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thebowieconstricker · 3 months

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Sweet Mornings

Lucifer Morningstar x reader oneshot

Request: Them cooking together and it ending in either him cuddling her so much that they forget about the food and it burns, or baking and that ends in a food fight and kisses. Bonus points, if it burns down the Hotels kitchen and Charlie freaks out.

Okay so this is the CUTEST FREAKING THING EVER??? Love this request sm sorry it took a million years whoops lol enjoy

Tags: Literally just pure fluff, pancakes, kinda language, whipped-cream-related violence, gender neutral reader

~~~

Warm, soft mornings in bed with your beloved partner were becoming more common ever since you and Lucifer had become a couple. Not only was he excellent at cuddles, but his wings made the most delightful blankets to fall asleep under. On this particular morning, you were slowly waking up, and the first thing you noticed was the gentle grip Lucifer had on your form, clinging to your waist even in his sleep. You glanced at the clock to your right as you laid on your back and softly giggled. It was 3:00 in the morning, aka the “devil’s hour”, as some called it, and here he was, asleep in your shared bed. You shifted a bit to stretch and Lucifer made a small noise.

“I’m just moving a bit.” You whispered, bringing up a hand to brush through his blonde locks.

“Mmm, nah, just stay here.” He reached his arm back over your stomach and grabbed your hip, pulling you against his side.

You smiled affectionately, and while you looked at his quite literally angelic face, you thought of an idea.

“Hey, Luci… you wanna make pancakes?”

His eyes sprang open and his eyebrows shot up. A wide grin broke out on his face and quicker than you could blink, he had pulled both you and himself up and off the bed. With a snap of his fingers, the two of you were dressed in comfortable robes with silly slippers. He wore a bright yellow pair with duck faces, because of course he did. Your slippers were of your favorite animal, which was one of the many gifts Lucifer had given you.

With a wave of his hand, Lucifer had magically transported the two of you to the kitchen downstairs. It was a rather large kitchen, plenty of shelves and cabinets stocked with ingredients. You adjusted your robe and began to move towards one of the cupboards when you felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around your torso. Following close behind was the warm face of your lover, nuzzling into the back of your neck.

“Honey, we can’t cuddle and make pancakes.” You rolled your eyes with a smile on your face. You could hear the smirk in his voice as he replied, “Who says we can’t?”

He snapped once more and suddenly, all of your necessary materials and ingredients appeared on the kitchen island.

“There ya go, now you’ve just gotta stand there.”

You laughed and shuffled to the island.

You quickly realized that this was going to be far more difficult than you originally anticipated. For some reason, Lucifer was determined to make the simple activity of pancake-making as tedious as possible for you. When you measured the flour, he insisted that you had poured too much, leading you to re-measure six times. The eggs that you cracked always had a bit of shell in them, and instead of helping, Lucifer would just magic you more. “I’ll keep my arms right here, thank you.” He said from behind you. He did, however, beg you to add more sugar. You finally had to put your foot down after the 3rd empty bag. Why did you trust his horrible advice? No one knows, but according to legend, he apparently knows what he’s doing when it comes to pancakes.

After you had finally created some kind of batter, you struggled over to the oven with Lucifer’s arms still around you. You carefully poured the mixtures onto the skillet after putting the eye on the ‘high’ setting, and with the warm, sweet smells from the food and the demon snuggling your back, you were starting to get pretty sleepy.

That’s when you noticed it. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw that Lucifer had magicked some whipped cream in a can. Obviously, for the purpose of a topping, but you had other plans. You were sure that Lucifer’s eyes were closed behind you (you had even heard him snore a couple of times). Stealthily, you reached for the whipped cream and uncapped the can. You shook it and poured a bit into your mouth, just for fun. Then, you made your real move. You sprayed a good amount on your hand and put the can down.

“Hey, Luci, is it brown enough?” You asked innocently.

“Hmm..? I uh-“ He rubbed his eyes behind you and leaned over your shoulder to take a look at your pancake. “Yeah, you should probably flip-“

You swung your hand around and threw the whipped cream so it landed squarely on his face.

“AH-“

Lucifer’s arms eat go from your waist as he stumbled backwards in shock. His arms reached for his face to feel the whipped cream. Realizing what it was, he smiled wickedly as a forked licked the sweets off his hand.

“Oh, you have no idea who you just fucked.”

You doubled over as you cried with laughter at the sight of him, and laughed even more at that statement.

“It’s- it’s fucked with, Luci-“

Suddenly, whipped cream had landed on your face, splattering on your robe. You heard his musical laughter in front of you and, just like that, it was on.

Lucifer had summoned cans and cans of whipped cream on either of your sides and the two of you ducked behind and hopped over the kitchen island, throwing whipped cream at each other and throwing any other food you could find in the kitchen. You found a sleeve of graham crackers and started chucking those at some point while Lucifer grabbed some of his fire breathing ducks to melt the sugary ammo before it hit him. You took one of your shoes off and began chasing him with it, half laughing and half threatening him, when he finally, finally, held up a white napkin, and called, “I surrender!”

You kept laughing as you tackled him in a hug, the two of you falling to the ground.

“I’m sorry, Luci, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You playfully said to him.

“Hurt? I’m offended you think I could even get hurt-“

“Then why’d you surrender?”

His arms snaked around your waist once again and he smirked.

“I guess I missed ya.”

You rolled your eyes and kissed him swiftly, the two of you too wrapped up in each other to care about the hectic state of the kitchen. Your hand went to his hair and carefully caressed it, trying to tidying it a bit. When you finally broke away, he looked at you breathlessly.

“Don’t get so excited there, you just had some whipped cream on your face.” You said to him, smiling.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow and another can appeared in his hand, spraying some on his lips without missing a beat.

“You dork.” You said, and kissed him again.

Then, suddenly, a voice from across the room.

“OH MY GOSH GUYS THERE’S A FIRE VAGGIE GET THE EXTINGUISHER-“

So, the two of you may have forgotten about the pancakes.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader

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moonrisecoeur · 6 months

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gratitude — leon kennedy

author’s note: i don’t love doing taglists bc it’s kind of tedious but a couple people asked to be tagged so i’ll tag them in the comments of this post! please send asks/write comments/add tags to reblog if you liked this! that would be wonderful!

wc: 3.6k

content: sub!leon x fem!reader, sugar baby leon, mommy kink, orgasm control, pegging, hickies mentioned. leon is 21 reader is ‘slightly older’.

warnings: mentions but not depictions of financial abuse, dubcon, and prostitution (seen in a negative light; we support sex workers here)

this is a birthday gift to angel! @angelofwoe go give her some love :)

—

5. 4. 3. 2. 1…

incoming call from ‘leon ken(nedy)’

accept or decline?

you look over at your phone while you’re waiting at a red light, driving home from work. you smile, like clockwork, leon calls you at exactly 5 pm each day, and most of the time, you’re coming home. to him. the thought still makes your heart jump a little bit. leon is waiting at home, your home, and now his home too, for you.

he’s waiting for you.

god, your stomach does somersaults. he’s perfect.

you answer the call, clicking it on and waiting for it to connect the two of you, “hello?”

“hey!” he says, and you missed his voice. you smile softly at his enthusiasm, “what should i get and/or make for dinner? don’t know if you trust me to cook in your kitchen unsupervised yet…”

“i would let you,” you say, looking out the window, “though maybe i’d stop by a cafe for dinner on my way home.”

“hey, c’mon now!” he tries to defend himself, but he laughs, god you’re obsessed with that sound, “okay, okay, fair. i get it. really, though, what’ll it be?”

you think for a second, and you realize that leon doesn’t really ever get a choice, he just goes along with whatever you want, “hmm… why don’t you pick, baby?”

he goes silent for a second, “you sure?” and when you make a sound of approval, even though he gave you a chance to back out, he sighs, “fine. don’t say i didn’t warn you when we’re eating chicken nuggets tonight.”

“wow, what fine cuisine, leon,” you smile.

—

“wow, what fine cuisine, leon,” he smiles at the sound of your teasing voice. he can’t help liking you. i mean, how is he supposed to not like you? not only do you take care of him, buy him nice things, but you’re also so fucking pretty? what the hell?

“anyway, i’ll see you soon, baby. miss me a little bit, but not too much, okay?” you tell him, breaking him out of the daze that is listening to you talk. he feels bad that he wasn’t really paying attention to what you were saying.

“y-yeah. i’ll see you at home,” he stutters, quickly hanging up, clutching his phone to his chest. home. your… home. god, this was bad. he was going to go insane one of these days if you didn’t stop being so goddamn perfect.

leon had this preconception forever ago that sugar daddies and mommies and whatever the hell else were always old, decrepit people who gave you money for basically doing your best not to gag when you see them naked. people you take advantage of, who you give your body to in exchange for being able to afford anything. it’s an exchange, sex for money (no, sex for power). which would make him a… prostitute? he doesn’t know. he doesn’t want to know.

