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gremlingottoosilly · 6 months

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I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)

Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3

“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin.

You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm.

You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after.

So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well.

— I’ll find something to eat, alright?

He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged.

— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you.

— Ah…your father is at home?

You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was.

— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you.

— You didn’t tell him about me?

Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly.

— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…

An apathetic dad, huh.

You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart.

— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home.

He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed.

You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen.

*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid.

König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished.

With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel.

Scheisse

Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…

The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son.

You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl.

— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it?

You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years.

You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like.

— Ja. You can have it.

He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it.

— Thank you, sir. I’m…well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you.

You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him.

Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home.

— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you.

You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom.

He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you.

— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet.

— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz.

You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce.

— What do you mean by this, sir?

You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally.

Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid.

He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship.

The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you.

König is.

— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you.

You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man.

Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this.

König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father.

Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too.

— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir.

“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing.

You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all.

König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks.

God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies.

He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right?

You look like a good candidate.

— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz.

He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left.

— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here.

You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body.

— You want to see the bedroom then?

Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him.

— Sir, this is very…

He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is.

— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.

You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway.

Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all.

— I don’t want to break his heart.

— He doesn’t have one.

You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…

God, you feel like a slut, and you like it.

Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted.

You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game.

— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later.

“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum.

You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please”

König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable.

— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later.

He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before.

He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people.

He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right.

— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore.

— N…not a whore, please…

He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid.

— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…

— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…

— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.

He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second.

It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this.

It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…

You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it.

Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed.

König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good.

So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father.

— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it?

— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul.

— I’ll tell him.

— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck.

— I need to return to my dorm.

— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja?

He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right.

He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen.

Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked.

— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are.

— She’ll make a good step mom, ja?

You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes.

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #yandere cod #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere x reader

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kentopedia · 7 months

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LOOK, MOM! — nanami kento

yuuji accidentally calls you mom

contents: nanami x fem!reader, husband nanami hehe, this is very silly and random and stupid, fluff, nanami & reader are yuuji's adoptive parents fr, words: 1059

“nanamin!” yuuji waves at the figure approaching from behind you, a flashy grin appearing on his face as he glances at the blonde man over your shoulder. “i didn’t know you were coming by today!”

kento's hair sweeps over his forehead in the wind, a few strands coming free as he heads towards you. it's a brisk day, and he has two hot coffees in his hands that he'd picked up after his mission.

a bead of sweat drips down yuuji's temple, and he wipes it with his sleeve, still breathing heavily. you'd spent the last hour training together, pushing his physical capabilities. gojo had been busy recently, between all the missions and his conversations with the higher ups.

so, of course, you'd volunteered to teach the newest student when he couldn't. quickly, he became your favorite of the three first years.

“i’m in between assignments.” kento hands you the coffee, places a gentle hand on your lower back with a smile that is hardly there. “mind if i steal my wife away for a bit?”

yuuji shrugs, his face still bright as he glances between the two of you. ever since he’d found out two of his favorite sorcerers were together, he’d hardly shut up about it.

“no problem. i’m going to meet up with fushiguro anyway.” he brushes the dirt off his pants, waving to the two of you.

“good job today, yuuji!” grateful for something to warm you up in the chilly air, you take a sip of the coffee. it’s perfect, as always, just what you needed. “you’re improving a lot!”

he grins, proud of his accomplishments. “thanks, mom! see you later!”

there's an elongated moment of silence.

you choke on your coffee as kento stiffens beside you, watching while yuuji comes to a skittering halt.

all three of you freeze. you cough, clearing your throat, and kento's hand, steady on your back, has stilled. “yuuji—“

“oh,” the teenager says, his face turning bright red as he realizes what he’s called you. he glances between the two of you, embarrassment evident. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to—“

though, you don’t give yuuji enough time to protest. within seconds, you’ve gathered him up in your arms, squeezing the younger boy to your chest. “kento, we have a son!”

you feel yuuji tense, before he relaxes, and throws his arms around you in an even tighter hug. there’s some sort of thanks resting there. he laughs, carefree, a sound you never want to be taken away from the boy who manages to shine so brightly in such a dark world.

kento stares at you, folds his glasses up in his pocket, as if to show you both how unimpressed he is. “do we?” he asks, lips flat, though, you see through the facade to the amusement hidden in his irises. “i'm certain i would’ve remembered something like that.”

you make a face at him, covering yuuji’s ears dramatically. “oh, don’t listen to your dad, yuuji. he’s old, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

kento blinks, and then sighs, wrinkling his nose. though, when he sees yuuji’s wide grin, his eager expression, he decides to play along.

“well, then... there must be a lapse in my memory." kento crosses his arms over his chest as he regards the two of your extensively, searching for something. "that would certainly explain the striking resemblance between us.” he says drily.

yuuji laughs, a loud snort. he looks nothing like either of you, but you’re not sure he’s ever gotten to witness kento's sarcastic sense of humor, the one that not everyone really gets.

“exactly!” yuuji quips back to kento’s blank expression. "everyone tells me i have the same smile as my dad!

kento’s trying hard not to let yuuji win that one, but you can see the slight wrinkle around his eye, the tiny quirk of his lips. beside the pink haired boy, you choke out a few giggles, covering your mouth.

“yes," kento nods, solemn. "i’ve heard that as well.”

"so you do know how to make jokes, nanamin!" yuuji shouts, nearly jumping in the air as he cheers. "i can't wait to tell fushiguro this."

kento rolls his eyes, but yuuji’s so pleased, and he releases you, his eyes soft and bright as he pulls away.

though he doesn’t say it, doesn't thank you for anything, you can tell he’s grateful. itadori yuuji may be happy with his life as it is now, may have found a home within the friends he’s made at the high school, but you know he misses his grandfather. sometimes, perhaps, he even longs for the conventional family he never really got to have.

you ruffle his hair, the pink strands catching between the cracks of your fingers. “tell him i said hello too.”

yuuji nods, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he steps away. “i will!” his cheerful gaze is pinned on your husband, a secretive smile making a home on his lips. “bye, dad.”

kento shakes his head, and sighs again, though you can tell, a part of him is touched to have won so much of yuuji's admiration. “have a good evening, itadori.”

you watch the young boy scurry away, hands in his pockets as he braces himself against the cold.

"you should be nicer to your son, kento."

kento snorts, throwing an arm over your shoulder as he brings you closer to him. "i am nice to him," he says, kissing your temple softly. "a little hard on him, maybe, but i just don't want anything bad to happen to him."

you soften, look up at him with warm eyes, and you squeeze the hand that is resting on your shoulder. "i know," you say, your heart clenching. you've thought about it before, thought of kento with a tiny child that looks just like him, cradled against his chest. thought of him with a little girl whose hair he can braid, a little boy he can raise to be a gentleman.

but you hadn't talked about it; you'd always thought your life was too busy, too dangerous for children.

"you'd make a good dad, ken," you say, your cheeks flushed as you grin at him.

kento's eyes flash. "really?" an array of emotions scurries across his features before he leans down, kissing you softly. "is this your way of telling me you want a baby, sweetheart?" his voice deepens as he whispers against your lips, smiling. "because i'm more than happy to give you one."

#kento nanami x reader #jjk x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #kento nanami x you #nanami x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

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insanechayne · 10 months

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~ ~ ~

#I’m tired of being a constant fuckup #I wasn’t meant to have friends apparently since all I do is upset them and push them away and say stupid shit that hurts them #and it’s times like this I feel like it’d be better if I just weren’t here #like if I were dead I mean #sometimes I wish I’d killed myself at 16 if only to save myself from the idiot I’d become #and I hurt my closest friend again and I don’t know why I can’t keep my mouth shut and I keep spiraling #I don’t know why I’m stuck in this limbo and I don’t know how to get out of it #but it’s my own problem I guess and I’ll have to figure it out for myself #I’m not even catholic but I feel like I need to go to confession or something #I feel like I need to just pour all this bullshit out onto someone who doesn’t know me and I don’t know #just purge all this shit and get outside advice and move on #but I can’t find a way to do that so I’m just stuck in the same position I was in before #and I feel like at some point he will just get tired of me and leave #which will absolutely wreck me #but if it’s what’s best for him and makes him happier then how could I want to stop him #I don’t want to be selfish or keep him here solely to keep up our friendship #I’m a secret without the benefits of that secrecy and it’s coming back to haunt me #I just need to swallow my tongue so I never say anything stupid again #or maybe just get a lobotomy #personal

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cosmosis · 11 months

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MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - jealousy

miguel gets jealous possessive after a new intern flirts with you this is part of the same universe as my call oneshot!

Being 2nd in charge of the multiverse is... honestly not that hard for you. It’s mostly just co-leading, and being a secretary. Lyla helps out a bunch, but sometimes, a sassy AI can only do so much.

Jess informed you of a new intern she recruited. Apparently, he’s having his first day today, which means you’ll probably have to do a quick run-through of things with him later.

For now, it’s your fated duty to sit with Miguel at his desk so he doesn’t get all pouty later. He starts huffing and puffing when you aren’t near, takes it out on the kids sometimes.

