#tw: age gap | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oh-koenig-my-koenig · 3 months

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(cw: age gap 25/41, nsfw, mdni, sloppy oral, biting/marking, rough sex. bad german pickup lines)

continuing the part before: visiting his humble abode

Hanging off König’s shoulder.

There honestly isn’t a better place to be, except for maybe right under him. My fingers dig into his back, holding onto him, even though I am secure on his shoulder. He carries me up the stairs easily, I don’t even hear him panting a little harder. And the view on his ass is delicious. I want to pinch it. Or smack it.

My intrusive thoughts win, I stretch down and the palm of my hand collides with his behind, even making a little sound, while I giggle.

“Stop it.” Another spank onto my butt, his hand staying there this time. “It was my plan to show you the whole house first, and then take you to my bedroom…”, he grumbles, but amusement comes through in his voice. “But I should’ve known that you and your bratty ass are not gonna adhere to such an arrangement.” He squeezes my asscheek, his fingers lingering a bit longer, and even that sends a shiver down my spine.

“I just wanted to know if the king had a king-sized bed, I swear.”, I joke, stifling back a laugh.

“Aha.”, he drawls skeptically. “And that’s all?”

“Yep.”, I answer, knowing full well that I know and he knows, that that is in fact not all.

It’s just a few steps from the top of the stairs to the bedroom, when I hear the click of a door and then the light switch. He enters the room and I crane my neck, all nosily, trying to look around. The bedframe, sturdy dark wood, and some bedsheets is all I see before he lifts me from his shoulder again.

“Well, your wish is my command, Prinzesserl.”, he says, the last word sounding a lot like ‘princess’. “I do indeed have a king-sized bed.”

He sets me down on the mattress, lying me down more carefully than I would have liked, to be honest. I look up – and I’m staring back at myself, strewn on the soft sheets. My mouth falls open.

“You have a mirror on your ceiling?”, I ask incredulously. It’s an unnecessary question because – well, I can see that he does have a fucking mirror on the ceiling.

“I do.” He smiles, looking up as well. “You can cover it up, if you don’t wanna watch yourself sleep, but I thought it would be fun for other horizontal activities that don’t involve any actual sleep.”

My breath halts in my throat as I think about his insinuation and unholy images flood my mind. Me riding him, only held up by his arms, while he makes me look up, his hand around my throat. His body strewn over mine, the long strands of his hair cascading down his tattooed back, his huge stature moving with his thrusts. Him sitting back on his knees, spreading my legs wide, so I can see how he’s pounding into me in the mirror above.

“What, nothing to say now, Kleine?” His deep soft voice pulls me out of my little daydream, smirking down at me. And I just shake my head. “Didn’t think I would ever see you speechless.”, he continues teasing me.

I sit back up, looking up at him, which has me craning my head back with the way he is towering over me. “I’m not, look, full sentences are coming out my mouth.”

He smirks at me. “I can see that.” He comes a bit closer still, his hand gripping my chin softly, his thumb strokes over my lower lip, pulling it down a little bit. “So, it’s not just good for mouthing off at me, huh?”

Instead of an answer, my tongue darts out, licking the pad of his thumb. My mouth closing around it, softly sucking once, releasing the digit with a pop. “No.” All the messages I sent him this morning about wanting to suck his dick flood the forefront of my mind.

His gaze darkens, while the smirk widens. For a moment, it seems like we’re suspended in time, then we move even faster. He pulls off his shirt and I do the same, also getting rid of my bra. He helps me with my pants, and when they’re finally on the floor, his hand moves to his belt, opening it, but I softly coax them away, taking over, while I scramble to sit on my legs until I am kneeling in front of him.

Opening the button, lowering the zipper. And instead of the boxershorts I expected, like the ones I saw on the photos he sent this morning – I’m greeted by his hard dick.

Damn. He isn’t wearing any underwear.

I look up at him, being met with a cocky grin.

“Allzeit bereit.”, he comments.

“What?” I can’t hide my confusion.

“’Be prepared’, the scout motto, you know.”, he explains, like that is some common knowledge.

“Uh-huh? So, you’re always prepared for a blowjob?”, I ask him, tauntingly, pulling up one eyebrow. My hands still rest at his zipper, my fingers twitching to finally touch him.

“Well, no, but after all the talking about how you would take me in your mouth this morning...”, he answers, the cockiness not faltering.

“Then why are we still talking about the scout motto, big guy?”, I ask him, a little challenge in my voice.

His reaction is a little sway forward, until the tip rests against my mouth. “Are we?”, he asks, the insinuation sending a shiver down my spine.

His piercing drags across my lower lip and my tongue darts out to lick it. The groan dropping from his throat, the low gravelly sound, makes me do it again. Teasing his tip, until his hips are rutting forward on their own and I drop my jaw, slowly trying to fit more of him into my mouth. I close my lips around his thickness, softly sucking on him.

Pulling back again. Gripping the base of his cock with my hand as I press kisses on it, softer than he probably would have liked. He’s squirming a little bit under my touches, his fingers coasting through my hair, moving it out of my face.

I look up at him meeting his eyes, continuing the teasing touches, until he pushes himself inside my hot wet mouth again.

“Look up.”, he says, pointing at the ceiling. And my eyes turn up further, my neck straining back.

The picture mirrored back to me is pornographic, to say the least.

We’re both looking up at the ceiling, my face turned up, my back and ass fully on display, my legs tucked under it, with the way I’m sitting in front of him. His hand at the back of my neck.

König’s broad chest is taking up so much space, even as he’s leaning back to get a good look at me. The happy trail leading down. My hand lying there, feeling the soft tufts of hair underneath my fingertips.

Our bodies connected with my mouth around his dick.

I suck on him, licking the underside of his shaft, while still looking up, and I can see how his eyes roll back, his pupils disappear, only the whites of his eyes shining.

I move my hand down to his base, cupping his balls, softly tugging. The choked moan from his lips only spurs me on. He grabs me by the back of my head, softly moving me to the rhythm of his hips.

“You teased me all day about using your mouth on me, so I’m really enjoying this right now.”, he whispers, pushing his dick deeper, and I drop my jaw and stick out my tongue to fit more of him.

He hits the back of my throat which has me gag around him while he’s still not nearly fitting into my mouth, not even close. The next push of his dick is even deeper, and my eyes turn up, and I feel like I’m going cross-eyed. I move up and down, as far as I can, blowing him like this. It gets sloppy, messy, spit dripping from my lips. Dropping down onto my tits and tummy.

Tears form in the corners of my eyes, a drop running over my cheek. His hand moves from the back of my head to my face, his thumb stroking over it. “So fucking pretty.”, he coos. He pulls back and I take a deep breath, the sound filling the room instead of my gagging.

But I don’t stop. I use my saliva that’s now coating part of his length to jerk him off, moving my hand down, while I let my tongue play with the piercing on his tip again. Tasting hints of salty precum, as I look up at him. Holding eyecontact while I drag my tongue over it, slowly.

“Oh fuck.”, he almost growls, and the sound sends a zap of pleasure right to my core, making me squirm against the sheets. I feel the urge to touch myself, my hand snaking down between my thighs.

He sees that and tuts, the clicks of his tongue filling the room. “So needy.”, he mutters softly, his hips rutting forward, pushing past my lips again. Fucking into my mouth, as my fingertips reach my clothed pussy, pressing onto my sensitive clit.

I moan around his dick, letting him take the lead, his fingers tangled in my hair, while I touch myself, my hips moving with my desperate strokes. Getting sloppier again.

All of a sudden, he pulls himself out of me. “Fuck, not yet.”, he says, seeming a bit worked up. Crouching down and capturing my lips into a searing kiss, as he positions me against his sheets, continuing the kisses down my body.

I can see his dick, hanging between his legs, hard and heavy, glistening wet with my spit, before he kneels in front of me. His fingers hook under the fabric of my panties, pulling them off. They cling onto me, with how damp they are.

“So wet, hm? Did it turn you on to suck me off?”, he whispers, seeing the wetness glistening between my thighs, as he leans down, coasting with his lips over my pussy.

“Yes, fuck.”, I breathe, trying to squirm against his face, but he is just out of reach. He chuckles when I whine, desperate for him to finally put his mouth onto me. And he does, pressing kisses to my inner thighs, his stubble scratching over the sensitive skin.

Close, so close, but not quite where I want him.

He sucks on the soft skin, leaving little red marks, his left hand toying with my pussy. My hips move of their own volition and I can’t believe how the almost-touches make me even more turned on. “Please, I need-“, I start.

I can’t finish the sentence because his teeth sink into my soft flesh, while his fingers slip into me, the sensations almost making me lose my mind. He pushes deeper inside me, and I feel his canines press into the sensitive skin. Fuck, this is driving me crazy.

I lift my head to look at what he’s doing, and our eyes meet. He pulls back, pressing a kiss to the spot he just bit into, licking over it. His fingers still fucking me softly.

“Don’t stop.”, I plead.

The corners of his mouth turn up into a knowing smirk while he places more kisses, slowly inching in on my pussy, leaving another little hickey on my inner thigh. He pulls the digits out and puts his mouth right over it.

The slow, deliberate touches are gone. In a frenzy, he’s losing himself in my pussy, licking, sucking, nudging his nose against my clit. I move with him, dragging myself over his lips, searching for more friction, and the sounds that drop from my mouth are almost obscene.

My head drops back and I have the whole scene mirrored back to me from above. The strands of his long dark hair cascading down. His back tattoo, the black ink on his taut muscles, moving with him, as he eats me out.

How he grips my thighs, his hands digging into the supple swells. Spreading me wide for him.

He looks up at me, seeing the awe on my face, hearing the sounds I’m making, which makes him hum against me. Diving in again. His tongue licks into me, fucking me, and my back arches off the sheets, my hands clutching them. Close, so close to-

Ding-dong!

We’re interrupted by the bell.

He lifts his head, seeming a little drunk on pussy, judging by the drowsy look on his face. “Fuck, that’s the delivery.”, he stammers and the back of his hand wipes over his mouth.

“What delivery?”, I ask, confused and hazy with pleasure, propping my head up from the sheets.

“Food.”, he explains, and like on cue, my stomach grumbles.

He pulls away from me, looking around, picking up random pieces of clothing. He scrambles to put a shirt and shorts on while I can’t help but laugh because of the ridiculousness of the situation. “Thats on you, Mädl, for messing with my meticulously planned evening, with your siren call.”, he grumbles, which only makes me laugh harder.

He fits his dick into his pants, the erection tenting up the front, and he grumpily pulls his shirt down further, even though that doesn’t really help either with hiding it. “Fuck it.”, he cusses and heads out the room, cursing some more in German.

I shake my head, grinning like a crazy person.

I also look for some clothes, but I’m not quite bold enough to reach for any of his shirts, putting on my own and then my panties, following him down the stairs.

“Ooh, you remembered my favourite spot!”, I say when I see the huge bag with the familiar logo on it in his hands.

He grins at me, and my god, a man has never looked that good in a Cannibal Corpse shirt and some old Adidas shorts that are almost too tight for his burly thighs. He pushes his hair to the side, pulling it out of the t-shirt, because some of it got caught in there when he hurriedly put it on. “Of course. Should I put it in the kitchen oooor…?”, he asks.

“Can we eat now? I’m actually a little hungry, I didn’t have a big lunch.”, I tell him hesitatingly. Swaying from one bare foot to the other, looking down at them. Unsure, because I mean, we were in the middle of-

But he pushes my doubts away in just a moment, putting his arm around me and pressing a tiny kiss onto the top of my head. “Sure, can’t have you go hungry, hm?” and the relief lets my shoulders drop down, even if my worries were a bit stupid to begin with.

“You want to eat at the bar?”, he suggests then, his eyebrows raised as he grins at me.

“Wha- You have a bar in this house?”, I clarify.

He nods. “Yeah, like a whole room with- Come on. I’ll just show you.” He takes my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine, as he pulls me with him, the bag full of take-away food in the other one. Way too much for two people.

When I follow him downstairs, it first dawns on me that we never really held hands before. It seems so simple, so normal – so natural, that I don’t even register it at first. I smile to myself, gripping his hand tighter, trying to keep up with his steps.

I have to say, the house is meticulously upkept, there’s yet a spot I have to see untidy or dusty. Which is… kind of amazing, especially considering that he only stays here on his leave. The same goes for his cellar that is more like another floor, where we halt in front of two doors. He gestures in the direction of the right one, while actually stepping towards the one on the left. “That’s my home gym and that’s the bar.”, he says.

“You… also… have a gym?”, I ask, a bit incredulous. Man, this house is bigger than I thought, when I first saw it from the outside.

“Yeah, I mean I train almost every day. Uh, holding up my shape doesn’t get easier with age.”, he explains, with a lopsided smile. Of course he works out. I’ve seen his body and my god. Sure, he has his little tummy – that I adore –, but his strength clearly comes from a lot of hard training. It makes sense that he also keeps this up when on leave.

“Can I take a look?”, I ask, being my nosy self.

He shrugs, but smiles. “Sure.”

For a moment, I regret asking that, because I have to let his hand go. I sigh and pop my head in the door. Nice standard equipment, not a lot of machines. A treadmill, and a lot of weights, barbells and dumbbells. It looks any other gym would, right down to the mirrors spanning the whole wall (he seems to like those); you would have never guessed it was a private one in a cellar.

The star of the show is definitely the little bar next door. I enter the room right after him, chuckling a bit to myself when I see him ducking his head to fit through doorframe – even in his own home.

A worn-out leather couch to the left. The dark grey painted wall behind it is littered with plaques like you would find in a pub.

A pool table at the right side of the room, and then the mahogany bar on the back wall right in the middle. Bottles of liquor in rows, glasses in all shapes and sizes. When he flicks the light switch behind the bar, all of it lights up, in a warm orange hue.

Another fridge, with a glass door, though it’s half empty.

Three bar stools lined up neatly in front of the bar and I take a seat on one of them, feeling the leather top against my bare ass and thighs, with how my t-shirt rides up.

He sets the take-away bag down on the counter, getting two plates from one of the lower cabinets and two forks. Then he starts unpacking, producing container after container until I think there might be more people joining us, with how much he ordered.

“Take whatever you want, I’ll eat the rest.”, he tells me, waiting for me to actually do that.

“Is uh-“, I start, but he interrupts me with a smile. “Everything’s vegetarian, Liebes.”, he nods. “I checked. Twice.”

My face lights up and I look at the containers, inspect the different dishes and put a little bit of everything on my plate. With a double portion of the little spring rolls I like so much. He waits until I’m done getting my plate together and then just dumps one of the meals onto his.

I watch him eat, as he’s leaning against the counter, shoveling huge amounts of food in his mouth, while being very meticulous and methodical about it. Eating efficiently. This man eats to sustain, not to enjoy. There are parts of him, that I think are shaped by his profession, and this seems to be one of them.

I hide the half-smile that stalks onto my face as I see him standing there behind the bar, casually wolfing down the first plate of food, then a second one. I rope him into a conversation of how he put the room together while we have dinner like this. My feet dangle above the ground as I eat spoonsful of delicious Asian take-away, very content with sitting here like this. With him.

He looks back at the wall behind him, like an idea just came to his mind, and then back at me. I pull up one of my eyebrows, still munching on a spring roll.

“You want a cocktail?”, he asks me, grinning.

“Uh, sure, you know how to make one?”, I return the question.

“Äh, ja-ah! If I wasn’t a soldier, I would’ve become a bartender, for sure.”, he jokingly states, winking at me, and I almost melt into the floor. “I can make a decent enough drink.”, he then clarifies, the spark in his eyes still a little mischievous. “So, what do you want then? A moscow mule? Or a dirty martini?" He pauses for dramatic effect. "Or an orgasm?" He wiggles his eyebrows at me, and I can't help but laugh, even though I roll my eyes at him.

"Brute.”, I take a jab at him. “My favourite is actually a gin fizz.", I say, then.

"Really? I did not see that coming.", he comments.

"Why?"

"I don't know, maybe I expected something sweet tasting. Like you." His gaze darkens, while he is still grinning at me. A sudden hunger glints in his eyes while he looks at me, like he's thinking about it. How he ate me out when we got so rudely interrupted, by the delivery – even though it was delicious.

A tingle runs up my spine, just from the way he's looking at me. I suppress a shiver, because the feeling doesn't dissipate when his eyes drop away, looking around the bar.

"Hmm, I think I have a fresh lemon here somewhere.", he mutters to himself.

I prop my cheek on my arm, that’s leaning on the bar, and watch him fix me the drink.

He takes a crystal tumbler from the shelves and inspects some of the bottles, until he decides on one. I don't know the brand, but it certainly looks fancy. Ice cubes into the shaker, simple sirup and gin following shortly.

He’s almost dancing behind the bar counter, with the way he’s getting the ingredients, preparing this rather simple drink.

He cuts the lemon in half and just squeezes it, the juice dripping down into the shaker. Another person might have used a citrus-press. Not him though.

His hair whipping back and forth as he turns around, putting the top on the shaker and hitting the top once. A little spank that I feel…somewhere else… for reasons.

He starts to shake the cocktail, and it’s ridiculous how small the shaker is in his huge hands, he doesn’t even need both to hold it shut. Watching my reaction as he flips and spins it between his fingers, the ridiculous movements pulling laughs from me. Repeating the ones that do. The huge burly man, being the scary looking dude he is, while at the same time not being scary at all. At least not to me. When he’s here with me, like this.

He pours the drink over the ice cubes and fills the rest of the glass with soda, just like the recipe calls for. Taking the little zest of lemon he saved, squeezing it once and then putting it in.

König takes a sip, trying it. ‘Not bad’ is what the grimace on his face tells me before he hands me the tumbler and I take a drink. The bitter notes of gin and the sour sting of lemon juice hit my tongue.

“Nice drink, barkeep.”, I say, taking another sip and put the drink down in front of him. He drinks as well, downing at least half with one single gulp.

“Sind Sie eigentlich öfter hier?”, he asks me, with a sultry smile, not seeming serious at all.