but god, you are so much more than that, practically his dream woman. sure, you’re a little older than him, but it’s not like girls his age are soft and sweet with him like you are. they expect so much, they expect him to be the perfect boyfriend 24/7. he could do it, sure, but it would be an act. a desperate act of manipulation for him to get what he wants.

what does he want? well, that’s the tricky part. he tries not to let on too much how intensely this one thing affects him, even with you. it would be too much power to let you have over him, and you already have way too much.

truthfully, you… leon doesn’t like to think about it, but you could take advantage of him if you really wanted to. he’s so used to such an easy lifestyle, he can’t go back to struggling and barely paying his bills. you really could use him for the one and only thing he has to give you whenever you please, and it’s not even that he can’t stop you, because he knows he’s stronger than you, but he knows you could dangle your financial control over his head and he would be at your feet, on his knees in an instant.

he doesn’t know why he even bothers to think about it. he knows you’re not like that. hell, he looks at you with half decent puppy eyes and you’re sending him more money just because he looks cuter than usual today. if anyone is the master manipulator here, it’s him, not you. you have only pure intentions, and leon appreciates that even if he can never 100% trust it.

—

leon is a weird sugar baby. he doesn’t ask for things, he doesn’t use up all of his allowance, he doesn’t beg you for every shiny thing that catches his eye. he’s simple, not demanding, not exhausting you of every last penny in your account.

not that you would… really care? leon could do anything, absolutely anything, and you’d forgive him. he doesn’t need your forgiveness, not for the sassy little jokes he makes, not for the way he awkwardly says the wrong thing at the wrong time in conversation. leon was easy to forgive. easy to adore.

but, that's off topic. you try not to think about how lovable the pretty thing was. too easily you could get lost in him, never make it out alive.

he’s not demanding, he just uses your money to pay for his rent and take care of himself, his bills, his utilities and groceries, stuff like that. or well he used to use the money to pay for his rent, but now that he’s moved in with you, he doesn’t even have that expense anymore. he might treat himself and buy himself a little something small he normally couldn’t afford. the rest he’ll save.

can you blame the guy for being so cheap? he finished the police academy, but the job he had lined up fell through. so what is he supposed to do? work a minimum wage job? serve tables until he dies or his body gives out on him? sue him for wanting better for himself.

and so… he met you. he had no intention of using you.. at first. but even now he feels bad. he truly can’t get on board with being a sugar baby, he feels like he’s extorting you. you have to tell him each and every time his bank account number skyrockets that you will always have enough to continue your lifestyle, what's the point of just having the rest of it sitting around when you could be giving it to a pretty little thing like him?

still.. sometimes leon feels awful. can’t help it no matter what you tell him.

he just can’t really afford to say no to the money, because now he has all of his debt paid off and an emergency fund and a savings account for fun trips to take you on and another one for expensive gifts to buy you as a small, tiny, miniscule thank you. it’s only one part of how he really shows his gratitude. you’ve given him a better life than he could ever give himself, and he will never forget that.

how else does he show his gratitude?

–

you make it home, and immediately see the containers of chicken nuggets on the kitchen counter. you chuckle, again, endeared by leon’s choice of cuisine. it was what he wanted, after all, and you always let him have whatever he wanted. it’s so representative of him. they’re inexpensive, perfect for someone so frugal like him. they’re a comfort food, easy on the stomach, they’re delicious, and that’s probably all of the comparisons you could make between chicken nuggets and leon kennedy before you burst out laughing in delirium.

“oh thank god you’re home…” he says softly, reaching to grab your bag and your coat to put up so you can sit down, “i’m so glad you’re back, you must have worked so hard today.”

you lean in to press a quick kiss to his lips before doing so, and he’s immediately left dazed after just one little half-a-second long kiss. his eyes follow you as you collapse on the couch, “yeah, it was a long one. just glad to be back with you, baby.”

his heart aches for you as you sink into the couch, exhaustion present in your entire demeanor, seeping off of you through the cracks in your composure.

he knows what’ll make you feel better. or at least… he hopes he does. if you’re not in the mood, he’ll just laugh awkwardly and try to play it off.

he takes a deep breath in, bracing himself for the awkwardness that always comes with saying this word, “…mommy,” he whispers, and he immediately has all of your attention, suddenly all that exhaustion in your soul is replaced by an intensity that he can’t quite understand.

one word… and you’re already losing your composure? he didn’t know he was that good.

“baby…” you coo back to him, almost warning him. as if you’re saying, if you start this, you better be ready to see it through.

“wanna help you… feel better, mommy…” he says, his fingertips brushing against your thigh. fucking tease.

you always look at him like he puts the stars in the sky, but now? you’re looking at him like you want him seeing stars.

“you sure?”

“positive,” he mumbles.

again, this is all he has to give you. his love, his soul, his… body. he doesn’t want this to be transactional, sexual submission for money. he’s not a prostitute, but he genuinely has nothing else that even comes close to the value of gifts and money and just fucking everything you’ve given him.

you don’t ask for sex too often, even when he knows you’re horny. you’re so obvious but so understanding that your kinks and preferences are a little foreign to him. in his defense, he’s had one girlfriend right before he met you and she was the most vanilla person in the goddamn world. genuinely he could have switched positions on her and she would have thought it was too much.

“take me what you want from me, mommy,” he whispers, and yet for someone so inexperienced, he does it so well.

so well that you can’t help pouncing on him, pinning him underneath you. he feels your gentle yet firm grip on his wrists, the way your hair falls in front of your face as you hover on top of him, and he just has the softest urge to tuck it behind your ear. he can’t, but he wishes he could.

he doesn't get the chance to think about it much when your lips find his neck and he is immediately melted by their softness, their gentleness that makes him want to just break down and sob. he just wants to be treated softly, just wants to be held down and kissed like you’re doing right now.

“please,” he breathes, ironic because all you do is steal his breath away. your lips touch just over his subtle adam’s apple as you switch sides, pressing kisses into his neck, collarbone, and shoulder. he kind of wants you to bite down, leave red and purple aching bruises covering his neck, make him shudder and tremble with every love bite.

he knows you won’t.

“i don’t damage what’s mine,” you’d said once, and it left him dizzy. so casually asserting your ownership over him like that had his cock twitching in his pants. you very quickly learned to take advantage of his affection towards your possessiveness. you have to be subtle and you can’t do it too much, but every once and a while, you take your opportunity. you make your small little comments, you add ‘my’ in front of a pet name, you eye him like a piece of meat (intentionally being obvious so he’ll notice), etc.

your possessiveness is even better if it’s sort of objectifying. he might just like it more.

he wishes he could touch you, but what would it even be for? if you wanted him to make you feel good, you’d have shoved his face between your legs, tangled your fingers in his blonde hair, moaned as he ate your pussy while looking up at you with those pretty blue eyes, so full of an emotion you wanted to study in detail. it couldn’t be love, there’s no way. you settle for something else, even if it’s less satisfying.

devotion.

—

and even with your cock buried deep, deep inside of him, stretching him open and filling him up entirely, he’s still got that same glimmer of devotion in his eyes, but that’s irrelevant.

it’s irrelevant because he’s a desperate mess of a man right now and it’s all you should be concerned with, “mommy, fuck, please, i—”

“say you belong to me, pretty boy,” you groan in his ear, his body shivering and trembling at the pleasure that’s about to hit him. he’s gotta wait for your permission, though.

“yours, yours, fuck, all yours, my fucking body belongs to you, you can- you can use it whenever you want, however you want, for however long. it doesn't matter,” he cries,’s his voice raspy, he trying to keep himself together and he’s failing miserably, “fuck, fuck, god, and i- my body… i owe you my body as a thank you for- oh, f-fuck!- for your m-money, i- it’s all i can give you that’s worth anything-.”

“…yeah? you owe me?” you smirk, pressing your hand against his lower stomach, feeling the bulge your cock inside him. it drives you insane. he’s babbling about something you don’t care to listen to. something about being indebted to you, that sex is him paying you back for how perfect you are. you don’t listen. it’ll just make you sad.

“gonna give me what i want, right? because you owe me,” you say. sure, you felt bad, but you never said you were pure good. you’re entitled to leon and everything he could possibly give you, aren’t you?

he tries to speak, but your cock always makes him as stupid as can be. he tries, oh he tries, to respond, to say yes, i’ll give you everything, i’m all yours to claim and keep forever, but the sounds come out as jumbled moans out of the back of his throat. he gives up trying to talk, clearly that’s beyond him now, and communicates his feelings by holding your waist gently, his fingertips pressing against your skin.

he moans out absolutely pathetically as you thrust in and out of him, keeping him held down with your hands pushing down on his shoulders. his body contorts to your will, his soul too. you could do anything to him and get away with it, with him in this beautiful headspace.

