in yourself anymore, you could admit that it wasn’t just that you were convenient to sink his teeth into, that maybe you were something more.

‘Mmh? Yeah I’m fine.’ He teeters on the edge, a foot inside the office and not, a hand on the doorknob, his body angled so that he’s both inside and out, a step from foot to foot with apprehension. He curses himself then, inaudibly, for biting his lip, his hand clammy against the door, the hesitant shift of his suit that seems inexorably loud in the otherwise quiet building. He hears a laugh, somewhere far off, Shion and the Haitanis receding towards the exit, the full and raucous giggling that falls to an abrupt stop when the doors close, the tinny plink of the rain that patters on the window. ‘You’re still here?’ he says, for something to say, a furious press of his nails into his palm at his own lack of tact, and it burns that he’s nervous and hiding it this many months later, as if he hasn’t stolen into your house to run his lithe fingers along your sheets, his mind marvelling at the indent of you on the mattress. 

Your eyes fall over him, the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the honey of his skin where the streetlight sits so perfectly, the silver glow of his hair that kisses at his cheeks. ‘Y-yeah, I didn’t want to leave this until morning.’ Your tongue trips, in the way it always has around him, a thick and heavy film that coats your teeth. ‘Come in, I’ll get you a drink.’

You stand, and he moves, the door clicked shut as he lingers along your desk, his fingers drumming on the velvet box, a bare and quick glance at the gold trim. He knows you like pretty things, and maybe he finds it easier like this, copious gifts and sex that he hopes is enough to tell you what he can’t, the complicated tangle of his feelings barred behind the trapdoor, and really, Kakucho is right, he could tell you how he feels, and then wait for the inevitable hurt that he is so sure is coming, the icicle of pain and rejection you’re sure to stab into his heart, because he is just your boss, and you are just his employee.

You turn away from him towards the drinks cabinet and he allows a single moment to marvel at how the dress clings to you, a slip of a thing that licks at your thighs, a little shorter when you reach upwards for the glasses in the cabinet, the lacey trim of your stockings slipping into view. Maybe it’s shameful, how you wear the things without knowing who they’re from, as if you don’t know how he’ll tear it off you, run his hands along the insides of your thighs to feel the silk and satin on the backs of his scarred hands, a harsh tug of your hips to pull you flush against him.

‘You should have gone home,’ he says, a lie of course, slipping effortlessly through his teeth, and you only smile over your shoulder, a thin and watery thing that has his throat aching.

‘I don’t mind.’ You hold two glasses in one hand, and pull the decanter off the shelf with the other, the amber swirl inside lightning to gold when you move past the window again, copper light that weaves through your dress and his hands itch, a harsh and aggressive clench of his fists against his sides.

There is a slosh, amber swirling into the crystal and a glass handed over, a murmured thank you that’s lost underneath the undulating slap of the rain on the roof. He watches you over the rim, the fold of your legs, one on top of the other and alluringly splayed out so that your stockinged foot grazes his ankle, your bare arms kissed by goosebumps prickling across your skin. The gold chain sits on your collarbone, a single flash of light on your otherwise bare skin.

‘How come you came? I thought you’d have…’ 

He tilts his head, the sweep of his sharp white hair falling against his nose, the dress shirt slipping open as he lifts his glass to tease the patch of golden honey skin on his chest, his tie skewed. ‘What?’

‘Just….’ You suck in a breath, a quick slip of your gaze from the haunting violet burn of his eyes, to the marbled ceiling, the silhouette of him spreading his thighs on your sofa burned onto the roof, a dark shadow of opulence that has the heat crawling along your flushed skin. ‘I thought you’d be going to see a girl that’s all.’

He raises an eyebrow, a twitch of his mouth that you try not to linger on, full and pink lips glistening with a thin sheen of whisky, the translucent shine of them that you think tastes of sugar and vanilla, honey and warm coffee. 

He shifts, lifts his hips to adjust his dress pants and your eyes fall, unashamedly, on the prominent bulge half hidden by the darkness, a single shaft of copper light dancing on his thigh, and you can’t help it, the way your teeth bite at your lip hard enough to hurt, a blinding flash of pain and arousal that pools in your tummy. You hate it, the betrayal of your body that comes so easily, the fold of your veins and control that comes from a few simple actions, the dance of your heart against your ribs.

‘Would it matter if I was?’ he says and leans back, the amber swirling along the crystal of the glass, raising it to his lips where the warmth of his breath mists against the surface, the imprint of his perfect lips now flecked with the heady taste of whisky, the ice clinking at the bottom of the tumbler.

Your eyebrows shoot up on instinct, the flush of embarrassment, spreading along your exposed cleavage, where Izana’s eyes drift lazily before flitting back to the pert mouth where your faded red lipstick still sits. ‘N-no, obviously not, I mean yes- no- I’m not sure.’ 

‘Hm? That makes no sense. So which is it?’

Your heart thrums against your ribs, an embarrassment so loud you’re convinced he can hear the ringing in your ears, the thin and tinny pressure that has red blooming across the nape of your neck. ‘I- I only mean…’ Your tongue is too heavy for your mouth, a weight that has the words drying on your whisky-flecked lips. ‘...that, if you went to see a girl, you’d be allowed, and it would be your right.’

He hums, a slow roll of his neck, where the sharp angles of his clavicles slip into view, the golden sand of his skin now catching the copper glow filtering through the window and you squeeze your thighs together in some attempt to subtly relieve the ache slowly building there. 

‘So, you wouldn’t be jealous?’ he says and spreads his legs wider, his arms moving to rest on the back of the sofa, the faint warmth in his chest now simmering with a growing heat.

‘Should I be? Is that what you want?’

‘Maybe. But why would you get jealous? Don’t you have the others to give you the attention you want?’

You burn at the tone, the teasing lilt and airy whisper that melts against your skin, the silhouette of him with the rain-dashed window slicing across the pristine and pressed white shirt now unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled to the elbow.

Your tongue aches when you lift it to run over your teeth. Faintly, in some recess of your head, you hear a door slam, undulated by the thwack of the rain on the window, the occasional click of shoes on linoleum and the screech of tires beyond the 19th floor window and it’s so far away, so quiet when you’re here so high up and the ringing in your ears has a constant hammer to your skull.

You lick your lips and his eyes flick to your tongue peeking out. ‘That’s true but, what if it’s not their attention I want so much?’

‘Oh? And whose attention do you want?’

You bite the inside of your cheek, uncross your legs and cut your eyes to the decanter on the table, the empty glass still poised between two lithe fingers and there is a beat, a long and draining silence that swallows the air between you while you let it drift and hang, your eyes flitting between the violet haze roaming your skin and his lips where the aftertaste of whisky lingers.

‘Here.’ You pick up the decanter and stand, using one hand to smooth down the front of your silk slip, a barely perceptible shake that you’re quick to hide as you lean over to steady his waiting glass. ‘Let me refill that for you.’

He watches, a wolf eyeing prey, a heat between his legs that has his mouth drying, uncomfortable and thick as the tension dragging through the air. 

You make to turn, the decanter set onto the table when he grabs your wrist, a tight squeeze that has your ribs closing around your heart. You turn back, a less than subtle squeeze of your thighs together, where his eyes flick from the crease in your dress, to your lips parted with the thin sheen of whisky. 

‘I don’t think you answered my question,’ he says, his voice a low hum as he strokes a slow circle onto the dip in your wrist. ‘I asked whose attention you wanted.’

Your tongue drags along the roof of your mouth, your palm clammy and curled into a loose fist, the warmth in your blood beating at your skin. ‘Yours, only yours.’ 

‘Mhm, really? I don’t think I believe you.’ His lithe fingers dance along your forearm before he pulls, harshly, a tug that has you reaching an arm out to cage him between you and the sofa. Your heart punches against your ribs. Your warm breath fans the tip of his nose, a hairdbreath from your parted lips as you gasp, your thighs now straddling and pressing him to the fabric of the sofa. 

‘It’s true, I swear,’ you whisper, your silk slip riding up towards your waist, panties now brushing the rich polyester of his dress pants. ‘I’m yours, I belong to you.’

‘Not to Ran? I’ve seen how he looks at you.’ 

You shake your head, adamantly, the shuffle of your slip matching your bated breaths. ‘Not to Ran, only to you my Izana.’

He runs his hands along your thighs, a press of his fingers into your skin, the rough pads of his thumbs tracing a line to the swell of your ass before he pulls you closer still, a slow and languid grind against his quickly hardening cock, the press of it against your clit that has your panties dampening.

‘That’s right, I own you, so are you going to let me have you?’ And he bites hard on his lip when your hands come to tangle in his hair, a harsh tug that has a quiet gasp slipping between his lips. Your mind crumbles too quickly, and you find yourself rolling your hips, a glide along his thigh, the wetness pooling in sticky warmth, your panties clinging to your skin, the patch on his charcoal dress pants now darkening with your arousal.

‘Yes, yes I- I need you,’ you gasp, sparks of pleasure rolling against your clit, and it’s too much, the ringing in your ears is too loud, the fog in your head has your eyes fluttering, the piercing violet gaze slipping and out of view. 

He groans, his grip tightening around your thighs, your soft and supple skin spilling between his fingers, silver rings that burn cold where they graze the sensitive inside of your thighs. 

‘What do you need? Tell me, I want to hear it.’

‘Please, don’t make me say it,’ you whisper, breath caught in your throat where one ringed hand slides to squeeze lightly at your neck, the faint pulse and quicken of your heartbeat sending waves of pleasure along his spine. 