Thanks to your suggestion, Miguel invested in a nice desk and swivel chair for the office, so now it looks more like an actual workspace instead of a maniac’s plot room. (either way, he his one lmao)

Since Lyla’s gone for the time being, you’re standing up on the office platform, tapping away at a multitude of screens. Miguel lays lazily in the office chair, swiveled up behind you to rub his face into your upper back, as well as run his hands along your tummy.

“Hun, you gotta let go. I needa tour the intern.” You mutter, closing in on an ID photo of the recruit.

“No.“

“Well, if I don’t do it, then who will?“ You ask.

“Jess.“

“She’s busy on her break. Pregnant women need breaks, you know.“

“Ugh. I don’t want you to leave.“ He whines. squeezing you tighter.

You start squirming out of his grip, pulling his pinky off of your stomach. Inching away, you push Miguel away by his head. Reluctantly, he starts letting you go, lazily running his hands onto the skin of your hips and lower thighs before letting go.

“I’ll see you in a bit, baby.“ You say, scuffing up his hair with your palm. Gracefully, you leap down from the platform, somersaulting onto the floor and skating out the exit. You hop over a few stray cardboard boxes.

Miguel watches you stroll away, and fixes his hair back into place.

Lyla magically appears, phasing in and out with a different sly look each time. She snickers, flickering all around Miguel’s head.

“Whipped.“

“Shut the fuck up.“

. . .

Miguel’s blood starts to boil as soon as you roll in with that stupid, bastard of an intern. He’s too close to you for comfort, so close to his arm nudging yours... Miguel’s teeth start to clench, his fangs close to drawing blood from his mouth. He’s paying too much attention to you, there’s a vibe he gets that he hates to his core.

Everything about him is aggravating; the blonde hair, the snarky smirk, all of it.

“...and this is Miguel’s office!“ You say, gesturing your hand to the majority of the area.

“Sweet, nice to meet the bossman.“

Bossman, his ass. Miguel would only ever let you call him bossman.

“Miguel! Come down!“ You yell, and his heart warms in his chest. He turns around from his standing form on the office platform, eyeing the intern in order to scare him a bit.

“Hey, what’s up man! Glad to finally meet the man behind the slaughter!“ The intern exclaims, his hands rested on his hips.

Miguel fights every urge to both roll his eyes and tackle the recruit, keeping a somewhat straight face on. He chuckles a little, not a single trace of a smile on his face.

“Heh, yeah? Excited to meet the bossman?“ Miguel taunts, but it looks like the intern can’t tell he is.

“Heck yeah dude! Where do I start?“

Miguel starts nodding a little, plastering on a face smile, chuckling a bit...

Before he throws the entire office chair at the recruit. Not to hit you, though. He’d never, ever hit you.

Instantly, the intern turns away, shielding his body with his hands. In the nick of time, though, you latch your webbing onto the chair, slinging it away to side before it could harm anyone. You cross your arms.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry about tha- MIGUEL!“ You scream.

And he throws a literal file cabinet at the man. Again, you latch it out of way without problem.

“What th'heck, man?! What’s your fuckin’ problem?!“ The intern yells, spreading his arms out.

“My fuckin’ problem is you nagging my wife!“ He roars.

“Wait a sec- she’s your wife?“

Miguel then leaps down from the platform, chin held up high in a sinister glare. Slowly, he steps over towards the both of you, fixing his eyes on the intern the entire time.

Miguel’s tall, really tall compared to the newbie. He pokes his finger to the recruit, leaning in real close.

“Stay at least 5 feet away from my wife at all times.“ Miguel utters, and you kinda feel bad for the new guy.

You cross your arms. “C’mon, Miguel. He’s literally new, take it easy on him!” You say back, and Miguel pouts, whines. Possessively, he reaches over to you, pulling in you in by the hip to try to soothe you. It doesn’t work, and you present yourself from giving into his needy touches.

And then, you turn around back to the newbie. “Gosh, I’m so sorry about that! He’s usually not like this-”

“Man, fuck this.“ The intern exclaims, taking a few steps back in agitation. “Take me back home, I ain’t dealin’ with this shit!“

He storms off, kicking a stray cardboard box on the way out.

“Aw, crap.“

“Finally.“

You swerve back around, hands on your hips. “Miguel, that was uncalled for.”

“Yes it was! He was smothering all over you!“ He yells, throwing his hands up in the air like it was the most obvious thing ever.

“Well, now thanks to you, we lost a recruit.“

“One of literally thousands!“

“And now, there’s papers everywhere on the floor!“

“Shhh, honey, I’ll clean it up later.“

Ignoring your frown, Miguel finally pulls you into him, pressing your lower back into his own with a nose into your hair.

“I saw the way he put his arm around you. He was flirting with you too. Hated it.“ Miguel utters.

“When?“ You ask.

“On the surveillance.“ He says, and you sigh. He’s right, the guy was flirting with you for a bit, but you chose to ignore it so you could get over with the tour faster.

“Eh, he gave me the heebie jeebies from the beginning.“ You say, and Miguel automatically squeezes you tighter into him, a deep grumble bellowing from his inner throat.

“I’m never letting you tour anyone ever again.“ Miguel admits.

“After that? Go ahead.“ You scoff, and finally, he sighs in relief.

He tries drags you back to the office platform again, but then forgets that he threw the chair, grumbling in regret. Instead, he just hovers behind you for the rest of the day, occasionally pressing a smooch to your head.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv lyla #atsv #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse x reader #fluff #romance #x reader #reader insert #lyla #spiderman #cosmosis-writes ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

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deadsetobsessions · 3 months

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Danny laid across his throne, legs planted across the left arm of the ornate chair and back pressed uncomfortably against the right.

"Listen," Danny started, letting his head flop to the side as he glared at a hovering Observant. "This meeting has wasted enough of my time. You all have been arguing for hours and that's without Clockwork slowing things down."

"Your Majesty, this is a matter of great importance. Belial means to overthrow and rule my-our world!"

"I am distinctly aware aware of that," Ancients, Danny couldn't wait to go home and rid himself of the formal speech he'd had to adopt in order to be taken seriously. Well, as seriously as he cared to be taken when sprawled across his throne instead of sitting on it intimidatingly or something. He slowly placed his gaze on the suddenly still demon sitting across from him. "Yet you've proposed fifteen different plans that were all unviable for whatever reasons you've cooked up. Your conclusion is that I must step in. Does your world not have heroes to take care of it?"

The demon- another lord of hell from this Belial’s universe- fell silent.

“Ah. But if they do, they would also take care of you.”

“No- no, that’s not-”

Danny allowed his voice to drop to the artic freeze he knew his core was capable of. "I opened these these doors to allow all of you to present me with reasonable concerns regarding your own universes and realms. What is not on the table for discussion is your petty politics. Do you think I am unaware of your intentions in tattling to me? That I do not know you are trying to use me to further your own position?"

"Your Majesty, I-" The demon growled out, fear slowly coating its expression.

"It no longer amuses me. You think that I am young and easy to manipulate." Danny froze the demon to its chair. It tried to break free, but Danny isn't the High King of the Infinite Realms for nothing. "Bring to me a miserable problem like this ever again, one that could be easily solved if you used even a smidgen of your intelligence, and you will find exactly how I tore Pariah Dark from his throne."

Not that Danny knew how he did it either, he just did it.

"Yes, Your Majesty. My-my apologies."

The room is dead (Danny patted himself on the back for the pun) silent. Some of the Ancients looked bored, like Clockwork who knew Danny would never hurt them, but everyone else looked close to crying. He held eye contact with the demon until it looked away.

When Danny settled back into the throne and allowed his ice to dissipate, the room let out a collective sigh of relief.

"The next item on the agenda is another demon, by the name of Trigon." Clockwork announced, the large piece of paper comically huge next to his currently toddler-like body.

"Another?"

He flicked an amused look at the previous demon, who kept his trap firmly shut.

"He is attempting to take over multiple worlds in an attempt to conquer the universe. I had thought you would be interested in this one, Your Majesty, as he plans to begin with Earth 135."

Danny stilled. That was his Earth. His haunt.

"Does he know of the Realms?"

"Vaguely, I believe."

"Then he should know the rules. I will wait to see if my Earth's heroes are capable to step to the task."

Danny would be a hypocrite if he doesn’t let the heroes of his Earth try first, even if he is one of those heroes.

"Of course," Clockwork grinned at him, fully aware of the shit Danny's about to stir back home. Ah, the wonders of being able to influence the time stream. Perhaps the young Ghost King will finally get some friends, and maybe get those pesky speedsters to stop making his jobs so hard. Cujo yipped at Danny as the King begrudgingly moved onto the next topic.

——

Raven shuddered as she watched the footage of her "brothers" laughing while steering their human "meatbags" around. She turned back to the giant circle of donated blood and herb filled candles.

“This is a nuclear option, don’t you think?” Green Arrow mumbled, clearly not against it by the half hearted way he’d said it. The Star City billionaire nursed his cracked ribs.

“No,” she floated over to where Zatanna and Constantine kneeled, trying to see if they needed help with the inscriptions. “Trigon is coming soon, and my brothers will no doubt find their way here in a moment. We are out of time.”