“What does that mean? Funny man, I don’t speak your language.”, I tell him.

He laughs. “It’s flirtingly asking somebody if they come here often. It became a running gag in German as a bad pickup line.”

"Really? And that works?", I ask, skeptically pulling an eyebrow up.

He shrugs, leans forward, against the bar, coming closer and closer, until his face is just inches from mine. "No, it doesn't, but if I see a beautiful woman, I have to try it nonetheless.", he almost purrs. His fucking voice deeper than I ever heard it before. With the way he's looking at me, pure unadulterated lust in his eyes, he pulls me in.

His fingers softly stroke over the inside of my arm, until the thumb reaches my pulsepoint, the pad pressing into it lightly – just once – before he pulls it closer and presses a soft kiss to the sensitive skin. His eyes don’t break away from mine for even a moment.

My mouth falls open. My breath is getting caught in my throat and I can feel a pang of need between my thighs, the tingling feeling trickling up my spine.

He straightens back up again, just a little bit, beaming at me with a cocky grin. "See, and that works every time.", he taunts me.

"Well, I'll say.", I answer, still a little out of breath, which makes him laugh, but also come closer again.

"Yeah?", he asks softly. "You think, I can get a kiss from the beautiful woman at the bar like this?"

I nod, lifting myself off the barstool, to meet his lips in a kiss. “Maybe also a second kiss.”, I say, deepening it. My tongue strokes against his, teasing, and tasting the gin on his breath.

"Will the barkeeper also take the beautiful woman to his king size bed?", I ask him, which might be considered bold, if it was indeed a beautiful woman propositioning the barkeeper at the bar who had been flirting with her all evening. But it's just König and me, sitting here together in comfy clothes after we shared a meal. And I'm eager to finish what we started before.

"Hmmm, they are the only two left in the bar, so the barkeeper might just close it up to bend the beautiful woman over the bar and take her right here and now.", he spins my little story further.

"Well, that would be entirely possible, if they had some protection.", I retort, but the imagination alone is making me hot.

A little square foil packet suddenly appears in his hand, almost like out of thin air – more likely from his pocket. "Didn't tell you, I'm not only a barkeeper, but also a magician?", he says, a grin breaking through his expression, even if he tries to stay serious.

I have to laugh so hard I almost fall off the barstool, with the way my body is shaking from laughter ripping through me.

This man. It's quite unfair, to pair his dry wit with those good looks. I mean, it might not be to everybody's taste, but in my book tall, dark and brooding always works – though in his case, the notion of that much rather stems from the way he looks, not the way he is – and him being hilarious like this, especially when I don’t see it coming, definitely has me on my tiptoes.

“A man of many talents, I see.”, I tease him.

“Don’t you know it.”, he says, capturing my smile in a kiss again, barely breaking it to join me on my side of the bar.

I'm practically bent over the bar already, with the way my ass barely touches the seat and I was leaning over to kiss him, trying to get as close to him as possible. He just has to lift my hips a little bit, until I'm truly strewn over the smooth wooden surface.

He doesn't hesitate to pull my panties down, the wet fabric clinging onto me. It doesn’t take much, I’m so wound tight already, because we got interrupted. His fingers coast over the sensitive skin, and I squirm against his touch, holding onto the bar.

"Please, just- do me.", I beg, not minding how desperate that makes me sound.

"Your wish is my command.", he repeats his little quip from earlier this evening. He pulls the shorts down just low enough to take his dick out, the length resting against my ass, and I can't resist moving my hips a little bit, grinding back into him.

"Stop it.", he grumbles, spanking my buttcheek once, with the other hand. "Impatient brat.", he calls me which pulls a little chuckle from my lips.

The ripping of the foil, the snap of rubber, and then his dick nudges against me, dipping into me – just the tip. Fuck, I just want him inside me. He pulls back and repeats the motion a few times, until he finally sinks into me. Giving me a few moments to adjust myself to his length, his hands squeezing my tight ass, before he starts to pound into me.

Harder than last time he fucked me from behind because he isn’t limited by the tight space of his car’s backseat.

“Yes, yes, fuck.”, I whine, the little pleas intermingling with the resounding claps of skin against skin. The whole bar is shaking, the sturdy wood holding out against his hard thrusts.

His hands let go of my ass, his arms framing my body, holding onto the bartop. Using it as leverage to fuck me a tiny bit rougher. And I take everything he’s giving me, relishing the feeling of losing myself in the hard fucking.

Over 300 pounds pushing me up against the furniture, his dick pushing deep inside me. The tip slamming against my cervix, which is making me lose my mind fast.

Groans and mewls drop from my lips with every push into me, the sounds getting louder when he hits that sensitive spot inside me. I almost wanna bite my lip, but I know better than that by now. I know he wants to hear me.

Suddenly, he pulls himself out of me, and for a split second, I'm confused. But instead, his fingers slip into me, the sensations getting rid of my thoughts.

"Fucking hell, you're soaked.", he groans, his digits working in and out of me, the wet sounds almost obscene. The whines dropping from my lips as they stroke over the sensitive spot inside, the same one that his dick was flitting over just moments ago.

"Oh, fuck.", I moan, the intense stimulation making me shake, desperately holding onto the hard surface beneath me, as I cum on his fingers. He pulls them out again, and I whimper because of the sudden loss of fullness. He bends forward, his hands spreading my cheeks, while he laps up the wetness. The hurried licks of his tongue against the sensitive skin prolonging my orgasm, making me shiver.

He straightens back up and lifts me from the bar and just flips me around, setting me down on the wood again, so that I face him. The expression on his face, the hooded lids, the drowsiness in his eyes, the satisfied smirk, his lips glistening of my juices, … Yeah, no man ever has looked this good in a Cannibal Corpse shirt.

My arms reach back, propping myself up on the bar, and my legs spread in an instant, inviting him in. His eyes drop down to my pussy, dripping and still needy. He positions himself, gripping his rubbered-up dick at the base, dragging it over my clit, teasing my entrance with his tip. Driving us both crazy, I can see it on his face.

"Fuck, please...", I whine, my hips bucking up against him.

With a chuckle, he's slipping into my wetness again, easily. Stretching me around his dick and I groan when he bottoms me out, being a little overstimulated already.

He's fucking me in this position, hard just like before, my hips almost at the perfect height, because a normal table would have never been tall enough. I scramble to even hold on, my hands gripping his shoulders now instead of the surface beneath me, trying to not get shaken off it, but he holds me firm in his grasp, holding me steadfast, so his hard fucking doesn’t push me off.

"I'm not gonna make it for much longer.", he grunts quietly, almost like an apology. “’m close, fuck. Gonna come." A deep breath shakes his chest.

My hand extends to cup his face, and even though he seems almost lost in his search for release, he nearly stills.

"Do it. Come for me.", I whisper, my lips coasting against his.

The sound that escapes his throat is a desperate one, and he pulls me tighter against him. One arm around my waist, his hand on my hip, the fingertips digging into the supple swell. My fingers stroke through his hair, the soft strands, and I press my lips to his.

And he kisses me with a frenzy, until I feel his spine stiffen up and a short deep moan against my lips.

He shudders, his whole body shaking, as he spills inside me, his hips still rutting forward, and for a moment I wish, the condom between us wasn't there. Some creampie for dessert.

"Fuck...", he breathes, nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck, his orgasm finally subsiding. “You okay?”

I nod, a faint ‘yes’ in my lips, and I slump against him, holding onto his waist, breathing heavily. Relishing the embrace, as he pulls me even closer with his strong arms. I breathe in his warm comforting scent, the fabric of the shirt rough against my cheek, as I nuzzle into him.

“I believe there is integral part of my home which you haven’t seen yet.”, he whispers, pressing soft kisses against the side of my face.

“Really?”, I ask, resting against his huge sweaty chest, my hands still tangled in his t-shirt.

Instead of answering, he lifts me off the surface, my legs closing around his waist. My panties are somewhere, but not covering my pussy that is sitting against his hips. But he doesn’t seem to care that I'm staining his shirt with my wetness. I mean, getting pussy juice on a Cannibal Corpse shirt has to be an achievement on its own, right? I giggle to myself, as he carries me up to his bathroom.

The shower indeed seems spacious enough for him to kneel down – contrary to the one in my apartment.

His hands lather up some soap and start to move over my body, the warmth of his fingers coasting over me. Softly cleaning me and washing away the suds. Refusing to let me do the same for him.

He gets down on his knees, lowering himself even further to the floor, to be right where he wants to be. At eye-level with my pussy. He lifts my left leg, placing it over his shoulder, and presses his face between my thighs. Licking and sucking eagerly.

The spray of water from above hits his hair as well, wetting and darkening the long strands, while my fingers tangle in them, my other hand looking for somewhere to hold onto. The cool tiles press into my back, while the water raining down on us and his huge warm body heat me up. My screams echo off the walls as he makes me come on his tongue, my legs almost giving out while his arms hold me up, not stopping until I’m spent.

We get out of the shower after having been in there for way too long, wasting water standing under the spray. He hands me a bathtowel and I wrap myself in it, just standing there. Watching him dry himself off. He’s quick and methodical about it, the soft fabric stroking over his wet skin, soaking up everything.

He hangs up his towel, and I try not to stare at his naked tattooed body. I mean, I’ve seen him like this before. Also, his dick has just been inside me, but I still can’t help it. I can’t tear my eyes off of him.

“What?”, he asks, as he sees me staring.

“Nothing, just looking at you.”, I say, pulling the towel tighter around me, cocooning myself up.

He comes closer. “Looking comfy.”, he comments, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“I am.”, I answer, and his arms close around me, pressing me against his broad naked chest.

“Stay the night?”, he asks, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. Me all huddled up in the huge bathtowel can only nod and grin up at him.

next part: waking up in his bed or more stuff in the Masterlist ~

a/n: a special long chapter for the start of the weekend... i hope you guys had as much fun reading it, as i had writing it, gonna go take a cold shower now 🫠

#metalhead!könig #she likes the dark #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

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merakiui · 14 days

Text

angels in tibet.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, obsession, abo/omegaverse (alpha azul & omega reader), knotting, brief implications of breeding, mirror sex, sugar daddy, age gap (azul is 50 and reader is 24) note - while experiencing a nasty bout of low self-esteem, you fear azul has lost interest in you. on the contrary, he can't get enough.

I’m not sure about this…

You fidget in front of the horizontal mirror, tugging at the sheer material of your violet babydoll. It’s a beautiful piece, matched with a pair of dainty, crotchless panties, but there’s something about it that doesn’t fit right. Will this make you more irresistible? Were you irresistible to begin with? Maybe you’re worrying over nothing. Azul is a very handsome alpha, looking as affluent as he sounds and smells. It’s natural he would receive all kinds of compliments. Having attended dozens of dinner dates with him throughout the year, you’ve grown accustomed to the occasional interruption—an omega overwhelmed with his presence or an alpha hoping to gain another wealthy connection.

Compared to the exquisite company he keeps, you feel worthless—a speck of nothing versus a brilliant something.

A gentle knock at the door shakes you from your self-conscious spiraling. You pat yourself down to give your anxious hands a mindless task.

“J-Just a moment!”

“Is everything all right?”

You glance at yourself in the mirror once more. “Yes, I’m fine! I’ll be out in a second.”

“There’s no rush. Take your time.”

Steeling your nerves, you swallow razored insecurities and reach for the knob.

Stop thinking about it. Lots of omegas approach him all the time. It’s the same for alphas and betas. Sometimes they approach me, too. You crack the door open and nervously step out into the bedroom. But he looked so happy when that one omega was talking to him…

Azul’s cerulean hues snap up to view you from where he lounges on the end of bed loveseat. His stare trails up the length of your legs, assessing every inch of you as if you’re a rare gemstone and he’s a skillful lapidary. You cover the distance to reach him, suddenly shy.

He runs his hands up your arms once you’re within reach. “I was right to assume that set would look stunning on you.”

“You’re always right,” you say with a superficial giggle, admiring his dusky eyeshadow behind the lenses of his glasses. You swipe his hair aside and lean down to press a kiss to his forehead. “It’s nice. Thank you for the gift.”

Azul hums his acknowledgment. His hands crawl along your sides, grabbing at your hips. You allow yourself to be pulled down to his height, his thigh between your legs. Your bare pussy brushes against beige trousers, and it sends a pleasant shiver up your spine. His fingers dance across skin, searing in the same way his lips are when they ghost over the juncture between shoulder and neck. He licks and nips at the area for a moment before withdrawing slightly, his tongue free of the bitter, medicinal taste of suppressant gel.

“No blockers?”

“It’s fine. I’m with you, and my heat isn’t scheduled for another week.”

“What makes you think I won’t give into libertine impulse?”

At the sly implication that he’d mark you as his, you feel a fresh bout of slick pool between your legs, leaking out onto his thigh and wetting fine fabric. Azul notices this and chuckles.

“Y-You wouldn’t,” you manage through your embarrassment, shifting awkwardly.

“Is that right?”

“You probably want a better omega o-or a strong alpha. Someone like yourself.”

Azul, who had contented himself at your neck, pulls back to look at you. His hands settle upon your waist to hold you still—to prevent you from wriggling away.

“What makes you say that?”

“Nothing… I just assumed—well, you’re…you. I’m me.”

He frowns, easily reading between the lines. “Do you find yourself undesirable?”

“You’re popular. Rich. Good-looking… You could have anyone you want.”

“Variety means nothing if it doesn’t include my favorites.”

“I’m your favorite?”

“Such disbelief… Is it really so surreal?”

“But I’m nowhere near your level.”

“Who said you had to be?” Azul takes your hand and brings it to his lips. He kisses the top of it. “You’re perfect as you are, mio tesoro.”

You spend a long minute watching him. He can’t really mean that. Azul isn’t your boyfriend or your alpha. He’s the parody of one—a sugar daddy who spoils you with luxurious trips and hefty allowances, and in return you offer your time, companionship, and body. Tonight is no different. Just another dinner as per the arrangement. Another night spent in a high-rise hotel. Another transaction.

“You don’t mean that,” you say, ice crystallizing each word. “You’re just saying that.”

“I have no reason to lie.” He glances past you at the tall floor mirror, an idea sparking in lust-lidded eyes. “I’ll prove it.”

His intentions are lost on you, even more so when he moves you off of his leg and onto the cushions below. You sit with your back against the bed, a concoction of curiosity and caution bubbling within you. You can smell him, crisp like a new car, the musky, unforgettable scent of salt and sage. Before you can ask, he lowers to his knees and parts your legs to get a look at your dripping pussy.

“So eager…” he muses, his breath fanning across your folds. You bite back a whine. “And it’s all for me.”

“All yours. Always yours.”

Another wave of alpha arousal blankets the room, thick like smoke. You realize he’s done away with his scent blockers for tonight. Could that explain your territorial jealousy and dampened mood? Is it because it’s bothersome to think that another omega expressed so much desire towards Azul—that they were treated to his enticing smell even though it’s a luxury often reserved for you? Is it really his money you’re after or something grander?

You want to think it’s the former.

It must be, right? There’s no way it could be the latter. You’re just caught between fantasy and reality, bordering a beautiful illusion garnished with the impossible.

Azul’s fingers dig into the soft pudge of your inner thighs, spreading them further despite your weak attempt to shut them. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly.

“Don’t hide from me, principessa. It’s nothing I haven’t seen already.”

“Still…” You flinch when he presses the pads of his fingers against your slit.

“What’s the matter?” He lifts his hand for you to see. Your slick clings to his digits in dewy strands. “You’re so wet for me, and yet you seem…distracted.”

“It’s nothing. I’m thinking.”

“About?” When you refuse to answer, he leans in to lick a languid stripe up your cunt. You slacken against the bed, a gasp rattling through your lungs. Azul makes a dramatic show of licking his lips clean. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me, bambolina.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, worrying your lip between your teeth, as you debate your next admission. Rather than say it outright, you tiptoe around it with a shaky mumbling: “D-Do you usually call other omegas by pretty names?”

“Just you.”

“Just me?”

“Have I not been unfalteringly faithful to you all this time?”

“You have. I’m just wondering…”

Azul waits for you to finish that sentence. When it becomes obvious you’ve lost it, he fills in the blanks. “I thought of you all throughout tonight’s dinner. So much it nearly spoiled my appetite.”

Unconvinced, you crack your eyes open to glimpse him. His head is between your legs, lips centimeters from your cunt, and it leaves you wilting once more. He looks good on his knees in his fancy suit. You wish he was yours.

What a dangerous wish.

Azul meets your stare. He removes his glasses and hands them off to you.

“Be a dear and hold these for me.”

“Looks like a new pair.”

“I thought I’d try circular frames again. What do you think? Fitting, no?”

“Very fitting. Like an old man.”

Azul’s grip on your thighs tightens ever so slightly. His voice comes out sharp and strained when he speaks next. “Is that so? I assure you I’m still plenty youthful.”

“You age like wine, Mr. Ashengrotto. The finest kind.”

“And your beauty is timeless.”

“You say it so easily, but do you mean it?”

“Most ardently.”

Your argument is stifled when he leans in to taste you again. This time, rather than retreat, he remains between your legs. His lips are warm and soft against your pussy, his tongue all too tempting as it trails over the area. A startled gasp slips past parted lips when he pushes in, and it isn’t long until you’re deflating against the bed.

Your doubtful thoughts are temporarily silenced, numbed with slow, slothful salacity. You grab fistfuls of his hair, tugging it tousled, and he groans in response to your harsh treatment.

“Ooh… Mmh, fuck…” You blink up at the ceiling, breathless.

Too good.

You push him closer to your crotch, to which he rewards you with a sloppy slurp of your slick. The obscenity of it all has you hot and aching, and you submit bonelessly to the bliss he provides as if you’re simply drifting down a calm river. Azul laps at your folds like a man parched. He hums his appreciative delight, each vibration shaking you to your core, and the sensations only serve to triple your pleasure when one of his hands slides over to find your clit. He tweaks it between two fingers just to listen to you come undone.

