A/N I cant sleep o and have work in 3 hrs so Im writing whatever i want mwehehe. also not every character mentioned. I'd love to know who yall would add!
CW:SUPER SMUT BELOW THE CUT. 18+ ONLY PLEASE. Mentions of dūbc0n, g^ngb^ngş(duh), overstim, o denial, C^mplay. c^ckery. br33d1ng. I am NOT responsible for your choice to continue. ts nasty asf sorry
Mr. Grey would totally be there just to tell you what to do. He’s lowkey in the cuck chair if the chair was a director’s seat. If he's interacting with you, he's holding your chin as you're surrounded by men, jacking himself off.
"Doesn't it feel so good...to let yourself be used?" before he finishes on your face. He's definitely rubbing it all over you with his tip
Ray Reardon is definitely giving it to you deep and passionately.
Ray, Mr. Grey, and Michael Boll would be the main ones checking in on you intermittently to see if you’re okay.
Perverts who plow: Eddie Dutra(my beloved), Rip, and Ronnie Stover. They’d probably take you at the same time. Their themes are definitely dubcon “C’mon doll, you can take it.” They all tell you at one point. They all want turns in ur ass, and they all want to nut inside. I see them loving mating press and using each others nut as lube.
"Aww, she's squirting." Eddie and rip would laugh as you cum, overstimulating you by rubbing your clit as you squirt.
"You can take more, I know you can." one of the plowers say as they stick it right back in. Eddie and rip are definitely CNC buddies.
closet freaks: Michael is definitely kissing your soles and sucking on your toes. Whatever character he played in mannequin(Richard Mannequin?) def a closet perv. He'd probably be into sniffing/licking your armpits.
Champion Eater: even after being overstimulated, max is gonna make it worse. Add in some piss denial from him right about here too.
James Ballard def joining in on the fun. He seems like he'd videotape it all for Catherine and himself to enjoy. He'd be a floater, just finding anywhere you're empty and fill (you) in.
James and Ray are Passion plowers. The perverts who plow are deep and short thrusts to feel your cervix, James and Ray love to lick your ears and run fingers on your spine. Their engagement with your nervous system excites you to get wet and stretch you; they fuck long and slow strokes. They're def side fuck Eiffel tower.
How fun is a party if the reason you dressed up doesn't even pay you any mind?
word count: 4.7k
A/N: superrrr overdue ><. Sorry ToT. Enjoyed putting this together. A post that I think is deleted bc i cant find it no more helped inspired this. O/P did James Spader characters and what cologne they'd use, and wrote that Eddie would deff use Dior Sauvage. And I think they're sooo right.
C/W: drinking, smoking, the mix of both, suggestions of ketamine use, motorboating, platonic friendship teasing each other but yall just met
The metal of the hanger skidding across the pole screeches in your ear. different fabrics brush against your finger tips as you comb through each article of clothing.
Short latex skirt. maybe.
Blazer with upward-pointed shoulder pads. Too campy for a party like this.
Wool fisherman's sweater. Too cutesy and soft.
Latex corset? Maybe with the skirt? Or too much latex? I don't want to look like a dominatrix. Or do I?
So much to choose from, so much personality to express, so little time.
To find the perfect outfit, your fingers move increasingly nimble. 'I don't wanna stand out like a sore thumb. But shit, I don't want to water myself down.'
'How do I even know what to expect? I don't even know these people...'
'Do I really want to deal with that corset? Ugh, it's so cute, but I wanna be comfortable. I already have pre-party jitters.'
Thoughts race around your mind as you scavenge for an outfit that speaks to you. That's when your digits brush against the soft stretchy cotton blend on the hanger. You pull out a casual tank dress you wear around the house. You sigh in relief, mentally forming an outfit that was just right.
The room is lit from the ceiling light above. Its cold light clashes with the warmth of the lamps placed on the nightstand and desk. Eddie saunters around his room with nothing but a white towel around his waist soaking up the droplets of water off his body. He steps in rhythm to Ministry's With Sympathy album filling up the atmosphere.
Eddie sings lazily, moving his head around to the beat. He mimics a bird jerking its head in a mating ritual. Taking his sweet time, he dances around the free space of his room. He picks articles of clothing one by one. He lays everything out on his bed, switching different pieces of clothing as he sees fit.