“Yeah. Plus, we don’t want Raven to be turned into a portal.” Garfield piped up, switching animal forms rapidly.

“No one dies.” Red Robin muttered. His wrist computer was open, monitoring the surroundings of the open field they found themselves uneasily occupying. Batman grunted in affirmation, eyeing the tree line. Every hero except the magical ones were on look out, preparing themselves for one more battle against the two demons that were trying to take Raven and force her into becoming a portal.

“Hey guys, we might want to hurrythisupbecausethey’re kind of close!” Impulse slammed into the room.

“Done.” Zatanna got up, motioning for everyone to step back. In Superman’s case, he floated back.

“Too bad you won’t get to use it,” a voice drawled, dripping with malice and the screams of a thousand souls.

“Come now, little sister. Why fight fate? Be grateful father has deigned to spare you. If not for your dirty blood being useful, you would be dead, little sister. Give up, before our patience runs out alongside the lives of your little pets.” Another, mocking, voice gleefully rumbled.

Raven would rather gouge out her own heart than to claim these two as any type of family.

“You won’t touch them.” Raven snarled, powers rising even as the marks on her body burned a painful red.

“Buy us some time!”

With that, the group of beaten and battered heroes rose to clash against just two demons, for a chance to save their world.

——

The Circle crackled. Danny felt a tug on his core. He followed the thread of the summoning. Oh. It was his haunt. Earth 135. Hm. It tasted of blood. Desperation? A hint of anticipation. Oh, an overload of fear. Could use some more hope, but Danny understood that it was rather hard to season these kinds of summonings with hope.

“Stop.” Danny commanded, straightening in his chair.

“Sire, we have more-”

“There is an issue with my haunt,” with that, he followed the summons.

——

“Ugh,” was the first thing everybody on the frozen battlefield heard. The demons had smacked away many of the heroes, but they all turned as one when the circle lit up a bright green. “Why do you people always use blood? I’m dead, I don’t need any more iron!”

A boy

Raven’s eldest brother let out a hideous rumble. “You fools tried to summon the king, and you got a dead boy. And now, you’ve doomed another.”

Constantine looked resigned, and regretful. “I am so, so sorry,” he whispered. It was just a kid. John might be a lot of things, but even he found summoning dead kids for demons to devour was just a step too far. “Shite, we got the wrong fucking-”

“Hey, man, that’s rude,” the boy snapped back, waving John off.

“Brother, kill the whelp.”

“I vote on not killing the whelp. Not killing at all, really,” the boy stepped out of the massive blood circle, wrinkling his nose at the drying stains.

“This is not one of your pesky democracies, fool.”

In response, the demons lunged at him, ignoring the screams of the surrounding heroes as they shoved their human arms through the boy’s stomach.

“So,” the boy continues, “I heard your dad was after my haunt?”

“Your haunt, whelp? This earth shall be his! And through him, ours!” Raven slammed against the demons with her power, shadows enlarging and tossing them away from the unharmed… ghost boy?

“Is it?”

——

Wow, these demons are so rude. Normally, it’d be a breath of fresh air compared to the stuffy halls of his throne room. But since they’re attacking his haunt…

“Thanks. You’re… Raven, right?”

Raven nodded, arms outstretched in concentration as she held her brothers back.

“You have to go. We’re- we’re sorry you got pulled into this, but it’s not safe here.”

“Eh. It’s cool. You don’t have to do that anymore, by the way.” Danny stepped forward once more, green skin shifting and gliding as everything about him sharpened. He flew at the demons piloting the human shells, catching them around the necks and dragging the demons out of their stolen bodies. The threw them even further away as he floated in the air, a beacon of green and white. Raven thought it looked like hope.

“My name is Phantom, the High King of the Infinite Realms,” let it be known that Danny always had an eye for dramatic entrances. He shifted into something more off, more eldritch, more kingly. The crown flared to life above his head. “You have invaded my haunt. You have challenged me. What do you plead?”

“You’re not-” they said.

“Wrong answer,” Danny flew at them once more, body contorting into something undeniably terrorizing, his maw unhinging and crunching down on the demons with a sound that made the present heroes cringe.

“Ugh,” Danny grunted, turning back and floating peacefully to the group of heroes- Tucker and Sam would be so stoked he met Wonder Woman and Batman!- and chewed rapidly. He shifted back into his normal form. “Eating demons always leaves me with indigestion. And their bones get everywhere up in my teeth!” Danny pulled out a giant femur looking bone from his mouth, despite it not logically fitting in there.

“Right. No eating demons, solid life advice.” Red Robin said.

“Right? So, you’re Raven! It’s nice to meet you! Think you can summon your dear ol’ dad for me?”

“But we summoned you to stop Trigon, not help him come here.” Superman said, frowning.

“One! That summoning circle is wack. Those things you piled up as offerings? Mid. Also, if you thought you could control me with those terribly written spells, you’re dead wrong. And yes, I am making puns about death.” Danny jabs an aggressive finger towards the shabby circle.

“Have you considered that maybe not every being that can be summoned wants a shit ton of useless blood? Like what if I wanted food? And two, how am I supposed to beat up Trigon if he’s still stuck in the prison realm?”

“I have a cup of coffee,” Nightwing offered. “Kid Flash could probably get you food, right?”

“Yep, surethinganythingyouwantyourMajesty.”

“You wouldn’t catch me alive accepting food from a speedster. You people fuck up the timelines so much,” Danny grumbled, crunching on the last of Raven’s brothers. Raven thought she should probably sit down.

“But you’re dead.” Batman said, something about his voice catching the sharp attention of his protégés who all started making cutting motions at him.

“Fair,” Danny pointed at him, grinning. “I’ll take two pizza and Nightwing’s coffee as payment for taking care of your little demon overlord problem. Raven, summon your dad.”

——

Didn’t much like the characterization of this piece but it’s been in my drafts for a while and I needed it out

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scrambledslut · 1 year

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men saying “fatherless behavior” as an insult is so funny to me like yes babe keep pointing out the way men fail as parents🤭

#like bro it’s literally a YOU problem…🧍#sounds like your pullout game is weak if you ask me👀#and no i’m not a ‘kill all men’ mf cause that shit doesn’t help anyone #i’m just mad that some men have kids and are super close to them when they’re children but like the second their kid gains consciousness #and has their own opinions they freeze them out #*cough cough* like my father #like bro i used to be his little girl 😵‍💫#whenever he actually was home #i have so much built up resentment towards him because he was barely there when i was growing up vs when my older siblings were growing up #i’ve also lost so much knowledge about my native culture because he wasn’t there to teach me things (my mom isn’t native)#anyways yep this is definitely a vent post wow #✨daddy issues things✨#allie shut up

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bombsonboard · 3 months

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metal arm brrr

Summary: Every problem needs a solution. Bucky just isn't the biggest fan of yours.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Tags: Fluff in the highest degree, old married couple, Swearing (It's Bucky, duh)

A/N: I just needed to give you guys something, it's been too long since i've written on here and you guys are the best :) I've barely checked this over so I apologize for any typos.

*****

“Can you stop moving, please?”

Bucky Barnes half asleep is not someone you want to mess with. The first time you shuffled he had hardly made a sound, the second you were met with a low grumble (a warning you knew well) and the third strike, he was thirty seconds from kicking you out of the bed.

When Bucky had finally learnt to sleep in a bed again, mostly thanks to you, he steadily became a big fan of his beauty sleep and god help anyone who ended up disturbing him. He had a lot to catch up on. Once, you had violently shaken him awake because his phone was ringing and when he heard Sam on the other line, you were deemed a ‘sleep thief’ for a week and a half after. Bucky Barnes was a bitch when it came to his sleep.

You usually wouldn't have any complaints about being in his vice grip but it was January and the nights were still cold and having a boyfriend with a metal arm meant that you were held to him with an ice cold grip around your waist. When the Summer came, it was a life saver, your own personal refrigerator but you still had a good few months to go before you were hanging off his arm everyday.

“Sorry.” You mumbled and tried to convince yourself you were comfortable without another word.

Nope, can’t do it. You shift again.

“You’re kidding- what is it?” He pulls away from you and sits up on his elbow, glaring, he dares you. “Go on.”

With the most innocent doe eyes you could muster you slip your bottom lip between your teeth and debate the argument you could spark when your gaze slips to his vibranium arm in the semi darkness.

He doesn’t miss a thing, you’ve come to realize.

“I swear if you say-”

“-It’s cold! I’m cold! It’s just too much cold!” You burst, arms flailing in desperation.

“It’s my arm! You said you wanted to sleep on my left, this is my left arm, nothing I can do. Okay?”

“There has to be something.” You search the room for solutions, briefly lingering on the sock drawer.

“Oh yeah, sorry, let me just take it off.” Bucky grunts, dripping with sarcasm.

“...If you could?”

“Seriously, fuck you.”

Bucky falls back into his beloved pillow, eyes shut and wishing he has chosen a partner that let him sleep peacefully, then again, why would he want that when you exist?

“Look, either come to the other side or deal with it.”