‘Mhm, you have to.’ And he drums his fingers down your shoulder blades. ‘Use your words for me, you can do it.’ 

‘I need- I want- just want you to fuck me, please.’ You almost whimper at the soft sultriness of his voice hot on your ear, the warm dance of his rough fingertips along your skin, tracing a line from the curve of your breasts to your hips. He squeezes, thrusts up once, a light bump of friction against your aching clit, chuckling when you moan unabashedly at the sudden jolt. 

‘Good girl, such a good obedient girl for me aren’t you? Does it hurt?’

You nod fervently, your mouth latched to his neck, hot kisses and bites that elicit shivers along his skin. He likes this, you know as much, the tit-for-tat, the teasing and pulling at you, drawing along your pain till it satisfies him, and you’d feel angry about it if the pleasure didn’t feel so hazily sweet after.

‘It hurts, Izana please, just wanna feel you inside.’ And it does, a heavy and dizzy ache between your thighs that has you shamelessly grinding on his now drenched dress pants for the barest lick of friction. 

‘Mhm I know, you poor thing, am I being too mean by keeping this from you?’ he says and dips his head, a flick of his tongue along your exposed collarbone, the scent of your perfume lingering on your skin before he eagerly takes your nipple in his mouth and sucks, bites, and slides his tongue over it, alternating between both while you tug at his hair wound tight in your fist. ‘You want me to make you cum?’

‘Please sir.’ Your breath is caught in your throat, your soaked panties clinging to you, the slick of your arousal pooling between his thighs and yours.

He almost laughs, giddy with the heat from your skin, all warmth and hot anticipation that has him lifting his hips to pull his dress pants down as you eagerly tug at his belt, your hands shaking when you fiddle with the clasps, your lips bitten raw in need. 

‘You sound so sweet when you beg like that- it almost makes me not want to let you.’

You freeze, the warmth in your blood chilling with the subtle undertone and the delicious promise  of your pleasure in his waiting palms and you keen in response, palming at his hard cock leaking pre-cum till he’s slipping your panties to the side with a loud groan against your neck. 

You’ve done this before obviously, it’s a common occurrence, him finding warmth in you, between your soft thighs, the trail of purple marks left on your neck and chest, his tongue lapping at your slick and fingers in your throat to gag on, the shaky convulsing and spasm that he controls by pinning your legs to your chest.

He kisses you, softly at first, a single moment in which he lets you hold eye contact, your dazed and watery expression where the reflection of him with his shirt pulled open and his hair in your hands peers back at him. He lets his tongue gently slide along yours, a light trace of it along the veins of the underside, a soft bite on your reddened lips, a suck on your tongue that has the saliva pooling at the corner of your mouth.

‘You’re so pretty, you know how badly I want you?’ And he teases the tip of his cock through your folds, the slick coating it in a translucent sheen. You yelp when he thrusts in one go, half of his cock slipping into your warm pussy. You grab at his shoulders for support, your eyes scrunched in partial bliss and pain. He knows you like the stretch, the burn of his cock inching its way in and it’s why he’s so tantalisingly slow with it, millimetre by millimetre, the brush of the vein on the underside pulsating warmly inside. 

You mewl and bunch his shirt in your hands, knuckles white and squeezing at the fabric, practically drooling on his shoulder as he lowers you down, your slick webbing on his thighs. 

‘It’s too much, I can’t do it, I can’t Izana,’ you say despite yourself, despite the forceful squeeze of your walls sucking him in, the delicious thrum of pain and dizzying pleasure rolling along your clit. 

‘Shhhhh, yes you can, you know you can, be a good girl and relax, you can do it,’ he says, his ragged breath fanning the nape of your neck, hands bruising at your hips in his firm grip. ‘Look at how you’re sucking me in already, my good and obedient girl.’

You hardly have time to register the praise before he pulls you firmly, with his hands held tight around your hips, flush on his cock, the force of it stealing the breath from your lungs, a gasp pulled from your throat as your eyes squeeze shut. 

‘Izana!’ you tug harshly on his hair, a groan spilling past his parted lips as you adjust to his size, the electrifying zing of pain rolling with the stretch of him inside you. Your breath comes hot and fast, your chest pressed to his. He grazes his lips along your breasts, a slight bite and playful nibble on your nipples that has your pussy squeezing him further.

‘Relax, let me make you feel good.’ He sighs, a bubble between a moan and a whine as he begins a languid grind of your hips on his. 

You try to lift your hips, a bit of breathing room from the hot and heavy air, to slow him down from where his cock kisses at your cervix, the press of it that you feel inching towards your tummy and you’re biting down hard on his shoulder in the process, your broken whines pressed to his skin. It aches and he’s slow about it, a lazy drawl of him dragging through your walls, the vein zigzagging and pulsating and licking at your aching pussy. 

He pulls your thigh higher, hooks it further on his waist, and his cock presses deeper still, till you’re babbling a broken version of his name, your mascara smeared on the white lapel of his shirt. 

‘Ah- Izana, please, more, need more-’ and it comes out as a whine and a whimper, your clit brushing against the rough fabric of his pants and you moan at the friction of it, at the way he throws his head back and bounces you on his cock, all shame foregone, the chase of your pleasure that has him eagerly panting your name.

‘You’re such a-’ he pants, his eyes clouding with lust, a dip of his gaze from the bliss written across your face to the place where his cock disappears inside you, ‘a- greedy girl aren’t you? So greedy and needy, and all mine, only mine.’

‘Only- hah- yours sir.’ You’re breathless, the air stifling hot, warm with the scent of perfume, sweat and sex, your hands finding purchase in his shirt now pulled entirely open, his hair now messy and curling around his ears. 

‘Sh-shit, oh fuck- you feel so good around me, so fuckin’ perfect-’ a drawl almost, his head thrown entirely back, the languid and lazy grind of his cock now picking up speed, a ruthless thrust that has your voice breaking, grasping at him, the flexed and taut arms that keep you pressed to his chest.

‘You’re too deep ‘zana!’ And in your delirious haze, you’re minutely aware of the wet slap of skin on skin, the renewed effort to keep him inside despite the pooling of your slick soaking down to the sofa, and it’s all so wet, so dirty, that you almost don’t notice how he pulls your hair back by the root, the silver rings grazing your neck till he presses his lips to yours and swallows the moan now rolling along his tongue. He bites you hard, a yelp that has your clit pulsing and your legs tightening, and his groan is breathy, high pitched,

‘You’ll take it like my good girl won’t you?’ You’re doing so well f’me.’

‘Zana! Please- please- just like that-’ You rake your nails along his back, a scratch against his spine that has him arching off the sofa, pushing further into you, his thrusts forceful and rough, the air blown from your lungs, the shaky and dizzying gasps along the shell of his ear. 

‘I know, I know, you’re so pretty like this- never letting them have you, you belong to me,’ he says and punctuates every word with a harsh thrust, your breasts bouncing and a hand coming up to stroke the curve of your spine under your dress. You shiver, a mewl and a whine as your orgasm creeps along your nerves, your clit pulsing and tingling, the drag and graze of his cock kissing at your cervix and your mind reels, the pounding in your ears so intense it drowns out the dirty squelch of your hips meeting in every harsh thrust.

‘Feels good-feels so good- don’t stop ‘zana,’ you say, pressing your nails into his skin, and in your daze, grabbing at his face to press a kiss to his bitten lips, your saliva smeared all over his chin, pooling in your mouth as your tongue sucks at his, a kiss that’s all teeth and high pitched whimpers that he captures with his lips latched firmly on yours. You see your saliva dribbling down his chin, shiny pearlescent tears streaked onto your cheeks, black caked mascara on his neck from where you’ve eagerly pressed your skin to his.

‘Say it,’ he says, his hand around your throat squeezing in time with your racing heart, a loud punch against your ribs. ‘Tell me you love me and I’ll let you cum. Tell me I’m the only one.’

‘You are!’ you fervently nod, clutching his shirt, the bounce and slap of your hips against his creating a messy and slick squelch. ‘I love you- I love you- I love you,’ you say, eager to chase the sweet and delicious high now teetering before your eyes. 

‘Louder.’ He grabs your hips, grinds his cock back and forth, dragging it along your slick walls, a shaky hand snaking between the wet and warm mess of your bodies to rub smooth circles over your puffy clit. ‘Want to hear you scream it, or I won’t let you cum.’ 

You whimper into his shoulder, your hoarse and tired voice choking out the words muffled by the now decorated skin of his neck. ‘I’m yours! I belong to you, only you- please let me cum ‘zana.’ You don’t think of the possible embarrassment of being heard, the assistants running to and fro in the corridors hearing you moan so loud it has your neck flaring with heat, or that your faded lipstick is pressed to his collar, your sticky arousal pooling on his thighs, the indent of his fingers pressed into your hips.

‘Do you deserve to cum? Tell me,’ he says, the squeeze of your walls around his cock making his head spin, a delirious and dizzying rush of blood in his ears and you hate him, a ferocity of such loathing that has you squeezing impossibly tighter around him, shameless and broken moans spilling past your parted lips.

You’re minutely away of the brush of your dress hiked to your waist now clinging to your sweat-slicked skin, the shimmering black now folded in creases from where his hands have bunched it in his eager grasp and you gasp when his cock grazes your cervix just right, messy and wet enough to have him slipping out from where his thumb presses to your tingling clit.