he’s gorgeous like this, and you take a moment to admire him. glassy, distant , tear filled eyes, sweaty blonde hair, skin little with small marks of whatever lip product you use. god, he’s nothing less than fucking perfect.

if only you both didn’t have responsibilities in your everyday lives because the only thing that could make him prettier is if he was like this every single day, fucked out of his mind, desperate, stupid from the pleasure of your cock pushing firmly against his prostate.

“gonna cum, baby?” you ask maliciously, knowing he didn’t have enough of his mind working to even register the question, “gonna give yourself over to mommy? live in her home, let her keep you as a pet? couldn’t leave her even if you wanted to, and you definitely don’t.”

he looks for an out as his eyes shift up at the ceiling, still somehow finding it in himself to be shy.

“look at me,” you growl, one hand moving to his face to cup his cheek, fingertips brushing against his jaw. he obeys, making weak eye contact, blinking the tears away from his eyes, “ask me for permission to cum.”

cruel? yes, because the most his stupid mind can come up with to say is that pretty name you make him call you, “m-mommy…”

you remember him looking at you confused, almost a little uncomfortable, when you said you liked that name. it definitely tracks, you’re his sugar mommy… and you expect him to call him mommy. not exactly revolutionary, but his hesitancy to do so is what makes these moments truly special. earlier, he said it intentionally, mainly to get your attention and get you riled up, distracted from work and responsibilities.

but now? he truly can’t help it falling past his lips. every time he says it, or more accurately moans it, he feels even more attached to it, attached to you. he’s imagined saying it more casually, in everyday conversation, but he could never get over how humiliating it felt.

you graciously let him call you by name most of the time, something he has been endlessly grateful for.

but in this headspace, leon can’t think of a single other word but mommy.

“c’mon, sweetheart. won’t get any easier to think with mommy’s cock deep inside of you. mommy can wait all night sweetheart, but i’m not sure you can.”

he can’t. he knows he can’t cum because you haven’t given him permission, but he can’t ask permission if you keep saying things that make him dumber and slower. he can hold off his orgasm for a while when he tops, he’s gotten decently good at that, but with your cock filling him up like this? he would be lucky if he lasted another minute.

“fuck- ah, mommy… m-mommy, plea…. please…” he breathes heavily, trying so damn hard, it melts your heart how badly he’s trying for you.

“please what, baby? you know i’ll say yes, just ask mommy what you want.”

wet cheeks and trembling lips from him make your heart ache for him. you’d give him anything.

“c-cum, mommy?…. c-can i…?”

you nod, biting your lip, almost more excited than he is to watch him fall apart, “mhm, ‘course, baby… let go for mommy, i got you… here…” you say, taking a hold of his cock to jerk him off through his orgasm to get everything you can from him, milk him for all he’s worth. his body tries to give you everything it can.

his eyes shut tightly as he gives you the loudest moan probably… ever? you’ve never heard him cry out like that, and you wish you could have recorded it to go back and hear it again. his voice breaks, and he takes a sharp breath in, holding it as his muscles tense and spasm until he’s left achy and exhausted and filled to the brim with pleasure.

“awhh…. so cute, baby…” you mumble, “c’mon, give me all of it, don’t make me make you cum again. if it’s anything like the first, you might just pass out, sweet boy.”

“ah… oh, oh my god,” he breathes heavily, twitching, “mommy… mommy, i- mommy, please… please, mommy,” he can’t stop thinking about it. mommy is all he can think about like this.

he cries, literally. the kind where you can’t help sobbing and sniffing and you curl in on yourself in a desperate attempt to self soothe. you half expected it; leon usually cries after more intense sex. he doesn’t know why, but usually he’s embarrassed of it and tries to hide it. he must just be too far gone right now to care.

you pull out, earning a desperate whine that makes you want to rail it back into him, balls deep, watch him squeeze his eyes shut tightly and him scream in pleasure, but you restrain yourself. he's crying right now. even though he would technically consent, he wouldn’t really want it.

you take 30 seconds to clean both of you off, and those 30 seconds are tortuous to him, even if you’re praising him the whole time.

that’s it. his greatest weakness. praise.

no, your praise.

to be told he’s good, to be told he did a good job, to be told you’re proud of him. he sobs as he soaks in your praise like a sponge. he wants to listen to your sweet words every single day for the rest of his life. you whisper to him how he’s perfect, everything about him is, how you adore him, wanna give him everything so he’ll stay with you forever, etc.

in his defense, he has absolutely zero control over what he’s saying right now, but he looks up at you, with tear-filled, red eyes, his bottom lip trembling just slightly, “you don’t have to give me stuff… i’m always gonna be yours.”

and it hits a nerve you haven’t felt in a long time. maybe it’s the subspace he’s in, or maybe you’re reading the situation wrong, so you don’t push it, but something inside your heart feels… off.

to put it bluntly, he shouldn’t be yours. he should find someone he could really love to spend his days with. there’s no reason for leon to stay with you if you stopped giving him money, paying his bills, and taking care of him. at least, there shouldn’t be?

oh, unless…

–

a couple hours later, you’re sitting at the kitchen counter with him, eating cold chicken nuggets and giggling about whatever you were watching on tv. leon looks at you a little differently than usual right now, his eyes softer, fonder than you’re used to. his eyes carefully track your more animated hand movements as you passionately explain something about this show. he has no idea what you’re talking about; he just likes hearing you speak.

he kisses the corner of your lip when you jokingly ask if you have anything on your face, which turns into a full kiss that leaves him a little breathless, that feeling of excitement and nerves returning in his stomach.

yeah, he thinks to himself, pure, unadulterated beauty.

as you kiss, he pulls back to look into your eyes, looking at you as if you held up each individual constellation for him, with a godly reverence that would almost turn you on if the moment wasn’t weirdly romantic.

“baby…?” your voice sounds shaky and unsure, and he doesn’t miss your lack of composure.

maybe that was a good thing. a sign.

he chuckles, “nothing, mommy… nothing at all.”

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mandiemegatron · 3 months

Text

(ʸᵒᵘ ᴹᵃᵏᵉ ᴹᵉ ᴰᵒ) ᵀᵒᵒ ᴹᵘᶜʰ ᴸᵃᵇᵒᵘʳ

ᵀʳᵃᶠᵃˡᵍᵃʳ ᴸᵃʷ ˣ ᶜᶦˢ!ᶠᵉᵐ ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

ᴺᵒᵗʰᶦⁿᵍ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃⁿᵍˢᵗ ʰᵉʳᵉ, ᶠᵒˡᵏˢ!

ᴿᵃᵗᵉᵈ: 1８+, ˢᵉˣᵘᵃˡ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ ᵖʳᵉˢᵉⁿᵗ. ᵁⁿʳᵉᵠᵘᶦᵗᵉᵈ ˡᵒᵛᵉ, ᴸᵃʷ ʰᵃˢ ᵃⁿ ᵉᵐᵒᵗᶦᵒⁿᵃˡ ᵈᵉᶠᶦᶜᶦᵉⁿᶜʸ, ʸ/ⁿ ᶦˢ ᵉᵐᵒᵗᶦᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ ᵗᵃᵏᵉⁿ ᵃᵈᵛᵃⁿᵗᵃᵍᵉ ᵒᶠ.

.𝕄𝔻ℕ𝕀.

Songs to listen to while reading ;

Labour // Paris Paloma (main)

Cynical // twocolors, Safri Duo

Never Go Back // Dennis Lloyd, Robin Shulz

As always, a huge smooch to my beta @moss-woods , couldn't have done this without you 🥺💖💋

Tagging ; @bby-deerling , @icy-spicy , @kazieai , @guilty-sugar , @buggyandthebartoclub 💖

It was never a tedious thing for you, to love Trafalgar Law the way you thought he deserved.

The soft brush of your hand over his shoulder as you brought him tea and a snack, the encouraging whispers of praise whenever he finally completed a particularly heavy weighted task on his already overloaded mind -

The soft smiles that he knew you reserved for him, and him alone.

It was new and strange to him, the way your eyes met his would make his heart skip a beat to the point he had to stop looking at you for a few days, secluding himself in his office with menial tasks just to take up the time.

When he finally emerged, you were standing right beside his door, a small stack of papers for him to sign and log in your palms with that same, gentle smile on your face.

His brain stopped, a primal urge rising in him as he rested a warm palm on your cheek, his thumb caressing along your skin lovingly. There were no words, just a shared stare of inner turmoil that he finally defeated by pulling you into a rough kiss.

Pulling you into his office, he shoved everything off his desk, a hazy desperation washing over him as he pulled you to him and seats you on his now empty desk. Tattooed fingers rip at your clothing, pulling the boiler suit down and off your beautiful body and dropping it off to the side as your own shaky fingers pull at his spotted pants.