Silence finally reaches your bedroom and Bucky is deeply in dreamland while you lie awake, scheming away.

In the early hours, you slip out of bed without a sound and make a beeline for the sock drawer, knowing you had some old pairs of slipper socks stuffed at the back. Scissors in hand, you snipped off the toes and smiled at the D.I.Y leg warmers. Oh, he was gonna be mad.

With nearly medical precision, you held out the slumbering Bucky’s arm in front of you and one by one, slid the fluffy socks up the freezing metal until it was sufficiently covered. Thanking the universe, he was a pretty heavy sleeper, you shuffled back under the covers and happily wrapped the soft arm back around your waist.

You slept like a lamb after that.

*****

When the morning came, you woke up before him like usual and briefly left him to his own devices as you made coffee, two mugs sitting on the counter beside each other.

Through the wall, you faintly hear the rising of the soldier before heavy footsteps quickly storm in your direction.

“The fuck is this?”

You look up to see him in the doorway, and find yourself the subject of a stare that would send millions running. Not you. The multicolored socks lined up his arm kind of softened his hoped effect and you had to stifle your laughter.

“A solution?” You shrug.

“No.” He points at you with his flesh arm accusingly “Nu-uh. This? This is not how we solve things.”

“Is it not? I’m really digging the rainbow on you.” The giggle you had tried to push down had spilled over.

“You’re a fucking menace.”

The giggle now a full bodied laugh that had you clutching at your chest as you were overcome with the image of your big, scary, ‘world’s most deadly assassin’ boyfriend glaring daggers at you while donning the most fluffy and most colorful socks up his arm.

Bucky was fighting a grin with all his might, your laughter was like an ugly disease, incredibly contagious, hard to avoid, and annoying.

Something soft hits you in the face and you halt your hysterics as you peer at the slipper sock now at your feet. Lifting your gaze, Bucky is smiling smugly, and working a second sock off his arm.

“Bucky!” You yelp and duck under the counter as the rainbow sock flies in slow motion over your head.

You probably shouldn’t poke the bear but-

“Y’know, for the best shot the United States army had ever seen you sure do miss a lot.” You taunt from your hiding spot.

When there's no response, you make a break for the couch and get shot squarely in the forehead.

“Say that again.” He dares with narrowed eyes.

“Okay, truce. Truce!” You raise your hands in surrender.

“Say sorry for last night.” The pink ball of fluff in his hands, a deadly fate, and you’re consigned to concede

“I apologize for last night.” You sigh, approaching him with caution “Now, it’s been ten whole minutes and you still haven’t subjected me to your obscene morning breath.”

He beckons you with his head and you happily plod over, throwing your arms around his neck. The kiss is sweet, and full of promised mornings to come.

It’s welcomed by you. Until you feel the coldest thing known to man, his left arm, writhing under your shirt and sending immediate shivers down your back.

“Bucky!” You screech and his strong laughter descends on your morning with malice.

Desperately wiggling out of his hold, you escape to the bedroom and yell from your stronghold:

“That was an act of war James Buchanan Barnes!”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagine #tfatws #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #clara writes

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tteokdoroki · 8 months

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✩ — ANGELS SHOULD NEVER FALL THIS FAR FROM HEAVEN ⁀➷ everyone believes satoru gojo to be an angel. your mother considers her new son to be a blessing, even if he’s bratty and spoiled. but never once did think teasing him would make your step-brother to act on such ungodly desires. (3.2K)

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, pwp, college!au, religious imagery, step-cest, groping, fingering, ‘just the tip’, exhibitionism, clothed sex, male masturbation, slight degradation, bratty behaviour, use of oneesan, unprotected sex, ruined orgasms, cumplay, fem!reader, step-bro!gojo.

things to note. lol sorry it’s been a while !! trying a new layout also posting this into the void while i work on kinktober eee !! idk i’ve had a rough time trying to write a one shot so im glad i could make this !! special thanks to @kishibye for beta reading. i hope you enjoy this bestie boos ily <3

“what are you doing?” there’s a sharp edge to the tone of satoru’s voice, splayed across his tongue that holds back a stream of curses. his eyes speak fury in their piping hot flames of wild cerulean as he watches you enter the kitchen and shoot straight for the snack cupboard.

you can feel the weight of his gaze as it crosses the slopes of your body, from the back of your head, twirling around your curves before ultimately falling to your behind.

playing innocent, you stand on your tip toes and grasp at the bag of chips you’re after. the ones on the top shelf. “whaddya mean ‘what am i doing’?”

“what do you mean what do i mean?” your step brother retorts childishly, as if you’re two kids fighting on a playground at recess.

you click your tongue and pay him no mind. “don’t be such a baby, satoru,” you wave a hand in his face in a haughty manner. “use your big boy words.”

gojo suppresses a whine when your shirt rides up and reveals your skin to gorgeous eyes. he lets it gargle around in his throat like the sting of cool mouthwash, before striding over to you — grabbing the chips and slamming the cupboard shut so hard it makes you jump.

“you can’t just walk around dressed like that.”

he gestures to your get up — the clothes you wear when nobody’s home. your sapphire silly and scallop-edged panties, your old and ratty band t-shirt haphazardly thrown on.

“why?” you turn around to come face to face with your younger (step)brother, noting the way his stare hones in on the plush meat of your thighs as you squish them together — leaning back against the kitchen counter.

“my friends are coming over.”

“so, what’s the big deal?” there’s something about pissing gojo off that entertains you. he’s a brat by all means, raised with a silver spoon in his mouth and daddy’s dollars tucked into his pockets. whenever there’s a problem, all it takes is a classic ‘toru temper tantrum and your parents are on the scene to fix things for him. he’ll never know the hardships of being raised by a single mother, always having a little less than most. he walks around in his own little bubble of riches - and you can’t help but want to pop it. “shoko thinks i’m cool and geto will probably jack off to me later. it’s whatever.”

“but it’s not whatever,” you can practically see satoru fight the urge to stomp his foot like a petulant child — even going as far to have the audacity to pout down at you. “you’ll just embarrass me. so do us both a favour and put some clothes on, nobody wants to see all that ‘round the house.”

“do you own this house?”

“no but i-“

“but your daddy does. and daddy isn’t here! so shut up, satoru!” jabbing a finger into his chest, you smile up at your not-so-little little step-brother, evilly. “i make the rules.”

“oh fuck you. all you do is mooch off of my dad, princess. you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your mom whoring it out for him.” he sneers in response, upper lip curling into a distasteful snarl like a dog with a stranger on its territory. his words, though cruel and foul, are far from the truth and you know that he doesn’t mean it. satoru is a brat that throws acid laced words at anyone who gets in his way — yourself included.

even though you agree that your parents tied the knot all too fast — barely giving the two of you a chance to get to know each other as siblings. they were in love and far too happy for the rivalry between their children to get in the way. you know that the fact pissed gojo off to no end, he hated how your mother doted on him and how he’d always needed to fight for his father’s attention. now it certainly wasn’t ever going to be on him. but the two women in his house instead.

your poor, spoiled, baby brother.

however, you won’t let his words and how he projects onto you, hurt you. “whoops! looks like i dropped my will to give a fuck!” whilst pretending to drop your snack, you bend over in front of him to reveal inches of beauty marked and blemished flesh, drawing hungry seafoam eyes to the bounce of showing your ass — testing your little step brother. “i don’t care satoru, i’m older.”

satoru’s mouth snaps shut after moments of wordlessly opening and closing. he stands frozen on the spot, as if he can’t seem to process the very idea that his older step-sister had just flashed him to prove a point.

but just when you think you’ve won, the silver-haired brat is pressed right up behind you, forcing your body to bend over the cold marble counter that instantly has your nipples hardening against the icy surface. heat rushes to your face, blossoming just under the barrier of your skin as his hard on nestles it’s way between your ass cheeks — a symphony of your surprised squeaks echoing through the modern kitchen.

“hey! what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

instead of responding, he pushes your head down against the counter — circling his increasingly wet erection against your behind, manhandling the globes of flesh back onto his dick. “not so fun, is it.” he coos down at you, voice chilly and full of condescending highs and lows. “yanno…you’re awfully mean to me.”

saliva pools on your tongue, weighing it down in your mouth like a paperweight as satoru’s girth slips downwards, seedy tip brushing over panty clad and your swollen clit. “aren’t oneesan’s s’pposed to take care of their baby brothers?” his breath is hot and ragged against your ear as gojo haunches over you, caging you in like a wild animal as you thrash and writhe under his touch.

you can’t even bring yourself to feel an ounce of shame when gojo’s left hand dances between your tangled limbs and slips past the frilly band of your underwear — ghosting over the throbbing pearl laying between your sticky pussy lips. “step…step brother!” you whinge at the tingle of pleasure that blooms in your lower tummy and spreads like angel wings throughout the rest of your body.

satoru takes turns playing with you, alternating between his nimble, skilled fingers and his seedy girth that smears precum all over your inner thighs and panties. “like that even fuckin’ matters.” he laughs, twisted and proud. “could you get off like this? yeah i think you could…. you’re already so wet. just from grinding on your little brother’s cock.”

your legs grow shaky at his ministrations, beads of your juices oozing from your empty entrance to stain the man’s sweats, slicking him up as if it’s a signature of your claim. “‘toru!” you gasp, eyes rolling back into the depth of your skull. “m-more.”