It takes everything in you not to crush him between your thighs. Although with how hungrily he fucks you with his tongue, you think he might enjoy the suffocation. He sets a sweet pace, one that has you grinding down against his mouth in a desperate attempt to reach your climax. You open your mouth to beg for more, but all that tumbles free are shaky gasps and low groans.

As if sensing your unspoken need, Azul draws his tongue out. A thin strand of saliva strings from your pussy and his lips, connecting both for a fraction. Just when you think he might’ve finished, he swaps his tongue for two fingers. They stretch you open while he nurses on your clit. Slowly, like he has all the time in the world in this opulent hotel room, he curls his slim digits inside you. They press against your walls, searching for the spongy spot that will have you seeing galaxies. Once more, you’re reduced to a foggy-headed mess.

In this room, where nothing else matters, it’s just you and him. There is no outside world. No other alphas, omegas, or betas who might distract him. No other factors that might convince him to toss you aside, to grow tired of you, to abandon you…

Azul takes full advantage of your woozy state, pumping his fingers in and out. Paired with the way he lavishes your clit with attention, it sends you spiraling into a sudden orgasm. You grip his hair forcefully, pin him in place, and gush on his face with a strangled moan. He stays between your legs to lick you through it, running his tongue across your folds to gather as much of your slick as possible. And then he’s pulling away to offer you a boyish grin, seeming quite proud of himself. It adds deceptive youth to his weathered features.

Blinking pleasured tears away, you gaze at him until his figure gradually gains clarity. His face is wet, glistening with your essence, and it fills you with newfound heat.

“That was quicker than I expected,” he says, his voice a playful purr. “Were you anticipating this? Or perhaps my technique is simply unmatched. You’ve always been so sensitive for—”

You move without forethought, grabbing at the jewel-encrusted lapels of his fashionable jacket to yank him up to your height. His blue eyes are blown wide, his mouth parted in the middle of a mute question, when you smash your mouth against his. It’s short and sloppy. You taste yourself on his tongue.

“So impatient…”

Recovering from the momentary startle with newfound cupidity, Azul surges forward for a real kiss. You breathe him in and come away with a noseful of pheromones. It spins your mind dizzy, banishes rationality to dark, desolate corners, and renders you addicted. You allow him to lick into your mouth to taste expensive wine in every crevice. You’re avaricious in your approach when you pull him closer, desiring to feel his weight against yours. He falls on top of you, his hands placed on either side of your head to keep himself propped, and you peer up at him through glazed eyes. It brings you smug satisfaction when you reach between your bodies to feel his erection straining against his pants.

Breathing hot and heavy, you scrabble to grab hold of his shoulders. “Kiss me again.”

“Aren’t you forward? If I didn’t know any better, I’d hazard a guess that you’re jealous.”

“I—” you clamp your mouth shut, debating your words, before opening it again— “I am. I want you all to myself. I want you to look at me and only me during our dinners. I hate when other omegas talk to you… It’s not fair. Why do you have to be so amazing?”

Your confession catches him off guard, for he blinks at you owlishly. The surprise doesn’t remain for long, though, because he quickly composes himself. A gentle smile graces his face next.

“It’s mere courtesy. I assure you I’ve thought of you the entire evening.”

“Just me?”

“Only you. At every hour of the day. Even when we’re apart.” His hand slides down to interlace with yours, and he leans closer to kiss both of your cheeks, one at a time. “I think of nothing else. Si il mio universo.”

“R-Really? So that… That omega who spoke to you—”

“They were kind, but I have no interest.”

You frown, suddenly perturbed. “But you could’ve if you wanted to. We’re not together in that way. There’s nothing stopping you.”

He raises a brow. “Is that what you want?” Your face falls further into dismay and he chuckles. “I don’t mind. You’re allowed to be greedy around me. I’m all yours tonight.”

But I want you forever.

Azul helps you up from the bed and leads you over to the mirror. You stare at yourself—at the you adorned in fleeting finery—and grimace. Is this really you? Is this who you want to be, an unclaimed omega stuck in a stagnant situationship?

“Tell me what you see,” he whispers, running his hands along your sides.

“Myself.”

“Anything else?”

“She’s a fool who’s jealous for no reason. For a dumb reason, actually.”

“‘Dumb’?” He scoffs. “No such thing.”

“But it is! It’s because—” I want to be yours. “I’m just being immature. I’m sorry. It’s ruining the mood.”

“Not at all.” Azul grasps your chin and turns your head towards the mirror. “When I look at you, I see in color. You make my world so indescribably vivid. Very few can accomplish such an impressive feat. You should be proud.”

“Why?”

“You’re a smart girl. I’d have thought you would’ve realized it by now.”

You track his hand like it’s a spider you’re hellbent on catching. Carefully, with keen intent. He speaks in honey-coated hauteur, as if anyone could’ve deciphered the meaning in his declarations, and it would’ve irked you if not for your distracting thoughts.

He’s never told me any of this before. Is he saying it to placate me? Or does he actually mean it?

The answer is right there. You just don’t want to believe it.

Rather, you can’t. It’s impossible.

“For the record, I disagree with all of this negative self-talk. You’re not dumb or immature. Not in my eyes.” His arms close around you from behind, and he laces his hands together at your front. “You are a goddess cut from the rarest cloth. A beauty brighter than light itself, mia stellina. Sometimes I wonder if I should lock you in a little cage. That way you’d shine for me. Just me.”

Laughter squeezes through your teeth. “You’re being more dramatic than I am tonight.”

“You think so? I’m only telling you what I see and how I see it.” Azul takes your hand and guides you back towards the loveseat. He lowers onto it and then tugs you onto his lap. Just like before, he directs your attention ahead. “Why should I covet others when you’re right here?”

“That’s just convenient. It’s because we’re using each other.”

“How cold… And I have been nothing but authentic in my adoration.”

“Yeah, right. We both know—” You squeak when he shifts you only slightly so that he can unbuckle his leather belt. It slides away from his waist, soon discarded on the bed. “Sure, it’s authentic, but that’s because it has to be. B-Because it’s part of our deal.”

“Is that what you think? Your oblivious nature is most endearing.” He hums, half-listening. You roll your eyes at that, to which Azul tuts. “We’ll have none of that. Here. Since you’re so keen to argue, why not help me out of my jacket as you mull over your next retort?”

Unamused, you turn to face him. He looks awfully pleased with himself as he stretches his arms out. Not wanting to keep him waiting any longer, you undo the single button and gently peel the coat away from his person. It’s so silky, crafted from a material you’ve never known before, and you take care folding it for later. Azul watches you with a smile.

“I’m not arguing.”

“Is that not what we’re doing right now?”

“I’m just saying…” You huff, your cheeks puffed out in annoyance. “Ugh. You’re being so obtuse.”

“Why don’t you turn around and say that to your reflection instead? She needs to hear it more than I do.”

Begrudgingly, you comply with the first instruction. You lift yourself off of him just enough so that he can pull himself from his clothes. As for that second part, you treat it like a suggestion and keep your lips clamped stubbornly shut. Azul rumbles with laughter, affectionately pinching your cheek. You think he may have picked the habit up from his family. He’s spoken about them scarcely, but from what you’ve learned both his mother and grandmother have always had a knack for physical fondness. It’s cute that this gesture seems to run in his blood.

“Eyes open and ahead, mia bella ragazza. You deserve to witness just how charming you are as you come undone around my cock.”

Nodding mutely, your arousal heady, you line yourself up until the head of his cock is kissing your pussy. One hand holds your waist to steady you while the other presses against your clit. You whine, legs trembling in anticipation, and lower yourself slowly.

“A-Azul—”

“Don’t look anywhere else. Ahead, tesoro,” he reminds you, kissing along your jaw. He reaches to procure his glasses from the bed, fitting them on his face one-handed.

Your body responds to those pleasant pet names without a shred of shame. Even though this isn’t your first time with him, you can’t stop your breath from hitching or your heart from skipping. For the sake of an easily ingested excuse, you deign to blame it on your upcoming heat. Why else would you be this desperate to feel him inside, as close as he can possibly get pressed up against you like this? Azul’s hand slides over your thigh to rub at your clit, and your walls flutter around every inch you’ve managed to take thus far.

You remember you’re meant to be watching yourself in the mirror then, so you gaze at your reflection. Azul’s voice is deep and gravelly in your ear, thrumming like thunder, when he murmurs his praise: “Good girl. Just like that.”

As if to further humiliate you, a testament to just how carnally you crave him, you clench tighter around him and whine pitifully. He chuckles and rewards you with a soothing smooch to your cheek. You heave a satisfied sigh once he’s slotted inside.

“Why do you want me to watch myself?” you ask, fighting through the haze while he busies himself with your clit. “Mmh…”

At this rate, you fear you might just somersault into your heat. Which, now that you’re considering it, wouldn’t be such a bad thing… Maybe he’ll give you a claiming bite, mark you as his omega, and then it’ll be a real relationship. Maybe the heat is the push he needs.

Don’t think about that sort of nonsense. He would never…

“I want you to take in every part of yourself,” he explains matter-of-factly, “and know that I will never trade you for anything.”

“But other omegas—” The words are choked off in a yelp when he thrusts up inside you.

“Are not you,” he finishes, a minacious edge in his tone. “What must I do to prove to you that I’m telling the truth?”

“You could—ah. Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m being unreasonable.” You shake your head. “Just… Just promise me. Please promise you won’t get rid of me.”

“Why, I would never! The mere assumption that I would stings… I feel as if I’ve just been slapped.”

“I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just… I… I know you’re allowed to see other people—and I am, too, of course—but I like being the only omega you spoil. I like feeling special.”

“And you are.” He squeezes your clit to draw another reedy moan from you. His other hand crawls up your side to slip under your sheer babydoll. He cradles your breast, kneading it gently. “You’re my special girl. That will never change.”

“O-Okay… I believe you.” Your lashes flutter when his fingers brush against your nipple. “You… Ooh… You can cum inside tonight. It’s safe. I think…”

A shadow passes over his face. As if your words have stoked some sort of possessive fire in him, he slips his hand out from under your lingerie to grab at your hip. All of his previous smooth, sultry edges harden into something rough. Fingernails dig into your flesh, leaving little half-moons in the forceful wake of his grip. Your tongue trips over itself at the sudden shift, but the treatment isn’t terrible.

“You know very well I’d take good care of you if that happened,” he mumbles, kissing the space just below your ear.

“If what happened?” you ask, playing stupidly innocent even though the image reflected back at you makes his implication more than obvious.

“Why don’t you start moving first? Then you’ll see exactly what I mean.”

You shudder, drunk off his pheromones, so potent they cloud your brain like smog, and shift in his lap. He groans lowly at the friction and it encourages you to move with confidence. You lower yourself, lift yourself halfway off, and then lower again. This is executed for three more jerky rotations before you slam yourself down in one go. Azul sucks in a breath. You don’t quite catch what he says. It’s a jumble of words in his native tongue. With the harshness dripping from every syllable, you think he’s saying some colorful words, each one brought on by the tight hold your pussy has on his cock.

“Perfect,” he manages next. You continue to bounce with reckless abandon. “You’re so—oh—so perfect. Ho bisogno di te… B-Bisogno—ah, no, need.”

You watch yourself, your ravenous gaze flicking from your pussy stretched around his cock to his hands glued to your hips to his head bowed near your neck. His canines are so close. Any closer and he could tear into you, bite you hard and deep enough to make you his.

“W-What was that phrase you taught me? The one about—haa—love… Not love, but sorta love.”

“Mmh… Which one? There are many, principessa… You’ll have to be more specific. Ti amo is ‘I love you,’ but that’s—nngh—not the one you’re looking for, is it?”

“The not-quite-love one… Um—oh! Adore… Adoro…”

“Aah, ti adoro.” He pronounces it in a pleased hum before breaking off with another groan. He drags your hips down to meet his when he bucks up into your gummy pussy. “If you’re saying it platonically, you would use ti voglio bene. Ti adoro is more intimate.”

“It sounds pretty when you say it.”

“Of course it does,” he brags, his ego satiated. “Why don’t you try pronouncing it?”

“Which one?”

“Whichever.” Azul kisses your scent glands and you mewl, your thoughts soupy and incoherent. “With such a tempting smell, I’m baffled you’re not yet mated. Ah, but you’re still young.”

“Hmm… Yeah, I just haven’t found the right person.” You place your hands over his. “W-What about you? Why haven’t you—”

He tuts. “Now, now. Before we get into that, I’d like to hear you say it. Ti…”

“Adoro. Ti adoro!”

“That’s right. Ben fatto, mia cara. You say it so sweetly.”

“I do?”

“Mhm.” He noses at your neck and sighs. “Sweet and musical.”

Relishing in the compliment, you tilt your head to reveal more of your throat. You roll your hips slowly, taking him in patient strokes. “I still think it sounds better coming from you.”

“Perhaps I should say it more often.”

“Please. Oh, please do. I wanna hear it always—every day!”

His teeth scrape your skin then. You brace yourself for a bite that never comes. Rather than allow your unmet expectations to dishearten you, you focus your attention ahead.

“I’ll send you a voice message when we’re apart.” His hands travel up your body, beneath lacy lingerie, and finally close around your tits. You watch him in the mirror, following his movements as he shamelessly fondles and gropes. “And when we’re together like this I’ll say it over and over. As many times as you’d like.”

Now it’s clear. He’s placed you on his own pedestal, admiring you like one might a sculpture. You aren’t the omega from dinner. You aren’t those alphas who hunger for his status. You’re unlike any of his other connections. You’re a personal treat he indulges in, a prized portrait he’s free to touch at his own discretion, and you allow it because he’s unofficially yours behind closed doors.

Part of you knew this all along. You just couldn’t see through your self-doubt.

“Thank you. I love—” You catch yourself, stumble over a gasp, and thank the stars for that. “I love your voice.”

Azul’s aged features soften with a smile. “And I love yours all the same. Why don’t you touch yourself so that I can hear more of it?”

You do just that, obediently circling your clit with two fingers. Amidst your own sounds, Azul’s groans, and the loud smack of skin on skin, it’s enough to bring you even closer to the edge. You’re almost there, nearly teetering over into the abyss, but then you stop.

“Wait… I want—wanna look at you.”

“You are. The mirror—”

“Not enough.”

Wordlessly, you peel his hands away and lift yourself off of him. Azul stares at you, awaiting your next move. Before you can regret your spontaneity, you hold onto his shoulders and position yourself to straddle him on the loveseat.

“I read about this and wanted to try it,” you admit as you sink down. Your relieved sigh joins Azul’s in unison. “I like looking at you. The real you. Not just your reflection.”

“You never cease to amaze me.”

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

“Very.”

With this proximity, you’re free to gaze into his powdery blues, trace every wrinkle beneath your fingers, adore him so intimately. Azul presses his forehead to yours, meeting your sultry stare. He wraps his arms around your waist, his palms settling against your lower back. No words are exchanged, but the intention is clear. You rock your body like the rolling tide, effortless and hypnotic, and he matches your lazy pace with grace. Now you’re breathing together—soft huffs between moans—and it’s a lustful duet that pairs well with the salacious squelch of your bodies.

Even though this moment will inevitably end, you never want to leave. You want to stay wrapped up with him, pressed close and breathing him in like he’s perfume. You want to bathe in his scent until it mixes with yours and marks you as something special. Something irrefutable. A bond that can never be broken.

“I wanna go on a trip,” you mumble absentmindedly, your mouth inches from his.

He steals a quick peck. “Do elaborate.”

“Not just any trip. A honeymoon—like a pretend honeymoon! I know it’s a lot to ask—”

“Nothing is ever too much. If I may, why a honeymoon in particular?”

“I just wanna know what it feels like.” You melt against him, your arms sliding away from his shoulders to loop around his neck. “Without having to go through the marriage part. That involves actually finding someone and falling in love and…yeah.”

“I understand. We can plan something.” Twin sapphires flick from your lips to your eyes and then back. “Shall I make you Signora Ashengrotto for the duration of our faux honeymoon?”

Your hips almost stutter to a halt, and you blink back at him in surprise. “Signora… Wouldn’t it be signorina?”

“If you were unmarried, yes. It applies because you’re young.” He flashes his teeth at you in a proud grin. “But in this scenario you’re all mine, Mrs. Ashengrotto. Thus, you’re signora.”

“Mmh… I like that. The sound of it…”

You sigh dreamily and close what little distance is left. Softly like swaying seagrass, it’s a meeting of mutual moods—of lust embellished with love. The two of you kiss like you’re starved, like you’re each other’s only source of oxygen, like this is your last night together. You’re in the clouds; euphoria is at your fingertips. Every drag of his cock coaxes you closer and closer to your climax, your body alight with a fiery urge. You don’t want to break this sinful spell and face a reality in which he isn’t yours. It’s too cruel.

So it’s a shame when he pulls you down without warning and, rather than bite your neck, sinks his pointed canines into your shoulder instead. You would’ve been content to let him claim you, but that idea is soon knocked from your skull when you feel warm, thick cum flood your walls. You snuff the urge to beg for more, dangerously avaricious. You’re sure that’s just a product of your encroaching heat. The normal, level-headed you wouldn’t dare beg him for a baby.

But a baby would give him a reason to keep you around, wouldn’t it?

I shouldn’t. He probably doesn’t want a family at his age… It would be wrong to force it.

Azul pulls away only slightly to speak. His attempt is muffled when you kiss him again. You lick your blood from his lower lip. It’s strong and metallic, staining the corner of his mouth a deep vermillion. He pursues, nibbling at your lip in return. And then, just as you roll your hips once more, you feel it—his knot swelling against your ass, fat and thick. All for you.

“I’m going to—”

“Yes! Oh, please—yes.” You shift in his lap, grinding down with a desperate sort of determination. “Please knot me. I want it. I’ve always wanted it.”

“Always?”

Your head bobs in a hasty nod. It was more of a private fantasy—a mental indulgence you delighted in during dreams. And now it’s happening. You’re so happy you could cry. Azul, upon seeing the light in your eyes, bucks up towards you in a sharp, sudden thrust. You suck in a breath through grit teeth and bore down. The push is heavenly and hellish all at once, a delicious pleasure-pained strain as your slick walls stretch to accommodate him.

