#Still can't get over the Sir Sir
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
mochiajclayne · 5 months ago
Text
I love shipping Doflamingo and Crocodile. They canonically interacted once. Conversed like divorced couple whose been fighting for custody for over a decade but the paperworks went only through last week. If romance is dead, why ask to join hands in the middle of a war? Doflamingo fake idgafucker and relatively bitching about Crocodile allying himself with Whitebeard. Strong "pookie this ain't you" energy but Doflamingo say that shit just to piss Crocodile off. Parallels between Baroque Works and Donquixote Family. Defeated by the same rubber guy who is sunshine incarnate. Mutual hostility and perfectly toxic for each other.
143 notes · View notes
goldentigerfestival · 7 months ago
Text
I love the vocal nuance in this exchange, but also posting this for my differences posts because this is one of the changes that infuriates me the most. Yuri didn't threaten Ioder, did not threaten him with a weapon, and just said he'd punch him in a lazy, half joking voice (half joking as in, he really doesn't want to hear that - that's just his way of saying so; but that's not the voice of someone who is super angry and threatening).
My other huge grievance is that this is a recurring issue between them in the dub. Yuri is pretty much always vocally rude to Ioder. Ioder has done nothing to wrong him or anyone and has only ever done good for the people where he's able to.
Yet despite Ioder being nothing but sincere, honest and polite with Yuri, in fact even happy to see him here and there, dub Yuri is outright tonally rude to him leading right up this scene where he threatens Ioder in this dark voice. Meanwhile he's actually just supposed to be… lazily telling Ioder he'll punch him in his Yuri Lowell way of saying "I don't want to hear that".
The dub really just wanted to turn Yuri into this dark edgelord and I hate that for my goofy, silly boy.
#GTF Vesperia Clips#honestly JP Yuri talks abt punching ppl often enough that it's like... this should have been an easy tl#and like honestly wtf is with the dub having Yuri at Ioder's absolute THROAT every time they talk#I'm serious when I say dub Yuri genuinely pisses me off sometimes bc he's an asshole for NO reason#it's not cool. I'm not rooting for him. I'm rooting for someone to punch him in the face for being an ass#JP Yuri would love to do it honestly he's always up for punching ppl it's a recurring theme for /him/#I've never wanted to punch JP Yuri in the face. I've wanted to punch dub Yuri in the face multiple times#that's enough for me to recognize that the dub took more than just ''creative liberties'' with the loc#it SUCKS too bc the dub in and of itself isn't bad. I've said this before but#it really is primarily Yuri and his absolute ATTITUDE problem /and/ the way the dub treats Flynn and puts him down constantly#and unfortunately often uses Yuri to do it... when they're not having Flynn himself do it#all always in areas that never even happened originally. they just literally made it up#still not over how they had Flynn basically berate himself by saying ''like a /good knight/'' at Yormgen#the dub very clearly had a /narrative/ bias against imperial figures/knights that wasn't in the original#what was the reason to drop Sodia calling Yuri ''sir'' at Aurnion? there wasn't one!#but Sodia BaD so we can't possibly let anyone see her character development and have to hide it from dub players!#unfortunately for me the dub not being bad in and of itself truly is trumped by#its treatment of Yuri and Flynn as characters and the way the game narratively directs players#for me it really is THAT BAD that it's stronger than the rest of the dub being just fine#and it really truly honestly RUINS the entire dub for me bc I love Yuri and Flynn and hate seeing them treated like that#I mean literally the whole point of me making those text posts is bc of my love for Yuri lol#and it's so sad and hard to see dub players not get the same Yuri experience simply bc... they don't even know#a lot of people didn't even realize how different he was and like... I get loving Troy's acting#but again Troy isn't the problem here. I don't want a dub that treats my favorites the way it does#I WISH Troy could have voiced Yuri the way he really is. in some way for me it feels very lonely#bc like the casual person I pass by who knows Vesp isn't likely to have not played the dub you know??#so it's like... I wanna talk abt Yuri but we aren't even talking abt the same Yuri#nearly outta tags lol but yeah it just... makes me SO sad that they did all this to those two
6 notes · View notes
s0lemnhypn0s · 10 months ago
Text
not to be a gatekeeper unironically but i genuinely feel a very, very small percentage of people actually understand crocodile. and if you think you're in that small percentage you're probably the exact kind of person I am talking about. Not to be mean but to be mean.