“look at how fast you fold for me…” he pushes up your shirt so that the fabric pools around your waist — pawing at the fat there, massaging your hips softly as if he isn’t violently, cruelly rubbing one out on your achey pussy. “i don’t think you’re in a position to ask me for more, big sis.” satoru taunts, a heavy hand coming down on the bare skin of your ass, leaving a raw handprint in its place. “such a nasty slut, i bet you’d let me fuck you like this too. out in the open, where anyone could catch us.”

you yelp in surprise at the feeling of gojo’s messy, cream coated cockhead nudge at your entrance from over your panties — a slender finger pulling the soaked material to the side so he can fuck you with his tip. “oh, i bet you’d like that, huh baby?” he continues to purr, jutting his hips forward ever so slightly — feeding your greedy cunt a few more inches of him. satoru’s barely sheathed inside of you, but you’re already stretching deliciously around what he’s given you. he’s fat, girthy just as he is long and his mushroom tip drags along sensitive spots in your walls you didn’t even know you had.

he hasn’t even fucked you properly yet.

you sob, wail and writhe on your little step brother’s cock, nails clawing at the marble counter while your breath escapes you. “satoru, please fuck me. ‘m sorry… sorry—!”

“shh big sis, you’re being too loud,” he cups a hand over your mouth. gojo eases two digits past your plump lips to pacify your cries as he shallowly pumps his wet cock into the heat of your sex — gritting his teeth to hide his own moans. “we…fuck, you’re tight as shit… we wouldn’t want my friends to know that you dress like a slut for my cock, would we?”

you shake your head with a muffled moan, suckling the taste of yourself from gojo’s fingers and breathing heavily through your nose. “no, we wouldn’t. that’s right. good girl, oh shit.”

satoru laughs, a little cocky and a little drawn out in a long, whiny whimper over the wet slap of the backs of your thighs in the front of his own. but he trembles from behind you, like his legs are about to give out every time your creamy cunt sucks a little more of him in. it’s a miracle he’s managed to hold you both up.

guilt wracks your body intertwining with the red blood cells coursing through your veins and carrying limited oxygen to your brain — your head practically empty at how your little brother ruins you on half of his fat cock. this isn’t right, this is completely wrong and yet you feel yourself coming undone — weak in the knees and shaky in your lips, the dam in your lower tummy threatening to burst at any second and flood the room in an erotic river of your arousal.

pushing your head off of the counter, you lean into satoru, throwing your ass back onto him in rhythm with the harshness of his thrusts. everything is hotter, heavier and you can’t even think about how much of a bad step-sister you are when he’s dominating your body like this. the silky locks of satoru’s silvering hair press against your shoulder and he wraps a fist in the fabric of your shirt to pull you further back onto his cock.

“‘m gonna c-cum, oh god!” you squeal, flinching as your juices crudely slap against the kitchen floor. “i’m so close!”

he pants into your ear like a desperate dog, fully wrapping himself around you and trapping you against the counter so that you have nowhere to go except towards your high. “yeah?” gojo breathes heatedly, temperate breath cascading over the back of your neck and only adding fuel to your fire of desire. “i can tell, you get like this. all needy ‘n cute when you’re about to cum.”

his words have you clenching around his bulbous tip every time it pushes up against the pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had — your arousal catching in the pretty blue veins that spiral around the length of gojo’s shaft. “you don’t think i can’t hear you, big sis? late at night when you think everyone’s sleepin’….” his whistle tone moans are quickly replaced by deep growls and grunts that only just manage to escape from between the gritted rows of your step brother’s pearly whites. “when you stuff those tiny fingers into that tight little hole and—“

he reaches down between your mess of slick soaked limbs to land a harsh smack against your quivering pussy, sending the foamy ring of white where your bodies join flying about the place. “—and make yourself cum to the thought of me?” he continues, breathing ragged and laughing at you again when you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

“s-satoru!”

he soothes you with quick circles over your swollen clit and kisses to your shoulder — being careful not to leave marks. “oh did that hurt, baby? am i the mean one now?” licking a stripe up the side of your face and tasting the sweat on your glistening skin, satoru rambles on — filling you up with praises and copious amounts of precum. “you know i—fuck— you know i love you. my precious big sister, so fucking good to me. let’s make you cum, yeah?”

you’re allowed to rut back on him for a little longer, since he loves the sound of his name whirling around messily on your tongue, all high-pitched and sugar coated for him. if only you knew how badly he’d wanted you, how pissed he was when his father went on to marry your mother. gojo has wanted you since the very first night you met — his every waking thought has been carefully carved to lust after you, think of your eyes, your smile, your lips. fuck, everything about you has satoru under some kind of spell.

“r-right there. right there, t-there!” you chant the words like they’re the a prayer, as if they’re the only ones you know, allowing satoru to throw you through the loop of pleasure until you’re too far gone to stay on the ride.

angling his slender hips upwards, his cockhead bares down on the gummy centre of your g-spot just has he buries himself inside of you — right up to the hilt. “h-here? this where you want me, big sis?” gojo’s amused gasp turns into a coo when you let out a meek hum of agreement, babling wild nonsense and drooling into the counter you’re pressed against. “mmhm, got you creamin’ around me already. so cute, so good when you listen. when you’re a good t’me, oneesan.”

the honorific alone has your mouth running dry as if it’s been stuffed with cotton. though the syrupy pap, pap, pap of your sex says otherwise. it tells the truth of your sin.

and the thing that you don’t know about satoru is that he loves to give, feeding pieces of himself to you as he fucks you wild in the middle of your family kitchen. he wants you to have all of him, every corner and inch of his body just like he dreamed about. he knows it’s forbidden and that it’s wrong, but he can’t help but relish in the feeling of your pretty pussy sucking him in so selfishly, greedily clamping down on his thick base.

he would give you anything. anything you wanted and asked for if you’d let him. his hands slip from your waist to intertwine with yours splayed out on the cool marble surface, using his last spurts of energy to drag you towards your orgasm and the deep depths of sinner’s paradise.

“fuck me, fuck me, baby.” he growls possessively against the shell of your ear. “let go for me. lemme see how much you love your little brother—“

the crescendo of your pleasure is at an all time high, about to come crashing down on you like a tonne of heavy bricks.

that is until the door bell rings, accompanied by the sound of geto’s voice from the outside of the house. “yoo, satoru! open up!”

you’d think that you’d have been good enough for your little step-brother to keep going — to push onwards and let you cream all over him before he went to attend to his silly little friends. but he flips the script, pulling out of you just as you teeter over the edge to ruin your orgasm.

“no, no, please!” you sniffle, teary eyed with dissatisfaction sitting in your lower belly — the need to cum still there but the feeling of emptiness within your dripping walls taking over. “satoru…” you whine.

when you look behind you, he’s too busy finishing himself off — his black shirt between his teeth, sweats hanging low on his waist while gojo palms his hard and heavy cock as he pleases.

it’s coated in your arousal, shining under the artificial lighting in the kitchen and you watch with a pout as gojo jacks himself off to the view of your ruined cunt. he thumbs the seedy slit at the centre of his bright red tip, hissing through the sensitivity. he’s a picture perfect vision, appearing as an angel before your very eyes. a mop of halo white hair flop backwards with satoru’s head, rich sapphire eyes locked behind fluttering lashes that glisten with pearls of pleasure filled tears.

you know not to be mistaken, you know that satoru is more like an incubus than the heavenly being he presents as. the parts of your brain with better judgement see him as the sinner who made you fall from grace, committing such a heinous act. the desperate side of you with a brain full of lust and smoke screens sees your step-brother as a god who controls all of your desires.

you think you prefer that side of you more.

meanwhile, a drop of sweat runs a track down the length of satoru’s neck, catching on the curve of his Adam’s apple as he swallows down his euphoric laments. you find yourself jealous that his own fingers are wrapped around his sloppy dick instead of drawing shapes against your aching clit. you envy how good it must feel for satoru when he finally cums. ropes of thick white sling around his knuckles, much paler in contrast to his pearlescent skin tone.

a deep, gravelly moan erupts from his hot mouth like lava, accompanied by curses and the stuttered syllables you recognise to be your name while he finishes himself off. gojo jerks his sensitive cock over your ass to paint you with the last spurts of his release. it’s a claim on you as your step-brother, a way in which he can show you that he always gets his way no matter what.

whilst still recovering, your step-brother drags a slender finger through the puddle of cum he’s left on you, and drags it down to your stretched little hole before pushing it against your overstimulated clit. “hmm, so pretty.” gojo grins, slow and sly, when you twitch and attempt to jolt away from him. then unexpectedly, he lands a hard smack against your bum — revelling in your sweet cry of pleasure, impatience and pain. “go put somethin’ on, will ya, sis? my friends are still waiting outside.”