“Almost… You’re doing well, tesoro,” he grunts, his brows pinched together with concentration and exertion.

To provide you with an extra shred of help, he massages your clit. And that’s all it takes. The rest of his knot pops inside, now connecting the both of you, and it leaves you feeling much fuller than you were before. Ecstasy crashes into you like a tumultuous wave, pulling you into a rushing current. It seems to happen in a flash. Collapsing against him, you dig your nails into his shoulders, your cunt clenching like a vise, and cum around his cock with a bawdy cry.

You don’t notice tears wetting your face until he’s lapping at the trickling trails. Azul coos at you in a lilting voice. This one is different from the patronizing tone he uses when he’s being playful. This one is intensely fond. “Oh, che brava ragazza. Molto buono.” He holds your face still and kisses each cheek. The wet smack of his lips on your skin brings you back to yourself. He brightens when you finally lock eyes with him. “There she is. My sweet girl, you’ve done so well.”

His flowery flattery warms the stone hearth that is your heart.

“Don’t let go of me. Stay here,” you plead even though you know that won’t be for another few minutes. You’re stuck together, and with this comes the delirium of mellowed rapture.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He runs his hand along your back, soothed in the same way you currently are.

You rest your head against his shoulder and inhale deeply. “You smell so good… Why aren’t you mated yet? I’m sure your mate would be happy to have you as their own.”

“I would hope so.”

“I’d be happy…t-to have someone to call my own! I think it’s a wonderful thing.”

“As do I.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone.”

“I already have.” Something sly flickers in his gaze. It’s cold, creeping up your spine like a shadow. Without meaning to, you shiver. “And I’m not going to let her go. She’s always been mine. From the moment I met her, I was certain of this. She just can’t see it yet.”

You blink at him. His words play in loops, but you can’t comprehend his meaning.

Surely he’s not talking about…

You bark out a short laugh. “Stop messing around when we’re stuck together.”

“Aw. I thought it was plenty amusing.”

“Your sense of humor is so crooked!”

“Perhaps.” He pulls you flush against him and pets the bite on your shoulder. “My apologies for being so boorish.”

“Hm? Oh, that’s nothing. It’ll heal.”

“I do hope you feel better.”

“Ah, that… Sorry. I don’t know where my head was at earlier. Thanks for tonight, by the way. You’re too good to me.”

“I’d do anything for you. Never forget that.”

“What a scary sentiment…”

“Is that not a facet of love?”

“Depends. You don’t have to do everything for someone just to prove that you love them. And someone might not want that kind of love…”

“In the event of an unwilling spirit, I suppose the easiest solution is acceptance by way of entrapment.”

“What?”

“They say a room of glittering gold is still a cage even without the shackles. Perhaps there is no better love than the suffocating kind.”

“No way. That’s totally wrong!” You shake your head in amusement. “What a warped sort of love!”

“Is it? I’ve always believed this was most tangible—undeniable, even. Proof of one’s devotion.”

“That’s less romantic and more…obsessive. Don’t you think so?”

“There’s a phrase we sometimes say. Amore non è senza amaro.” You nod along, expecting the translation. But Azul merely smiles. “Well, I’m only saying such things to pass the time. Think nothing of it.”

“You really are an old man, speaking utter nonsense.”

“How you wound me with your slander!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Nonno,” you tease, winking.

Azul feigns hurt. “To think I would be called that at my young, young age… My heart crumbles.”

You smile. Maybe it really was nothing. Although I was sure that he… It’s not really my problem. We’re not even together.

Still, something is nagging at you. A heavy word despite being so little—merely three letters.

Yet.

We’re not even together yet.

Maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

And yet, something tells you it’s not.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere azul #n/sfw #tw: abo #tw: omegaverse #tw: knotting #tw: age gap

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oh-katsuki · 9 months

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bruv… imagining nanami as a 40-something, hair starting to grey… watch wearing… man… does something to my body.

imagining him sitting on the couch in his suit with a glass of red wine in his hand, swirling the liquid in the glass while he watches you, his pretty younger partner, undress. not touching himself, just watching the way you discard your clothing piece by piece like it’s a show, sipping the red wine from his glass. n when you’re done, he gets up with a small chuckle and pats your hip lightly, giving you a gentle little kiss on the lips.

he’s a little too old for those kinds of games at his age. little ploys for attention like that are a younger man’s territory, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t think it’s fun. plus, you almost had him at the end there.

#I’ll shove my WHOLE FIST IN MY MOUTH #something abt him watching us undress #not touching himself but clearly enjoying the show #bruv I’m gonna go fucking crazy insane oh GOD #sorry if this writing is bad #brain hasn’t been working lately #tw: age gap

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dilftaroooo · 9 months

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݁ ִ ࣪⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ "𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙞𝙨 𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙡 "

ﾟ𐦍༘⋆ after some convincing i finally decided to write this nasty lil imagine or whatever this shit is, enjoy, mwah~ (p.s. for the native spanish speaking girlies, pls lmk if i fucked up on anything)

ﾟ𐦍༘⋆ wrd count: 2.2k+

ﾟ𐦍༘⋆ tags/tw: mdni 18+ race/ethnicity neutral + age gap (reader can be from 18 to early 20s! so college aged) + dilf!miguel (mid to late 30s) + don’t trust him he’s using u!!! + afab reader + sweet nothings + spanish petnames + cursing + unprotected sex + miguel is a perv + exhibitionism(?) + expensive cars + money + and big booty bitches (you).

Just thinking of you stumbling upon dilf!miguel as you go by door to door offering to wash peoples’ cars for a few bucks. You weren’t expecting a behemoth to be behind the tall, mahogany, double doors to answer your languid knocks – a handsome one at that. One that stood six-nine feet tall paired with honey drizzled orbs surrounded by hooded lids. Soft tufts of hair shimmered burgundy with silver specks which were gifted to him from prolonged time. His tan skin brightened under the powerful sun but it still wasn’t enough to obscure the fine forehead wrinkles and smile lines that adorned his features.

“Can I help you?” The deep baritone of his voice rumbled so deeply you wouldn’t be surprised if you were to look down and see the bucket of soapy water you brought ripple at its force. It should be you that’s supposed to be helping him. You’re the one going from neighborhood to neighborhood asking uninterested people to wash their cars for some cash that wouldn’t even last you a few days. But a side hustle is a side hustle, you thought. Nothing wrong with a stash for a rainy day.

You take note of how seductively the black wife beater he wore embraced his torso and how his pecs puffed out at you like some majestic penguin in the cool lands of Antarctica, staring down at you, a piece of flopping fish dreading to be eaten as he cocks his head to the side waiting for a response. His shoulders are broad and his muscles are taut and veiny – you ponder on what his reaction would be if you were to trace his veins from his neck down to his finger tips and tell him how badly you want them inside you. Gulping down the saliva that was building up on top of your tongue, you spoke your first words like a toddler.

“Would you, um-” Why couldn’t you finish your sentence on the first try? Did you forget how to speak English? Perhaps that’s only the case around him and a few other gorgeous people you’ve met in the span of your years living on earth. “Do you need to have your car washed – sir? I can wash it for fifteen.” You sounded so weak and frail to Miguel, just like how most college-aged girls sounded when they managed to have some sort of interaction with him – their hands clasped firmly around their elbow as they sway from side-to-side, asking him frivolous questions before poking their chest to get him to catch a glimpse of their cleavage that peeked out from their low cut tops. They all played the same game – a game he always loved to play.

He takes this moment to observe what you had on; a peach colored camisole that matched the flower placed delicately in your hair along with the daisy dukes that revealed your plump thighs. Not too skimpy. At least you were somewhat modest. A cute, weak, little thing you are.

He grins and you can see his crows feet crinkle at the gesture, his canines looking sharper than most. “Of course. Been a while since I’ve gotten her cleaned up.” He reassures you to wait for him as he gets his car from the garage and when you lay eyes on the ‘Ferrari SF90 Spider’ he displayed to you, your eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. It was a car model that you couldn’t even afford to dream of, glowing a dark navy blue with a rear wing that was coated in a vibrant red. Its engine roaring loudly and aggressively, telling you who the alpha is in the midst of asphalt concrete and dotted yellow lines. Miguel twitched at the gasp you couldn’t contain.

“A-are you sure you want me to wash this?” You ask while ogling at the car parked in front of you. This wasn’t a car some teenager bought with the aid of their low minimum wage job at a department store, this was a sports car – a Ferrari! This was something that should be washed professionally. “I’m no expert car washer or whatever those guys are called. As much as I would love to help you I don’t think I’m fit for something so…luxurious.” He lets out an airy chuckle that kisses your eardrums.

“No worries, cariño.” He would say and it makes your heart tremble and thighs clench. You’re not proficient in Spanish. Only remembering the fundamentals you learned when you were still in grade school and several language apps you’ve downloaded on a whim but you heard that word before in several love songs you’ve come across. ‘Darling’ is what it means. An affectionate pet name.

Miguel drinks up your reaction like drinking water in the Sahari desert. It was the last drop left in a flask that was so kindly offered by you, smiling at him with dry lips as he sticks his tongue out, aching for the pure droplet. You were so considerate – not wanting to risk destroying his five hundred-thousand plus car that he deliberately squandered his money on. But it was ok with Miguel. He always has money to spare.

He finally convinced you to do the job and get his vehicle all cleaned up and tidy. You instantly got to work but not before murmuring a sugary ‘thank you’’ and taking your sponge to the roof of his car. You and Miguel would conjure up some small talk such as your hobbies or careers. You’ve learned that he was a father of a little girl named Gabriella. His ‘sweet sunshine’ is what he would call her. You found that attractive – a father who is willing to take care of their offspring with genuine affection. His wife must be lucky…well, if he had one she would be, you think.

Miguel didn’t go deep into explanation at his lack of a spouse. A typical “It just wasn’t meant to be.” fell from his lips as he looked off to the direction of his house. Sensitive topic, maybe. Which is why he decided to shine the light on you. “You’re in college, right? Anyone there sweep you off your feet?”

All of a sudden, you feel coy. Embarrassed and bashful at your answer being a firm “no, there has not, Mr. O’Hara.” There’s a slight quiver in your voice but Miguel can tell that you’re trying to remain neutral and not break into tiny pieces under his watchful gaze. And just like every man thinks when they see an attractive young woman who claims they don’t have a partner, he asks why – why hasn’t anyone stepped up to you and asked for your number in hopes for a date? Why hasn’t anyone paid for your meals at semi-expensive restaurants? Why hasn’t anyone told you they loved you more than anyone they could ever imagine before clasping their hands under your chin, gazing at soft, plump lips before pressing them onto theirs? Why hasn’t anyone dared to run mischievous fingers up the hem of your dress before tasting the sensual keen you let out due to the fingertip teasing your throbbing clit?

Then Miguel remembers there’s a difference between boys and men.

You would notice how sinful Miguel’s gaze is on you. Like a stray cat preparing to pounce on a small alley mouse, the feline waiting as patience is his best friend. The mouse is aware of the cat’s presence and stiffens like a rock. “I just haven’t found the right, uh, time. Though, I would like to…” You try your best to conceal your face, you felt as though he was staring too hard. Miguel adjusts his stance to be directly next to you and you smell his scent – like masculinity, vetiver, and sweat. Your knees buckle.

Then the cat sluggishly leaned in on its prey, familiarizing itself of the little mouse’s smell. “No time for it, huh, amor? Guess pretty girls are too busy for romance, what a shame,” His tsks were faux but they still made you feel bad however you didn’t have the time to empathize with his breath streaming down the curve of your neck and his hand caressing your waist. His hips were practically against your lower back as a result of his staggering height and you can feel his bulge poke you excitedly. “Who will I have to love me at night? It gets so cold sometimes.”

Finally that cat strikes, working its fangs in the fragile neck of the weak mouse. With hands firmly planted on the hood of his sports car, your shorts were practically ripped away from you as Miguel takes its place with his big hand, digits rubbing over the cotton fabric of your panties at the direct spot your swollen clit lays, aching and pulsing for his attention. Your back was securely glued to his chest as he loses his patience and rudely shoves your panties to the side, pushing back your clitorial hood with a skilled finger to hear you squeak like said mouse under the grip of the fervent cat.

“Mr. O’Hara. We can’t. Not out here.” The words exhale from your lips so elegantly as you try to prevent Miguel’s free hand from lifting up your loose camisole top above your breasts, to no avail. They glistened under UV rays and sweat, your areolas were puffy and craved Miguel’s assertive touch. You both were out in the open driveway of his home with dozens of other beautiful houses encasing the area yet there was no one in sight but people still had windows they could look out from. Everyone looks out their window from time to time, right? Maybe not unless they hear the muffled moans and wet squelches coming from outside to which they wouldn’t be able to contain their curiosity and feel compelled to take a quick peek between their blinds only to be met with their hot neighbor ramming the living daylights out of some young woman they’ve never seen before.

Both rocking in harmony as you relish in the filthy pleasure you are both given. The suds from the soapy water covers the expanse of your tummy and forearms as you feel Miguel abuse your guts with the hard tip of his reddened cock. Filling you like a hand in a latex glove, you feel so full, so stuffed, so cramped with all of his veins and precum as he grips a hand around your neck like your favorite, pink, choker – reminding you of oh how dumb you sound taking his dick like the ‘buena puta’ you were made to be. His trimmed, pubic hairs tickled your ass each time he plunged his way back in you after teasing you lightly whenever he pulled out to the head.

“Ay Dios, amor. You’re clenching around me so tightly. You aren’t gonna let me go? Want me to cum in your filthy, young, pussy out here in the middle of my driveway? Have you any decency? Mierda.” He would groan in the shell of your ear. His canines brush against the skin softly and you bite your lip for the fourth time that afternoon as he continued to have his way with you.

“I do,” You pathetically start. “I do have some, ugh, decency, sir. I do.”

“But you’re not showing that to me, love. That isn’t what I see here now, is it? Is this the same girl talking to me while she lets me stuff her full with my cock, hm?” The tap-tap-tapping of his thighs colliding with yours crescendos into a louder pitch, one much more noticeable than a few minutes ago and you wish you could cover yourself with an invisible cloak. He kisses his wet kisses and speaks his sweet nothings as he hovers over your small, mouse-like, appearance with his hulking form. It would have scared you if not for the pecks he left on your body and the conjuring of soft coos he knows you would like to hear.

It was too hot, metaphorically and literally. The sun was blazing and the combination of both of your body heat was not ideal for this kind of weather but Miguel just looks so good fondling your tits and pumping his warm seed into the wet cavern of your insides while he slurs out cursed spanish phrases from his tongue that you couldn’t even bother to pick up, too busy savoring the spurts of cum leaking in your used cunt.

Fortunately, in the middle of your fucked-out daze, Miguel was nice enough to pull the panties and shorts back in their reserved spots (you felt his cum pile up in your underwear as soon as he lifted them up and you shivered at the feeling). You feel something wiggle its way between your hip and the hem of your shorts just for you to look down and catch sight of the wads of cash he stuffed there like you were some cheap whore (perhaps you were).

You glance back up, getting ready to tell him it was only fifteen dollars but he beats you to it by giving you a quick peck on your cheek. It was softer compared to when he was balls deep inside of you.

“Take it. For being so good to me, corazón.” His crow’s feet appear again and you silently wish to give each line a kiss but it was already too late once he turned around and stepped foot into his house, locking his door shut with a loud ‘click’.

©This work belongs to @dilftaroooo. If you see any work similar to mine, please notify me for plagiarism will not be tolerated.

#miguel x reader #miguel smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #astv miguel #tw: age gap

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felswritingfire · 8 months

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Homelander x Chaotic! Hyper Fem!Reader

The Homelander brainrot is real and I hate it with my whole being. I want this man dead, he's so pathetic. Anyway, I haven't watched The Boys but I'm hooked on his character thanks to falling down the rabbit hole with Character.Ai and all the talented writers for The Boys fandom, like? Absolutely scrumptious works. Also I just really wanted to write for a chaotic reader, the hyper fem part came after lmao

TW: This was written with a AFAB reader in mind so there's descriptions of Reader wearing a skirt, no pronouns specified; Homelander's creepiness is considerably toned down for this, but he does break into reader's apartment and actively stalks them; Reader says some saucy stuff; Cussing; Homelander has a panic attack/mental break down; Reader is a horny virgin; Age Gap, it's only mentioned once or twice, but it's still there and prevalent; Gen Z humor- reader is a Gen Z baby, they're in their early 20s

"You didn't tell me that Homelander had a slutty ass waist." The words caught him off guard. They were whispered. Somewhere in the crowd. His eyes fought to stay glued onto the press speaker, his smile twitching ever so slightly. The comment had hung in his head, floating around like a phantom, even as he took the stage and did his speech perfectly. Like always. He preens as the people clap and cheer for him. Then the voice chirps out, in the safety of the cheering and the noise: "Homelander? More like Sluttylander, am I right?" He hears a scoff after that, zeroing in on the conversation now: two women. No older than their mid 20s. "Hey, I mean that respectfully." "You know he's like 20 years older than you, right?" "I'll bend him over and make him call me daddy. I'm not a coward." A cackle. He had scanned the crowd while keeping a smile plastered on his lips. He was curious what foul mouth little shit was talking. Until his gaze lands on… you. You look like the cat that got the cream as you look at your friend who has to hold onto you for support as she giggles and laughs. Your bright eyed gaze moves from her back to him just to tense as you catch his gaze. "Um," you elbow her- Renae- to get her attention and she giggles before she looks and she's freezing too. "He isn't looking at us is he?" She shrugs. "I don't know…" she trails off. You squint before covering your mouth with your hands, talking just loud enough for Renae to hear you but no one else. "Blink twice if you can hear us." It was a joke. There's no way- And then he's blinking. Once. Twice. "Oh bitch-tits." You want to scream, grabbing Renae's wrist, pushing through the crowd. "Fuck, dude, this is going to be my thirteenth reason, I swear to fuck-" He watches the two of you go. He shouldn't be interested. You're just some snot nosed kid. But… how you spoke, the chaotic-ness of it all. The way the light caught your hair, the curves of your body, the way that skirt flares up as you scurry away... he's intrigued to say the least…

💫 Homelander wasn't normally so… interested in the general public, but he had been quick to commit your face and voice to memory. He had actually stumbled upon you, finding out you worked at some high-end retail job. You dealt with snooty people and all the while kept up that pretty little customer service smile despite the clear signs of barely concealed frustration searing under your skin. He could smell the heat of your blood and watched you through the building's walls when you went on break and sat down stiffly, just to scream into your hands. It started out as something funny because he found your misery amusing and then the descent into madness started.