You were almost shocked as he slaps your hands away, ripping his own clothes off into a pile next to your own, not giving you a single moment to think as he suddenly plunges a finger into your already soaked warmth. The low grumble that echoes in his chest sends shivers over your skin as your eyes fall shut, a moan leaving you as he adds a second finger.

His other hand slaps over your mouth a little too harshly, your eyes opening in pain to stare up at the glassy amber eyes of your Captain.

“Stay quiet,” he murmured, pressing an almost too soft kiss to your forehead as you give a slow nod. “Good girl.”

It was nothing but pure ecstasy for you, finally being under him the way you'd been dreaming of since you joined his crew. Your hands wander over his tattooed chest, fingertips grazing his pert nipples and pulling a soft hiss from him as his fingers curl upwards inside you.

Your mouth drops open as you squirt over his hand, eyes screwed shut as wave after wave of pleasure ripples through your body. They only snap open when you feel him tease your entrance with his cock.

Your eyes meet and there's a strange look on his face. He leans over you and presses a harsh kiss to your lips, his teeth biting at your bottom lip until he moves down, teeth nipping and lips sucking at your throat, leaving blooming bruises behind.

As he finally enters you, his name falls from your lips and one of his hands covers your mouth again. You're not upset by it, thinking you were just too loud again. He grinds his hips into yours slowly, his voice faltering as he quietly gets out, “Taking me so well, you're so good, so good…”

When you reach up and wrap your arms around his shoulders, something in him changes. He turns almost stiff under your touch, even as your lips press butterfly kisses to his jawline and cheek. In a flash, he's quick to take what he wants, his face buried in your neck as he grunts and groans softly into your skin.

You were so close to an actual orgasm, so close to falling from the edge when he suddenly pulled from you, furiously fisting his cock over your stomach and painting it in his sticky whites. He breathes heavily over you, unable to look you in the eyes, even as you raise a loving hand to brush his hair from his forehead.

You ignore the way your heart tugs when he pulls his face from out of your reach.

He grabs his shirt and cleans you off, tossing the soiled shirt off to the side as he murmurs, “Go wash up.”

You slowly gather yourself, worry seeping into your skin as you begin to ask, “... Law? Are you-”

He stops you by pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head. “Just go wash up.” He repeats, still unable to look at you.

You sigh through your nose and gather your clothes, getting dressed in record time and reaching up to press a quick kiss to his jawline.

He, again, stiffens under your touch.

You frown slightly and finally leave his office for him to clean.

You bite back anxious tears until you reach the shower room, glad no one else was using any of them as you move towards the back. You turned off the furthest shower, stripping naked once more and tossing your clothes onto the small bench off to the side.

The second the hot water hit your skin, you began to sob. Something was wrong with what just happened and for some reason, your brain wouldn't let you process it. You finally gave the man you loved every inch of you, but somehow, you felt used.

It felt wrong.

You weren't sure how long you were in the shower for, not even noticing the water had gone ice cold. Your face was pale and sad as you turned the handle, the icy spray finally stopping its onslaught to your already frozen skin.

Wrapping a fluffy towel around you, you picked up your clothes into a bundle under your arm and padded off to your shared room with Ikkaku, opening the door and letting it shut behind you as you flopped face first onto your bed.

“Girl, what is with you?”

You turned your head to the side to see Ikkaku looking down at you with a worried expression.

“Are you sick? Do you want me to grab-”

“No!”

She jumped slightly as you shouted at her, panic and anxiety written in that one word as you slowly sat up onto your knees. You wrapped your cold hands around your just as chilly arms and whispered out brokenly,

“We…. Ya know….”

A surprised gasp came from Ikkaku and she shook you slightly by your shoulders, a wide grin on her face as she joined you on your bed.

“Ooo, you've been waiting for this! Well? How was it?”

You gave her a look that made her brows furrow. “... Oh god, was he that bad?!”

Your lips ticked up slightly as you gave a soft snort, shaking your head as you murmured,

“He was just… I don't know. It didn't feel like his heart was in it.”

Ikkaku's warm hands picked up your frozen ones, holding them to her chest as she asked softly,

“Not the way yours was?”

Tears pricked at your eyes as you nodded, falling forward into her now open arms, cradling your body to hers. Her hands gently rubbed over your back as she shushed you gently.

“It's okay, Y/N… it's okay.”

You somehow sobbed out,

“I love him.”

Ikkaku shushed you again, holding you tightly as she replied,

“I know girl, I know…”

The Polar Tang rested at a quiet island, swaying slightly with the waves. Most of the crew was on the island grabbing supplies, while a few stayed behind to watch the ship.

It had been three days.

Three days since you gave yourself to your Captain, heart, mind and soul.

You haven't seen him once.

Even when you tried to bring him his usual cup of tea, his door was locked and there was no answer behind it.

You were half-way through lunch prep when Shachi comes into the kitchen, leaning comfortably on the metal island as he watches you cut vegetables.

“Hey.”

You look up, slightly shocked that you were so into your thoughts that you didn't hear him come in.

“Hey! What's up, Shachi?”

There's a deep frown on his face, eyes watching you intently under his shades as he says,

“The Captain wants to see you.”

Your heart almost stops.

A small smile ticks up your lips as you breathe out,

“Finally. I was starting to think he hated me or something.”

Shachi gives you a wavering grin in response, motioning for you to follow him with a movement of his head. You place your knife down and rip off your apron, tossing it aside, following behind him quietly.

When you both make it to Law's office, Shachi is quick to pull you into a tight hug, sniffling softly as he murmurs,

“No matter what happens, we love you.”

You pull back in shock, your face confused as you ask,

“... what the fuck does that mean?”

Shachi sniffles and presses a quick kiss to your forehead before opening the office door and pushing you into it. You give an indignant shout in response, grunting softly as you finally turn as you take in your Captain.

He sits quietly at his desk, his hands clasped together on top of the mahogany wood comfortably. He stares you down, the look in his eyes unrecognizable as you sit in the chair opposite his, your own hands clasped and resting in your lap.

“Y/N.”

Your heart breaks at the way he says your name without the usual suffix at the end.

“... Captain.” You reply softly.

Law internally winces at the way you speak. He gives a heavy sigh, taking his hat off and plopping it on the desk before running a hand through his hair. He's clearly looking for the right words to say, causing you to watch him with a slowly breaking heart.

“... Y/N, what we did… that was a mistake.”

Your eyes immediately filled with tears.

“I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that. You have my sincerest apologies.”

You sniffled, crossing your arms over your chest as if to protect your shattering heart.

“I don't have feelings for you like that, and I don't think I ever will. You are my subordinate, I am your Captain, and that's how it has to stay.”

You were silent for a long while, angry tears cascading down your cheeks as you thought about everything that happened between you both since you joined.

None of it mattered.

“Y/N?”

Slowly, you lifted your head, your eyes meeting his and for the first time, you saw shock wash across his face. He sat back in his chair slightly, unsure of what to say.

After a few moments, you stood, making your way to the door when he stopped you with a soft,

“Y/N-ya?”

You froze in your spot, pure fury rushing through you as you spun around and spat out,

“Fuck you, Law. You knew, you fucking knew, and you still took from me. That's all people like you do, is take, take, take, until people like me are left with NOTHING. I gave you my EVERYTHING, and IT STILL WASN'T ENOUGH?!”

You were shouting by the end. A small smidgen of pride washed over you at the look on Law's face, obviously not expecting you to snap at him like this.

“I loved you, I bent over backwards for you over and over, I did everything you asked of me and more, and yet even when I finally give you my body and my soul, you essentially tell me you don't care? You don't want me?”

Angry tears rushed down your face as you poured out your heart to him. His eyes had moved to his desk at some point, physically unable to look at you as you verbally tore him apart.

“That's fine. Enjoy your fucking karma, you fucking bastard.”

You ripped his door open and slammed it shut behind you, your boots slamming against the metal floor as you ran to your room. Reaching under your bed, you pulled up your duffle bag and began filling it, shoving everything you had into the bag until it was almost unable to close.

You didn't want to risk bumping into anyone with your bag so you opened the porthole window in your room, looking down and sighing happily when you saw your window was above the wooden dock. Tossing your bag out the window, you were just about to jump out and down when your door ripped open, a very anxious looking Law standing there watching you with wide eyes.

“Y/N-ya, don't do anything stupid!”

He took a step into your room and you gave him the middle finger, snarling at him,

“Eat shit, Trafalgar.”

You jumped.

You didn't look back up as your name met your ears, shaking off the tingling in your legs from falling from a decent height. You pulled your bag over your shoulder, kicking your feet into high gear as you suddenly hear,

“Room!”