Downstairs, his friends' collective patience is waning. Some boys are pacing back and forth the living room, the others play cards. Anything to pass the time wishing they had their own car to take themselves.
"Tell that dude to hurry uppp. What's he doin', shavin' his taint?"
"You know I can't say shit, this time is like a monk's mediation to him."
Back upstairs, Eddie stares intensely into his own reflection, dressing himself whilst never looking away from his body. His eyes follows his fingertips as he buttons up his dark wine, dagger-collar dress shirt. The top three buttons stay unclasped; his gold chain sitting atop his collarbone is framed with his shirt. The man tilts up his neck as he lays gentle fingers on the sternal ends of his clavicles. Fingertips trace where his skin meet the fabric of his shirt. He drops his hands down to reach for his black leather pants that lay on his bed at his left.
With his ensemble all put together, the blonde locks eyes with himself in the mirror. Letting the music play in the back, he blow dries his hair, styling it with a brush. He never moves his gaze as he puts down the styling tools. His hands pick up his bottle of Dior Sauvage on his dresser with muscle memory. He close his eyes to let his sense of smell take over. Strong. Established. Masculine. His chest expands in a deep inhale.
"No way am I not fuckin' tonight." He reassures himself.
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The door is closed gently behind your cousin. Following right after her is the heavy air of exhaustion one only gains from being an ER nurse after 2 consecutive weeks of 4x12's. Her eyelids droop heavy. Her hair is in a messier version of this morning's sock bun. Her body runs its usual program of taking off shoes, putting down her work bag by the door, and heading to the hallway. She lets her eyes rest as her feet lead her to the bathroom the end of the hallway. The tired body becomes livened by the sultry, spicy scent of your Yves Saint Laurent Opium. Your cousin follows the scent to find you dressed up, cleaning the mess from searching for an outfit.
She lets out a defeated sigh, "you're gonna come back from the party with a big, fat you-were-right-this-whole-time face on your face. Then I'm gonna meet you with a big, fat 'I told you so.'" her figure in your dark antique vanity mirror. Putting on layers of necklace, you respond:
"Even if you were right, I'd be too stubborn to let you know." You grin at her through your mirror.
+
From the newest model to vehicles of old misfiring engines- cars come in droves to Danny Amato's. A latchkey kid of the upper middle class with divorced parents. His father- a third generation specialized mechanic-had put his inheritance money into gold and oil right before Reagan removed the gold standard. Financially set for life and single, Mr. Amato spends most his time traveling for fun or teaching other mechanics across the globe who want to expand their work beyond cars.
All this traveling has left Danny to his own devices. He'd fill the empty rooms of his house with the stench of weed and sex. On the occasion of his dad leaving for a month straight or major milestones, he'd use the advantage of not having neighbors within miles to throw boisterous parties. This time, his milestone is joining the Air Force as a pilot mechanic.
The host paces back and forth in his father's room, an off-limits zone for guests. He stops and looks in the mirror of his dad's built-in modular wall unit. In his reflection stands at about a 5'10" body. It's toned and developed with muscle from being his father's apprentice for half his life. The longest part of his layered, chocolate-brown hair rests on his lats. Being Sicilian, his tanned, olive skin glows in the sunlight, complementing his light brown eyes. Danny sports a cropped Miami tee to accentuate his abs and V-line. From below his belly button to the middle of his thighs are jean shorts that hugs his ass nicely. The cherry on top is his fresh pair of crew socks. He knows he looks good, but for whatever reason, it all seems for naught.
Glenby and neighboring towns always look forward to a Danny Amato party. They make sure they take the next day or two off or find other people to carpool with. Some bring extra clothing, knowing the mess to be made. For Danny, it's now just another mess to clean. Sure, a lot of the boys in Glenby stick around to clean up, but it could all be avoided if someone else would throw the party.
Danny has also seen that it's usually the same people looking to get high or finding their next person to fuck. Whether he interacts with them or not, he's automatically associated with folks who are in limbo between juvenile delinquency and adulthood. He's a savior to small-town losers; his home is a safe haven for high-functioning, drug-abusing young adults.