💫 It was like he went through the five stages of grief. At first he had convinced himself that he keeps watching you out of sheer amusement. And then he started to take in more pieces of you: how you took care of things you treasure; how you cared and cooed at the plants that were in your house; how you talked to that damn fish that your treasured so much; your little mannerisms- things he started to find… cute. Then it was denile: no he didn't find you cute he found you amusing. He laughed when you seethed about your toast burning; how you had a breakdown as soon as you got off work because the crushing weight of living in a capitalistic society came crashing down on you; how you talked to yourself like you were having a full blown conversation with another person- you were amusing. And then came the realization and then rage: how dare you make him feel like this? You were just a sniveling little thing. He was a god. How dare you? And then came acceptance. He was… casual when he accepted it. Like all the turmoil had fallen off his shoulders. He was watching you, taking in how you nurtured your "plant children", how you talked to them and wiped the dust off their leaves. It made his heart flutter.

💫 After that, his casual viewings become much more of a time investment as he pays closer and closer attention to you. Every waking moment he has when he's not busy juggling the press and Vought, is spent watching you. Taking in information and storing it in his brain for safe keeping: what you like to eat; your favorite type of plant; your dream vacation; what type of fish you have (you have a betta. He searched them up. He learned all about them to feel closer to you).

💫 Soon enough, observing isn't enough. He starts to go into your apartment when you're not home, looking at the coziness of your space. Taking in the scent and looking at your plants and your Betta fish that flares his gills at him. It makes him snort in amusement. How cute. He'll lay on your bed, shoving his face into your pillows and inhaling deeply, moaning in contentment.

💫 He also starts to "coincidentally" run into you on the streets. He finds it so funny each time you gawk at him. A "holy fuck!" Leaving you as you gesture wildly, "it's fucking Homelander!"

○ He's not too keen on your potty mouth, but he supposes he can let it slide. He's just as bad.

💫 He smiles his charming little smile as he'll make small talk with you, his hands on his hips as he takes you in. He loves knowing how much stronger he is than you and he has to fight hard to keep from popping a boner. You're so fun to talk to, you say the most out of pocket things:

"Yeah, like, almost got stabbed by a homeless man today. Like, 0/10 would not recommend." You said, looking at your nails. Frowning about the nail polish already chipping. "Yeah, well, not many people put 'being stabbed' at the top of their list of things to happen to them." He replies with a laugh, moving closer to you, taking in that mellow perfume you wear. "I mean, I'm down for knife play, but I'm a classy slut. You have to take me to dinner first." He's flabbergasted. He loves it.

💫 He begins to insert himself into your life, taking up more and more of your free time, you don't even notice it at first. How he just… starts spending time at your home. How you two begin a ritual of movie night every Saturday (he forced Vought to make that day his off day. He was not to be called under any circumstance short of the world going to implode on itself). You have so many emotions in that body of yours and he finds it amusing when you gasp or a look of disgust crosses your face at something a character did. You'd be horrible at poker.

"What the fu-" He has an easy smile on his face as he wraps his arm around your shoulders and places his hand over your mouth. Not threateningly. More playful than anything. You simply hold onto his hand with both of yours as you watch the screen.

💫 You catch him off guard all the time. Your girly appearance gives nothing away to the chaotic tendencies. You were the closest thing to an actual agent of chaos he's seen. He once watched you, while you were with that little friend of yours- Renae- run across the street as a group of men cat called you, swinging your purse at high velocity speed, yelling: "I'll fucking end your bloodline!" The men were terrified and scurried off screaming "crazy bitch!" You had given Renae a thumbs up, proud of yourself. He also watched you steal a pro-life abortion sign "saying Jesus wouldn't want this" and javelin throwing it into someone's backyard pool before bolting down the street, cackling. Both times in heels. Both times he was weirdly turned on.

💫 He likes how girly you dress. He loves it actually. He loves all the soft pastel colors you wear and the pleated skirts. It makes you look soft and delicate and he's obsessed with it. He has a tendency to pull at the hem of your skirt, flick it up slightly. You just give him a dead stare and lift up your skirt. "Shorts, bitch." You do it every time and he thinks it's funny.

💫 He hates that you're home screen is a collage of Soldier Boy with that stupid cursive font saying: "my daddy is super dead, but he could still hit it <;3". He hates it and then your lock screen is of your fish.

"Why do you have that?" He asks with disdain. "What?" She asks looking up at him. He rolls his eyes. "Don't play stupid. Why is he your wallpaper? He's dead. He's been dead." Sure, that was his hero but like hell he wanted to see that man's charming smirk on your homescreen. "Soldier Boys is hot." You say it with all the seriousness of someone telling a prophecy. Homelander's eye twitches. "And I'm not." "No. You are. With your slutty waist." She assures him. "But Soldier Boy is the OG daddy." He scoffs.

● He ends up stealing your phone later on when you're not looking and changing the wallpaper himself, having memorized your password.

💫 For as flirty and raunchy your mind was, you were oddly freaked out of genuine touch. The first time he tried to make a move on you, you screamed and almost gave yourself a concussion with how you fell over the arm of the couch. He was stunned until you explained you had issues with romantic touch. "Daddy issues, am I right?" She tries to play it off with a laugh. He is not laughing. Later, though, he starts to find it amusing, taking the chance to make you squirm and blush is so funny to him. He revels in your pain and embarrassment.

● He has killed people who had done the same. Like, actually snapped a guy's neck for it.

💫 He is NOT thrilled when you talk about wanting to rail fictional characters. He actually gets pouty. Genuinely gets pissy. He tries to ban you from watching anime.

"But. Toji hot." "I don't care if 'Toji hot'. He spits. "Toji is a fictional character. You need a real man that knows how to please you." You look at him, eating a spoonful of cereal despite his protests about eating it so late. You chew slowly and swallow. "Toji's got that potent dad nut. It works, John." Homelander practically chokes on his spit at that.

💫 He lets you call him John. He likes when you call him John. Call him John.

💫 He actually tries to be better for you because you've voiced how you didn't like when people get hurt. He tries. Key word tries to be more aware, to be a better person. Just for you.

💫 Absolutely goes insane if you praise him. It's all he wants and all her craves. You've casually complimented him once and he's latched onto it ever since. He's infatuated with your praise. He's like a puppy, looking to you after he did a good deed, looking to you when he does a chore right. It's almost better than sex for him. Almost.

💫 He's elated when you let him lay in your lap. Despite how squeamish you were about sex, you craved physical touch and, guess what? So does he! He's obsessed with laying down and taking in your sweet scent, your fingers playing with his hair as you scroll through your phone. He adores the casual touches you leave on him, adore every time you hang onto his arm. He knows you don't mean anything romantic, but it still fills a hole to have a genuine companion that cares about him in his life.

💫 You've helped him after a breakdown, when his mind felt like it was splitting and his ego was taking in a mind of its own- and then there you were. In all your pretty, pastel colored and pleated skirt glory.

"John?" You say softly, not approaching him just yet. Giving him the space he needs. "Do you need a hug?" He's breathing hard. He didn't know why he came to your apartment. He thought he was going back to his penthouse in Vought towers. But no. Here he was. And you're standing there, confused about your pretty features. The chaotic side of you is completely gone for the moment. He just stares at you. Of course you'd run to some bitch. A voice hisses in his head. We're a god among men and you come crawling to some fucking- He squeezes his eyes shut. Your eyes soften. "Come on." You say, your voice soft and gently. A soft coo to him. "Let's sit you down." You open the door wider for him and he trudges in, looking completely drained. He sinks into your couch and you disappear into your room and come out with a fuzzy blanket. The one you wrap around the two of you have movie night. You drape it over him, gently. "It's ok, sweetheart," you say. "I don't know what's happening but you're safe now." He almost scoffs. No one could touch him. He was The Homelander. But… how you said it. It made his chest ache with something heavy. "Can… Can you hold me?" He practically whispers. "Of course, honey." You open your arms up for him. He immediately melts into your hold, his head pressing against the crook of your neck, his hands desperately clinging to the back of your shirt. He sucks in a breath of your scent before he breaks, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as his sobs into you. He's not a pretty crier. But who is? You run your hand through his hair. Your cheek resting against his head. It feels strange to see a man that could be your father break down. But you had a feeling he was a mess on the inside. All that bravado and charisma making up for an abysmal childhood. It takes him a while to calm down. His puffy eyes blinking, his blue eyes glassy, he sniffles. "Oh, sweetie," you coo, swiping your thumb under his eyes to wipe the tear streaks away. "You look like a mess." You say softly, not to make fun of him. Just to state an obvious fact. He sniffles, glaring at you. You smile at him and he melts.

💫 He won't let you paint his nails, but he wants to paint your nails. He has a pension for picking colors related to him. You make fun of him for it.

💫 He lets you put accessories in his hair. ONLY when it's movie night. He did accidentally go to a meeting with a hair clip that has rhinestones that spelt 'JUICY' on it. The Seven stayed silent and he was embarrassed as hell when he saw it in the mirror of the window.

💫 HE IS ACTUALLY TRAUMATIZED WHEN YOU FIGURE OUT HE WEARS A BODYSUIT OH MY GOD. HE SUFFERS. THAT'S HOW YOU GET HIM BACK FOR MESSING WITH YOUR FLUSTEREDNESS.

"What's up, my cute stick bug." "Shut the fuck up." You are the only person allowed to poke fun at him about that. Anyone else would get obliterated.

💫 If you involve him in picking out your outfits, he has hit Nirvana. He has truly seen heaven. He actually has a pretty solid eye for clothes. But he will take the opportunity to coordinate an outfit that has colors that compliment his hero outfit. If you notice, he'll play dumb.

💫 Anyway, congratulations, you have an OP friend. Until he isn't content with just being friends any more….

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to support me consider donating to my Ko-fi!

#the boys tv #the boys #the boys amazon #homelander #the boys homelander #the boys x reader #homelander x reader #x reader #fem reader #afab reader #kinda nsfw.#tw: age gap #tw: cussing #tw: stalking #tw: breaking and entering #not a reblog.#I messed with one thing and now this fuck ass is eating up my life #shoot me in the foot now I swore no mommy issues man would give me this many emotions and here I am #I AM FULY AWARE HE'S A HORRIBLE PERSON DON'T WORRY #IT HAUNTS ME #Also this is under the pretext of Reader not realizing how much of a piece of shit he is #But I kind of churned these out so...#if you want a part 2 totally ask #I wanna write one with Soldier Boy #also if he was played by anyone else other than fucking Jensen I'd beat the shit out of him. No shield would save his ass from my wrath #say goodbye to your knee peepaw #READER ALSO DOESN'T KNOW THE FULL EXTENT OF HIS MOMMY ISSUES. AT ALL.#READER KNOWS HE HAS ISSUES BUT NOT HOW BAD

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m-ayo-o · 2 months

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NSFW 𓆩♱𓆪 DARK CONTENT

since some of u were curious... here's a few writers/fics i appreciate in the dark content category. many more to be added! warnings on individual fics. most around the 4/5k wc. if u don't like the descriptions don't keep reading.

if anybody wants me to remove their mention or fic please lmk!

megumi

@cursedwriter -> no smut. no comfort. all hurt. heartbreaking.

@duskamethyst -> college au. best friend. manipulation.

@yanderenightmare -> big megumi! < .5k thirst (in love w the description)

nanami fics with annoying/chatty readers

@iwaasfairy -> he's a complete psycho! (murder)

[deactivated account] -> he's not quite a psycho.

gross dad toji stuff

@sutorus -> vanilla vodka. forceful oral.

@chocochipsushi -> full on INCEST. 7k

-> ?/ there was also this toji fic that was ~ 10k+ words - he was an intruder in a rich girl's mansion and he wore a balaclava the whole time /

gojo being a total sweetheart and behaving (for once)

@utahimeow -> cocky husband. bondage. 6k

-> ?/ also looking for a fairly long satoru fic - reader is an assistant to him, they end up fooling around in a swimming pool at a fancy business meeting or smth /

in the dark content spirit, here is my dark smut fic ft. 21+ megumi + toji

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ghostsbimbo · 4 months

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give me a reason - simon ghost riley x reader

cw: implied dubcon, implied grooming, mentioned age gap relationship. a/n: simon is INNOCENT in this. he is helping reader come to terms with the status that they were a victim. simon isn't being a groomer, he's not guilting reader into consent, and they're not in an age gap relationship. title is from dial tone by catch your breath. please stay safe. minors, if you see this: that adult (18+ year old) is not into you. adults, if you see this and you ignore the fact that your friend is talking to a minor in a romantic aspect: you are part of the problem. words: 437.

All I wanted was an answer All I needed was to know Give me a reason I need a reason All those messages I left you All those nights I spent alone Give me a reason 'Cause all that I hear is A dial tone Dial tone

you two have been sitting silence. you didn't know for how long. all you knew is that the crushing realization of you being in a not so great relationship when you were only 14 with an 18 year old wasn't on the plate of things to do today.

"so all my friends....?" you questioned softly. simon sighed softly, simply nodding. you had talked to him about being with an 18 year old when you were 14, thinking it was normal, it was healthy. it wasn't until you noticed the concerned look he was giving you that it wasn't.

you even talked about the multiple times you tried to reach out to your ex, missing them- even going as far to include the fact he tried to get back with you when you were twenty and well past the age of being a legal adult.

you let out a soft sigh looking up at simon. "i'm an idiot, aren't i?" you questioned softly after the long silence of you mentally going over everything in your head.

simon just sighed softly, putting his arm around you before finally deciding to pull you into a bear hug. "no, you're not an idiot, you were a kid blinded by the fact that class mate was just like you and you fell for the attention he gave you." he pressed a kiss to your forehead, slowly rubbing your back - an attempt at him comforting you.

he didn't need to say anything else, you were slowly coming to the realization you were groomed, that your friends even encouraged so much of it all - peer pressure, wanting to be like your friends who were older than you, not wanting to be considered a loser because you were a virgin, and then on top of it all, your significant other making you think you wanted it - when in all reality, you were fourteen. you were a kid, so even if you did think you wanted it, you probably just actually didn't and just gave into peer pressure.

you finally let some tears fall. "i feel so stupid for falling for him." you mumbled. he didn't say anything, he just held you and let you cry until you fell asleep in his arms. thankfully it didn't take long, considering letting yourself accept the fact you were a victim, did take alot of energy out of you.

he stayed though, he stayed just to make sure you felt safe, and so when you woke up, you knew that no matter what, he wasn't going anywhere. you were stuck with him, just like he was stuck with you.

#rat writes #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #tw: dubcon #tw: grooming #tw: age gap #simon ghost riley #tw: dark content #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #mwii #mwiii #cod mwii #cod mwiii #cod mw3

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konigsblog · 2 months

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older-boyfriend simon thots™️...

older-boyfriend simon riley x afab!f!reader...

warnings: age gap (20s-40s), degrading, spanking, authority control, slightly toxic relationships.

older-boyfriend simon riley can't help himself from controlling you. seeing you trying to sneak off to college parties gets him riled up, and the thought of other boys drooling and obsessing over you leaves him pissed off... so, when he catches you sneaking out, with a skimpy skirt riding up your ass, he can't help but get incredibly infuriated at your misbehaviour.

he'll drag you by your hair, grumbling quietly while you whimper, stumbling over your words as you try your best to create an excuse. simon pushes you onto his leather couch, lighting a cigarette between his teeth, growling and grunting quietly and holding your soft hug open with a firm grip.

“quit squirmin’, dollface... take it, like the filthy slag y’are...”

he'll make sure to fuck some sense into your stupid, little head, his lengthy and veiny cock bruising your cervix, making you bite your thumb and cry out painfully at the roughness of his pace.

older-boyfriend simon riley will spank you whilst you're drunk. pouring vodka down your throat, his calloused hand on your throat, running down to your sweet, sweet pussy... being so soft and tender, rubbing your little clit soothingly and gently, before spanking your little cunt, making out with you whilst your body jerks and twists at the pain and ache between your thighs.

“dirty fuckin’ whore, look at that pretty pussy... all wet and sensitive, yeah? never been fucked by a real, older man, have ya?’ all sloppy and wet, so precious when you’re cryin’, drunk...”

#orla speaks #RAHHH give me him !! :(#simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #ghost headcanon #tw: age gap #tw: age difference

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naruto-shipping-confessions · 7 months

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#anti sasusaku fandom #anti narusaku fandom #anti kakasaku fandom #tw: age gap #anti sakura fandom

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oh-koenig-my-koenig · 4 months

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sending him a naughty pic

(cw: age gap 25/41, naughty pics, sexting, masturbating in a bathroom, mdni)

part before: listening to music in his car

In the morning, when I wake up, the first thing I do is send König a message. And a naughty one at that. I lift my phone over my body and my shirt over my boobs, trying to get a good shot. After a few clicks of my camera, I choose one of the pictures, tits on full display, a slight smile on my face, and send it to him with the caption “early morning thinking about you”.

Then I get up and get myself ready to go to work. While I drink my coffee, my phone dings. Twice in quick succession.

👑 thinking about you as well

And a picture of his morning wood poking out of his black boxers which has me on the floor.

God damn it, this man is going to be the end of me.

I hop into the car and shoot him a message before I drive to work.

me: you not gonna do anything about that?