You watch the soft blue bubble slowly surround you and you move as fast as you physically can, giving a shout of anger as you pop outside of the bubble right as you hear,

“Shambles!”

You spare a glance behind you, seeing a few boards from the dock missing, papers from your room now floating down into the water below. You shake your head slightly and continue running, ignoring the pain in your now ex-captains voice as he shouts for you again.

“Y/N-ya!”

You kept running until his voice was out of earshot, your angry and hurt tears nearly blinding you as you ran into a densely forested area. You were wiping at your eyes when you bumped into someone, falling back onto your ass with a shout of pain as your palms dug into the grassy ground.

“Oi! Watch where you're going, you brat!”

Your watery gaze looks up and you're shocked to see the redheaded Eustass Kid, one flesh arm and one metal crossed over each other on his massive chest.

It takes him a second, but he grins wickedly as he barks out,

“Well, if it ain't Trafalgar's little bitch! What the hell are you doing here?”

He cackles at the dark look you give him, slowly standing and brushing yourself off as you pick up your bag from the ground.

“Fuck you, Eustass. I'm not his bitch, and he's not my Captain. Not anymore, at least.”

Kid sneers down at you.

“The fuck does that mean?”

You sniffled and rubbed at your face angrily before tossing your bag over your shoulder and attempting to walk past him.

“It means what I fucking said, are you deaf?”

A heavy hand angrily pulls you back and your back is pressed against rough bark, Eustass’ scarred face inches from yours as he leans down to bark again,

“What the fuck does that mean?”

You glare back at him as you bark back,

“It means he wants nothing to do with me. It means, he took what he wanted from me and it still wasn't enough. He doesn't give a FUCK about me.”

There was something in Kid's eyes that flickered at your words. He gently puts you back down, leaning back up as he watches you rub at your eyes again.

He's silent for a few moments before he replies,

“Come on.”

You gave him a wary look.

“... why?”

Eustass only replies with a wide grin, cackling loudly for a moment before commenting as if speaking about the weather,

“I hate seeing gorgeous women cry.”

Your cheeks burn at his words, your mouth opening to snarl back a reply when you suddenly are stopped by him continuing,

“That and it's gonna get dark soon, you're not gonna wanna be here when it does. But that's up to you, brat.”

He begins walking away as he shouts over his shoulder,

“I could always use strong fighters on my crew, but if you wanna die out here like a dog, that's on you.”

You stare at his back, confused and anxious as your hand tightens around your bag strap.

You weigh over the pros and cons of leaving one pirate crew for another, especially ones from the Worst Generation.

It takes you only seconds to pull yourself together and run after him.

For an entire 24 hours, the entire crew minus Bepo search the island high and low for any trace of Y/N.

Law is furious as he paces in front of the Polar Tang, arms crossed as he waits for his Den Den to ring with news that someone had found you.

When night finally fell, Law continued to grow anxious, checking his pocket watch (a gift from you which now wretched his heart whenever he looked at it) and giving a grunt in irritation as he stared down at his resting Den Den. He pokes it gently to wake it up, the snail's eyes blinking tiredly up at his master before frowning.

“Call her.”

In an act that shocked Law, the Den Den slowly turned away from his owner and went back to sleep. The Heart Pirate Captain stood in utter confusion and slowly growing anger, he manually picked up the receiver and dialed Y/N's Den Den.

His heart sank lower and lower as it rang and rang, the soft peru-peru-peru echoing in his head.

His heart jumped when there was finally the soft click-clack of someone picking up the other end and Law quickly asked,

“Y/N-ya? Please, I'm sorry-”

He stopped as a familiar voice came through.

“Captain…”

Angry tears pricked at Law's eyes as he hissed out,

“Bepo?”

The mink sniffled on the other end before sobbing out,

“... She left her behind.”

Law slammed his own receiver down a little too hard, causing his Den Den to give a low hiss in pain. He rubbed at his face with a shout of irritation, huffing to himself.

He lifted his face at the sound of boots crunching into the gravel, hope rising in his chest as he took in the boiler suits coming closer to the Tang.

His heart drops as Shachi shakes his head once he's close enough, clapping a heavy hand on Law's shoulder as he murmurs,

“She's gone, boss.”

Law sighed softly through his nose, finally accepting the fate of his ex-crewmate. He picks up his Den Den and walks back into the Tang, ignoring the questions or comforting words from his crew.

In the silence of his room, Law holds a silly drawing you did of you both, a rare smile on Law's face in your art that pulls at his heartstrings. He smooshes the paper to his chest for a moment before placing it aside, sitting up and immediately meeting his black Corazon jacket resting in the chair you used to take up.

“... Cora-san…” he murmured as he rested his elbows on his knees, his face falling into his palms as he quietly asks,

“What have I done?”

#mandies mumbles ; fanfics #trafalgar law #one piece #law x Reader #x reader #one piece reader insert #trafalgar law x reader #ok to rb #😈😈😈😈😈#yall asked for the pain - and i have delivered mwahahhah !!!#this wa supposed to be like 500 words yall... tell me how i was able to bang out 3.2k words for this 😭😭😭😭#Eustass got his and now Law gets his 😈😈😈😈😈

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notjustjavierpena · 9 months

Text

Perfect

A/N: This is completely self-indulgent. The first part of dark and twisted sugar daddy Joel. Beware of the tags. This is NOT okay behavior.

Summary: Joel Miller, a walking menace, buys you pretty things in exchange for shoving his cock in you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, dub-con, painful and rough sex, p in v sex, degradation, abusive behavior, creampie, dirty talk, dacryphilia, no aftercare, sugar daddy, daddy kink

Word count: 1.9k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49786882

Perfect

You stand in front of the full-body mirror to hold up a pair of golden earrings to your ears, catching the way the beautiful droplet-shaped diamonds hanging from the bottom reflect in the chandelier’s light. You crinkle your nose immediately, snobbishly, and put them down in their designated spot in your vanity’s drawer.

You’ve acquired a particular taste for pretty things over the last few months. The people at the reception he is taking you to would probably fawn over the price of the earrings that you have just discarded but when money isn’t worth worrying about, all the pairs in your collection become a matter of taste instead of flash.

You settle on a simple pair of small, thick gold hoops. They fit the blood-red dress perfectly, which you smooth out with your manicured hands to erase any flaw that he doesn’t deserve. Not when he has been so good to you, and saved you from being a victim to everyday tedious work and boredom.

The hoops dangle slightly as you move to sit in front of the vanity. They are only a few weeks old and handmade by a goldsmith that had been recommended to you. The man, old and experienced, had created them from nothing right before your eyes, and whilst they had only been one out of many extravagant gifts during the short trip to France, they had stuck out the most and have since become your favorites.

“I was hopin’ you would choose those tonight,” Joel’s voice suddenly washes over your unsuspecting form. You jump slightly but accept every crash like they are heaven. You find his eyes in the mirror, smile softly at him but he seems too busy weighing his words to smile back.

He strides across the carpeted floor and you can hear that he has yet to put on shoes. Soon, you feel his calloused hands rest on your bare shoulders, thumbs starting to rub circles into your skin whilst you try concentrating on putting on lipstick. His hands are warm and rough, palms belonging to someone who is hardworking and respected.

“I got ya something,” he adds after a moment of admiring the sight of you getting ready. You turn your head to look up at him with doe-eyes but he cups your chin to turn your face back to the mirror, “Close your eyes.”

You do as you are told, placing your hands in your lap like an obedient thing. Your hearing works overtime when you hear shuffling behind you, Joel digging into his pocket and fumbling with something for a moment.

An impatient noise leaves you.

“Don’t look or ya won’t get it,” he warns softly.

You gasp as metal hits your skin, and you immediately know that it is a necklace. You open your eyes to watch it hang around your neck in the mirror, a hand coming up to touch it. It feels warm from having been in Joel’s hand, and when your eyes drop to look at it properly, you smile shyly. It is absolutely breathtaking.

“It’s beautiful,” you study its small gold links and the gold cylinder that lays right over your jugular notch. It is so simple and elegant, “Thank you, Joel.”

“I need you to be perfect tonight,” he tells you instead of saying that you are welcome. The necklace comes with an expectation then.

“You just worry about the other guests, and I’ll worry about looking beautiful,” you joke and go back to fixing your red lipstick with a Q-tip.

“Is this a joke to you?” Joel asks, voice harsh out of nowhere.

Your heart jumps in your chest, “What? No.”

“Then why are you actin’ like it?” His nostrils flare.

“I wasn’t—“

“Shut up.”

His large palm settles between your shoulder blades and then he roughly pushes you forward. Your elbows bang into the surface of your vanity, head nearly knocking into the mirror at the surprise of his shove. It almost feels like it already has with the way your head swims.