Danny thinks back of his reflection, realizing that soon, his cropped shirt and shorts will be replaced with government-issued uniform. Soon, he won't be able to have a wake and bake, and a lax routine will be switched for one of high rigidity. Not that he wants to continue anyways; he already feels like a lazy bum waking up anytime after 9am.
For now, the host feels more comfortable lounging upstairs. He relaxes in the muffled noise of his cousins and first wave of guests downstairs. Danny splays his body on a chair by the window, his feet propped up on the windowsill. He watches the incoming headlights shine in the Florida dusk, eyes searching for guests who are worth the trip downstairs.
The last light of the sun runs past the horizon, and the vacant fields is lit from a crescent moon, a litter of stars, and the raving energy emitting from Danny's house. Silhouettes of scantily-dressed women dancing in the amber windows. Sodium street lights in the front of the Amato property radiates on kissing couples in and on cars. The porch light paints a glow to partygoers itching for the blunts getting passed around.
A red van screeches to a halt, bringing up a cloud of dirt. Through the dustiness exits the group of boys from the sliding door. Around comes Eddie.
The men lengthen their torsos in a stretch. Eddie stretches his neck in a circle.
"I need a thick blunt and some beer after that drive." Gideon yawns.
"You didn't even drive," Eddie scolds "Imagine how I feel." As the group walks towards the porch stairs, Eddie looks up to meet eyes with Danny. Eddie's pace becomes a few beats faster than the others.
Leading the men, Eddie opens the door to rowdy rock music blasting through the Hi-fi stereo system. He's getting high off the second-hand smoke alone. The faint smell of menthols trigger him to reach for his shirt pocket and retrieve a cigarette. It hangs on the end of his mouth as he pats himself in search of his lighter. Annoyance creeps up towards his head when Danny comes from sea of people.
"Dutra," Danny flicks open his lighter and Eddie puffs on his end to light it up "How you been?" They dap each other up, as he does the same with the rest of the gang before they separate into different parts of the house.
"Good, man," Eddie Inhales, relaxing into the hit of the nicotine. He takes it out of his mouth and offers it to his friend. "Wanna hit?"
"I'm alright," Danny scratches the back of his neck "I'm going cold turkey on everything for basic."
"It's the military, not a damn monastery." He puts it back into his mouth and puffs. Eddie moves to be shoulder-to-shoulder with Danny. They observe the crowd giving into all possible temptation.
"Who throws a party and goes cold turkey?" Eddie snickers, lightheartedly shoving Danny.
"Heyyy," Danny shoves back "this is a recent development!"
"How recent?" Eddie's sorting through the women in the crowd, finding a next one-night stand for himself.
"This morning." Danny shrugs nonchalantly. Eddie jerks his neck to his left. He stares at his friend with sarcasm, lips barely hanging on to cigarette. The smoke taunts Danny. He inhales slow and intentional as his eyes flutters close.
"Good fuckin' luck." Eddie goes back to searching in the crowd. Danny follows his gaze.
"You messin' with anyone new?" Danny asks. Eddie's gaze is fixed onto a woman in a leather corset and pants, dancing on a table.
Eddie thinks of his response as he takes a long drag, "not of anyone with importance." He looks back at his friend, shrugging his eyebrow towards the woman dancing.
"Yeah, you have fun with that." Danny snorts as Eddie makes his way to the woman.
The host leans against the stairwell. He takes in the overstimulating scenery of loud music, loud smells, loud people; however, in his mind remains a quiet buzz . The grand parties are nothing but the hum and brightness of a fluorescent light. Danny is about to head upstairs when the door opens to reveal your figure.
You seem so familiar, yet he doesn't remember seeing you at his previous functions, nor does he remember going to school with you. Not like you would fit in with anyone around here: a compliment in his mind.
You take in everything around the house as you inch your way to the crowd, hoping to dissolve within the rest of them. Your attempt was too late. The party goers shuffle around to make space for a long-haired man. It takes his last steps to register he was walking towards you.
"You look like a fresh face," His low smile reveals a dimple on his left cheek. His Italian accent has been slightly watered down from living in Hicksville, Florida. "I'm Danny Amato." He brings out a hand and you introduce yourself as you take his invitation to shake. You feel a warm tingle as he smiles into your eyes.