The little ding of my phone while I’m still driving sends a shiver of excitement. I pull myself together and wait to look at the message when I pull into a parking space at work.

👑 about what?

Oh, he’s acting coy now. A stupid little smile forms on my lips as I make my way to my desk. Wrecking my brain what to say next.

me: well, you’re clearly happy to see me… if i was there i’d already have my hand wrapped around you

I press send, feeling very cheeky right now, but I try to shake the blush from my face. I check my emails, answering the most pressing ones, waiting impatiently for his answer. Ding. Ding.

👑 you mean like that?

His boxers are pulled down now, his hand wrapped around his girth. My breath hitches in my throat, my eyes fixed on the picture, taking in every little detail. The black sheets underneath him, the happy trail on his lower stomach, the little vein popping out. The piercing on his tip that has me wondering how it would feel to lick over it.

me: yes just like that although… i couldn’t resist running my tongue all over it taking you in my mouth

Oh fuck, I’m fully sexting at work right now.

👑 yeah? you sure it would even fit? texting with one hand is hard

The last message makes me chuckle.

me: we won’t know until i try… or maybe my hands will need to do all the work while i lick just the tip

I’m feeling hot all over while I send the message, putting the device away like it’s burning me and trying to calm down while I stare at computer screen in front of me.

Just one Ding. I look at my phone and it’s a fucking video. I groan inwardly, looking around. There’s almost nobody here, but I can’t risk being seen watching this on my phone. I quickly grab my headphones and head to the toilet for some more privacy, locking myself in one of the stalls, lowering the lid, using it as a seat.

He sent another message in the meantime.

👑 i can’t stop thinking about yesterday

Yesterday when we fucked in the back of his car. Needy and quick, almost fully clothed. So hard, the whole car was shaking.

His words make me tingle all over, while I hurriedly put my earbuds in, intently staring at the screen as I press play, anticipation halting my breath.

The black boxershorts are gone now, but I can’t help notice them lying beside him on the also black sheets, before my attention gets pulled in by the - uhm - matter at hand.

His strong big hand is moving up and down his length, softer than I would have imagined. Pulling back his foreskin, lazily pumping up his dick. His thumb grazes over the exposed tip, playing with his piercing for a little bit. I want to do that as well, is the thought that floods my mind. Preferably with my tongue. A little bead of precum forms at the top, running down his length, before his fingers stroke over it.

He pulls his hand away for a moment, and I can hear him spit. I groan. Fuck. His fingers grip his cock again, coating it in his own saliva, jerking himself faster now. The grunts and heavy breaths… he isn’t holding back at all. “Fuck.”, he sighs, and hearing him, so close, makes all of this even hotter.

And it feels dirty, but I can’t help it, my hand wanders down to my pants, hastily opening the button, lowering my zipper, my fingers disappearing into my panties, until they find my pussy. Fuck, I’m so wet, holy hell. I bite my lip to stifle any moans as I push into myself, the memories of him doing that heightening the sensations… while I wish it was him again, touching me like this.

Knowing that he is touching himself thinking about me, thinking about what we did yesterday… is turning me on. His little video, with the soft moans and the grunts, isn’t helping either. I press play again, his sounds right in my ear are spurring me on, my fingers frantically strumming over my clit now.

The visuals of him fucking his fist, the memories of him fucking me from the back, his hands digging into my hips, the slaps of skin against skin, our panting breaths...

And when I hear the little “Fuck” again, his voice deep and husky, I cum, pressing my lips together not to make a noise, while my fingertips still stroke over my wet folds. When it subsides, I finally dare to breathe again. This… was definitely something I didn’t anticipate when I came to work today, but I can’t keep the little dirty smile from my lips.

I snap a picture, with my fingers still buried deep inside me, so he knows I touched myself as well. Then I type out the message that has been circling my mind those last few minutes.

me: wish those were your fingers inside me instead

His answer comes quickly.

👑 fucking perfect

A slight smile on my face and a little tingle down my spine I’m still sitting on the put-down toilet lid, feeling the cold tiles against my shoulderblades. I just try to breathe calmly and get rid of the blush that’s surely staining my cheeks, so I can go back to work.

Ding. Ding. I straighten back up in an instant, unlocking my phone, looking at the chat.

👑 you made a total mess of me

A photo attached of his hand and dick, sticky with his cum, little pools of the white liquid on his abs and tummy.

me: and i would clean it all up 👅 👑 you’re killing me me: the french don’t call it la petite mort for nothing 👑 don’t bring the french into this

I have to cover my mouth to not fully burst out into laughter, but our little back and forth pulls me from the naughty little situation and I get out of the stall. I make my way back to my desk, my ears still burning, my cheeks bright red, and sit down on my chair, because those emails won’t answer themselves. I send him another picture of me in this state, obvious that I’m at work and still very flustered.

me: you got me like this at work so don’t ever doubt my interest in you again, big guy

👑 i’m not doubting anything anymore, promise

And he has the nerve to also send me a picture of him, lying there in his bed, against his cushions. One arm holding up the phone, the other one tangled in his hair, deliciously showing off his tattooed biceps. His strong pecs peppered with dark hair. His lips are curled into a satisfied smirk and there is just the lightest blush on his cheeks, that I’ve been noticing on him after he’s just cum. And the lids are hooded a bit, his bedroom eyes gazing into the camera, the familiar mischievous spark in them. Fuck, can he stop being this dreamy?

👑 so, speaking about my fingers inside you… can i kidnap you to my humble abode this evening?

I chuckle a little, but the message only intensifies the blush on my face, while it simultaneously makes me also type faster.

me: yes pls, i would very much like that

next part or more stuff in the Masterlist ~

thanks to @notknickers who i told about my ideas for this little chapter and they gave me even more ideas <3 to our blorbos!

#metalhead!könig #she likes the dark #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

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merakiui · 29 days

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the birds and the bees.

yandere!riddle rosehearts x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, slight dub-con, implied stalking, age gap (riddle is 19 and reader is 29) note - you're hired to teach riddle about the birds and the bees. you need the money. he needs to get laid.

The Rosehearts’s Residence looks about how you expected it to after driving past houses of similar size and grandeur. Unlike you, they’re definitely not strapped for cash. It’s an impressive structure with its elegant wrought iron gates and expertly trimmed hedges. You’re immediately overcome with bitter jealousy when you step through the entrance, passing rose bushes in full bloom. If only your apartment could look and feel as nice as this place. You almost wonder if you should keep Mrs. Rosehearts’s contact in case she ever needs a gardener or a window washer…

But then that risks your cover, and the last thing you want is to get tangled up in trouble with the upper middle class.

Gathering your courage, you smooth invisible wrinkles in your pencil skirt, steady your balance in your Mary Janes—both at socially acceptable lengths and heights—and bring your fist down against the door. Seconds after the third knock, it opens to reveal a woman who looks as prim and proper as the landscape of her home. She takes a long moment, drinking in your formal features, and then smiles approvingly.

“Ah, (Name), you’re early.”

You soften your face into something polite and demure. “Better early than late.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

She steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. You meander into the foyer and are instantly reminded of those exquisite house tours on MagiTube. There’s a fine layer of modest Victorian wealth to the decor. Flowery wallpaper, a lofty ceiling, an aureate chandelier, a vase filled with fresh tulips of all colors… Oh, how you wish you could live here!

“Your home is beautiful,” you comment as you straighten your bow headband.

“Why, thank you.” Her eyes light up once more. “I’ve always admired this neighborhood. Everything is so well-kept. Speaking of which, where did you say you’re from?”

“Oh, I’m actually getting ready to move back to school at the end of the summer,” you explain, narrowly dodging her question. No way I’m telling her I live in a not-so-affluent neighborhood… She’ll totally kick me out. “I’m staying with my parents in the meantime and working a few jobs to support myself.”

“And what was it you’re studying again?”

You paste a hollow smile on, sensing her distrust. I already told you this when we met at the clinic. Do I really seem so suspicious?

“I’m studying to be an ob-gyn.”

“A wonderful profession,” she praises, nodding to herself. “Very wonderful indeed. And how old are you? I merely ask to confirm. There are so many miscreants nowadays. You can never be too sure.”

“I understand completely, Mrs. Rosehearts. I’m—” you almost falter, your real age on the tip of your tongue— “twenty-two. What about your son? You told me he’s also looking to get into the medical field?”

“Not looking. He will pursue medicine,” she corrects sternly. “Just like his mother.”

You swallow your disgust and try not to let it show so openly. Yikes… Talk about controlling.

Mrs. Rosehearts waves you onwards down the hall. “My Riddle will be leaving for his first year of college at the end of August. Though I’m certain he’s more than prepared, it never hurts to review.”

“Absolutely. So you’d like me to give him the talk?”

“Not just that. I’d like you to teach him well enough so that copulation and any other libidinous ideas are the last things on his mind. Stamp them out if you must. He’s to focus on his studies and make good decisions just as I raised him.”

Shouldn’t he already be familiar with this? Besides, he’s not a kid. Of course he’s going to think about sex. Most of us do when we’re horny.

But you can’t say that outright, so you settle for something vastly different.

“It’s important to stay on the right path and be responsible.”

Mrs. Rosehearts nods her agreement. Your stomach twists in discomfort.

On second thought, I don’t want to be upper middle class if these are the people I have to deal with. Is this guy going to have any chance to be social? To live his life? To make and learn from stupid mistakes? I bet he can’t wait to get out of here and go off to school.

“I apologize if this is rude in any way, but I just want to ensure I’ll be paid accordingly.”

“Of course. Good work must always be recognized and rewarded.” She stops at a door. “I cannot thank you enough for lending my Riddle your time. Teach him well.”

“I’ll do just that. You can count on it.”

Pleased with the level of maturity you’ve displayed, she raps her knuckles against the door and calls out, “Riddle, the tutor’s here.”

“Very well, Mother. I’ve just finished today’s readings, so you can send them in,” comes a muffled reply.

Today’s readings? you think, perplexed. Your gaze slides from the door to Mrs. Rosehearts. Does she have this guy doing summer school? That must suck! What a shitty way to spend your summer, cooped up inside filling out workbooks and stuff.

“I’ll be out running errands in the meantime. I trust you’ll be all right by yourself?”

“Perfectly all right,” you assure her, to which she hums and strides past you. You catch her perfume as she departs, and it reminds you of the types of scents worn by saggy, old ladies who have nothing better to do than sit around and complain about the state of the world and the way their children turned out.

In other words, a scent you associate with misery.

You wait until she’s out of sight before opening the door and stepping inside the study. There’s a mahogany desk in the center, and thick textbooks are piled high on either side. Beyond that, beside a big bay window with cream-colored curtains drawn to let in the sun, two large bookcases are packed with an array of tomes. At the front of the room, a blackboard has been built into a wooden frame. Chalk lines the ledge, situated within reach of an eraser. And sitting at the desk, his eyes glued to an open book, is a young man. A pair of round frames sit on the bridge of his nose, slipping ever so slightly down the slope of it when he peers at the page. He pushes them up when he finally lifts his head to greet you.

“Hey.” You wave awkwardly, easing the door shut.

He seems taken aback by your appearance. “Oh, yes. Right. Hello…”

Silence soon fills the space. You wonder if you should just save yourself this nonsensical waste of time and retreat.

“Sooo.” You fold your arms behind your back, rocking on your heels. “Your mother’s probably told you why I’m here.”

“I’m aware.” He shuts his book and stands from his seat. “My name is Riddle Rosehearts. A pleasure to meet you.”

You blink at his outstretched arm. “(Name). Likewise.” You grab his hand and shake firmly.

So stiff…

“So where’re we starting? The basics? You want the whole ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ version or—”

Riddle scoffs and yanks his arm back. “I’m not a fool. I’ll have you know I’m well aware of sexual reproduction and what it entails.”

“You can call it sex. No one’s forcing you to be all biological,” you tease. His body goes rigid, and his face reddens in what you assume is flustered annoyance. “Anyways, since you’re not as brainless as Mother Dearest wants me to assume, I’ll just get into it.”

Riddle stares at you, his arms folding over his chest. He looks like he wants to argue, but instead he huffs and lowers into his chair.

Wordlessly, you undo the buttons on your blazer and shrug out of it. Your blouse goes next, untucked from your skirt and shucked. Riddle’s eyes are so wide they nearly pop out of his skull when he spies the white, lacy false collar that just barely covers your breasts. You’re about to step out of your pencil skirt next when Riddle clears his throat.

“W-What’re you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No?”

“I’m teaching you the birds and the bees.”

“N-Not in that outfit! S-Surely not…” He averts his eyes, crimson crawling up to his ears. “You’re practically nude!”

“That’s the point of lingerie, silly.” Your skirt pools around your ankles to reveal the rest of your frilly ensemble. A black-and-white cupless bra and crotchless panties set, both with plenty of ruffles, held together with a pair of garters. Still wearing matching stockings and your precious Mary Janes, you bend down to gather your discarded clothes. They’re set aside on a nearby chair. “You can look.”

“A-Absolutely not!” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. “Y-You… You’re not decent. It’s rude to stare.”

“Come on. You got past anatomy diagrams just fine.”

Riddle opens and closes his mouth, speechless like a beached fish. Eventually, he manages to gather his coherency. “You’re a tutor, aren’t you? Where’s your dignity?”

“Nonexistent. I lied.” His head snaps over to view you, and he seems so scandalized by your admission that it’s almost comedic. “No way I’m studying to be an ob-gyn. I’m not even in school.”

“What?! But you—”

“It’s fine. I looked the part, didn’t I?” you joke, waving your hand about dismissively. “C’mon, mama’s boy. You’re going off to college. It’s nothing like those stuffy anatomy courses.”

Riddle tries and fails to look at anywhere that isn’t you, his eyes lingering on your chest to the space between your legs to the thigh garter and then to the ceiling. He’s so red you think he might explode.

“You’ve been with a girl before, yeah?”

With lips pursed in a tight line, he shakes his head.

“Sounds about right.”

“And you’re so experienced?”

You flash him a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry about it, mama’s boy.”

“I’m not a mama’s boy!”

“No? So you just let your mother treat you like a little baby at your grown age? You let her pick out sex tutors for you?”

“I—” He stops himself from speaking to mull over your questions. “If it’s what she deems necessary…”

“Because our biggest fear is sexually awkward you knocking up some girl at school, right?”

“I… I would never! Safe sex is—”

“Very important when you’re not trying to conceive. Good boy. See? You know your stuff.”

Riddle’s eyes narrow into vicious slits. You brush his scorching vitriol off and turn towards the board. Procuring a piece of chalk, you scrawl words on it: Birds and Bees 101. Wholly unamused, Riddle folds his arms across his chest.

“Your mother told me you’re gonna study medicine, so you’re probably familiar with everything already. And I’m sure you know all about the baby-making process on a biological level.” You whirl to face him, your tits bouncing with the peppy motion. Riddle swallows thickly. “But just to make sure… Let’s review.”

“R-Review? You don’t mean—”

“What’s this?” Your hands close around your tits. Riddle’s enchanted with the way you squeeze them—the way they depress under your fingers.

“Um… Ahem. Well… T-The breasts. They’re a type of glandular organ located on a woman’s chest, and they’re made up of lots of tissue and fat. There’s the mammary gland—that’s what produces milk. Oh, and then there are the areolas right around the nipples. Those are—”

“You can call them what they are.”

Riddle blinks, shaken from his studious spiel. “W-What?”

“You know the word, mama’s boy.”

He flusters. “Yes, I’m aware. But…”

“No harm in saying it.” You run your fingers over your nipples and giggle sweetly like a schoolgirl. “Go on…”

He inhales a deep breath. “They’re tits,” he mumbles, desultory. “Y-Your tits.”

You clap, beaming brightly. “Well done! Moving swiftly on…” You run your hands down the expanse of your stomach, stopping just beneath your navel. “What’s here?”

“Your womb. O-Otherwise known as the uterus. It’s where a baby grows over the course of nine months.”

“Mhm. Good job.”

He pushes his glasses up his nose, clearing his throat. “There’s more to your reproductive system than the uterus. Lots of parts. Important parts.”

“Right. But I don’t need to quiz you on it. You obviously know your stuff.”

Again, your fingers inch lower until they’re prodding at your folds. Riddle’s breath audibly hitches.

“And this?”

“Your vagina. It’s where—”

“What’s the other word?”

Riddle avoids your stare. “It sounds so vulgar…”

“So what?”

“S-So there ought to be a term that’s more…flattering.”

“Like what?” You approach him and, with the grace of a swan, lift your leg onto the desk to give him a better view of yourself. Shamelessly, you dip your fingers inside to spread yourself. “A guy called it the honeypot once. That pretty enough for you?”

Riddle squeaks and flinches back in his chair, his face now even redder than it was before. “T-That’s fine…”

“Really? I’d have thought the implication in that one is much dirtier than calling it a pussy.”

It takes him a moment to connect the dots, but once he does he gasps. “Ah. Then…”

You press inwards with your fingers, exaggerating a pornographic sigh. “Yeah?”

“Can I… M-May I call it your flower?”

“Sure.” His shoulders slacken with a flicker of relief. Your next words shatter that and his pride in one fell swoop. “That one’s not as special as you think, mama’s boy. I’ve heard it all—every type of flower you can think of.”

“Even a rose?”

“Especially a rose.” His lips twist into a disappointed moue. You chuckle and add, “You can call it a rose if you want. I don’t mind.”

Riddle meets your eyes then, searching them for the joke. When one doesn’t present itself, he relaxes. “All right. It’s a very pretty rose. Soft…”

“Aww. Thanks for saying so. It’s softer inside, y’know. See?” Spreading yourself wider, you angle your hips to bless him with the full view. “My fingers slide right in. Wanna guess why?”

“B-Because the vagina naturally—” He stops himself, his brows knitting together in contemplation. When he speaks next, it’s with a determined sort of conviction. “When you’re aroused, your rose produces a natural lubricant during sexual excitement.”

“Mhm. We call that ‘feeling good and getting wet,’ Dr. Rosehearts.”