He goes rougher in his push and everything on top comes tumbling down; makeup brushes, a tray of nail polish, jewelry boxes, and even an expensive new bottle of perfume that luckily doesn’t break because it is saved by the soft carpet.

Your hands scramble for something to hold onto. Joel lets out a condescending laugh behind you, but he doesn’t give you time to regain your composure.

He kicks the vanity chair out from underneath you which tumbles to the side, and your knees hit the floor as a result. It causes you to sob but instead of cussing him out, you stay silent and thank God that your chosen dress will be able to cover the bruises that will appear soon.

“I was just finishing getting ready,” you try to make him show mercy the second he hauls you up to stand on your feet. He holds you against the table with his iron grip and when he puts one foot between yours, you can feel his hardening cock press into the back of your thigh, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“I said shut the fuck up,” he growls, free hand sliding around the front of your throat to cup your chin once again. He yanks your head upwards so he can look at you in the mirror as he speaks, “If you’re gonna misbehave, you fuckin’ take what I give ya instead of givin’ me excuses.”

You don’t try to argue that you had meant nothing by your comment. Whatever Joel says is what goes when he is angry, and at this point of your interaction you know better than to take his words as anything else but gospel. The game is over for you, and it was long before he even entered the bedroom. It’s been over since he fucked your lights out the first time.

“No!” You squeak as the stitching of your dress rips when Joel’s hand curls around the hem to pull it up your thighs. He doesn’t seem to care about the fact that it was tailored to you just days ago, ruining it without batting his eyes.

The hand on your chin comes up to cover your mouth. You whimper pathetically into his palm, shaking your head as he tauntingly tears the seams of your dress even more.

Finally, he settles it around your shaking hips. You are wet already due to the power, the carelessness, the harsh nature of his every move. He sighs in annoyance at the sight of your garter belt, “You make things so fuckin’ difficult f’me.”

A finger curls around your lace panties, and he tugs until they also come apart under his touch. You had wanted to give him a show when you had gotten home later, but he is spoiling the surprise with every passing second. Spoiling it by destroying it.

“Please, Joel,” you say but it is muffled into his hand.

“The more ya struggle, the less I’ll care,” he says simply and you still in his grip. When he is satisfied with his work on your clothes, removing any barrier that’ll separate his cock from your cunt, he moves to undo his belt and zipper. A grunt leaves his lips as the cool air of the room hits the sensitive skin of his dick.

He shoves inside of you without warning with an animalistic sound. It stings painfully as he forces your walls to adjust to him, but you soothe yourself by biting down on the flesh of his palm. He responds by digging his hand further into your mouth, forcing it open even more until your jaw strains.

When he starts fucking you harshly, you know for a fact that by the end of this, you will have to start getting ready all over again. You cannot see the red lipstick in the mirror, but you know it is smeared since its taste mixes with the salt of Joel’s skin. Your eyes sting too, wet mascara dripping into them as you cry from the intensity of what is happening to your body.

He knows you like it like this, you try to convince yourself, he’d never continue if you didn’t like it.

“Don’t you ever have the audacity to talk back to me again,” he spits venomously, picking up his pace. The edge of the table gnaws into the front of your thighs, and he seems to keep going deeper despite kissing your cervix with every thrust, “That ain’t how this thing works. I don’t want to hear another disrespectful word comin’ out ya mouth when I pay you to be nothing outside of me. You are fuckin’ nothing.”

Tears of frustration and grief fall from your eyes despite the growing pressure in your lower abdomen. A strong hand settles on your hips. Joel grinds his pelvis into you with a force that makes the table shake, a few other decoration pieces falling off. Your cunt throbs at the thought of him making it up to you by letting you choose new pretty items to replace the broken ones. You push back into him.

“Hah, you dumb slut,” he taunts, landing a painful slap on the curve of your ass. You clench around him at the impact and he nearly becomes unable to finish his sentence, “You love Daddy’s cock that much when it makes you cry?”

You nod frantically.

“That’s right,” he says over your shoulder, “Good girl takin’ me every way I want.”

His own moans start to interrupt his speech. He grows more silent, more concentrated on fucking you open until you might collapse.

You can barely stand anymore, but he shifts to hold your hips with both his hands. As the hand leaves your mouth, you realize how vocal you have become because your screams bounce off the walls and come back at you with a mocking undertone. Look at what he has reduced you to. You are sure the staff can hear you too. Any newcomers will be in the middle of getting talked out of calling the police right now.

Your every muscle aches by now. He has you on your tippy toes with how hard he goes, and your body cannot fight it anymore. The coil in your belly is just about to snap.

“I’m gonna— gonna come, Daddy.”

“I knew you would, baby, my perfect girl,” he praises to the point where your stomach swirls with excitement and joy. He lets you come without being mean to you, watching your thighs as they shake and your eyes as they weep fresh tears from relief.

Your fluttering cunt sends him over the edge too. He speaks filthy nonsense, pulsating inside of you until you feel his load spill down your folds from how much he fills you. He pants softly whilst you milk him, aggression seeping from him as he comes down from his high.

“Thank you,” you sob quietly, “Thank you, thank you.”

“Clean up this mess,” he orders after pulling out, one last stab at you, “Staff shouldn’t be responsible for your dirty doin’.”

You fall to your knees as he starts tucking himself back into his dress pants. Your cheek rests on the cool surface of the vanity, and you actively avoid the puddle of saliva you’ve created there.

“We’re leaving in half an hour,” he says before leaving you to the sound of nothing but your heaving breaths and his come dripping from your cunt.

Later, after choosing a dress that’s nowhere as beautiful as the red one, you notice a generous number has been inserted into your bank account. He scoffs a ‘perfect’ when you meet him in the garage.

TAGLIST: FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal smut #the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel x reader #joel x you #my writing #joel the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #joel miller the last of us #joel tlou #sugardaddy!joel #pedro pascal fanfic

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pinkroseblooms · 4 months

Text

Boy Toy, Pt.2

Sugar Baby!TojixSugar Mama!f!Reader

Summary: Something's changed in your dynamic lately; Toji makes it clear the night you unknowingly push him towards desperate measures to ensure you keep your promise. AU without sorcerers and curses, etc, forgot if I mentioned that in the previous part. wc: 4.3k a/n: warnings and tags include smut, rough sex, creampie, breeding kink, dubcon, threats of forced impregnation/kidnapping, yandere!Toji, possessive behavior, toxic ass behavior, emotional manipulation, jealousy, sub/dom elements, sort of pet play(ngl I'm not sure?) reader is pretty twisted as well, lots inappropriate stuff, I'll add more later if I need to. Enjoy!

Nothing really changes the next few weeks; in the aftermath of your attempt to cut ties with Toji, you’ve found it fairly easy to return to the previous “arrangement” between the two of you. The only difference is that Toji is more...affectionate?

Granted, he’s never been shy: when the line between client and employer had been crossed, Toji became quickly accustomed to invading your personal space pretty much any time the mood struck him. Whether it was sweeping you up in his arms to pin you against whatever nearby surface was stable enough to rail you against or just giving your bottom a playful pinch, Toji would strike without warning or care for your busy schedule. For the most part, you had no complaints, as long as Toji was mindful to not leave marks that couldn’t be easily covered. As for non sexual contact, it was almost always you who initiated hugs, chaste kisses, hand holding, etc. Toji allowed it, welcomed it eventually, but it was rare for him to be the one to initiate unless the physical touches were leading to sex.

“You smell so good.”

“You need to shave.” You chuckle softly as Toji nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble leaving a slightly red mark as it itches the skin. “I should smell nice; because of someone I had to wash up again.”

After you finally managed to pry Toji off you, you had hopped into the shower while he stayed lounging in the bed, feeling too lazy to do more than wipe himself off with the shirt he had practically ripped in two to take off earlier. You were sitting in front of your vanity, having planned out your outfit ahead of time and now you were trying to decide what to accessorize with while Toji offered such helpful suggestions as, “don’t wear panties” and “are you sure you don’t want to go again?”

“Whatcha getting all dolled up for?” Toji asks absently, pressing slow, sensual kisses down your shoulder. “Come back to bed. Let’s stay in tonight.”

“You say that like that isn’t what we do most nights.”

“You hate going out more than I do.”

“As true as that is,” You conceded lightly. “I still have obligations: the current CEO of Kamo invited me to dinner to discuss some proposals about shipping their products through us. You can eat without me, I’m planning on taking advantage of the free meal.”

“That’s my girl.”

One of your family’s company’s most influential associates cornered you after that morning’s meeting for a separate one on one dinner to go over the plans. You can grin and bear it to keep things genial, tedious as it all is. Choso Kamo is a little less rigid when he’s not around a group of people and you suppose he feels more relaxed speaking to someone he’s more familiar with.

“But ya know, I could just kill him for you.”