"You meeting anyone here? I could show you around, see if you find them." You're about to respond when a loud cheer takes you two out of conversation. In the living room area to your right stands Eddie and a busty woman on the coffee table. Three shot glasses of moonshine squeezed in between her tits, Eddie sucks each shot down sans hands. They eyefuck each other as he downs each one, finishing by sucking on her flesh for any remnants of the alcohol. You suck your teeth as you look back at the handsome man fate has bestowed upon you.
"No, I heard from my cousin about this 'little get together'." you air quoted as you two laugh as you head upstairs. "I'm new to Florida, I'm from Chicago."
Danny's mentally scanning through all the people you look similar to, when it hits him.
"Does your sister work in the ER???" The realization hits him "You two look so similar!" You smile, feeling a little less lonely in this full house.
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"E-DDIE! E-DDIE! E-DDIE!" The rush of peoples chants mixed with the nicotine and weed in his system, he's in a trance of validation right now. Not to mention the pairs of DDD's squeezed together right at eye level. He hollows his cheeks and holds the shot glass. His head tilts up enough for the moonshine to fall straight to the back of his throat. Before he can register the warm, burning sensation in his chest, he repeats the other two. The crowd does a final cheer as the burn gets to him. Eddie masks it by licking the rest of the alcohol off her breasts, topping it off with an eager motorboat. Eddie faces the crowd with a victorious, drunken yell. He looks all around the crowd, taking in this moment, when his eyes catch your unmistakable figure being led up the stairs by Danny.
You're sitting in the chair where Danny was once guest watching. The chair is now faced towards the foot of the bed, allowing you to rest your pantyhosed legs in between Danny's. He sits in the middle of the bed, facing you. The two of you have been conversing about anything and everything: future plans, wishes, town drama, favorite food. Danny brought up selling with Eddie. One mention of his name and your face instantly turned sour. He made a mental note to not bring him up again. Besides Eddie, anything goes. You ask if he has any family in Chicago; He shares the same last name with some folks you know back home. He tells you about how he knows your cousin. He tells you about multiple times where the parties have been a bit too extreme, He usually ends up in he ER or someone he knows. Multiple times has your cousin tended to his wounds. Didn't matter if she looked like she just started her shift or it looked like she was working for 24 hours nonstop, they'd always find a way to laugh at something. That something typically being the reason he was visiting the ER.
"Your dad has really nice taste." You compliment as your eyes scan the room. The furnishings are mid-century modern in style and quality, with 80s art deco revival here in there. Ambient, retro-futuristic lamps are placed methodically around the room to not only highlight certain artworks and photos, but to also enhance the cozy, sensual feeling of the room. Evidence of life lives in clothes reaching over the laundry hamper. There's a lightly used ashtray on the bedside table; it hasn't been emptied since Danny's dad left for his flight. Family photos-mainly Danny's childhood photos and his father's side of the family-sprinkled evenly throughout the room.
"'s not him," he plays with the seam of your pantyhose "m' ma got it all jazzed up." he pity laughs at himself. Your eyebrows come in together in thought.
"Seems like she decorated it for herself." You joke. Danny looks up to the side and tilts his head in realization.
"Y'know I never thought about that." his hands stop fidgeting with the tips of your toes. "Room was finished two months before she tried serving my dad papers. I remember them yelling about some infidelity clause."
"Holy shit dude I'm sorry." you lead with a sympathetic tone. Your fingers console him by rubbing the ball of his ankle.
"'ts all good," he smiles and pats the bed in between his legs. Moving up onto the bed, you sit with crossed legs between him "I don't usually talk about that stuff with other people. 'mnot too good with emotional stuff. Folks just come asking for weed or dick."
"If it isn't the consequence of my own action's." You half-joke. The two of you laugh as he pushes your shoulder in a light-hearted manner. You let the laughter die down before you say anything.
"But to be real, you choosing to be up here instead shows you're already changing." He's tugging on the pantyhose on your knees as you tell him.
"Who's to say I didn't bring you up here so we could fuck?" Danny has a crooked smirk on his face, looking at you with big, brown eyes. His tone is mostly playful, only partly serious. You move up to be on your knees, getting closer to Danny's face. Only a finger-width in between each others' noses. You look down at his lips and whisper:
"I feel like if you really wanted to fuck me, It would've happened as soon as we came up here." You squish his cheek where his dimple is. You two both laugh, breaking the tension.