“i…i hate you.” you whimper shakily, brain frazzled from the situation.

satoru might be a spoiled brat, but he’s not mean enough to leave you here a shaky, dripping mess so he helps you to your feet — tenderly fixing the hem of your shirt and panties back into place (failing to wipe his cum off of you beforehand). you’re still pouting from your ruined orgasm once he’s done, and he nudges the underside of your chin with a singular knuckle.

“don’t worry big sis, i’ll come take care of you later. maybe i’ll even let geto watch since you love prancing around half naked for him too.” he teases, squishing your cheeks as you try to swat at him. “and you don’t hate me, you love me and this cock. clearly.” gojo sings and sends a cheeky wink in your before prancing away to open the door for his friends.

he pulls his pants up as he goes, not minding the wet patch you’ve left on him.

whereas, you scurry up to your room before they can greet you and gojo tells them that you’re feeling unwell.

that day, you learn two valuable lessons:

one — never mess with a spoiled brat, it’ll never end well for you and gojo will always get what he wants no matter who pays the bills.

two — geto really does like to jerk off to you, even more so when he watches his best friend punishes his older step-sister with enough orgasms to make her forget why she was in trouble with satoru in the first place.

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 1 month

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Simon is struggling, he can't get off and he doesn't know what to do. As his sergeant you are one of the closest to him and can see something is up. An impromptu visit late one night might just be what he needs... And the way you are suddenly making him bow to your authority and turning his brain off might actually make him come.

Word Count: 6.2 k

Warnings:

Lt. Simon Riley is frustrated out of his mind and he’s no longer able to hide it.

Something inside the stoic officer is causing him problems as a recent development makes him unable to reach the finish line when he’s touching himself, a secret that is causing a mental roadblock to his release… and he knows it’s making him a nightmare to be around.

Being his sergeant, the second in command and one of the few people closest to him, you are the first to notice the shift in his personality. Simon Riley has always been a man of very few words, but lately he’s been even more silent when it comes to everyone else, except for you. Every time you two speak he is short and harsh and blunt as if you are getting on his last nerve. It strikes you as strange since you’re not doing anything out of the ordinary from how you’ve interacted before.

Then there is his temper which seems to be on a shorter and shorter fuse these days as a week turns into a week and a half of no change in his attitude. Mix that with the visible tension he is carrying in his shoulders whenever you are near and it’s hard to ignore how drastic things have shifted.

Something is up, though exactly what it is you aren’t sure, but you are curious to find out and nip this shit in the bud so things can go back to the way they were before: you two being able to interact in a friendly manner.

It is the weekend of the nearly third full week this has been going on when you finally decide that enough is enough. The last couple of days he’s avoided you almost exclusively and that is it; whatever it is that has gotten between you is going to be hashed out here and now. Determinedly, under the cover of darkness at this late hour, you make your way to his room with the intention of staying until this entire thing has been fixed.

Simon sits alone in his quarters with his hand shoved into the waistband of his sweats, his hand palming around his cock, stroking up and down in hopes that this will finally be the time his body does what it’s supposed to. Things are progressing fine…that is until he is abruptly interrupted out of nowhere.

There is a knock on his door and it rings through the room; who the hell could be so bold as to bother him at this time of night just when he is about to give this thing another try? Releasing himself, he straightens up his clothing and grabs his mask, putting it on as he stalks over to the door ready to lay into whoever is standing on the other side. He savagely flings it open and immediately he can feel his blood rushing until he can hear his pulse pounding in his ears at who he comes face to face with.

“Do’ya know what fuckin’ time it is?” he questions agitatedly as he stares back into your unwavering gaze.

Nodding in acknowledgement, you try to let his bad attitude slide; your mission isn’t going to be deterred just cause he wants to instantly get pissy. “Are you going to let me in or not?” you throw your own question back at him with a huff.

He weighs his options in silence as you stand in the shadow of his door waiting for him to react and after a few seconds he reluctantly decides that he can’t just keep you waiting outside; he isn’t foolish enough to think that if he just shuts the door that you will go away. There are too many prying eyes that could see something if he doesn’t act and he doesn’t need any of the bullshit that could come from someone catching anything. Stepping aside, he allows you to enter into the room.

“Shut the door,” he barks and you make sure it is secure before turning back to face him. You may have been permitted to enter, but the space right in front of the door is about as far as you can go as his body blocks you from moving in further, keeping you stuck between him and the exit.

“What the hell are ya doin’ ‘ere?” he asks.

Staring back up into his eyes, you survey the curious look through his agitated glare. There is something there sparking in their depths, an unspoken need of something that he is longing for, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. “You’ve been in a mood lately towards me and people are starting to notice,” you admit after a moment. “What’s going on, hmm?”

Simon diverts his gaze from your scrutinizing one. “ ‘is nothin’,” he says hastily, not ready to confess to you the cause of his frustration. It’s not exactly something he wants to go revealing to everyone…especially not to the source of the problem.

Just from his reaction you know it’s definitely not nothing and his lie falls flat without gaining any traction.

“Well something has gotten into your craw,” you say as you lean your back against the door with your arms crossed across your stomach; you can’t move so you might as well get comfortable as you hash this out. “Whatever it is that you think I’ve done that’s gotten you in a foul mood at me, if you’ll just tell me, we can figure this out cause we can’t go on like this; it’s going to affect our work.”

All he wants to do is listen to your words, but his attention is being drawn somewhere else besides your face and it is getting hard to pull his eyes away. Why the fuck did you have to wear that god damn tank top? Christ it’s so tight he can make out the contours of your body without even having to try and at his height all he has to do is look down to have the perfect view of the top of those juicy tits popping out of the top. Not to mention your jeans which look to be painted on to your every curve. There is a stirring in his pants, the first signs of life between his legs. It’s getting harder to tell you that you should go.

“Not exactly somethin’ I wanna talk ‘bout,” he says hesitantly as he adjusts his stance so that the fabric of the long, gray sweatpants he has on won’t reveal anything.

“Come on,” you say, trying to appeal to the small bond you had before all this, “you know you can trust me. All I want to do is figure out what I’ve done so we can move on.”

This isn’t your fault and Simon knows it isn’t fair to put this on you as if it is. As much as he doesn’t want to admit anything, he knows that it will only make things fester more if he doesn’t say something, and all he has right now is the truth. “Ya haven’t done anything,” he denies your culpability in his actions.

“Then what?” You wait patiently for his reply.

He clears his throat. “Look, I’ve jus’ been havin’ a fuckin’ time… Christ… tryin’ to … uh… get off lately,” he grumbles as he begrudgingly admits to his predicament. “Some god damn mental block that’s got me…unable to…”

The sentence trails off with a displeased sigh of defeat, but in all honesty he doesn’t have to keep going; just from that tiny bit of information you can glean what’s going on, why he’s been so on edge, and what he is going to need to fix it.

Simon needs to come.

“Seems like something I could help with,” you say as the corner of your lip upturns slightly at the thought. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I would have come over; it’s not like… you know… we haven’t done things before.”

There is a pause. “Thought we agreed that those were just to let off a little steam and we were just gonna leave it be,” he says in that low, gravely tone that instantly has goosebumps prickling over your skin.

Simon has you there; a couple quick, adrenaline-fueled rounds behind the mess hall after a few high stress missions doesn’t make you two actual lovers, but that also doesn’t mean those meetings meant nothing…or that you would deny any chance you could get to have him again. You just can’t ever say no to him.

Besides, he should know that this is something you would be doing for the greater good, right? A distracted lieutenant could mean trouble for the entire team, not just you. So, if getting him off will keep him from being distracted it is worth it; that’s a good enough reason for you to remedy this.

But how?

There are several things you know about your superior officer and one of them that stands out among the rest in this situation is that he always has to be in control of everything in all aspects of his life. What if you took away some of that power? He says he feels like there is a mental block keeping him from climaxing, what if you just shut off his brain for a bit? Make the dominant become the dominated.

Simon was the one to turn your brain off those times past, perhaps it is time to return the favor. Mental blocks won’t be a problem if he is an overstimulated mess.

With a small thrust you push off the door and stand up to take a few steps closer towards him, drawing the distance between your bodies down to just a few inches. “Don’t you want to feel good, Simon?”

“Don’t know if this is a good idea, luv...” he still tries to deny himself even as he catches a whiff of your scent, that natural musk mixed with your perfume that drove him to lose his head those other times, and the fragrance conjures memories of the past that only make his pulse race more heatedly through his veins. He wants to come and he can’t deny that he wants it with you, but if he gives in and allows you to do this it may only make things worse.

You smirk and shake your head as you reach out to grab playfully at the drawstring hanging down the front of his gray sweatpants, lightly tugging on it so that the fabric puckers up. “That isn’t what I asked, Simon. Good idea or bad, that doesn’t matter right now. Do you want to feel good?”

Fuck, how pent up he’s been and with you standing here enthusiastically pushing to help get him off, how in the hell is he supposed to turn you away when now all he can think about is wanting to fuck you until neither of you can move? He knows this is a bad idea, but is unable to stop himself as gives in to your question with a short bob of his head up and down.

“Jus’ somethin’ ta take the edge off,” he says with a hint of desperation.

“Then let me fix that…my way,” you say as you shove him backwards towards the small sofa you see he has sitting up against the wall a few feet from the door.