‘I deserve- I deserve it- I’ll never misbehave sir- I’ll do anything, just let me cum, please.’ And you rock against him in selfish need, pushing yourself further against him on the sofa, hoping to chase your orgasm into peaceful bliss.

He groans, latching his mouth to your neck and biting hard, the tug on your hair baring your clavicle for him where he lets his teeth graze your sweaty perfumed skin. ‘Good girl, that’s what I like to hear, you sound so pretty like that.’ He thrusts messily, once, twice, his thumb rubbing tighter circles on your clit. ‘Go ahead and cum for me, all over my cock, let me feel you.’ 

It’s messier still, wet and gushing all over his abdomen, soaking into the fine hairs of his navel when you do cum, all translucent pearly arousal slickening his thighs, you rocking your hips to ride out the high and smearing it further, your body slackening, the hand around your throat squeezing enough to have your mind numbing and falling apart. 

‘Izana, sir…’ Your parted mouth sighing and whimpering his name as the bliss washes over you, heavy and thick enough to have your eyes fluttering against his neck before he languidly aims a punchy thrust, his cock twitching against your pulsing walls.

‘There you go, that’s a good girl, I’ve got you- you going to take my cum now? Let me breed you like the good girl you are?’ he says and stills your hips, an arch to his back as he sucks in a heavy and choked breath, the squeeze of you wrapped around his cock that has his hands shaking on your hips.

‘Mhm, want you to fill me up ‘zana, I’m all yours.’ And you press further against him, into the sofa, the rough fabric against your thighs eliciting a shiver that runs across your spine.

‘Sh-shit, That’s right- all mine, gonna give you a baby and make you mine forever,’ he moans and his hips jerk, a strong and sloppy thrust against the ache inside you before he spills entirely, thick and warm rivulets of heavy cum now seeping between your legs, the soft skin of your thighs coated in a shiny white sheen. 

He rides out the high, a punctuated grind that has your clit tingling with the friction, your name falling from his lips in divinity, in a soft and breathy whisper, hoarse whine bubbling at the back of his throat as his features settle into bliss, peaceful pleasure that has his lashes shivering against his cheek. 

You come down together, a moment of brief quiet, the air permeated with the lingering aftertaste of sweat and perfume, warm and cloistered, the rain beating on the windowpane, gentle lashings of ice and wind that have the trees creaking beyond the glass.

He runs a hand along your spine, you sitting still there with your head resting on the apex of his chest, smooth and littered with bites and broken capillaries under the skin, a garden of blooming reds and pinks and purples that’ll fade to a violet hue by morning, the thin sheen of sweat curling his white hair at the back of his neck, sticky and plastered to his nape. 

There is little talking in these moments, just the faint and steady breaths taken in time with the other, the rhythm of his heart beating wildly against your cheek and you, gathered in his arms while the ringing in your ears subsides, a tick-tock of the wall clock and the peaceful transient bliss pervading the space between your breaths, soft sighs and shy smiles that you’re eager to hide against the swell of his shoulder.

He clears his throat, a circle traced across the fine bones in your spine. ‘Are you okay? Was it…good?’ he says, the veil of his barrier broken for the moment, the shaky timbre of his voice that has your heart aching, resting gently in his palms where it has since the day you’d met, and you’d first tasted him all those months ago, sweet and honeyed and full of promise.

You lift a hand to touch at his cheek, the back of one shaky finger following the proud and pronounced arc of his cheekbones, his straight nose, the bloom of his full and pink lips now bitten down by the both of you. ‘It was good, Izana sir, really good.’ 

‘You’re….happy? It didn’t hurt?’

‘I’m happy and no it didn’t hurt.’ You pause. ‘Well, not in any way I didn’t like.’ And your thumb catches on his lips, a kiss pressed to the indent of your wrist, the veins jumping under the warmth of his talented mouth, a heat flaring across your skin now hidden by the moon sprinting behind the clouds. 

You stay like that for a while, the rain beating against the window, so high up and far, away from the Haitanis slipping into a car on the road, the screech of tires half hidden by the heavy pounding of thunder booming across the sky.

‘Think he’s gonna tell her soon?’ Rindou says and spares a glance at the window of your office, far away from prying eyes, the darkened interior illuminated only by the patch of moonlight where your open laptop sits faded to black.

‘Mhm, maybe. But you know how he is, he thinks no one can tell he’s in love with her.’ Kakucho says and stubs out a cigarette against the top of a street bin, the rain dashing against the bonnet of the car.

‘Anyone could, especially after all those gifts, he’s not really as subtle as he pretends to be.’ This from Ran who leans languidly back against the drivers seat while the others crush their half-finished cigarettes and throw them haphazardly into the trash, the single slice of moonlight falling from your window leaving only the darkness of the night to swallow up the interior. 

‘Yeah well, don’t let him hear you saying that, he’s trying in whatever way he knows. Only reason he hasn’t told her is because he thinks she’s going to reject him.’ Kakucho pulls open the passenger door and slips in, the collar of his black coat now frigid with cold. Rindou stretches his legs out behind them, pulling his door shut against the biting wind nipping at his cheeks, a shiver breaking out across his skin.

‘I guess you’re right. I wonder if she knows they’re from him.’ Ran says and revs the engine of the car, a sound you minutely hear under the layers of rain and wind whipping at the window, the two of you settled for the moment, a weak and watery peace you know can never last, that can only survive till morning, where you know that you’ll slip into the title of employee once more, where he is cold and far away, warmed only by the slightest touch of your knuckles to his as you pass in the corridor, strangers again till the night comes.

…That and you expect to find a new gift on your desk when morning comes too.

You’ve always known a little more than you let on haven’t you?

a/n: hi everyone (god I'm nervous), this was a submission for @sleepysnk sugar daddy collab (of which you can find here, i'm sorry I am so late, i've been very busy between working and finding a new job but I hope you like it anyway) as always, feedback is welcome but pls be nice and constructive about it. (I'm embarrassed enough just to leave my digital footprint here like this lmao) I love u all x

nsfw taglist: (let me know if you'd like to be added) @blackfire2013 @haitaniapologist @nikokopuffs @mochimiyaas @mingodaddy @longlivebaji @sin-and-punishment @keiskyutie @bertholdts--butt @tetsutits

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #izana kurokawa #izana x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyorev x reader #kurokawa izana

[7ok74]

#Rolex Sir #Vikram #Dilli #Kaithi

[girlinwoods]

{ eyes}

Mean dom.. jungkook x reader ( non con)

" y/n baby are you ready Or not we have to go please! hurry it's getting late!"

" yeah coming Aiden" she came down wearing a beautiful red dress...

" you look so beautiful my love"....

" thanku.. bae"

" it's getting late let's go" ..

After their car ride..they reached a big mansion...

" bae.. it's so beautiful"

" yea ..Ik..but our small house is greater than this ...

And ... don't talk too ...much to mr Jeon " he said in jealous voice

" don't you trust me..bae?"

" ofc I do y/n but... I don't trust that jerk mr..Jeon"

" whatever" she just rolls her eyes annoyingly

They both enter in Mansion..and the mansion was quite silent until a man came in simple.. black shirt with black jeans..that show's his muscular thighs and his one ...hand was covered with tattoo while other have a Rolex watch...

" hey Aiden"

" hey Mr Jeon! how are you?" My husband asked in a very polite voice while ..his...boss was staring at ..me more like checking me out...up and down and Aiden noticed it...but he can't do anything...

" mr Jeon?" He asked again but didn't get any response

" who's she" he asked in deep voice

" my wife"

I was feeling scared...

" let's have dinner first" mr Jeon said but his eyes was stuck on her...

After the dinner both men were talking about work while she was scrolling her phone...but suddenly Mr Jeon spoke

" how much?"

" how much for what Mr Jeon ?" My husband asked

" for your wife"

Wth really? and my husband wasn't reacting as he should

" she's not for sale she's my wife...sir.. please be in your limits" my husband said but in a bit harsh yet scared tone..

And that was it Mr Jeon slapped my husband and i stood up from the seat but to my shock my husband didn't said anything he was silent

" really Aiden?"

" yes.. sir please b-be in your limits"

" well let's see what my limits are "

He stood up and pull my husband by his collar as he pushed him to floor and his eyes met mine

" beautiful... like a ocean" and he slides his back of his hand on her chin

" fuck you!" She said and yanked his hand harshly

" fisty aren't we" he said as he grabbed her hair from back and yanked her head...

" but remember I am not your husband who gonna act like a pussy " he ripped her dress and slides her panty and he bend down as he grabbed her ass and pull her more towards his mouth as he was eating her out...while... looked at her husband who looking at her crying like...a loser he.. was ..she couldn't help but moan.. after jungkook was satisfied..he pull her by gripping on her neck and kissed her roughly so much that she can feel him in her core...as he groped her ass

And he broked the kiss

" Aiden look at her ....with a real man... with a real Alpha male..."

And Aiden was feeling shame...to his..core..he felt helpless..

" now look how she gonna satisfy this monster"

And jungkook removed his boxers.... his dick stands up ...maybe like a 6 inches

" Aiden tell her to suck me...suck a real man's cock tell her... Aiden"

And Aiden couldn't feel more helpless but to do what he was told

" y/n...s-suck..him"

And y/n couldn't believe what Aiden was saying..her husband...and jungkook was getting impatient..so he did what he like ....controlling...