“Yes. Y-Yes, I know that.” He eyes your pussy, a ravenous glimmer in his intelligent blue-greys. “And the wetness—it’s supposed to make it feel better. To make insertion easier, I mean.”

“Right again.” You ease your fingers out but not before thrusting them deeper just so he can hear the sinful sounds. They shimmer with your essence, enticing in a forbidden way. “What about the other parts? How about this spot here?” You brush against the hood of your clit, circling it slowly.

Riddle watches, hopelessly spellbound. “The clitoris.”

“I’m impressed. Most guys don’t know about it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“But it’s your most sensitive erogenous zone! Just how uninformed does one have to be to neglect such a crucial part to your sexual anatomy?”

“Woefully uninformed, I’m afraid,” you mutter with a pout. Your fingertips drag your hood up to reveal that pretty, perky nub. “I think it’s dumb your mother wants me to talk you out of sex. You’re going to college. You’re an adult. You’re free to do whatever you want.”

“I…” Riddle frowns at that last line. “I have no interest in it. Besides, it’ll only hinder my studies. If I really need it, I’ll just masturbate. That’s healthy every now and then, and it doesn’t break any rules.”

“Really? No interest at all?” You shoot him a knowing look and run your tongue along your bottom lip. “Because your dick’s telling a different story.”

Riddle sputters, embarrassed, and squeezes his thighs together. His hands fly to cover his lap. “That’s because you’re—” He gazes at the floor. “Because you’re so pretty…”

Temporarily thrown off course, you gape at him. “What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Gathering the remnants of your mask, you piece it together and laugh. “Not the first time I’ve heard someone describe it like that.”

“Not just your pussy.” Your gaze snaps to his. He smiles, impish. “I’m sure you know what I mean, Teacher.”

You exhale a short laugh. “Someone’s suddenly confident.”

Riddle rises from his seat. His fingers close around your wrist, gently pulling it away from your clit. He moves around the desk to stand in front of you and then, before you can comprehend his intentions, he’s pushing you down onto the desk. You yelp at the sudden change in position, your eyes blown wide when he presses his clothed hard-on against your bare pussy.

“You’re doing a poor job at dissuading me from wanting sex.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“Not in that outfit.” He grabs at the meat of your thighs and parts them. “If Mother knew you lied to her…”

You shake your head at him. “Please don’t tell her. I… I’m being serious. I need this money.”

“Desperately?”

Your lip curls into the beginning of a sneer. You hate feeling powerless more than anything, but the fiery glaze in his eyes is just as troubling. “I’m not going to beg.”

“I haven’t asked for that yet.”

You roll your eyes. “Not funny. I agreed to teach you about sex. We’re not actually doing it.”

“A shame.”

“You’ll find a nice girl at school. Don’t lose hope, mama’s boy. Lots of girls like the smart types who’ll give ’em a lecture on biology and stuff.”

“I think you misunderstand. I don’t want other girls.”

“Okay?”

“My mother’s paying for a tutor and I desire you, so unless you want to leave here as a lying cheat…” He hums, seeming awfully haughty to hold the only thing that tethers you to him above your head. “You need the money, right?”

“Yes. Sure, of course I do. But—” You shift on the desk, silently horrified when he rocks against you. “We can’t. Your mother—”

“Weren’t you the one saying I should live my life? That I have the freedom to do as I please?”

“That doesn’t mean—come on; listen to yourself. You can’t honestly think I’d fuck you.”

“No? And yet you came wearing this outfit, parading around the study with your pussy and tits out.” He glances past you at the window. “And you didn’t even bother to close the curtains… How brazen.”

Your attempt to jerk away from him is made in vain. He pins you down onto the desk, one hand squeezing your breast, while the other works to fish himself from his trousers. Now hard and leaking, his cock rests against your stomach. It’s not a terrible size. If anything, it’s perfect. Just right for your tastes.

“W-Wait! It’s not safe. You can’t—” You inhale sharply, bucking up towards his hand when he presses his thumb against your clit. Biting your lip, you fix him with a glower. “If you pay me… If you promise not to tell your mother—”

Riddle leans in close. “No one needs to know. No one but us.”

Your eyes flit about the room. With a withering sigh, you submit to his touch. “You’d better pull out in time.”

Riddle rolls his hips once and his cock drags along your folds. You hiss through your teeth at this new friction, a sinful delight more dizzying than any type of alcohol consumed in excess. “Do you want to be a mother?”

“What I want has nothing to do with you. I’m just—ooh—t-trying to survive. You wouldn’t know what that’s like, so don’t poke fun.”

Riddle hums, kneading your breast and rubbing you to the edge all at once. It’s so very obviously his first time, his zealous nature trumping any sort of experienced technique. It still does the trick, though, sending little bolts of pleasure up your spine.

“My mother wouldn’t just choose anyone. Her standards are very high.” His eyes flick to your face, drinking in your expression as it shifts with restrained bliss. “Somehow you’ve earned her approval.”

“Lying’ll do that.”

“Maybe.” His fingers replicate the motions you did earlier, though with a singular objective in mind. He’s so focused on succeeding in this endeavor that it makes him look so stiff. Under any other circumstances, you’d find it cute. “Mother always knows what’s best for me. Obviously you’ve met her criteria if she’s hired you.”

“Spoken like a true mama’s boy.” Seeing as this is now your unavoidable fate, you reach up to touch his shoulders. He jolts, his initial glare softening. You tamp down another giggle and massage up and along his arms. “Relax a little. Don’t rush so much.”

Or do. Let’s get this over with before your mother catches us.

Riddle traces two fingers along your labia. He’s quiet as he takes all of you in, and when he sinks three fingers into your gooey heat his breath catches in his throat. “Are you… D-Do you feel good?”

You reach for his unoccupied hand and guide it to your clit. Riddle understands the suggestion well enough, for he massages you slowly. Sucking in another breath, you nod at him.

“Not bad. You’re getting there.”

His neglected cock throbs at the praise, and so you wrap your fingers around it to give it the same amount of attention he’s currently giving you. Riddle grits his teeth at the contact.

“You can move your fingers. Don’t just focus on my clit.”

“Ah. Right. Of course,” he babbles dumbly, so swept up in everything that you are, so very eager to please.

You’re like a work of art pinned to his desk, a delicacy more forbidden than anything from the bakery. Sugary-sweet, adorned in skimpy ruche, you’re a temptation laid bare. Delicately, as if you might shatter, he curls his fingers to press up against your insides. Riddle watches you arch up towards him, your hand working his cock maddeningly slow and steady. It feels good—better than anything he could have ever imagined.

His eyes trail from your lips to your tits to your pussy stretched around his fingers. “Do you have any plans for this summer?”

The sudden question catches you off guard. You were expecting something related to sex, not whatever this new shred of curiosity is. Still, that doesn’t stop you from dragging him closer to the edge of ecstasy with every tug of your fist.

“Why?”

“I… I’d like to get to know you.”

“Me?”

“Of course. You’re more than a body to me.”

“How charming. I just—” You frown, unable to follow where he’s going with this. “Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Even though he says it like it’s a fact, he looks shy. “I want to know you.”

“Uh… Yeah… Okay.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Not that… It’s just hard to imagine you having any girl friends.”

Riddle rolls his eyes and grinds his thumb into your clit. You bite back a whine as his fingers pump in and out of you. “Is that space open or closed?”

“You know which one.”

“You could be the one to close it.”

You meet his eyes then. For a short minute, the two of you hold each other’s stare. And then, breaking free from his hypnotic hold, you squeeze his length gently. He shudders, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

“And what about you? You excited for your first year?”

“Mm, yeah,” he murmurs, rutting into your hand. His fingers spread you open, scissoring gently.

“Just make sure to take time for yourself. Have fun. Live.”

“What did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you were at school—how’d you manage?”

“I never went.” He opens his mouth to interject, but you beat him to it. “Couldn’t afford it.”

“Oh…”

“It’s fine! I’ve got plenty of experience in other things. I don’t need school for that.”

Riddle doesn’t believe your feigned optimism for a second. “If you could’ve gone, what would you have studied?”

You release his cock from your hold and reach up to pull his glasses from his face. Gingerly, minding the fragile frames, you set them aside. You lift your index to your lips, effortlessly coy. “It’s a secret.”

Before he can protest, you tap the hand at your cunt next. Riddle’s fingers, wet and shiny, slide out with a slick squelch. “I think you can do it.”

“What?”

“Go to school and study what you want. I believe in you.”

A wooden laugh tumbles from your lips. “Thanks for the encouragement, mama’s boy.”

“I have a name, you know.”

You smile easily. “You want me to call you something else? How does ‘good boy’ sound?”

Even though he tries not to let it show, his cock betrays his reticence with a small twitch. He’s an open book. Not wanting to give you the satisfaction, he lines himself up instead. Your fingers slip down to spread yourself for him.

“S-Slowly…” you whisper, stumbling over your breath as the head of his cock presses inside. Shallow at first before more inches fill you.

Riddle heaves a shaky gasp, his eyes wide with amazement. “I… I’m inside you…”

“How’s it feel?” “Warm. Soft. Snug. R-Really good.” He bows his head and digs his fingers into your hips. You think he has a dozen more adjectives on the tip of his tongue, each one just as fluffy as the last. “D-Do you feel good? It doesn’t hurt?”

“I’m fine.” You wind your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Your hands come to rest upon his shoulders once more. “Move your hips.”

Riddle does just that. His pace is awkward and inexperienced, every motion unsteady and jerky, as he searches for the right rhythm. He falls into it surprisingly fast, and it isn’t long until he’s smoothly rutting into you. You grab at his shirt, your breath coming in reedy huffs.

“Good. You—haa—good. You’re doing good.” Praise pours from your lips like a waterfall, plentiful and refreshing. It invigorates him, fills him with a confidence that wasn’t there before.

The soft slap of skin on skin fills the room. You keep your voice in check, lest you lose yourself and alert Mrs. Rosehearts. Riddle seems to be doing the same, even though it’s obvious he’s struggling much more than you are. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth to suppress his groans.

“You can touch me,” you whisper, petting his cheek. He blinks at you, his face aflame with a bright blush.

Nervously, he reaches for you and then pauses. Contemplation passes over his features. “What feels better? I want you to—no. I will make sure you cum. I’ve studied it, actually. I know how long it takes.”

“Look at you, doing your research like a diligent student. You want extra credit?”

Riddle chuckles and pinches your clit between two fingers. The rest of your teasing tapers off into a lewd squeal. “What was that about extra credit?”

“You’re awfully bold for your first time.”

“I’m not clueless.” His hips press inwards, plastering you to the desk, and his cock brushes that special spot within—the spot that has you seeing stars, your every nerve tingling with pleasure. You choke around a delighted gasp. Riddle, feeling victorious, places his hand against your stomach, as if searching to feel his cock thrust up inside you. “Will I see you again after this?”

“If your mother wants me to come back and give you another pointless lecture on celibacy and safe sex, sure.”

“No, not that. Outside of this.”

“Don’t you have friends you’d rather hang out with?”

“I…do.”

“So spend time with them.”

Riddle doesn’t dignify that with a retort. With the way his eyes gloss over, you wonder just how many of these friends are within physical distance. The conversation stalls out into silence.

“You’ll make lots of friends at school. So many you’ll probably forget all about me.”

Riddle yanks your hips to meet his, driving himself deeper into your pussy.

“A-And you’ll find a nice girl to love if you’re looking for that kinda thing.”

“I am,” he confesses, breathless. “I want to get married and—mmh—start a family one day… I want to study law—become a lawyer… Mother thinks medicine suits me, but I can’t agree. Law is fascinating. It’s a perfect fit for me. Far better than medicine.”

You drag your thumb over your mouth, wetting it with your lipgloss, and then press it to his lips. The indirect kiss sends a tidal wave of arousal over him, darkening the tips of his ears in striking vermillion. You offer him a gentle smile while he recovers from that devastating flirt.

“I’ll make sure to hire you as my lawyer if I ever get into legal trouble.”

“You’d better not!” He laughs and shakes his head in amused disbelief. “But if you do, I’ll be there for you. Always.”

“Thanks, Riddle.”

Maybe I judged him too harshly. He’s not so bad.

In that stuffy study, just as the late afternoon gives way to red-orange streaked across a purple-pink sky, Riddle fucks you against that desk in all manner of rhythms. It’s when he finally picks up speed that you realize he’s nearing his end. You mirror his enjoyment, strung along by titillating touches and whispered words drenched in sweetness. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve reached rapture alongside him, your pussy now brimming with cum. There’s so much it leaks out of your slick hole when he draws away, only to burrow his cock deeper to stuff it back inside.

The room reeks of sweat and sex. You think, if not your disheveled appearance, the smell will definitely tell Mrs. Rosehearts all she needs to know.

“I love you,” Riddle murmurs, and you’re about to ask him what he means—maybe he’s caught up in the moment and doesn’t realize what he’s saying—but then he lifts your legs up to fold you into a mating press. Coherent thoughts are knocked out of your head when he spills over, filling you up for the nth time that day. You shiver beneath him, eyes rolled back into your skull and tongue lolling out. You feel so stupid, fucked submissive by some inexperienced, upper middle class mama’s boy. Which isn’t even an insult with real heat to it, but in your hazy mind it’s all you can think of to describe him.

He grinds against you in the aftermath, panting from the exhilaration and adrenaline.

“We need to…open the window,” you mutter, your heart thumping wildly in your chest.

Riddle admires your fucked-out expression in his sex-drunk daze. He slides out just as he feels himself going flaccid. Cum drips onto the desk below. Briefly, you struggle to recall whether or not you took your birth control today.

Something to consider later. Definitely not right now when you’re still clinging to the vestiges of your orgasm.

— — —

Mrs. Rosehearts knocks on the door, opening it to find Riddle sitting at his desk, jotting notes and occasionally pushing his glasses up. You’re standing at the blackboard, writing a list of the consequences of unplanned pregnancies. The room smells pleasantly of roses.

“Pardon my intrusion.”

You gaze at her and smile, wearing the clothes you arrived in. Nothing’s amiss. It’s perfect—thankfully. “Welcome back, Mrs. Rosehearts. We’re just about finished here.”

“Is that right? I assume all went well?”

“Very well. Your son’s a fast learner. Extremely talented.”

“I would expect nothing less.” She withdraws an envelope and hands it to you. “Thank you again for explaining it in realistic terms. Of course I doubt that my Riddle will act senselessly while he’s away, but as his mother I’m prone to worrying. Boys his age are so easily influenced.”

“O-Of course! That’s a very valid concern.” You force a chuckle.

If only she knew.

“Your pay is in that envelope. Should I ever require your assistance again, I’ll be sure to call.”

“Right… Thank you.” You hold it close to your chest. “I’m happy to help.”

You follow her out the door. She pauses to address Riddle. “Do continue reviewing your notes. We’ll convene for dinner in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Mrs. Rosehearts walks you to the gate. “I wish you luck in your studies. If I don’t see you again at the clinic, have a pleasant summer.”

“Thank you. You as well.” You smile, fidgeting slightly. A bead of sweat tracks a path down your leg from between cum-spattered thighs.

Finally! With this I can pay my rent and still have enough for a treat from the bakery.

It’s worth it, or so you continue to tell yourself.

— — —

From the window, Riddle watches you make the walk to your car. He lifts his phone to fit you in the camera and snaps a secret photo. He continues to watch you until you’ve driven off and turned the corner, disappearing from his sight.

A tiny smile tugs at his lips.

Within his phone, put under a password lock, a special photo album exists. It’s filled with pictures taken from your social media—all of them. Every. Single. One. He’s resourceful when he wants to be. He can play the parody of a tech genius when he sets his sights on something.

And you’re just perfect.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle x reader #yandere riddle #yandere riddle rosehearts x reader #n/sfw #tw: age gap #tw: dubcon #tw: pregnancy mention

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oh-katsuki · 1 year

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i can’t remember if i ever posted this but it is, once again, from the drafts

cw: fem!reader, slight age gap, reader is gojo’s sister’s best friend, mentions of fingering, mentions of alcohol and parties

you’re gojo’s sister’s best friend. you both met in college and graduated together, eventually living in the same city. and satoru... well, satoru has always had kind of a thing for you. it really only became noticeable though, once he entered university.

satoru is a momma’s boy. a good kid and an even better student. he’s younger than you by three years, just barely 21 while you’re 24. he’s still in university, a bit on the wild side but who isn’t at that age? especially when they look like that.

but you’re grown. you’re mature. you’ve got a 9 to 5 job working for the man. you really can’t be wasting time with your best friend’s younger brother. no matter how hot he is now. no matter how sly he is, or how charming you find that mischievous grin he wears. really, you’re too mature for this. he’s too juvenile, too wild. you want to settle down. meet a man who is ready for that and he simply... isn’t.

but he’s so charming. you see him sometimes when you visit with his sister. stopping by his apartment when she drops something off or picking her up from his place after she spent the day bumming around and being a general nuisance. but the way he thinks of you becomes painfully obvious at parties.

you go at his sister’s request which is really his request. and he’s always so attentive to you. he asks you things. how the party is, if you like the music, if you need another drink, if you know just how good you look tonight. it’s all the same somewhat flirty spiel of questions accompanied by that familiar grin. like a predator. like someone astutely confident in their ability to bag someone.

satoru should be confident. in all his 21 years, he’s never had any trouble getting what he wants, especially not when it comes to women. he’s a smooth talker with a pretty face and social skills most con men would kill for. really, he’s a knockout.

he really puts the moves on you at parties too. leans in close, touches your thigh when he talks, shamelessly let’s his eyes rake over your figure. but you always respond the same. come back in two years. that’s what you tell him. and satoru always responds that he’s always been into older women. he’s got a thing for them. well, he has a thing for one older woman.