"I really like talking with you, Danny." You adjust yourself into sitting with your legs crossed. He blushes down and smiles, his thumb rubbing where you laid your lips on him.
"I like talking with you, too."
Downstairs, the partygoers continue. Laughing, drinking, smoking. Those who wanted to enjoy some bag, has left: a strict rule for Danny. Everyone's enjoying their merry highs-everyone except Eddie. Each minute that you two stay up there, the pang of jealousy grows in the throat of the blonde man. The busty woman, who he now knows by the name of Angie, lays sloppy kisses in the exposed skin of his chest. The petroleum-feeling lipsticks stains bright red on his pale skin. Eddie cups Angie's chin in his hands before she could lay another one.
"Would you be a doll and get Gordo to roll us a blunt?" He pouts.
"W-whatever you want." the woman slurs, at the peak of her cross fade.
Eddie slaps her ass as she leaves to find Gordo. As soon as she's out of sight, he straightens his face from his forced playfulness. He wipes the oily lipstick off his chest and makes a beeline towards the stairs.
The second level is off limits to guests, everyone knows. It doesn't matter to Eddie's ego; the thought of you two being intimate in any sort of way eats him alive.
The noise from downstairs gets quieter, as do his footsteps. Eddie looks around for the source of the light, and peeks through the small crack of the door. His head is hot with jealousy and a spontaneous anger as he sees the two of you face to face. His nostrils flare, seeing you knelt in between his legs, when he hears you two talk.
"I feel like if you really wanted to fuck me, It would've happened as soon as we came in here." the two of you giggle.
"I really like talking with you, Danny."
"I like talking with you, too."
His anger is washed over with a different type of hurt. This feeling is alien to him; The mix of all these emotions is just funneling down to anger and sadness. He decides the best thing is to head back downstairs, leaving you two be.
He reaches the last step and is met with Angie's smudged makeup, holding a blunt to her lip. She attempts to talk to Eddie, but everything is an incoherent jumble of syllables. Angie loses her balance and Eddie catches her from falling. He takes the blunt from her lips and puts it in between his own.
"You're overdue for a nap, dont 'cha think?" He helps her to an empty couch and lays her down. Eddie lifts her head up and sits on the sofa, resting her head on his lap. He takes a long inhale and observes the majority of the crowd. Time flies by as he chiefs the blunt on his lonesome. Soon, It's 4am, and the only people left are those too high to function. People are passed out; others looking for downers. The high energy part of the party is long gone. He feels he's surrounded by zombies either greened out or in a K hole.
He shrugs and smokes the rest of his blunt, each puff lulling him to sleep.
The windows facing east frames the sunrise. Sun rays hit the thin skin of your eyes, forcing you awake. You blink your eyes open and turn your body over to avoid the sun. In front of you is Danny sleeping on his side. In a sleepy haze, you watch his exposed abdomen rising and falling, the tendons and veins in his arms, moving as he moves in his sleep. Soon the sun hits him too, and he flutters his long, thick eyelashes awake.
You let out a yawn that triggers him to follow suit.
Danny closes his eyes again. "You know you over welcomed your stay, but you're cool and hot so I guess you have a pass this time." He teases with a groggy voice. You laugh at him, sitting up at the edge of the bed.
"I thought you're only supposed to kick out booty calls," you walk to get your boots by the window "plus I wanted to see if you need help cleaning up." As you get your shoes, a familiar red van outside catches your attention.
"Oh shit." a groan follows your complaint.
"What's up?" Danny asks with concern.
"Eddie's van 's outside." You get your boots and slump your body onto the chair from last night. Danny sits his back against the bedframe. He watches you throw your head back, not looking forward to be met with him and the other tag-alongs downstairs.
"Yeah, sorry 'bout that." Danny scrunches his face apologetically. "I don't think I told you he sleeps over after functions." Danny contemplates of what to say next.
"I don't know how you know him, but if helps, last night he told me he wasn't messin' around with anyone of importance." Danny pouts and shrugs. His eyes are looking to his side as if he's implying something.