And pushed her on her knees and gripped her mouth as he started fucking her mouth like a cunt

" fuck...feels good"

And she was crying... from pain and after 20 minutes..he came in her mouth

" drink all of it..and if you waste any drop of it... your husband gonna die"..

She did...as she was told...

And then he bend her over couch and started fucking her from behind while she was moaning like a bitch in the heat and her... husband was watching all the .. things but

As Mr Jeon said... he's a pussy after all....who.. can't protect his wife...

And..he know.... he deserves it....and y/n was enjoying it...

After all... that's why...he bought her to...Mr Jeon's house

#bts ffs #bts imagines #dom!jungkook #yandere jungkook #jungkookff

[scorpius-major]

#and they were roommates

Ft: Tighnari, ayato, scaramouche, and gn!reader

Modern Au!

In which they are your roommate and hijinks ensue gn!reader but like hints to perfume and “girly” things ig. Also mentions of a concussion and the reader getting whacked with a chair.

Tighnari

The plant mom roommate

Tighnari is THE plant roommate. Everywhere you look there’s just a potted plant. You’ll see the most exotic plants too. AND HES SO CALM ABOUT IT. like he keeps his one endangered plant in the house and you’re just like “isnt that endangered?” He pauses, mumbles “yes” and leaves the room. He takes hella good care of them tho. Nari ALWAYS uses fresh herbs and spices when he cooks. He saw store bought spices in the cabinet and literally threw them OUT THE WINDOW. Rachel Ray who? Bro got a mortar and pestle and cracks fresh pepper. But the apartment always be smelling HEAVENLY. All that basil and mint be workin wonders for air. HES SO NEAT TOO. like bro is always tidying up when he has free time. He’s also very passive when it comes to you cleaning. “Hmmm when’s the last time you tidied your room?” Nari also helps you with with anything! Work projects or uni work he’s down to do anything with you. Even if you’re not in a relationship, he’s very domestic and cuddly! Whenever you both have free time expect late nights in and movie nights! But he’s a great roommate 9/10

Ayato

The “you’re rich why the hell do you need a roommate” roommate

There’s legit no reason why this man needs a roommate. He’s rich. Sometimes you secretly think it’s because he’s a little lonely, but he always denies it. Sometimes you don’t see him around the house. Oh yeah and it’s supposed to be an “apartment” but it’s the size of a middle class townhome. He’ll always say he’s going to “clean the apartment” SIR THAT HOUSE IS PROBABY WORTH MORE THAN MY LIFE. But the house is fr ALWAYS tidy. He will not allow the house to be messy at ALL. Unlike Nari, ayato is not passive at all. He will legit just say “go clean your room now”. Like he’s your mom. And you clean it, because he’s lowkey scary. Not even to mention the fact that the entire house is decked out with designer furniture. Gucci throw pillows, and blankets that probably costs an entire college tuition. But he always spoils you! Looked at a perfume for more than two seconds? Bam it’s on your bed the next morning. Said how you were gonna buy a watch? Well now you have a Rolex. Ayato is another one who likes to cook, but he just doesn’t have much time for it. Although whenever you eat out expect high end restaurants. He says “dw, just dress casually” AND HE SHOWS UP IN A SUIT. so you’re just sitting there in like the most upscale establishment in jeans and a tshirt. Another great roommate 8.5/10

Scaramouche

the “wait I have a roommate?” roommate

Honestly neither one of y’all knew the other existed. For like the first 6 months you thought you were living alone. He did too. It wasnt until he caught you making pudding in the kitchen at 3am. It was a pretty awkward situation tbh. Like imagine your minding your own damn business in the kitchen whippin up some delicious ass pudding and this random 5’3 dude comes downstairs. Tbh I’d panic too. Y’all fr never met before. The landlord was like pretty brief and said “oh yeah btw you have a roommate” and legit that was it. So you’re bout to put the pudding in the fridge and BRO JUST HITS YOU WITH A CHAIR. FULL FORCE ON SOME WWE SHIT. you probably had a concussion but you were more concerned about why there’s a dude with a bowl cut standing in your kitchen. in the midst of all the chaos somebody ends up saying “who tf are you???” And by grace you both say “I live here who tf are you??” At the exact same time. Then you’re both just stand there like🧍🏾‍♀️🤨. Or well he’s standing and you’re sitting bc you fell over from the chair. You both clear some stuff up. The both of you make a collective decision to blame everything on the landlord. You had a roommate for 6 months and didn’t know? The fuckin landlord man. You spilled the delectable pudding on the floor? It’s that damn landlord again. This bohemian rhapsody mf wanna start talkin shit so you bring up his relationship with his mother and he starts crying? ITS THE GOD FORSAKEN LANDLORD AGAIN. You two got this like rivalry going on. On small stuff too. Who can eat their bowl of fruit loops faster. He beats your ass in Mario kart? He will not shut up about it for the next year. You beat his ass in super smash bros? You hold it against him for the next 2 years. He’s surprisingly very neat too. I feel like he can’t cook for shit tho LMAO. Bro probably burnt tf outta pasta and never cooked it again. He leaves all the cooking to you and Uber eats. 7/10 roommate.

#got way too carried away with scara’s LMAO #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin x reader #tighnari x reader #tighnari hcs #tighnari imagines #ayato x reader #ayato imagines #ayato x you #ayato x gender neutral reader #ayato hcs #ayato headcanons #scara x reader #scaramouche imagines #scaramouche x reader #scara x you #scaramouche x you #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you

[more-cardigan-than-woman]

The Babysitter - Day 5 - Midnight / 8

Summary: You ran away and now you're at a club, what could possibly go wrong

Thief!Reader x The Red Hood

4.8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, semi public sex acts, chasing, minor primal kink, swearing, alcohol, chocking, slapping, canon typical violence.

AN: This chapter is split into night and day, as it starts at midnight and it was way too long.

Day 4

The metaphorical clock strikes midnight as you approach The Bunker. There is no line, no security, just one singular light hanging above a random steel door. To say this club was underground, well, it would be wrong. Sure, it’s called The Bunker, but that's mostly because the place is run by hench folks and they’re not exactly a creative bunch. You remember when you first asked Harley about it and she just rolled her eyes and sounded surprised that it was still open.

Shimming down the dress that you fished out of your go bag and very carefully changed into in the park restroom, you approach the club. Your eyes wander up and you notice the beam in the sky, he's out tonight. Which must be why everyone's here and not with their bosses causing mayhem.

You knock in sequence on the heavy door, surprised when a familiar face greets you. 

"Janice! Bestie! I didn't know you got a job here. I haven’t seen you in so long! What have you been up to? Aside from this sweet side gig? It must be good work? Do they pay well? Do you get to meet heaps of cool people?”

"It's Janelle," Janice says, looking wholly unimpressed to see you, she flips her long dark braid over her shoulder, seeming to type something into her tablet before rolling her eyes at you, "go in."

"We should catch up soon! It's been ages since we hung out!." 

"Not long enough." She mutters as you walk past her and walk down the long corridor towards the club.

With every step you hear the music grow louder, the lights grow brighter and you grow closer and closer to the party. "Good luck finding me here, Macho man." You mumble, stepping into the crowd and locating your first mark.

Xx

"Where are you going?" Jason thinks as he stares down at the little dot on his map, "there's nothing that side of crime alley, little trouble maker."

Revving his motorcycle he follows the dot, ending up at a random street. "Where are you?" He peers around noting the large apartment buildings above and garbage covering the alley way. "What the fuck?" He grips his phone so hard he can hear the screen crack as your dot vanishes, "she can't just fucking disappear."

Pacing back and forth he tries to think, his brain almost combusting before an idea springs to mind. Lucky for him the idiot answers in a second.

"Hey boss, wassup?"

"Jamie, you know any hangouts near park and renegade?"

"Just the bunker, heard they was having a party tonight."

"The bunker?"

"Yeah, it's the henchman hangout."

"The-"

"Henchman's hangout. Used to go there all the time. But you got me so busy these days while you're out, i-"

"How do I find it?"

"Got a light over the door, big steel one."

"Thanks Jamie, take the night off." He ends the calls before the man can keep talking.

He scans the alley again, noticing the single light hanging from a patio a bit further down. Jason bangs on the door with his fist and when it doesn't open he kicks that fucker down. 

"Mr Red Hood sir, I didn't realise.." Janelle says, "Sorry, we don't normally get-" 

The Red Hood walks right by the flustered woman, throwing her some money for the door before stalking his way down the hallway.

Xx

“What is this song?” you shout to Lark over the thrum of the music.

“No idea.” she smiles at you, “Behind you, Rolex.”

“Good spot,” your eyes flick back to the tall guy behind you, his brown hair flipping around as he attempts to dance, “cover me,” you say to Lark as she turns her back to watch from behind.

“Got you girl. Get us that bag.”

“Wow,” you turn, your hand landing on the man's big (though not as big as Red's) forearm, his cheap plasticky jacket seeming to stick to the palms of your hands, “Sorry,” you stare up at the man his dull hazel eyes not nearly as enchanting as the blue ones you’ve been thinking about all day, “Or not,” you wink as his hand slips down your arm.

“We dancing?” he asks, grabbing your hand to twirl you around and you let out a squeal. “You’re fun.” he pulls you closer “cute too,” you can smell how much he bathed in his cologne before coming out tonight, you can feel the bile creeping up your throat with every second. This closeness only makes you move faster before the stench makes you aspirate or puke.