Large, greedy hands begin to fill themself with your body before he’s even sat down, but that won’t do. That is still giving him too much authority. Simon is bigger than you and if you want to be the one to dominate this hulk of a man you are going to have to cut off his ability to use his body to his advantage.

“Hands off,” you bark as you take a step away.

You can see the immediate shift in your superior. Simon has seen you work with the new recruits and he knows the way you lead and how it demands respect, but being on the other end of it catches him unprepared on how to react and he stops dead in his tracks.

Giving him a second to calm down you step back in towards him. “This is no longer in your hands as doing it your way hasn’t seemed to work this far. What I think you need is for someone to turn that serious fucking brain of yours off for a bit and that’s what I plan to do. So, here’s how this is gonna go: you are going to keep your hands to yourself and use your words while I play for a bit or I’ll just call it a night and leave and you’ll be back to square one. Understood?”

Simon remains silent, unsure of where his voice has gone as he can suddenly hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. What is happening? In an instant the tables have fucking turned and everything he has known is flipped on its head. He isn’t used to giving away any bit of his control to anyone, especially not like this, but god damn does he have to admit that the visceral reaction he has to the way you are standing firm on giving him orders has his cock twitching as it stiffens.

He doesn’t know exactly what is happening inside him, but he wants you to keep going.

Standing there lost in the assault on his sanity, he isn’t aware you’ve moved until you have your hands under the edge of his mask and holding tight you pull it up off his stark features, discarding it to the floor before grabbing his chin and bringing his head down to make him focus on you again. Suddenly he can’t seem to intake enough air.

“I said, is that understood?” you ask again, with more firmness this time. “I’m gonna need you to say it - out loud.”

He swallows to coat the dryness scratching his throat. “Yes, understood,” he confirms.

You smirk. “Good. Now, take a seat Simon.”

Maybe this is something he needs after all; you’ve barely done anything and yet he’s chomping at the bit to have more. He desperately wants you to stay and he will do whatever it is to make that happen. Taking his seat on the sofa he places his hands on either side of his thighs against the cushion before looking back up at you with those warm, golden eyes expectantly.

“See, I knew you’d be good at this. You’re already doing so well for me just like the good little soldier you are, following my orders perfectly,” you approve and his stomach flutters at your praise.

Those dilated pupils track your form as you step up to the edge of the sofa and grab onto his knees, pushing them apart as you lower yourself down between them. Your eyes look straight ahead to the place you want to start at, that broad area just beneath his shirt.

“I think this needs a bit of attention, don’t you?” you ask as you pull your hands off his knees and bring them up without waiting for a reply.

Your hands splay open-fingered and wide across his chest, palms flush with his muscles as you drag them slowly down the rigid peaks and valleys of his abdomen over the soft fabric of his thin sleeveless undershirt until you can feel his pulse quickening under your fingertips. Reaching the hem along the bottom, you lift it up to reveal the broad girth of his torso: those beefy muscles lightly decorated with a thin layer of hair that travels down into the waistband of his sweatpants, a guiding path straight down to the final object of your mission.

You lean in as you lower your head down and he inhales sharply before holding his breath as soft contact is made from just your mouth with all that toasty, smooth flesh just below his belly button, caressing your lips against him repeatedly until his skin tingles. He jerks under the connection as you stick out your tongue and place the pad against him to run it around the indention right in the middle of his lower abdomen.

And suddenly he is vibrating under your lips as if he has been touched with a live wire. Every single embrace of your mouth leaves him reeling in the heat of pleasure until he feels like a puddle in your capable hands.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groans with a hiss as he looks down to maintain eye contact as you move up the length of his trunk with your licking and kissing and biting at his sensitive body, leaving a trail of heat everywhere your mouth touches. He knows you can feel his cock stabbing against your chest as you lean further over his body to get at his sides, but there is nothing to help it now.

Sharp teeth trail deliciously painful across his meaty hips like a razor blade over all that beautiful skin and old scars that are still a little numb and add an entirely new sensation to the mix. His abdominals clench under your bite as he takes in quick, short breaths until he is panting as your yearning mouth latches onto the thick of his hip as you suck in the muscles and bite down. Small grunts echo from his lips as you tease and tease his body until Simon can’t help writhing under you as he gets lost in the way you make him feel.

One of his large hands leaves the cushions involuntarily and palms the back of your head, fingers gathering the strands of your hair in the spaces between them to guide you as you move up his body, but unfortunately for him you are going to have to stop; he’s broken your rule by touching and you aren’t going to continue until he’s been reprimanded.

“What did I say about those hands?” you scold with your lips still against him before you pull away, the immediate lack of pressure making him antsy for you to come back.

Jerking his shirt off his torso to get the damned thing out of your way, your eyes dart around the room in search of something you can use to prevent him from disobeying again and it doesn’t take long for them to land on his leather belt just a few feet away. Reaching and scooping it up, you turn back and immediately hold your hand out to him.

“Sit forward and give them to me. Now.” you demand and Simon is compelled to follow your every word as if he has been placed under a trance, more and more eager to see where this leads.

Quickly you gather his wrists together behind his back and wrap the belt around them, slipping it through the buckle and pulling taut so they are bound together, but not too tight. You set the strap under him so he is forced to sit on the tail to keep him from being able to free himself. Satisfied with his restraints you rise to your feet and move yourself over him, kneeling into the cushion so that you are straddling his lap and sitting on top of his wide thighs, his cock resting between your knees.

“No touching,” you reiterate and he repeats the phrase, desperate to not have you stop again.

“No touching.”

“Good boy,” you say the moniker and hear the second he stops breathing as his eyes glaze over.

Never has anyone ever called him that before so it isn't until this moment that he knows what it's like and it triggers some innate part of his brain that now craves your praise as if he has always been starved for it. If his cock was tenting his pants before, it is nothing compared to now. Keep this up and he may come before he ever gets inside you.

Oh he likes that, does he? you think as you watch him completely fall apart at two silly little words. Best make sure to keep that in your back pocket to use again.

Everywhere you place kisses begins to burn until it feels like he’s on fire by the time you reach his chest and latch your hand around the back of his head, your fingers making the short hair tingle across his scalp. Brown eyes flit down to your lips as if willing them towards his face; he desperately needs to taste them, press his lips tight against them over and over until they are raw.

Yet you won’t give in to his soundless pleas. Denial is making him overwhelmed with the nature of his desire and soon his mouth is aching for you to break and give him what he wants. Instead, you tilt his head away from you so that your lips can connect with the feverish skin of his neck.

The sensation of his pulse racing violently against the skin of your mouth is intoxicating. Knowing that you are the one causing nerve ends to spark to life makes you feel powerful; that strong, stoic man is falling apart at the simplest touch. This must be what it’s like to be at the top and you cannot get enough. Never did you think you would have it in you, but now that you are here you can’t get over the euphoria of it all.

His neck is a mess by the time you’ve finished your work and you release him from under your teeth to lean back and admire how pretty he looks with your marks covering him to the sound of his heavy, ragged breathing. As your sight is drawn back to his eyes, you can see the depth of his desperate need swimming there as his slightly parted lips beckon you towards them.

Leaning against his chest, you bring your mouth closer until the space between your lips is only enough to force you to share air. His cock twitches against your leg as your lips ghost over his, but not giving in yet.

“What do you want?” you ask barely above a whisper.

Simon can feel the warmth of your breath on his lips as you speak and it is driving him insane. The ghost of your kiss can be felt across his mouth until the skin there is burning for you to break the tension. “Fuckin’ kiss me,” he says, his voice husky and dry with a slight rasp at the end.

You catch his gaze and smile with your eyes. “How bad do you need it, Lieutenant Riley? I want to hear the ache in your voice as you tell me just how much you want me.”

Biting his lip, he takes a calming breath that does nothing to the heavy pulsating beat of his heart. “I’m fuckin’ burnin’ alive,” he admits, a tremble in the start of his sentence. “Achin’ something’ fierce to taste ya again just like the last time. God damn ya tasted so fuckin’ good, sweatheart. Fuck, I need ta feel your lips on mine ‘fore I pass out.”

God, he wishes he could break his restraints and get at your lips, but with your combined body weight securing the strap beneath you both there’s no way he can pull it out; he’s been trying, struggling with the leather and getting nowhere.

Your lips are so close he can almost taste you and yet still so far that it physically hurts that they are not on him. He leans in closer, but you are quick to pull back so that he cannot even brush against them. His body squirms under the overwhelming tension of it all as you keep your mouth just out of reach.

“Tell me, because I’m curious,” you ask in a breathy whisper, “do you ever think about us fucking? Have you ever touched yourself to the memory of it?”

Cocky looks beautiful on you and Simon hardly knows what to do with himself. He bites the inside of his mouth in hopes that the pain will force him back from the brink of insanity, but he is no longer sane enough to even register anything other than the hazy euphoria course through his body like wildfire. You could ask him anything at this moment and he is so strung out that the only thing he can do is answer honestly just so you will give him what he needs.