"Well that helps me feel better." your words are soaked in sarcasm. There's a slight pause.
"Actually, it really does." your eyebrows raise in an epiphany. You set your feet in each boot "If I'm not of any importance, he shouldn't care about anything I do." Danny hums in agreement.
You stand up, head held high as you make your way to the bedroom door. Your confidence falters when you hear faint sounds coming from downstairs. Danny sees you struggling to leave.
"Here, lemme walk you to your car." He gets up and walks with you. You sigh a relieved 'Thank you'.
The sound of feet shuffling and boot heels clicking down the stairs reaches Eddie's ears. He's laying on the couch facing the staircase in the middle of the floorplan. The man feigns sleep. His eyes peek open to you two heading to the door across the bottom of the stairs. As the door closes behind Danny, he gets up and watches him walk you to your car. Eddie observes you two exchange words before you head into your your hatchback. No kisses, no slapping ass. Just the two of you talking, and him waving you goodbye.
Whatever. It's still much more acknowledgement you ever gave him last night. Eddie lets out a defeated sigh understanding where he went wrong. He takes out his leather wallet and opens it to reveal a polaroid picture. It's one of his chest and face covered in your kisses. He took it yesterday before his shower. Eddie-now in a pensive mood-circles his thumb on the picture when he hears the door open again.
"Thanks for the party man." Eddie's tone is sincere as if he had any gain from it. "Do you want any extra help getting the house together?" Danny raises his eyebrow. Usually, Eddie has his minions help with any cleaning. Never does he usually help himself. 'What's with the sudden change of heart?'
"I should be good for the most part," Danny yawns "hired a cleaning service to get it all spic and span. I just need to remove any paraphernalia." his sarcastic clear pronunciation of the last word makes the two men chuckle.
Danny and Eddie look at their surroundings, clean for the most part. Filters and rolling papers scattered on each table. An occasional opened pack of cigarettes. The men pocket them. A bowl or a bong on some surfaces. Eddie's friends are also scattered around the house, some asleep on a couch, some found a bed, one knocked out on the floor. Eddie gathers all the stuff needed to roll while Danny gathers empty liquor bottles.
In between the silent cleaning, Danny confronts Eddie.
"I thought you said there was no one of importance." Danny teases. The blonde man shrugs it off.
"I said what I said." Eddie says firmly. Danny comes closer to Eddie, putting down the empty tequila glass.
"Whatever game you think you're playing, just know you're the only one playing and you'll still lose." Danny's Italian accent comes in thicker, a gravity in his voice that makes Eddie stop what he's doing. "She respects herself too much to entertain it."
"You go straight edge for one night and now you wanna walk women you didn't fuck to their car." Eddie scoffs, continuing to clean.
"You're lucky I like her cousin," Danny says matter-of-fact "I woulda let her go down on me just to get back at you." Eddie stops in his track.
"Talkin' bout some 'her goin' down on me' you got too damn soft, Amato." Eddie sneers "You better stay in them gas chambers for a minute longer than everyone else, you need it." All Danny does is laugh at his friend.
"Honest to God, we really did almost fuck." Danny admits through a snicker. Eddie's face remains flat, not appreciative how his friend finds everything humorous.
"Well why didn't ya?" The blonde man's voice is raised significantly in a hypothetical question. If he weren't too hungover he'd throw the liquor bottle in his hand.
"I think there was a mutual understanding that there's other people we're waiting for."
Hi there! I’m currently in the trenches of my Spader obsession so naturally I’m writing a Micheal Boll x reader fanfic and am in the midst of writing the smut. Anyways, was scrolling through all things Spader on tumblr and saw your headcanons for Micheal! I’m shocked at how much we agree on! So I wanted to let you know that when ever this one shot comes out that some of your head cannons are there!! Some because I also thought would they fit him well before finding your page and some that were so good I had to write them in. You’re a very talented writer by the way.
Best wishes,
Lavender :)
omggggg thank you so much!!!! >< I CANNOTTTTT WAIT to read your one shots. This gave me motivation to edit and write more. Thank you 🥰🫂
... an eater. He'll beg you again and again to let you eat it especially after working out
...lowkey pathetic. He's probably been a paypig at one point in his life(not including towards his brother).