“Yeah, let's dance.” you take his hand and let him hold it, while your fingers toy with the clasp on his watch. “Spin me again,” you laugh and as he does you flick the watch off his wrist and spin yourself into your dark haired friend. 

“Girl, you get it?” Lark catches you, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and spins so her back is covering the man's view of you.

“Happy Birthday Larkie, your gift,” you joke, slipping it onto her wrist and laughing when it fits perfectly.

“Best gift ever. Until the next one,” Lark links her arm through yours, winding you both through the crowd as whatever his name was tries to follow you both.

“Drinks?” 

“Yes, Des is serving those big fruity cocktails I love, I want at least four and you can tell me more about the Red Hood and why the fuck I haven’t seen you all week.”

You and Lark continue to drink, talk and steal. You almost forget that Reds on his way, that he promised to punish you for being bad, that he’s probably going to slap you again, maybe throw you over his shoulder like the man handling dickhead he is. Maybe he’ll snarl at you, pin you up against the wall and then just take-

“Yo! Your drifting off into the clouds again girlie.” Lark snaps her fingers in front of your face, “Earth calling, wanna come back down to me?”

“Yeah,” you shake your head, “I’m here, just thinking about-”

“Why don’t you go splash your face.” Lark offers, tilting her head towards the bathroom, “Someones watching us.”

“I can’t see anyone, but I trust you. Be back in a sec.” you push your way through the crowd, your eyes searching for any sign of the Red Hood. You don’t see him or anyone really, just a bunch of faceless swaying beings that form the dance floor and the wooden door that leads into the bathroom.

Shoving your way inside you tip your head over the graffiti covered sink and splash some of the water over your face, careful not to get any in your mouth. It’s probably safe, but probably isn't definitely and with Scarecrow out of Arkham anything is possible.

"G'day petal," a deep voice startles as it storms from one of the stalls, "gunna need me boom back,"

"You what?" You lift on your toes and take a step back, planting your feet on the ground.

"I know you took my boomerang, petal."

"For once you're wrong, Boomer."

"Yeah, nah. Ain’t got your little boyfriend to keep me away this time."

"Who?" You push at him and when he doesn't budge you reach behind you, gripping at the gun tucked into your pocket.

"Who says he's my boyfriend?" You lift up as your hand grips the handle.

"Everyone, I talked to." 

"Wrong again." You pull the gun out pointing it under his chin, "how does it feel to be so wrong so often, Boomer?"

"Feels pretty nice from here," he grinds his hips into you and you click the trigger, "Petal forgot her bullets," he tuts at you, "silly girl."

"Don't need em," you smirk, reaching the gun back and colliding It with his head, a loud smack echoes in the small room and he's on the floor, "now for my prize," flipping his jacket open you take one of the boomerangs, easily tucking it into your pocket with the rest of your loot.

"What's with the gun?" Lark asks, her eyes shifting to the passed out Boomer on the bathroom floor, “I see, we should go.” she wraps an arm around you and hurries you into the crowd on the dancefloor.

“I wasn’t taking that long,” you shout into her ear.

“No, I came to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

“Your guy.”

“My what?”

“The Red Hood.”

“What about him?”

“He’s here.”

XX

Jason's helmet scans the room, instantly spotting you cozied up to some random woman. Eyes turn to him, but he ignores them as he sinks into the shadows of the club. 

He watches you for a while, the tiny echo of your voice ringing across the large room. His eyes drift up your legs, stopping at the short hemline of your skirt and the heaviness of your pockets. Jason enjoys seeing you take and take and take from those around you, seemingly gifting this woman with the dark hair with some of your takings. The both of you dance and laugh together, seeming to work together to scam those around you and he can’t help the jealousy of how free you seem to be with her seep into his trigger finger. You’re spinning and free and the way you cling to her, it’s taking all his control not to march over, pick you up and drag you out of here. 

You dodge someone before your pretty eyes dart around the room quickly, seeming to pause in Jason's hiding place in the shadows before moving across and then suddenly you're moving, charging off towards the bathroom.

Now is his chance, he thinks, stepping into the light when the whole crowd turns to him and he feels the need to sink back into the darkness. But it’s almost too late, he can see that dark haired woman coming towards him, a look of anger and vengeance on her face. Fuck, had you told her about him? What did you say for her to be acting like this? He moves, circling around the room until there is a dance floor of people between them. Jason was too busy trying to put distance between him and this woman and her cheap leather outfit. He lost track, you went into the bathroom, he thinks, then, where did you go? He looks over the crowd but he can’t see you, can’t even see the other woman, only the crowd and the lights.

He scans for you on his helmet again and you pop up almost immediately, your body moving freely as you dance with the woman in the crowd and he can’t help the step he takes forward. Like his brain has left the building and now something else is creeping its way into his head.

“What is that?” you ask Lark, your neck twitching to the side.

“Umm, Girl.”

“It’s like an itch, but it’s inside my skin.” you reach back trying to scratch it.

“Girl,” she spins you around and you let out a gasp as the Red Hood stomps towards you, the crowd seeming to part for him as he, can a step be angry? Its like his anger is seeping from his fucking suit. It's a very pretty suit, especially with all the bright lights of the club shining off his helmet.

“Love you Larkie, but I-”

“You gotta go.” she squeezes your hand, “take the back door and don't forget to have fun!” she calls to you as you take off, squishing and squirming your way through the dancers. You throw a glance over your shoulder and can see him getting closer as you move towards the back of the club and the back door. Your heart thrums in your chest, pumping in your ears while your feet struggle to stay steading on your heels.

“Stop following me.” you call, but are pretty sure it's lost in the noise of the club. Picking up the pace you kick your heels off, leaving them behind so you can run faster. You dart around the corner near the bathroom and a hand snakes out grabbing your arm.

“Where you off to now Petal?”

“Don’t have time for this Boomer.”

“Make time,” he points his boomerang at your stomach, pulling it back. Fast as you can you wrap your hand around it, flipping yourself backwards and yanking it from his hand. You spin, throwing the object in the direction of the Red Hood and flee as fast as you can. Boomer is so taken aback that he doesn't say a word, just stares, his hand held up for when his weapon will return to him.

A loud thud rings down the hall and you turn back only to see Boomer on the ground again as the Red Hood steps over his body. His hand reaching down for the gun on his leg. Fuck, how is he getting closer? Are you moving slower?

Turning back around you make a fast dash for the door, the heavy clang of the Red Hoods boots ringing in your ears almost as hard as your breaths are coming out. The door! It’s right there, you're a step, maybe two from it when a strong hand wraps around your wrist and you can’t hold the scream of surprise in.

“Thought you’d give more of a fight, little trouble maker.” Reds robot voice growls into your ear.

“Well, I do hate to disappoint,” you stomp down on his foot, forgetting that you're in bare feet and wince when the steel cap of his boots dig into the arch of your foot, “Ow.” you cry, jabbing your elbow into the hard armor on his stomach, “Why is everything always so hard with you?” you wiggle trying to escape his grasp. 

“So that little brats can’t beat me up.” he holds you a little tighter, the leather of his gloves biting into your skin. The smell of your sweaty perfume barely registers under his helmet, but fuck if he can’t feel your cute little ass wiggling into his cock. Biting down on his lip he tries to maintain some control, to not just press your smart ass little face into the wall and take you right here. His cock throbs when you try to hit him again, making that sweet whiney noise. Shit, he needs, what does he need- “I wanna watch you run a bit more,” his grip starts to loosen, even though he wants nothing more to hold you so fucking close, “ready?”

“To run from you? Always.”

“Good girl.” he releases you and you take off immediately running for the door, your sweaty hands siding off the handle and you giggle when you spot him watching you, unable to keep the excitement of what the fuck is happening inside you. The words, his words, that he keeps saying that somehow makes your insides melt and your legs feel tingly, “You won’t be laughing when I catch you this time.” he threatens, cracking his knuckles at you. But he hasn’t moved yet, he’s watching you from his perch on the wall.

“Fuck you!” you shout back when you finally get the door open and sprint onto the street. You smile to yourself as you hear the thud of his boots coming from behind you, “Fucking asshole!” you bolt down the alley, the stones on the tarmac digging into your feet, but you can’t stop. Even if you’re having fun, enjoying the thought of him chasing you oh so slowly and what he might possibly do when he catches up to you, “You’re so fucking slow!” you shout, turning around to see the alleyway empty, only the trash drifting down and the graffitied walls closing in on you.

Where did he go? He was right behind you a second ago. You turn towards the other end of the alley and can only see the soft glow of the street lights shining. Shit, where could he have gone? Did he give up? You think smugly, turning back down the alley which will lead to a quicker route home. “Fucking idiot, I told him I was faster.”

“But I’m smarter.” The Red Hood grasps your arm, yanking you into a covered alcove and closing your body into his hard armor. A deep breathe rushes from Jason's chest as you bump into him, he probably pulled your with more force than he needed to, but seeing that fucking smile on your face is worth it.

“Guess you caught me.” you beam up at him. He feels his cock straining against his pants at your closeness. If seeing you in the small dress, stealing from those assholes hadn’t excited him. Then watching your ass giggle and your laughter ring in the air as he chased you certainly did. “So what are you going to do with me, now that you've caught me?” you tease him, your hand reaching up towards his helmet and he catches your wrist in his hand.

“What do you think, trouble maker?”

“What do I think? Now he wants to know. Well, Where do I start? I think you’re mean, I think my feet are fucking sore from running on the bare street, I think I don't even know your fucking name and I think that you didn’t even care to come looking for me.”