“Did you run out of your allowance already?” Your eyes drift from your face in the mirror to where Toji has returned to sit on the edge of the bed. “I told you, if you want more for betting, you’re on your own.”

“You can afford it.” Toji replies with a shrug, not making any move to slip his boxers back on. “I didn’t actually: what makes you assume I blew through the cash already?”

“Because, it sounds like you’re fishing for a job. Anyway, I don’t need you to kill anyone.” You dab a dot of cream over the faint dark circles under your eyes. “Not at the moment.”

“I heard this guy is into some shady side deals. Is he dangerous?”

“Allegedly. Anybody who does get their hands on incriminating evidence always seems to go radio silent.” You apply a touch of red to your lips. “He could be a problem if I offend him during our meeting, but he’s smart enough to know his place; as long as I don’t directly challenge what authority he believes he has over me, our negotiation will be smooth sailing. He’s not the type to try anything.”

“No worries, he’s not gonna try shit with me there.”

You raise an eyebrow at Toji’s smirking face. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m your bodyguard: shouldn’t I go along and, ya know, guard your body?” Toji’s eyes travel down your shoulders and back to your ass; you’re perched on the cushioned stool in front of your vanity. He loves watching you get ready, at least, he usually does. “I wouldn’t wear that clingy dress to a business dinner.”

“Which dress would you wear?”

“Cute.” Toji snorts. “When are we leaving?”

“I’m leaving in an hour and a half. Do I really need to explain why your presence would be detrimental to this occasion?” You absentmindedly fix your hair, mentally debating on wearing it up or down. Luckily the marks Toji had so savagely left had mostly faded; nothing that a little makeup and a strategically placed necklace wouldn’t cover. “We plan to discuss business, and that’s all.”

“I’d be going as your chaperone; he’ll probably have a couple men of his own posted outside the restaurant.”

“We’re meeting at his place.”

“His place.” Toji repeats flatly, easy going smirk falls. His eyes are boring holes into your head and you don’t need to glance in the mirror to know.

“It’s not the first time he’s had me over for a meal; he’s never made any inappropriate advances or threatened me.”

You sound bored as you explain all this to Toji, but it isn’t doing anything to pacify him. Why are you adamant about not having him come with you? He doesn’t need to be at the dinner table, he could stay outside the dining hall or sit in the car. It wouldn’t be the first time, even if it’s been a long while since you’ve had Toji play the role of hired muscle.

“How long have you known him?”

You pause to think. “Technically since we’ve been children, but we’ve never been particularly close. Our families' companies have always worked in tandem together and now we end up working together every now and then. He’s my age, give or take a year.”

“Good looking?”

“Yes, I’d say so.” You turn around slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to leave me for my colleague?”

Toji doesn’t find much humor in your attempt to get him to crack a smile.

“What if he does make a move? If you turn him down, isn’t that bad for business?”

“I highly doubt it; that’s really not Choso’s style.”

“Sure sounds like you know him well.”

“My point is, there’s nothing to get worked up about. I’m going to a business dinner, not a battlefield.”

Toji is vaguely familiar with who Choso Kamo is and his family’s reputation, but their questionable business dealings isn’t what’s making his hackles raise.

When he escorts you to social events, Toji can see what he suspects you don’t pay attention to: men and women alike seem to hold their breath when you speak to them directly. Their eyes linger, they don’t seem to even be cognizant of their own behavior. Men in particular will cast scornful looks Toji’s way, the bravest make snide comments under their breath only to wither under his own cold gaze.

It’s entirely possible that part of your allure is due to being so scarce in public: you only grace a function with your presence if it’s absolutely necessary or if it would be considered an affront to refuse the invitation. You’re not exactly a people person and you’re not actually as good at reading people as Toji: you prefer everything cut and dry; you’ve managed to get along by charisma more than anything else. Toji has noted that you’re a person people want to be liked by. They want your approval. Choso Kamo isn’t an exception. Toji recalls on two separate occasions the imposing man peeled himself away from his solitary position at his table to greet you and you alone. He’s the only one who holds Toji’s stare and returns it with a look of utter contempt.

Blind as you might be to it, Toji’s perceptive eyes can see how the man practically bounds over to you, eager gaze trained on your polite, but kind smile, the way his paw-like hand grips yours ever so carefully when you ask Choso about his brothers and make small talk. Choso wants your approval and Toji would bet a cool one million it’s not all he wants from you.

“Hey big guy, why don’t you order in something special for yourself for dinner?” You sit down on the edge of the bed next to him, lean your head against his shoulder and run one of your hands up and down his forearm. “What I want you to do is stay here, all warm and cozy in bed, while I handle all this boring work stuff. There’s absolutely no reason you need to concern yourself with Choso Kamo or anybody I might need to have these silly, boring dinner meetings with. Do you understand?”

“How often do you expect to be called out this late for ‘business dinners’?” Toji whips his head around, a deep frown marred his handsome features. “Don’t condescend to me; I’m not a fucking idiot.” he pulls his arm away from your comforting touch. “Shit, why don’t you just go marry the guy? He’s obviously the better fit: rich, got his own business, bet your family will fucking love him.”

“Oh for goodness sakes, I am not listening to this-”

“Sit down.” Toji easily pushes you by your shoulders so you plop right back down onto the mattress. “Don’t walk away from me. I already told you, if you think you can go behind my back and mess around with other men, you’re dead wrong. You get that lumbering jackass on the phone and cancel tonight because I’m telling you you’re not going.”

You stare up at him strangely. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“No, I mean,” A half smile of bewilderment comes to your lips. “I thought you were teasing, but…are you actually jealous?”

“No.”

You give Toji an unimpressed look. “Then why are you throwing a tantrum?”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum!” Toji barks, red faced and fists clenched; he’s itching to hit the pillows or the wall. He can’t remember the last time he had gotten this angry. “I’m just pissed.”

“Maybe, but I think you’re also worried.” You reply coolly. “I never even considered Choso before…but you know, he is my type. And he’s very agreeable when he’s not moody, reliable…I’m sure he would be a lot easier to train than another rabid dog I know.”

“I know what game you’re trying to play, little girl.” Toji leans down at the waist, arms on either side of you on the bed, as if to emphasize how much bigger and stronger he is. “You’re really pushing your luck.”

“Says the man with the gambling addiction.” You glance down between Toji’s legs. “Is that your way of trying to distract me?”

Toji follows your eyes; he hadn’t even noticed. He’s hard as a rock.

“I wonder what did it for you: was it pushing me down? Barking orders at me?” You reach up to poke Toji’s scrunched up nose. “Or did that talk about training do something to you?”

Toji doesn’t have to look down; he felt his cock twitch. You kiss his nose and put your hands on either side of his face.

“I really don’t intend on adopting another puppy anytime soon. Please Toji, be reasonable; I’ll only be gone for a few hours, you’ll barely miss me.”

Toji doesn’t say anything, but continues to scowl. He can hardly bring himself to think about it, but you’re wrong; he misses you every time you have to leave the house. Sure, Toji can spend his time however he likes with the allowance you give him and a house stocked with food and entertainment, but it doesn’t take long for him to get bored and sluggish. When you have to leave the house and don’t need him to escort you, Toji finds the things he used to get so much enjoyment out of have lost some of their charm. More and more lately Toji finds himself curling up either in your bed where he’s surrounded by your scent or napping on the nearest couch to the door. He hates how the click of the front door lock sends a wave of relief crashing over him, how a little voice echoes in his head “she’s home, finally” but Toji can ignore it while he’s busy stealing your breath away with kisses and clawing at your business casual clothes.

Besides, what if while he’s away at the track or the tables, you come back early? You might see he’s not there and decide to go back out or take on some other task thinking Toji’s content being left to his own devices. Maybe on one of those days you’ll stop at a cafe or a bar and you meet someone?

“You’re the smartest dumb person I ever met.” Toji chuckles softly in spite of how irritated he still feels. “Everywhere I go with you, there’s all these people and they’re all better suited and they all want you. It’s constant. You know how exhausting it is, knowing there’s all these assholes out there waiting to snatch you up the minute they see an opening?”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

“And you’re wrong. I will…that much.” Toji tells you firmly. “Miss you. I don’t like you going out. Even if I get to go with you, I hate it ‘cause I gotta see how they all look at you. I didn’t used to; fuck, you made me proud. You make me proud,” he corrects himself quietly. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

You look conflicted and Toji is hopeful; he’d like to avoid using force on you, even if he does get a kick out using his strength on you and handling you like a ragdoll. But this is different.

“Baby, why don’t you reschedule? Say you’re not feeling good and can’t make it tonight, any excuse.” Toji smiles roguishly as he slowly presses you down onto the bed, straddling your hips so you can feel the full weight of him and how hard he is. “You look too good dressed up like this…makes me wanna lock you up and keep you all to myself.”