...hugeeeee switch. He gives major msub to mdom in the movie. The dom part probably him looking for any type of control in his life as he's constantly being stepped on in his life
...probably into heels. Speaking of stepped on and pathetic, he seems the type to be on his knees while a woman has her Louboutin to his chest. Don't worry, this is exactly where he wants to be.
...the type of man to ask 'Am I doing it okay?' And you're doing all you can to not cum
...a low-tone whimperer. At certain times where he's super needy, I can see him letting out groans as most men do.
...into condescending dirty talk. "Aww, is it too much??" "Just let me put the tip in, I promise."
...a voyeur. I can see him controlling a vibrator in a corporate function.
...a brat tamer. I can see him letting his patience wear very thin, then snapping and handling it accordingly >~<
...a lwk sadist. He'll wait for a reason to inflict punishment(hence the brat tamer), but don't tell me you saw him put a knife to Alex's neck and didn't feel a tingle throughout his body.
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what else do you think he'd be into??? I love my yuppie switch >0<
I started this draft for chapter five in december, Im super late ><. so much has been going on in my life, so whether ppl read it or not, i just want to practice being consistent w something in my life
Mr. Grey's into bdsm obviously, but to be specific, I can definitely see him be turned on by you licking his dress shoe. Trust he'd have you humping his shoe
CW: exactly what the title says
it would be a busy day in the office, he's walking around everywhere-partially because he's stressed.
You open the door with his lunch in hand. It's a minute till lunch, but the attorney is still busy on a call.
On the way, your eyes catch a glimpse of the ladder laces coming undone as he paces around his office, sternly talking to the phone.
The plate is sat down gently on the solid wood of his desk, your mind occupied of wanting to help fix his undone lace before he trips, his mood dampens even more, you will feel the brunt of it. One can say it's too much overthinking, but it's your job to worry about these things.
In his pacing, he sees your furrowed brows in deliberation. Before he switches his pace to walk away from you, you put up your hand for him to stop, mouthing the command.
He's quite taken aback at this gesture: High-strung all day and your temerity to have him pause his self-soothing habit right when he's in the middle of an important call? And he can't put them on hold to scold you? Bless your poor heart.
You rush to kneel at his feet, eager to show him the reason to your actions. He zones out from the conversation to see you tightening and tucking his laces.
You even go as far as to look around and feel his other shoe to make sure the laces are equally tight and placed the same. Lord knows any minute difference and it would bother him all day.
Edward's eyes are fixed to you like neodymium magnets: taking in this act while your hips shift around in your pencil skirt.
You finish and look up to see your boss long forgetting the phone in his hand, dropped to the side of his hip. His eyes are fixed into yours.
You crook your neck sideways so your lips are touching his dress shoes but your eyes never breaking contact with his.
The feel of the smooth, cold leather on your lips magnify as you lay a kiss on his shoe. You close your eyes and mimic the action on the other one.
You look back at Mr. Grey, gulping before hurrying the phone back by his ear. He continues the conversation, yet can't take his eyes off you making out with the polished, dark brown leather clothing his feet.
"Yes I'm here, I'm sorry there was a matter I needed to resolve-" he lies. Your lipstick smudging, barely visible on the shoe. Both your views of each other slowly being interfered by a growing tent in his pants. On the average day, he has the willpower to ignore your antics. Today, he is taking whatever blessings he can have to make his day better.
You see him doing his best to focus, so obviously you want to make sure you're doing your due diligence as his secretary.
Still eyefucking each other, you show your tongue to him before putting the pad of it on the top of his shoe. You circle your tongue around the top of his shoe, dampening it with your saliva.
Keeping your tongue on him, you lick up his pants to his bulge, leaving a kiss on it before you fully stand up and saunter out the door.
Before you closed his door, you peeked at the sight of Edward frozen in place: hand covering the microphone as his jaw was dropped and eyes widen.
---
Halfway between your lunch hour are you sitting at your desk when the speaker on the desk projects Edward's voice.
"Ms. Y/L/N,"
when people hear me say "i like nerds" and think i like sid jenkins from skins uk but i yearn to know a man that looks like james spader in bad influence 1990 #babygirl