“How many times is that now?”

“Times what? Because seriously, youre sending some mixed fucking signals here and I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you or your little brain but as fun as it can be, I need some fucking clarity here Red, because I’m fucking confused.”

“Nine.” Jason adds in his head, using his grip on your wrist to spin you around and press you into the wall, “I told you not to swear at me. It’s about time you got some punishment.” he lifts the skirt of your dress, impressed by how heavy the pockets seem to be he tries to ignore it, “Bad mouth brats, need to learn their place.” he slaps his hand onto your ass gentler than he wants to, his fingers kneading at your soft panties. “8 more to go, trouble maker. And for every noise you make I'm going to add one more.” he slaps you again and you can’t keep the little yip that escapes you. He keeps going “7, I’m sending mixed signals,” he leans over to threaten close to your ear, “6, you ran away from me,” his thumb grazes over your ass, “5, you keep being bad,” his long gloved fingers graze over the wet spot in your panties, “4, but I know you want to be good for me,” he flicks your panties to the side before slapping right over your clit, “3, you like to torture me, don’t you?” You let out a hungry moan, your ass presses back into his hand and Jason can’t help the way his dick throbs. “3 more,” he wraps a hand around your mouth, holding it closed, “I think this is torturing you more than me.”

You mumble into his glove, the leather scent filling your nose, his hand tightens on your face. You can feel yourself dripping down your thigh from all those delicious slaps moving from your ass to your clit and those strong fingers on you and his thighs closing you in.

“1 more little trouble maker. Can you take it?” you nod, sticking your ass out even further and wiggling it for him, “This is a punishment, act like it” he scorns you. You wiggle more, biting down on his fingers, and he moans at the feeling of your teeth gripping his finger, “Better.”

His strong hand slaps on your ass and your scream into his fingers, way too exaggerated but Red seems to love it. His fingers massage into your tender skin, his hand gripping tight on your face, “Quiet,” he commands you as his fingers slide through the sopping mess of your pussy, “Quiet or I will stop.”

“Ah, huh.” you mumble into the glove as his fingers press into you. The leather cold on the inside of your pussy, his helmet cold on the side of your face. But fuck, those fingers, he toys with you. Slowly moving in and out, swirling around inside of you and pumping up into your g spot. You almost lose your mind when his thumb grazes up and starts to circle your clit. Your hips thrusting back into him as you grind down on those thick fingers. 

“You’re little cunt is so tight on my fingers,” the red hood pumps into you faster, “you like it like this trouble maker?” he pushes another finger in, while his thumb continues its ministrations on your clit, “I can tell that you do, you’re fucking clinging to me.” his hand moves from your mouth to cup at your breast as his body pushes you closer to the wall, “I wanna hear you cum, trouble maker,”

“Quietly?”

“Yeah, can you do that for me?”

“I- ahhh,” you bite down on your bottom lip, “I’ll try,”

“Good girl.” you fall apart at his words, your hold body shaking into the brick wall, your pussy sucking his fingers deeper and deeper inside you. Your teeth biting so hard into your lip you think you might be bleeding as your panting breaths escape from the corner of your lips. Red keeps a hold of you, his whole body seeming to keep you up while you come apart around him.

“Red, I ah-” you shiver as your body starts to relax again and he pulls his fingers from within you.

Jason spins you back around, pressing your ass into the cool concrete wall by the throat, the chill seeming to soothe the soreness and ache in your muscles, “Hello trouble maker,” he titles that shiny helmet to the side, lifting his fingers up and under the helmet so he can taste you, “How was your day?” he asks so casually that it throws you for a second.

“Really great,” you smile sarcastically into the lit up eyes of the helmet, “No one told me what to do, or threw me around.”

“Or made you cum so hard you shook, sounds boring.” his fingers grip tighter on your throat, his knees pushing your legs further apart. Shit, he’s losing control. Like he can't seem to stop, like that tiny taste of you and watching you fall apart on his fingers cracked a hole in his skull, “I had a boring day too, some dumb brat left me to entertain myself.”

“Poor you.”

“Want to make it up to me?

“Isn’t that what the punishment was?”

“No, because I don't think you learned your lesson yet, trouble maker.” he pulls off his jacket, throwing it on the ground before him, pushing you to your knees. Trying not to be impressed at how quickly you’ve bounced back after he made you cum so hard, “You going to do as you're told?”

“No.” you stare up at him defiantly.

“Do you want me to make you?” his finger twine through your hair, yanking your head back.

“Is this suppose to be intimidating? Because honestly that little kid in the tights is scarier than you.” His other hand slaps across your face and your sensitive pussy tingles in your panties.

“If you want me to stop, I need you to tell me. Just hit me in the leg or something,” he says so softly that you’re almost confused by it, but you understand. This game, or whatever weird ass fuck thing you two are doing, he wants reassurance that you’re playing too. “I need you to nod or shake your head, if this is too far-” he pauses, caressing your face,”-I can just take you home and rub some oil into your feet.”

You stare up at his helmet, your hands resting on his thighs as your nails bite into the hard metal covers, your smile maybe a little bit evil, “Fuck you,” you spit at his chest.

“My little trouble maker,” his fingers tighten in your hair as his other hand works fast to pull his cock from his pants, “Open your mouth,” he orders you and your lips open with seemingly a mind of their own, “Good, stick out your tongue,” he bounces his cock on your tongue and you can’t help the way you start to squirm at the taste of him on your tongue, “Sit still.” he thrusts forward pressing his cock further into your mouth, “Close that loud mouth,” you suck at him, your tongue pressing up into the thick vein that runs along the bottom of his cock, “Do a good job and I’ll give you a reward,” this spurs you on, thinking of how good his fingers felt inside you. You eagerly bob your head and your fingers press into his thighs, your tongue swirling around his cock as moans bubble up your throat and vibrate around him, “finally something that mouth is good for,” he releases your hair, his hand moving down to support your neck, “at your own pace, trouble maker,” he moans, trying his best to keep himself still and not fuck down into your throat, “yeah, like that,” his head flings back with the weight of the helmet, “You feel amazing, so hot and wet.”

You make a movement with your hands, your finger traveling from your chin to your head, while you keep on sucking and licking at him, “Off?” he asks a little breathless, you give him the tiniest nod, trying not to lose the grip your lips have on his cock. “Stop for a second,” his hand leaves your neck and his cock falls from your lips and you suck in a harsh breath.

Relaxing back on your thighs you stare up at him in awe, his huge cock hanging between his armored legs. He lifts the helmet off, his hair shiny dark curls fall perfectly over his face, he drops the helmet to the ground, his fingers brush the hairs from your face as his sharp jawline tilts down at you and a red domino mask stares back at you.

“I knew it! Two masks!” you exclaim, a second before he shoves his cock back in your mouth.

“I was such a close trouble maker, why don't you be a good girl and make me feel good and then I’ll think about rewarding you.” you hungrily suck his cock, your pussy fucking soaking the ground beneath you as you bring him closer and closer to finishing. The whites of the domino mask stare at you while his hair clings to his sweaty face. His moans grow rougher and more animalistic as he gets closer and closer. Your teeth scrape along his length and that seems to be the thing that sends him over the edge, his salty, tangy cum paints the inside of your mouth and you swallow it down like bridesmaids drinking prosecco at a bachelorette party. His soft panting fills in your ears as his hands gently brush along your cheek.

His cock falls from your lips as he leans into the wall behind you. His eyes still take you in as he rests his head on the cold concrete, his chest heaving, his breath spot but his hand still on your face. You meet his eyes as you gather some of his cum that fell from your mouth on your fingers and lick at it, moaning around your fingers in the same way he had earlier.

“You did so well for me,” he coos, lightly slipping his forearm under yours and helping you off the ground. He picks up his helmet, “Can you hold this?” he asks in a voice so devoid of the earlier animal it surprises you, “I’m going I take you home and I can look at those feet.”

“My feet? What about my pussy?”

“If you can behave long enough.” he picks you up, sliding an arm under your legs, “Remember when I told you how loud I can make bratty little trouble makers.”

“Not true until you prove it.”

“Then I guess I better prove it,” he winks, capturing your lips in a desperate, hungry kiss, “But only if you’re a good girl, think you can do it?”

“I can only try my best.” you snuggle into his chest, holding the helmet on your tummy as he carries you home.

Day 5 - 7 am

Taglist:

@letmebebatmanpls @hypnobanditprofessorhorse-blog

@nutmeg030 @igotanidea @tild3ath @halbhohehalluzination

@goblinhobo @efam @princessbl0ss0m @bubbles-incorrect-yb

@ilikw @megumisbabymomma @mxtokko @viperbaroness

#red hood x reader #red hood fanfic #reader x red hood #red hood #x reader #reader x jason todd #jason todd x reader

[makeyoumine69]

Starfall (commission)

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: Ever since he was a kid, Patrick always had everything he wanted. Always egoistical and entitled, he always took everything he had for granted. But what happens when one day his entire world falls apart when he receives a call?

— CONTAINS: Patrick Bateman's POV and no other warnings in order to avoid spoilers!😏

— WORDS: 2.3k

— A/N: Writing Patrick's POV was such a rollercoaster experience for me, so I want to thank a person who asked me to write this commission. Love you guys, I hope you like it!💗

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] [COMMISSIONS] [AO3] [buy me a coffee]💓

The sudden knock on my office door made me frown in annoyance, as I was in the middle of listening to the new Phil Collins tape. Slowly, I removed my headphones and turned to look at Jean, her expression was something between sorrow and shock. 