“I…t-think ‘bout ya all the fuckin’ time,” he stammers out. “Don’t even know how many fuckin’ times I’ve stroked to the thought… I could even still remember the way ya feel wrapped around me for a while after, but lately the memory’s faded. That’s why…”

His hesitation drives you to believe that this is something significant. “Keep going,” you demand as your thumb strokes over the corner of his mouth over the remnants of a faded scar that leads down his jaw.

A strong throb through his cock, a product of his pounding heart, makes him choke on his words. “T-that’s why I can’t get off alone anymore,” he grunts through his heavy breaths. “And it has me fuckin’ outta my mind. Thought I’d not get another chance to feel ya again… and so I’ve been strugglin’.”

Now it all makes sense why all his aggression was directed solely at you: he had to be near the one thing he desperately wanted, but he thought he wouldn’t get to have anytime soon. It was eating him alive and he couldn’t relieve any of the pressure from it. Something about the way his needy voice hits your ears causes a stirring between your legs as your clit pulses.

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” you praise. “Now, how about we fix that, yeah? Give you a taste of what you’ve been missing.”

The building anticipation is more than enough to kill as you finally break the tension and collapse your lips together with so much passion that his eyes are rolling back in his head as stars sparkle behind his closed lids. You taste a sweet as he remembers and he cannot get enough. Time doesn’t exist anymore as the moist warm air from your breath mixes in his mouth, the urgent connection of your lips making them sting from the friction, the heat between your bodies making him pant.

That mouth of his is insatiable, stealing all the sloppy, frantic kisses that you allow him to have until your lips are burning from the abrasion. He barely remembers his own name by the time you finally pull back from him; all he knows is that you’ve stopped and it has left him feeling so fucking empty.

His eyes beg you to come back to his lips, but you have something planned that might take his mind off the absence of your mouth for just a moment. “Lean forward,” you instruct, “I need to get these pants off of me and I want you to be the one to undo them… with your teeth.”

There is not a moment of hesitation or a word that needs to be said as Simon dutifully complies with eager movements as he leans to rest his forehead against your lower abdomen, his teeth heading straight for the button on the waistband of your jeans. Grabbing onto the fabric, he pulls it into his mouth and secures it with his teeth as he tugs and uses his tongue to unhook the metal before he catches the zipper and pulls the tab all the way down.

You aren’t going to be able to keep this up much longer, not with how you can already feel that familiar warmth growing in the pit of your stomach as a damp heat gathers between your legs. Even in a position of submission he still makes your clit ache and as much as you are edging him, the denial is working on you as well.

Placing your hand on the center of his chest you shove him back down into the sofa so you can remove your jeans painstakingly slow off your legs, doing the same to his sweats before climbing back on top of his lap to again straddle over him so that only a few thin fibers keep you apart. Your panty-covered pussy pushes down against the swollen tip of his cock straining against his boxers and you can feel the precum coating the tip soaking through the fabric as you press even harder over it.

Those thick limbs of Simon’s tense with an overwhelming need to touch, to feel your soft skin under his rough, coarse hands, to cling to all those deliciously full curves and every minute that passes only makes that need grow in intensity. There are no more thoughts, only sensations that overwhelm his consciousness now. You’ve edged him to the brink of insanity; his cock is so hard that he swears he is going to shred through his boxers if you don’t stop. He has to get at you.

You start to roll your hips over him in rhythmic waves, stimulating your clit off his tip until you are both a mess, and he jerks against the leather of the belt keeping him secure as if trying to break free. It’s time; he’s ready to be set loose.

Again you capture his chin in your grip and bring his face in close. “I can see you are trying to break free. What do you want?” you breathe the fierce words onto his lips. “Say it.”

“L-let me touch ya,” he pleads with what little dignity he has left, still struggling against his restraints.

You grind your pussy harder onto the stiff peak tenting his underwear and Simon grunts deep in his throat as his hips desperately rut against you to produce as much friction as he can. “But your groans are so pretty,” you moan as you roll your hips over him again and again. “Maybe I just want to keep you making good music for longer.”

Simon lets his head fall back as his eyes flutter closed; he cannot hold back those deep, guttural sounds that want to escape, summoned from the way you are grinding against him. “Christ baby, I need ta fuck ya,” he groans loudly into the silence with his mouth hanging agape.

Your pathetic little lieutenant, he does look amazing as a whimpering mess.

“You’ve done so good for me, Si,” you smirk, “I think you’ve earned your freedom.”

You get up on your knees and he lifts himself enough that you can wrench the belt out from under him and loosen the strap and he quickly pulls his hands out. They’ve barely been free for more than a few seconds before he is wrapping them around the sides of your face to aggressively drag it in so that he can overwhelm your mouth completely with his, taking the entirety of your lips and pressing his face against yours so hard that it hurts.

“God dammit, I’m gonna fuckin’ fill ya until ya can’t take anotha god damn inch,” he growls as he drives his fingertips into the bulk of your hips as he picks you up, carries you the few feet to his bed, and flips your onto your back to pin your smaller body down to the mattress with his as he crawls over top of you.

Wasting no time he reaches between your thighs and laces his fingers through the seam of your damp panties and rips them to the side out of his way as he shimmies his down just under the curve of his ass so that he can get his cock out.

“Can ya feel how fuckin’ hard I am?” he snarls as he aligns the head of his phallus with your entrance. “Ya see what you’ve done ta me? I’m a god damn mess. Now you’re gonna take it.”

“Yes, give it to me,” you beg, letting your tough facade fall away as you let him take the reins. “Make me take it, all of it.”

He prods against the tight opening as he readies to strike through and with a strong thrust he is inside you down to the base of his cock, the taut stretch around him that molds your walls to his shape nearly making him come just from the pressure alone. His eyes stay locked onto the point where he disappears inside your body as he waits to be able to watch it slide in and out.

“That’s it, baby. Fill me,” you cry out in adulation as that thick, veiny muscle stretches you out wide and fast, the pressure forcing your thighs to clench hard around his hips. Your fingers grip into his shoulder blades as you hold on for dear life, nails digging into his flesh as your body harshly adjusts to accommodate his girth.

Simon is trembling, struggling to regain some composure through the ragged breaths he takes. “God, I missed this so fuckin’ much,” he groans breathlessly and with such need that it gnaws away at your stability. “So tight, so wet, fuckin’ hell…”

It isn’t until he has calmed enough to start thrusting again that he realizes your hands are clinging to his back and now that he is in control again he rips them off and brings them up to keep your wrists restrained above your head, taking the opportunity to violently kiss your mouth and steal your breath away.

“My turn… no touching,” he snarls into your open mouth in mockery of your demands earlier. Two can play at this game and fuck does he want to return the favor.

His rough, hard thrusts shudder through the length of your body, shaking the bed along with you as his hips slam into yours while he punctuates each one with a loud grunt. He thrusts so hard it shoves his cock so deep into you he is nearly hitting the back of your cervix.

“God, ya feel so fuckin’ good,” his voice quavers as the pressure welling deep inside at the base of his spine radiates out through his limbs and threatens to burst at any moment.

It is a glorious mess that he becomes the longer he thrusts, drooling over your body as he can hardly function, going blind and delirious at the feeling of those tight, silky walls sucking him and fluttering around him. Those rough thrusts become more sloppy as his abdominals contract, his full body clenching as he grapples with holding on for as long as possible. The gauntlet of edging you put him through earlier leaves him in agony now.

“Keep your pace and come for me, baby,” you coax him through it. “Be a fucking good boy and come for me. I need to know I’m the one that can make you fall apart.”

Your mind is all static now, so lost on Simon’s cock that you cannot stand it. You are close, so close that it won’t take much more for you to come if he keeps this up and what better way to end this than to make him orgasm from the feeling of your walls clenching around him?

You focus everything on letting go and keeping silent so that the moment it happens he is taken by surprise and he will not be able to brace for it. Thrust after thrust he is trying to hold on to make sure you get yours, but he is losing it fast. Then out of nowhere your body shudders as you cry out and suddenly your body is squeezing him so tight that he can’t stop violently falling over the edge.

A roar is released from within his chest, his body writhing as he holds on to your waist for dear life while he hurriedly pries his cock out of you just as he burst his warm load all over your thighs, coating them in the sticky, milky white fluid. You grab onto his cock to stroke everything out as he trembles and grunts like a wild animal until he is dry and spent and only then do you let him go.

You melt like a puddle into the mattress as he finally pulls himself out from between your legs and falls down beside you, exhaustion flooding his body. Weeks of buildup have finally come to an end with an explosion. He turns to you, vision hazy as he relishes in the ecstasy of his high, and strokes your delicate cheek carefully with his rough fingers.

“Better than your hand, yeah?” you laugh, out of breath and dizzy from the flood of adrenaline and he chuckles along with you.

Simon’s body is still vibrating through the drunken stupor making his mind numb as he leans up onto his elbow as he pulls you against his chest so that he can connect your mouths again in a kiss that feels a lot like a thank you. With his mouth barely broken free of yours, you hear his whisper against your lips.

“I’m gonna need ya to do that again. ‘Cept next time, I wantcha ta fuckin’ make me really beg for it.”

Oh, I think you can definitely do that.

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