“i’m not into younger guys.” your response is firm, teasing. because you do have a thing for one particular younger guy. really, at this point it’s just pride. you’re both mature. you’re both adults. you just don’t want to admit that the gap you see between him and you is nearly nonexistent. it would give him too much satisfaction.

satoru just leans back, drumming his fingers along the fabric of the couch because he knows you’re lying, at least when it comes to him. he’s really too smart to have not figured it out. but he clicks his tongue and smirks at you, the kind that turns his eyes to slits before speaking his response. it’s easy in his mouth, practiced, and certain. “for now.”

you watch him go. you watch the broad expanse of his back, the way you can see his muscles through his shirt, the pretty face he sports so effortlessly, and his large hand that dwarfs the cup he holds.

it’s only pride because you’ve been lording your age over him since your last year of college when his sister finally let you meet him. you’ve been holding it to him that you’re in charge because you’re older. because he’s a freshman in university and you’re a senior and what you say goes. but you were wrong about this.

satoru proves it to you through this little dance you do, through his blatant displays of attraction, through the way he flirts and eventually, the way he fucks. because satoru fucks like he’s made for it, like he knows your body like the back of his hand.

satoru asks you while he’s knuckle deep if you still think you’re in charge. months of pent of attraction, of pent up emotions lingering between hate and desire come to a blinding apex. you think—as he makes you come on his fingers and then on his cock—that maybe hate and desire aren’t opposite, but adjacent.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru x reader #jjk smut #MINORS DNI #[ 📕 – writing ]#ive forgotten how to tag and post on here #tw: age gap

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highpri3stess · 1 year

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He's Got Me Like Nobody - Nanami Kento x Reader

Pairing: sugar daddy! Nanami Kento x fem!reader

Summary: You swore that you would never lose yourself to a man who only knew how to hurt you like your mother. But when Nanami Kento came into your life, you realize easily you and your mother might not be so different after all.

Warning: non-curse au, HEAVY ANGST, dubcon, age gap relationships (nanami is in his 30's while reader is in their 20's), sugar daddy/baby relationship, toxic relationship, power imbalance, implied smut, fingering, angst to "comfort"

monica's notes: please reblog and comment if you like this. an old fic i decided to bring back cause i love it sm.

word count: 3.8k

rated 18+ minors and ageless/blank blogs dni

Join my taglist: @lovelygeniegirl1012 @obitohno , @happygoluckyalexis , @mastermindenoshimaalicia , @yuujispinkhair , @haitaniwhor3 , @galactict3a , @bontensbabygirl , @linn-a-a @leilalago @crackheadwithtoes

network: @tokyometronetwork

RIGHT from your childhood, you were always, always careful with your whom you trusted your heart with, especially after your father had repeatedly left your mother a broken woman whenever he came back to her. You swore that you would never become what your mother was, that you would never lose yourself to a man who only knew how to hurt you.

But when Nanami Kento came into your life, you realize easily you and your mother might not be so different after all.

"Class dismissed."

You snapped out of your haze to return to the reality you found yourself in, annoyed at the fact that your brain refused to cooperate with you yet again, instead, finding pleasure in reminding you of your devastating separation from the only man you fell in love with when he made it painfully clear what the relationship was supposed to be. Picking up your bag from the backrest of the hardwood chair, you got up abruptly, stuffing your books and lecture materials into your bag before running out of the room to avoid the shy glances of a doe-eyed college boy trying to ask you out on a date and having to reject him altogether because you felt no one could make you feel the same way you felt with him.

It was too painful for you. It was painful because you were still grasping onto straws that didn't hold substance, hoping that he would change his mind, he would run after you and follow you until he won you over. It was naive- you were naive- to think that love conquers all and your endurance and labor of love will mean something to the blonde-haired man.

Nanami Kento has already known what love is like, the woman he loved is probably out there and you were just a hole for him to fulfill his needs and to help with his daydreams of her.

That was what he paid you for, isn't it?

Perhaps that was why he decided to break it off as soon as he noticed how clingy and desperate you were for his affection. He was kind to start by saying he wasn't interested anymore, but that died as soon as you started weeping, begging him not to let you go and spewing out a love confession that would haunt you for the rest of your life. The look of annoyance that crossed his face before he calmly told you to stop this nonsense and grow up, etched into your mind like a cave wall painting.

Did you really expect a happily ever after as his cute trophy wife? How disappointing.

You truly knew it was over as soon as you saw him with another woman at your new place of work, smiling and having a good time in the restaurant. Fate was even crueler as you were their waiter, taking their orders and acting as professionally as you could. You were immature, not petty and you didn't want to risk your job. Besides, he acted like he didn't know you, so why embarrass him in the first place?

You shook your head out of the depressing clouds as soon as you stepped outside, taking out your portable umbrella as you braced the storm happening in front of you. You had a part-time job to get to with no excuses for being even a minute late. This is your life now, not with Mr. Nanami helping you out, but with you working out your money using your own hands.

Finally getting into a bus, you decided to prepare your mind for work and plug in your earbuds as you watched the cars and buses go by on the road. It was pretty, you've always thought it was pretty as a kid how the lights blended in the evening time and you adored the way it kept your attention when you traveled or ran around.

Life's been tragic, but at least you still had this all to yourself.

By the time the bus got to your stop, the rain had subsided a bit and you quickly ran into the back of the restaurant a few blocks away to avoid the impending heavy downpour that was coming your way again. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as soon as you entered the building and heard the heavy rain continue, only getting worse as you got dressed in your uniform again.

"YOUR services requested at a table in the VIP section." your manager told you quietly, placing three menu cards on your hand and giving you a slight push forward. "Be extra cautious, these men are very important people and we don't want anything to get them annoyed."

"Got it." You said with a smile on your face, adjusting your posture and walking up to the stairs leading to the VIP section, giddy because it meant you were probably going to get a good tip or a good experience if they liked you well enough. Last time, you met an elderly couple who were on their 50th anniversary here and talked with them about how you admired their love, genuinely happy that they have had each other for so long. This time, you hoped that they were at least calm and gracious enough to hold a decent conversation with you.

Your happiness died as soon as you saw a familiar blonde-haired man sitting across the table booth, brown eyes glued onto the phone with his usual frown etched onto his features. Your heart sank further as soon as you saw with him were his friends, a white-haired man grinning widely at the dark-haired man as they both shared a joke about how stuffy Nanami was on their "dinner date" that he organized.

"We're merely having a get together that the two of you forced me to have," You could hear the spite in his smooth, deep voice as he snapped his attention from his phone to the two other men. "not a date. Refrain from calling it that." he snapped before asking where the waiter was.

With dread weighing down further on your bones, you took a shaky step forward with a false smile on your face before saying "Good evening sirs, welcome to (name of the restaurant), here are the available options we have for tonight." in one breath while handing out the cards nervously. Your heart dropped as soon as you saw Kento look at you as if he did not know you in the first place, but you told yourself that you would respect both him and you out here in public by grinning and bearing the look of indifference.

The other two men though stared at you with a look of recognition but decided to put it off as they took the menu off your hands and began to look at it like giddy little children.

"Hmm, the squid soup option looks rather good." You heard the white-haired man, Gojo Satoru, utter softly to himself, quite skeptical of what he wanted. You took it as an opportunity to nudge him into a direction so that he doesn't become indecisive and make it more difficult for you.

"I heard from other patreons that the squid soup is absolutely delig-"

"Be quiet."

You froze up, not understanding what you had just heard Nanami say until he continued talking to you, letting it sink in.

"You talk too much for a waiter, be quiet and wait for him to order." He spoke in a calm yet full of disdain for you. "You do not dictate what someone wants, do you understand?"

You felt like a little child that was being scolded by your father, and uncomfortable wasn't even beginning to describe how you felt as the pitying eyes of Gojo and Getou fixated on your statue.

"Yes sir." You replied quietly, bowing your head in shame, trying to hide the tears prickling your eyes. "I am so sorry," you added, nervousness overtaking your body as he still stared at you as if your presence had flipped a switch inside him.

"You know what, call your manager." He demanded now, despite Gojo's alarmed response, telling him to calm down at least.

"What?" You blurted out carelessly, eyes widened in shock. "Wait, I didn't do anything wrong-"

"What is going on here (name)." your manager called out, rushing to the scene. They had come to check on your progress only to see you in trouble already with one of them. "Sir, what happened?" They faced an annoyed Nanami.

"Is this the type of staff you employ in my restaurant?" he began as soon as he faced the manager, hands folded across his chest. "Rude people, who interrupt a customer?"

You felt your heart drop to your stomach as soon as you heard those words and you knew what was coming next. In between the few exchanges between Nanami and your manager, you didn't bother to waste any time waiting until he fired you himself, you weren't going to give him another win by letting him chase you away again. Instead, you decided to pull off your apron and drop it on the table, getting everyone's attention directed at your actions.

"I can't keep doing this to myself anymore." You muttered to his hearing, your teary eyes glancing back at him before turning on your heels and running off after bursting into tears, covering your mouth to hide your throaty sobs. Ignoring your coworkers asking you what was wrong as you stormed into the dressing room to take back your regular clothes and neatly fold the uniform you donned previously. You pretended not to hear your manager trying to call you back and talk to you as you sprinted headfirst in the rain, not caring if your books got wet.

Your wails were loud and pitchy, drowned under the heavy rainstorm as you ran, not able to contain your pain anymore. Why, why was everything going so wrong for you with this man? Why did everything just end up wrong for you whenever he was involved?

Why did life have to make you suffer over and over again?

You were too deep in grief, you didn't even realize that you were now in the middle of the street until you heard a car horn and it was too late for you to move out of the way.

THE last thing you could remember was being barely conscious as you were being wheeled into an ambulance, the concerned face of a worried-looking woman who almost ran you over sitting beside you in the ambulance while they treated you for shock. From what you could hear in your hazy state, Ms. Ieiri was a doctor, that was why they were quick in arriving at the scene. You may not have gotten hit, but you had passed out and taken a hit on the tar road badly, so she was worried you might have gotten a concussion.

At least you figured that's why you were here.

Your eyes had adjusted to the light finally, darting around to see that you were in a hospital bed and a private ward. Panic began to set in as soon as you realized all the medical bills that would pile up if you stayed here. That alone made you stand up from the bed in fear and run towards the door but before you could open it, Dr. Ieiri had beat you to it, a look of relief crossing over her face as soon as she saw you awake and standing on your feet. Behind her, the familiar blonde-haired man who had caused you nothing but pain towered over her, and you swore that a look of relief crossed his face as soon as he set his eyes on your figure.

"I need to leave." You whimpered softly, resisting the urge to push through them and take to your heels as you initially planned. "I can't stay here, I can't pay the bills-"

"Don't worry." Dr. Ieri cut you short. "You're free to go now that you're awake. Luckily you didn't hit your head that hard to have a concussion, but there's swelling and you need pain medications-"

"I'll put some ice on it, I'll be fine," you said quickly, now pacing around the room to find your book bag so that you could leave. "I don't want any more extra bills that I can't pay for and my students' insurance only covers accidents with serious injur-"

"I've covered your bills."

You froze in your spot, his calm voice wafting through your ears and stirring up hot white fury in your heart waiting to burst out from your chest.

"You didn't need to." You said angrily, not being able to bury your anger anymore. "Where's my bookbag?" your voice was trembling as you said each word while scrambling aimlessly for your bag.

"It's in my car. We're going to stay at my house this night, it's too late to start driving back to your university, and a young woman like you shouldn't be out this-"

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" You screamed in anger, not being able to take it anymore. Why the pretense? "I DON'T WANT YOU NEAR ME! GET OUT!"

"(name) don't start this her-" he began, trying to get closer to you only for you to throw a pillow at his face hard.

"Get out! Get out of my life! Stay away from me and take your filthy money with you!" You yelled, now alerting hospital staff who thought you had lost your mind. "Go away and leave me alone! Isn't that what you're good at? Just leave me alone and stop making my life miserable!"

Ieri rose her hand to stop the staff from holding you down and let Kento take care of it instead. He braced your punches and slaps until he held your hands above your head and waited for you patiently to calm down.

Everything seemed not to ever work in your favor, because in the end after your curses and insults, it was either you went with him or you end up in a psych ward for your unusual behavior.

THE city looked breath-taking from the view of the master bedroom of his penthouse -one of the many he owned around the entirety of the country- your eyes never leaving the window as you avoided eye contact with Kento who lay upright on the opposite side of the bed typing away on his laptop. After trying to talk to you and being met with only stone-cold silence, he had given up, deciding to just drop the things you might need for the night on the bed then leave you alone.

"How much was my hospital bill?"

His jaw clenched tightly at your question; why were you always so damn persistent when it came to him? Why couldn't you just be like other people who accepted his kindness and left him alone?

"Don't think about it." He finally answered you exasperatedly, not tearing his eyes from the laptop. "Just go to bed, you have school tomorrow," he added with a hint of concern in his voice. You ignored his gentle tone, discarding every idea of him caring for you deep down.

"I'll pay you back," You insisted, now turning to face him, adjusting his button-up nightshirt that you wore so that you won't expose much to him. "just tell me-"

"Why are you so persistent?" He hissed in annoyance, putting his computer aside to face you. He paused in his tracks as soon as he noticed you flinching away from him, and took a deep breath. "Just leave it alone, (name)," He concluded, lying on his side and getting ready to sleep. "I'm tired, we can argue-"

"You're tired huh?" You scoffed, now getting up from the bed. "You think you're the only one that's tired?" you continued, pacing around the room until you reached his dresser mirror. "Do you know how much you've put me through? Do you think I like being persistent? That I enjoy grasping straws like hoping you wouldn't hurt me or break my heart as you did?" Your voice shook as you stared at your tired features in the mirror. "Kicking me out because you felt I was getting too clingy? That me doting on you was so pathetic to the point you couldn't stand it? Or you felt my hole wasn't tight enough for you anymore?"

You instantly regretted the words that came out of your mouth as soon as you saw him throw the covers off himself and storm towards you within seconds, eyes blazing in fury. You gasped as soon as you felt his thick hand grasp your chin firmly to look at his unreadable facial expression that only seemed to scare you even more.

"We agreed that if any one of us began to have feelings for each other, I have the right to terminate the contract." He reminded you, his hot breath fanning your terrified face. "You knew what you were getting yourself into and you still agreed." His voice got colder as he held your chin. "Why am I being blamed for your oversight? Do you think I would be stupid enough not to see that you were already hung up on me? I was trying to do what's good for you and me!"

You flinched at his angry tone, eyes closing in pain as he continued using his harshest voice on you. You were done with all this drama happening in your life, you just wanted to leave this place and head back to your comfortable one room apartment.

"I hate you!" You whispered out, now wishing you could hide away your face as tears rolled down your cheeks. "Why couldn't you just leave me alone? Why didn't you just let me move on with my life?" You broke down, body shaking with sobs. "Today at least, why couldn't you just let me be? I was moving on, I was doing my job and yet you still saw it as a way to demean me like when we were together?" You cried out and he let go of you, leaving you to fall on your knees and hug yourself tightly. "I get it, I'm nothing but a stupid broke young woman to you, what do I know anyways?" You gave a broken laugh in between sobs. "But that's not an excuse for the way you consistently treat me poorly."

The room was quiet after you uttered those words, save for your sobbing and his heavy breathing bouncing off the walls until your sobs quietened and he calmed his breathing down. Without another word, you got up from your kneeling position and walked into his personal bathroom, washed your worn out face and walked out of the master's bedroom to his living room and sat on the loveseat, hugging your knees to your chest in silence.

You weren't in the mood to sleep in his house, let alone sleep near him and you didn't want to bother anyone you knew to come by midnight, to pick you up, neither were you ready to answer the questions that would arise from you coming out of this fancy house.

You decided to wait for six am to come while you sat in the darkness. You didn't want to talk or think anymore, you had done enough of that for the past months now.

You just wanted to enjoy the darkness on your own.

"Why are you still down here? You need to sleep."

You kept silent as you felt the other side of the chair dip down beside you, the moonlight being the only source of illumination in the room. You didn't bother to reply him, hoping he'll get tired of waiting for you to answer him and leave.

You didn't expect him to continue speaking to you until he cleared his throat and shifted himself closer to your body. "Okay, you're right, I didn't treat you with respect when we were together and even now, I'm very sorry for that." he began apologizing, his eyes glued to you as he spoke. "I could have handled my emotions better than what I did and I should have talked to you about it instead of cutting you out like that."

You didn't reply to him, only paying attention to your fingers despite your heart palpitating, almost as if it wants to burst out of your chest if you weren't careful enough.

"(name), let's go to bed now, it's late," he called out softly, his large veiny hand slowly resting on your exposed thigh, earning a soft gasp from your lips as his thumb circled softly over your flesh delicately. You hated how your brain turned into mush whenever his soft, well-manicured hands rubbed your thigh gently. He knew he still had the power to use his touch to send you into overdrive, and push you into melting in his arms, willing to do anything for him.

And unknowing to you, the feeling of your skin underneath his thumb always made him weak in the knees, wanting nothing but to hold you against his chest and make you stay with him forever. Perhaps that was why he kept on pushing you away harshly to the point he hurt you, his greatest regret.

Ironically, it was him who was childish and ignorant. When you decided to move on with your life, it was him who kept tabs on you and pushing you to fight for him because he was a coward, he wanted you to think he was coming back to you out of pity, not because he's obssessed with you.

And he still is a coward, using dirty tactics like rubbing your thighs to get closer to you until he was hovering onto your side in the vulnerable state you were in and pressing his thumb against your lip to part it slightly open for him before pressing his against yours, skilled tongue swiping on yours as he kissed you eagerly. You felt ashamed when just a simple, hot, seductive kiss made your dull nipples perk in attention and the pearl in between your legs throb in anticipation, but that shame was pushed at the back as soon as he broke the kiss, his hand on your thigh snaking under your shirt to play with your covered womanhood and earning heavy, loud gasps from you.

"I missed that sound," you heard him mutter against your skin as he rubbed your clit with his thumb over your pink underwear, making you squirm and fall under his spell again, coming undone as he worshipped your body on the couch that night.

At the end of the day, you were in his arms again despite the pain Kento has put you through. You knew you wouldn't forgive anyone else who hurt you like this, but I guess there's an exception to every rule, huh.

find the rest of my stories on my masterlist

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