"What is it?" I ask, straightening my red tie.

"P-Patrick... I got a call from..."

Jesus, why do women always need to be so slow?

"A call from?" I repeated, crossing my arms in a mannerly way, without missing a chance to check my gold Rolex.

"From the hospital." She blurted out quickly before dropping her head.

I still didn't understand why she looked so sad, so I leaned back in my chair and let out a tired sigh.

"So you interrupted me because some asshole dialed the wrong number?" I pointed at my phone, enjoying the way she got embarrassed. "When I have a break, it means I don't exist to anyone, even you, Jean. How many times have I told you that?"

"It's about (y/n)," something heavy fell in my stomach. "They called to say that she got in a car accident, and they found your office number in her wallet."

Her words hit me harder than a truck, and I could swear I felt my blood freeze in my veins from the creeping fear. Fear of losing you. I stood up before even thinking about it, my hands shaking, but I tried my best to keep my cool. 

"Patrick." Jean muttered as she watched me put on my coat.

"Where is she?" 

"Can I come with you? I want to help."

"WHERE IS SHE?" I didn't even notice my voice getting loud, but when I saw Jean's frightened glance, a shaky breath escaped my lungs and I closed my eyes for a second. "Sorry."

"I... it's okay, I understand." She carefully handed me my scarf, which had accidentally fallen, and I hadn't even noticed. "I wrote down the address."

In addition to my scarf, she gave me a piece of paper with her note, I could barely control myself now that I realized what was happening was real.

"Thank you, Jean." I mumble, buttoning my coat and taking my briefcase. "For everything."

The taxi ride took only 20 minutes, but to me it felt like an eternity, and when I finally saw the outline of the hospital, I let out a nervous breath and got out of the car. I paid the taxi driver double what I had to, but I didn't care.

With every step I took, my heart was about to burst through my rib cage, it was beating so fast that it even hurt, and I felt so helpless and miserable under the weight of circumstances that I found it difficult to even open the main door.

Inside the hospital, time seemed to stop for me. I looked around, trying not to panic, and rushed to the reception desk, almost bumping into a nurse on the way.

The receptionist noticed my anxiety and overtook me, asking in a calm voice, "How can I help you, sir?"

"I... I'm looking for (y/n). I was informed that she's here." I said hesitantly, leaning on the reception desk.

"One moment, please." The middle-aged lady replied, fixed her glasses and picked up the phone to make a call.

To be fair, I tried not to listen to what she was saying, doing my best to distract myself from thinking about the worst, as if the worst hadn't already happened. Fuck, I'm such a mess.

"Sir?" 

I shrugged at the receptionist's voice and cleared my dry throat. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"The patient you asked about. Her condition is stable now, but she's in a coma. And we can't say when she'll—" 

"Can I see her?" I interrupted, my emotions finally taking over.

The lady sighed, but said nothing.

"Please," the grief and despair were eating me from the inside, and I was about to lose myself at any moment. "I need to see her and talk to the doctor!"

"I completely understand your feelings, sir," she held out her hand in a reassuring gesture. "I'll see what I can do. Please wait here."

In a few minutes I was walking down the long, dimly lit corridor, accompanied by several nurses. I had never been more scared in my life, I could feel my heartbeat pounding against my ears as my blood rushed through my veins as if I were about to jump off the top of the Empire State Building.

When one of the nurses stopped near the door to what I assumed was your medical room, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a few seconds. No, I was not prepared for what awaited me behind that door, but was it possible to be prepared at all?

Suffocating, I managed to open the door and walked in, all my insides tightened the moment I saw you lying on the hospital bed, your face looked so peaceful, even with the oxygen mask on, you were like a sleeping beauty.

At first I didn't know what to do, so I just stood by the door for a while, and only then did I dare to approach your small, motionless form. Cautiously, as if afraid to wake you up, I sat down next to your bed and I thought my eyes were already beginning to water.

"Hello, dear." I murmured sadly, slowly running my hand along the edge of the bed. "I... I'm here now, and everything's going to be okay. I promise you."

I felt stupid because I knew you couldn't hear me, but still, my urge to assure you that everything would be fine didn't seem strange to me. I brushed away a single tear that ran down my cheek, which you always loved to stroke, and looked at your face, wishing for a moment that I could remove this mask and press my lips to yours. I damned myself for not doing it more often when you were around. God, why did I always have to be so stubborn and arrogant?

"(Y/n), you've always been so kind to me, and you've never asked for anything in return… and I probably didn't appreciate it as much as I should have." I paused when my trembling hand found yours, and then I stared down at it. Every time I noticed how tiny your palm was compared to mine, it made something inside of me quiver.

Cursing myself, I sobbed pathetically and squeezed your hand. "And you never tried to change me or fix me, you accepted me as I am, but... but you never knew what terrible things I did! Jesus!" I was getting hysterical, but now I could no longer hide my emotions. Hateress cursed through my body, burning me like a glowing iron. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry that I wasn't completely open with you! I just didn't want you to know all the shit I've done in my fucking life!" As I continued to confess, both my arms now wrapped around your fragile frame, I laid my head on your chest, feeling your steady breathing. "Please don't go... I can't do this alone."

The beeping of the medical equipment mixed with my own whimpering, and the whole word seemed to be reduced to this small medical room, where a psycho like me was drowning in the swamp of grief.

"Maybe I'm a sick guy, but I need you more than I ever imagined," I gritted my teeth in disgust. "God damn it! I'm so fucking selfish, even now I only think about myself... I'm so fucking—"

The sound of the door opening made me almost choke. Hesitantly, I fixed my disheveled hair and wiped away my tears before turning around to see a guy who was probably a doctor, and I expected nothing but the worst. When I noticed his relaxed expression, I frowned and almost pleaded:

"Tell me she's going to be okay."

The doctor paused and looked through the papers in his hands. "According to our tests, we expect her condition to get better in a few days."

A small drop of sweat fell from my forehead the moment I heard those words. With a sigh of relief, I quickly got up from the chair and stumbled over to the doctor.

"Thank you," I managed to say, trying to shake his hand, but my body did not seem to listen to me. "If you need anything, let me know. I'll do everything I can."

The doctor nodded. I sat next to you again and mumbled that you were going to be okay. The way I was talking reminded me of the times when you couldn't sleep, and I lulled you by telling you stories where we would run away and finally be alone together. In the end, that would happen, I wouldn't let anything take that away from us, and even if I had to go to hell, I would do it. 

"I'll always be here, love," I murmured, kissing the top of your palm. "Please come back."

One of the reasons I was really proud of my apartment was the view, even if it didn't overlook the park, you loved it and that was all that mattered. 

Trapped in my thoughts, I stood next to the wide window in my living room and watched the night city through the open blinds. I could still feel your sweet scent on my skin, I could still hear the lewd sounds of us making love just a moment ago. Smiling, I closed my eyes and returned to the pleasurable images in my head, even though you were only a few feet away, lying in my big bed, I already missed you, but I would never tell you that.

I didn't know how long I stayed like this, but when I noticed your half-naked figure in the doorway of my bedroom, I gasped because I couldn't resist how beautiful you were, especially when you looked at me like that, with your deer-like, devoted eyes.

"Can't sleep?" You asked me, yawning a little and hugging yourself.

I grinned again, hiding my hands in the pockets of my gray sweatpants. "I'm just trying to understand why do you find this view so special," I crooned in a seductive voice. "But since you're awake, maybe you'll explain it to me?"

You gave me a mischievous grin, and I didn't even have to beckon you over as you slowly approached me, wrapped your elegant arms around my torso, and I purred in response. I didn't really like hugs, but when it came to YOU, it was a different story.

"Well, usually at night you can see some shooting stars," you murmured, still pressed against my chest. "And every time it happens, I make a wish."

For God's sake! Your naivety and innocence always struck a chord in my heart, making me grin like an idiot, though I was glad you couldn't see me right now, as I held you close, stroking your back and breathing in your scent, which had become so tranquilizing to me.

"Oh! Look!" You suddenly exclaimed, moving closer to the window. "A falling star!"

"Where?"

"Right there!" You took my hand and pointed to the spot in the midnight sky.

I laughed, admiring how excited you were, sometimes I thought you would never grow up and that was something cute, I could even say I was really jealous because I never allowed myself to act like that.

"Patrick, we should make a wish!" 

"Like what?"

"Just think of something that you want to come true," you continued to bubble, frowning a bit as you probably were thinking about the list of wishes you might have. "Think, Patrick!"

Your childish attitude made me sigh as I rolled my eyes. "All right, all right. I want this moment to last forever."

"Why did you say that out loud?" You suddenly grumbled and broke out of my embrace. "It won't work if you say your wish out loud, didn't you know that?"

"Honestly, I don't believe in such things," I moved closer to hug you again, but you pushed me away jokingly, your pretty lips pouted. "Oh, honey, c'mon! I can't take this seriously!"

"Then I'll leave you here alone to think about it." You stuck out your tongue teasingly and slowly moved away from me.

"Besides, I already have everything I want," I chuckled smugly, feeling a bit turned on by the way you swayed your hips. "You know what I mean."

"Maybe..." You purred, making your voice sound even more seductive, before disappearing into the darkness behind me.

Only with you did I realize that I had always lived for emotions, that I had done so many terrible things because I was a sucker for the adrenaline. And you were my strongest addiction, but not one that killed, but one that freed me from my fears, my demons, my sins.