“I suppose…I could speak with him over coffee. Something more casual.” You move up the bed and sigh as a spark comes back to Toji’s cold eyes. “You really are a scary guy, Toji.”

“I just don’t want to share you.” Toji rocks his hips, dragging the tip of his cock over the soft material of your dress; drops of precum stain the fabric. “So, so pretty.”

“Toji, I just got this!”

“Buy another.” Toji grinds against your thigh and gropes one of your tits roughly. “I’m gonna rip this one off anyway.”

You gasp as Toji makes good on his promise, his hands gripping the front of your dress and pulling it apart down the middle. The seams pop and the fabric tears right down the middle, revealing the matching lingerie set you had been wearing underneath; Toji curses under his breath.

“That’s what you were wearin’ underneath?” he asks incredulously. “Was this meant for him?”

“Of course not. I was going to surprise you when I got home.” You scolded him tersely. “Honestly, you have no tact.”

“Guess you need to train me better.”

Toji kisses you hard, not giving you much time to react as he forces his tongue into your mouth and starts grinding himself into your still covered pussy. You don’t fight it when Toji takes your wrists in one hand and holds them over your head; he’s not letting you go anytime soon. You’re too busy rubbing yourself back on him, loving the feel of his cock desperately trying to fuck you, like he can’t even wait for you to take off the panties.

“From now on you have to always tell me where you’re going and who’s gonna be there.” Toji’s demanding tone is a bit undermined by the way he’s groaning at the sight of your nipples poking through the lacey bra. “No late night meetings. And I don’t want you alone with him.”

“Choso wouldn’t do anything.”

“Bullshit. He’s probably a bigger freak than I am.” Toji pinches and rolls your nipple in his free hand. “I should fuck you while you call him.”

“Toji,” You say warily. “I thought we talked about this: you know I love you. I don’t want to be with anyone else. Please, try to not let your temper get the best of you: I have a job to do and if you act up too much-”

“What?” Toji asks mockingly; he’s already pulling aside your soaked panties and rubbing his tip along your folds. “Come on, I’m dyin’ to know. Am I being a bad dog?”

You’re about to retort, but then Toji bends down, eyes locked on yours as he runs his tongue up your cheek with a slow, wet lick. You stare at him slightly taken aback but that turns into shock when Toji slams his cock into you all at once.

“Fuck!” Toji hisses. “So fucking tight…come on, tell me baby, tell me how you’ll punish me!”

But the second you open your mouth, Toji is thrusting; his hold around your wrists is painfully tight and he’s able to keep your thighs spread by pinning one down with his other hand. You cry out every time he slams into you, making the whole bed shake and the headboard slam against the wall.

“Think he can fuck you this good? Huh? You think he could make this pussy cream like I can?” Toji huffs and puffs, not slowing down even as he lowers his head to suck and rolls his tongue around your nipples, one at a time, making them shiny and wet with spit. “Got me trained to only want to fuck this pussy now anyway.”

“Too much!” You whine as Toji lets your hands go only to hook your knees under each of his elbows. “Toji, so deep, it’s too deep!”

“But babyyyyy, I have to.” Toji groans almost as if he’s exasperated with your protests. “I gotta breed you.”

“Wha-what are you…?”

“Uh huh. Nice and deep, gonna make sure all my cum takes.” Toji kisses your forehead with a twisted grin. “I’m going to fill you up and make you a mommy now.”

“What?!” This is the most panicked he’s ever seen you. “I don’t want kids! I’m on birth control and-”

“They can only prevent so much. I’ll keep you tied up for a while,” Toji traces his fingers along your trembling lips. “I’ll keep cumming inside you, all night, every day, over and over. I’ll even destroy the pills if I have to.”

“No!”

“But I thought you loved me? It’s the only way I can think of keeping you…I mean, unless you were willing to do something else to make things a little more official?” Toji slows down his thrusts and looks down at you with a shit eating grin. “Ya know, something that shows other people you’re taken.”

“Something…?” You can barely breathe from exertion and confusion. “Official? Wait, are you saying you want us to get married?”

“Sounds fair enough, yeah? You already promised you would take care of me from now on.” Toji sighs and brushes hair out of your face. “Think of it this way, I get to put a ring around your finger ‘cause after all, you already put a collar around my neck.”

“You know, some people propose with a ring prepared and flowers, not threats of forcible impregnation.” Your voice is hardly more than a whisper. “Toji, I love you, you big idiot. If you wanted to, why not just ask me to marry you?”

“‘Kay, then…will you marry me?”

“I can get the papers ready tomorrow.” You ever so carefully put your hands on his shoulders lightly before moving in to hold him. “If that’s what it takes to put your mind at ease, consider me your wife. I’ve always considered you mine; honestly, do I have to collar and tag you to get it through your head? I have no plans to let you go, not unless you decide you want to leave.”

Toji chews on his lip as you hug him and give his neck butterfly kisses; suddenly he’s feeling anxious and tongue tied. Toji thought you might put up more of a fight: he knows what he is. He knows the disgusted looks thrown his way are warranted and he made peace with that years ago. If anything, it would be poetic justice for you to leave him high and dry, abandoning him without so much as a second thought.

You have to stop this. You think you’re taming a stray and making him a house pet, but Toji knows exactly what he is. If you keep indulging him this way it won’t settle his mind; every day is already a battle to not do exactly as he said he was going to do, keep you restrained and locked away from the world. Fuck the money, fuck your work, fuck everything you want and everything Toji believed he wanted. To hell with it all. What’s one more selfish, cruel act?

“Call him now.” Toji says suddenly, voice almost inaudible. “Call him and say you can’t make it because you forgot you had plans with your fiance.”

“Okay.” You nod. “But, um, I need to get my phone.”

“Actually, after we’re done.” Toji repositions your legs so they’re wrapped around his waist and his front is pressed flush against yours. “I still want to cum inside.”

“Okay, just be good.” You pet his hair, pushing his bangs off his face. “Can you be good for me, Toji? You were making me feel really good before; I want to cum with you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do it.”

Toji can’t keep his eyes off your face; he’s panting, a drop of drool slides past the corner of his mouth, running down his scarred lip as you moan underneath him. He’s touching you with less force, but now he’s focused on rubbing your breasts and clit in tandem while you squirm on his cock. You’re giving him a great show; he wishes he had his phone out to record you, a little something to keep him company during those long hours you’re gone.

“Gonna fuck my pretty wife. Gonna make her pussy a mess…” Toji inhales as you clench impossibly tight around him. “You like that? You like getting your pussy ruined by me?”

“Yes, yes, I want it!” You rock your hips, squealing as Toji latches his mouth onto your nipple and rubs your clit faster. “So good, feels so good getting fucked by my…my husband…ah, Toji!!!”

Toji looks up at you with wide eyes; you’re too lost in your orgasm to notice. With high pitched cries, your whole body shakes from the being touched in your most sensitive places at once. He can feel your slick run down his twitching cock; after a few seconds, you’ve calmed down enough to breathe properly and look down at him with a tired, loving smile.

“Cum in me…it’s okay, I want it.”

Toji’s pupils are blown wide as he starts thrusting again, considerably slower, but with just as much force as before. He slows down the closer he gets to cumming, only to pick up the pace and hike your legs higher over his hips, then his shoulders. You can’t even scream now; all you can do is dig your nails into the sheets and let out the sweetest most adorable little kitten like mewls Toji has ever heard. He knows you’re tired and sore and need to rest soon, but part of him just doesn’t want to stop.

“Baby, stay with me. Almost there, gonna cum so fucking hard.”

Toji hisses as your hands grab his biceps, gets even harder at the way your nails dig into his skin; he’s slick with sweat and from the combination of your pussy dripping in his lap and what he’s pretty sure is his own precum steadily leaking with every slam of his hips.

“Almost there, I need ya to, shit, just call me that again, come on baby, c’mon-”

“My…my husband.” You say with a shaky breath. “Want my husband to cum in me, please!”

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” Toji shudders at the wet slapping with every time he thrusts, your desperate pleas tempting him to keep ravaging you until you’re passed out; he’s babbling now, voice hoarse and so loud it’s a wonder he can speak at all. “Yes, take it, just like that, take it all, gonna cum, take it all baby, fuck!”

“Good…good boy…”

With a long, low groan, Toji doubles over and has to struggle to not drop his entire body weight on you; he wants to see your pussy get filled first.

It’s dripping. Past his aching cock, past your puffy pussy lips, Toji’s cum drips onto his balls, down to the sheets in a little puddle. He came so much, he wouldn’t be surprised if you could taste it or if he ended up breeding you by accident anyway. All the better for him.

“Mine.” Toji rasps, arms pulling you in close, even as you weakly protest at his sweat drenched body and the mess; he pays no mind, in fact, he looks almost delirious as he grins at you. “Hey…since I was a good boy, do I get a treat?”

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