Shaking slightly, I let out a loud gasp as I felt a searing pain cut me from the inside like a fan of knives. Then I turned back to the window and saw my own reflection. I blinked several times, feeling the tears weeping in my empty eyes.

"(Y/n)?" When I called your name and no one answered, I almost fell to my knees. 

My wounded heart started to bleed, as once again I was alone. Sobbing, I pressed my head against the cold glass and let the tears flow freely down my cheeks. And there was nothing left for me to do but hold on to the warm memories of those days. 

The days when you were here with me.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale

[sneakyblinders]

@zablife @moral-terpitude here we go. lil blurb bit of carmy berzatto x reader x tommy shelby. @carmens-a-bear is my carmy blog :)

The Bear was busy. The busiest you'd ever seen it, actually. Friday night. Everyone was celebrating something that night, it seemed. Anniversaries, promotions, birthdays, won health battles--anything worthy of celebration was on the books that night, per Richie.

You'd already had to calm Carmy down a few times, his stress bubbling over, hands raking through his hair, veins bulging in his neck as he shouted orders over the roar of the kitchen.

You'd been in your lovely pastry corner with Marcus for the evening, piping vanilla creme into the cream puffs and eclairs, whipping the meringue into submission for a special pie at Carmy's request, when Richie asked for your help with the front of the house. That was the disadvantage of being, in Carmy's words, "so damn good at every-fucking-thing". Getting pulled in every direction when anything was needed. Front of the house swamped? You got pulled to help seat tables, fill in special requests from the folks who had made reservations. Prep falling behind? You'd join the prep line right next to Carmy and prep the mise. Sydney was running behind with getting the meals out the window? You'd slide in and crank out a few plates to get them caught up. Marcus needed help icing a cake? You'd fill a piping bag and get to work. Carmy had issues balancing the books? You'd grab the calculator and tell him to scoot over at the desk. Perks and disadvantages of being the owners wife, ya know?

So when you pulled your apron off, donning the Bear's classic white button down and dress slacks attire, you were ready for the front of the house. You were so invested in what you were doing, in looking over the set reservations, and picking up the phone to call the couple who tried to get squeezed in if there was a cancellation, and Richie had just crossed off a name on the list, when he walked up to the front desk. You had thought something like this only happened once in a lifetime, and it had already happened for you. Where you see them and the world stops spinning on its axis. All the noise around you gets fuzzy and everything except for them blacks out around you. It happened when you first saw Carmy, on that cold New York night at the bodega, two tired, hungry chefs getting a gallon of milk at the end of their shifts. In a moment of boldness, you'd walked over and introduced yourself and gotten his number, and a year later you'd gotten married. So when the world stopped spinning again, and all you could hear was the man directly in front of you, piercing blue eyes staring directly at you, your breath hitched in your chest, heart palpitating as your hands shook. "Reservation for Thomas Shelby," the man said, voice deep and bruising, leaning a forearm on the front desk. You could smell his cologne faintly from the air conditioner wafting it towards you, and your knees buckled. Didn't this sort of thing only happen once? And you'd married the man who it'd happened with... Your head and stomach swirled with mixed emotions as you fumbled through the iPad to find his reservation and table. Thomas Shelby smirked, noticing your visible nerves. "Right this way, Mr. Shelby," you smiled softly, catching yourself batting your eyelashes at him as you turned to walk him to his table. You could feel his eyes on your backside, putting a little extra swish in your hips. "Your table, sir," you said, motioning to the table, setting down a menu in front of him, and two more to the other sides of him. "Would you like a drink while you wait for your other guests?" you offered. "Whiskey. Irish," he said brusquely, taking a seat, sitting his hat in his lap and checking his Rolex for the time. "They should fucking be here," he mumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes. "I'll be right back with that," you say, hurrying away to get his whiskey. You quickly brought back his whiskey, to which he responded with a grunt. "Your server will be right with you," you say, smiling softly at him. "I'd rather you serve us," he said, in that harsh tone of his. A tone that left no room for discussion, no room for debate. "Uh-I uh-I'm needed in other areas of the restaurant tonight," you stammered, appalled at his attitude. "The only fuckin' place you're needed tonight is serving this table," he said, taking a swig of his whiskey. "I'll see what I can arrange," you said, heart hammering in your chest, making its way up your throat. Your knees wobbled, head swimming with confusion.

Why were you feeling this again?

#tommy shelby #sneakyblinders #tommy shelby x oc #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x ofc

[sysakiddo]

I can't stop thinking about Max and his maps. This drabble is completely self-indulgent and a love letter to Håkan's secretary, the baddest bitch.

Max is in the middle of writing an email when his assistant calls. Max doesn't like how the light from the window reflects on his computer screen and thinks about moving his table again. His office is way too big for him to have problems like this. The tall leafy plant in the corner seems to be thriving, even though he has never watered it. His assistant probably deserves a raise. 

“You have the Australian Ambassador on line two, sir.” 

He subconsciously sighs and rubs his right ear, a habit he has never gotten rid of. “Thank you, Kristy. I have a package to send as well; please come pick it up.” He changes the line. 

“Your excellency?” he sneers, picking up the pain au chocolate Kristy left for him on the table this morning. 

“Why don't I have a direct line to your office?” 

Daniel's voice is distorted through the phone. Max can hear cars honking in the background. Kristy opens the door to his office, picking up the green Ladurée bag from the corner of his table. She eyes the post-it note he stuck on the top, Daniel scribbled in his neat handwriting. She doesn't react, just picks it up and closes the door quietly. Definitely deserves a raise. 

“Only the king has one.” 

Daniel snorts, like Max is being funny just by being rude. “Pick up your phone next time, okay? Even though I quite like making small talk with your assistant.” 

Max doesn't react. He can feel a headache growing behind his eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see how the number of his emails in the red circle grows on the computer screen.

“What's this I hear about you having lunch with the Hungarians on Thursday?” 

Daniel gets right to the point and Max hums. He doesn't question how Daniel found out about that. On a bad day, he still manages to charm his way to confidential information regarding state security. 

“Take me with youu,” Dan sing-songs. 

“Nee,” he replies. Daniel is well acquainted with the word. Either way, Max opens his diary and flips the pages quietly until he reaches Thursday. He opens the drawer with his stationery and pulls out the small honey badger-shaped sticker. Sticks it to the slot right next to the 'La Rotonde with HU'. It was Daniel who bought him the stickers after noisily going through his diary. He did not like the way +D looked in the time slots. It just looks like you have a dick appointment.

The negotiations begin with Daniel clicking his tongue. He mainly does it because he knows it drives Max insane. 

“Come on, baby. I'll take you to Monaco if you do.” 

Max takes another bite of the pastry, reclining in his chair. “Snorting coke on a yacht was cute back when I was twenty.” 

Daniel doesn't back off, unaffected. “What are you eating?” 

“Pain au choc.” 

“From Mozart?” 

Max looks at the tissue covered by the crumbs, Mozart engraved on it in golden fond. “Yeah, I guess.” 

Daniel makes a silly gasping noise. “How could you?” 

Paris has more bakeries than residents, yet Daniel is weirdly obsessed with the one on the same street as the Dutch embassy. 

Before he can respond, there is a knock on his door. One of the interns come in without waiting for him to invite them in. “Your excellency-” she starts and he holds up his pointer finger to interrupt her, pointing to the phone in his other hand. He subtly looks at his Rolex while doing so, wondering what she could possibly want at 9 am. She nods but doesn't exit the room. 

“I have to hang up now, schatje.” 

“No, no- listen. We can even hold hands at the dinner, watch them have an aneurysm about it.” 

Max chuckles, shaking his head even though Daniel can't see. “Yeah, not good enough. I spent weeks persuading them to meet me.” As I know you did too. Did not really work, huh? he wants to add but doesn't want to look like an asshole in front of the intern who is still watching him with her big green eyes. His and Daniel's diplomatic styles are so different he learned a long time ago it's futile to compare them. 

“I'm having dinner with Amanda in two weeks.”

The number of unread emails reaches two hundred on Max's computer. “Getting warmer but no can do. You know how annoying I find the ENA graduates.” 

Dan himself has done his post-grad at ENA. He hears Daniel swear and he doesn't know if the reason is him or just the general despair of trying to walk down the street in Paris. “'kay, have a nice-” 

“Wait! Drinks with Håkan!” Max is silent for a second, that's how Daniel knows he lucked out. Sweden is hot shit right now.

“Make him bring the assistant, not his wife.” 

Everyone knows that the only opinion that matters to the Swedish ambassador is the one of his secretary. Daniel doesn't answer immediately, but Max knows him well enough to know he's smiling. 

“That goes without saying, Maxy.” 

Max, despite his best efforts, smiles. “Lovely. See you tonight.” 

“Rinaldi's at nine! Don't be late!” Daniel says before hanging up, even though it's usually him who is late for their little rendez-vous. 

He straightens up, raising his chin the intern's way. She has been watching him like a hawk this whole time. “Husband checking in on you?” 

She looks scared of him and not for the first time, he wonders what kind of stories about him are told to the newcomers. He doesn't have the heart to berate her for breaking the protocol.

“Yes. He doesn't want me to forget about him. Of course, I do not want him to worry.” he says. His mother tongue tastes sweet in his mouth. 

Second part!

#f1 rpf #f1 fic #my ficlets #maxiel #daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #max/daniel #diplomacy au