this is mainly directed at genderbenders and dofuwani shippers. neither of y'all understand crocodile and do not deserve access to him
#I could rant for forever about how much dofuwani shippers COMPLETELY misunderstand Crocodile as a character#Talking about (Omg twice divorced dofuwani) as if Crocodile would ever lack the self respect to marry or even datd doflamingo#In the first place#I have that damned tag filtered out but it still gets on my page#and before anyone comes at me with (Ugh can't you just have fun hes just a character) no im autistic and i rarely take shows as seriously#As I do One piece#And I take crocodile even MORE seriously#(omgggg dofuwani scene) and its a scene of crocodile telling Doflamingo they arent on the same level and that he'll kill him#That isn't Crocodile playing coy or hating him but loving him#When crocodile hates he HATES#Crocodile doesn't stand for disrespect! He doesn't stand for bitches like Doflamingo! I genuinely doubt you understand the first thing#About Crocodile if you ship Dofuwani#ok rant over#don't bring dofuwani on my posts#Crocodile genderbenders are a whole different can of worms ive already talked about#1pc#sir crocodile#DONT EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE FACT DOFLAMINGO IS A CELESTIAL DRAGON#why in GODS fucking name would crocodile EVER want someone who was a celestial dragon and actively lusts for the power he had as one#And you know#I actually did ship dofuwani before I actually got to Crocodile and Doflamingos intros#Then I got to it and was like wow. this ship makes zero fucking sense#Also like Doflamingo is implied to be a rapist and a very canon human trafficker but. whatever!
14 notes · View notes
nobodybetterlookatme · 1 month ago
Text
Tumblr media
Okay once again, it wasn't actually a date ahsjajkzka like I never said it was and he didn't say anything about it so it Was Not A Date. But it was cool, nothing very noteworthy lmao like we ate and then we just kinda walked around and looked at things until it got too dark for me to continue being chill, so then we drove around for a while and just vibed. Literally the same things we always do except it wasn't fast food this time lmaoooo
#not snz#like it really wasn't that exciting we were just vibing lmao sorry to disappoint#also i tried to pay and he wouldn't let me so i feel bad now 😭#like bro wouldn't even go for splitting or separate like wtf 😭😭#and he made me jaywalk bc it was 'quicker to get to the car that way' like excuse me#we use the crosswalk here sir#in his defense tho it was dark and i didn't like the area we were in so i got a little panicky lmao#saved us maybe five minutes of having to walk all the way back to the crosswalk#no but it fucking felt like the source just trust me bro meme the way he was trying to tell me it was fine lmaoo#but he grabbed my hand before we ran across the road so 🥰#he let go immediately after but still 🥰#like i know he only did it bc my fire coworkers have told him about all the times someone has had to come rescue me#long story short sometimes we have to cross the streets with no crosswalk and i get stuck every single time if i have to cross on my own#so i stand there like 🧍 until someone crosses with me bc i can't judge the car speeds for shit and don't trust myself to run fast enough#it's literally the one thing i can't do ahskaks like I'll run into a fire or climb a damn near vertical hill#but i draw the line at jaywalking lmaooo#anyway I'm sure that's the only reason he did that But Still#other than that tho there's really nothing else to note#we got boba and just hung out and that was basically it#OH and i did ask him if he was actually trying to be a hater when we first started working together or if everyone else is fucking with me#and bro got embarrassed about it lowkey lmaoooo i guess he kinda tried to be standoffish and all#but he figured out pretty quick that i just Did Not understand even remotely all of his attempts at sarcasm and passive aggressiveness#so he was annoyed about it for a minute but he got over it relatively quick#like i was vibing so hard he couldn't even hate on me and i love that for me tbh lmao#lack of social awareness ftw ahdkajskalsl#partner posting
1 note · View note
rayveneyed · 4 months ago
Text
nanami kento is the kind of man that makes people swoon without even realising it.
he's the kind of man to walk into a luxury store after work, suit jacket folded over one arm and a bouquet of flowers in the other -- his blonde hair still mostly perfect from the high-end pomade he uses. he scours the shelves, frowning to himself, while the attendants whisper and giggle amongst themselves near the tills -- an argument over who will be the one to talk to him, because he's intimidatingly pretty.
("just look at him," one whispers. "he's definitely buying something for a girlfriend."
"a wife," another disagrees. "c'mon. he's giving husband vibes."
someone hums. "but i can't see a wedding band."
"his mother, maybe?" says one other. "oh, i love when guys come in shopping for their mother."
"nobody's mother is getting a bouquet of a hundred red roses--")
eventually, one of them is volunteered as a sacrifice -- smiling and sweet as all attendants should be, she clears her throat. the others, crowded around the till, watch the exchange closely. "excuse me, sir. is there anything we could help you with today?"
her mouth is dry and her hands are clammy -- and when he fixes her with those narrow, burning eyes, her throat bobs.
"ah, yes." and his voice is deep and gravelly and drawling, and her stomach turns. she can only imagine what her coworkers are thinking -- hell, she can only imagine what she's thinking. her mind has stopped short. "my girlfriend likes this brand quite a bit. i thought i'd pick her up something..."
disappointment brews in her stomach -- and it's stupid, she knows it's stupid, because obviously a guy like that is taken. and -- she glances down at the roses -- obviously he treats her super fucking well. of course he does, because why wouldn't he? "oh, perfect! do you have anything in mind?"
"well, actually..."
he ends up buying one of the priciest gift boxes available -- fancy body care and perfume laid out in their signature boxes, decorated with ribbon and dried lavender -- no argument, no fight. he doesn't look for something cheaper, doesn't try to haggle or remove something to decrease the price. he adds, and adds, and adds -- and when she mentions a special offer at the till, a little add on for an extra 2000 yen, he accepts it readily. he inserts a black card into the card machine (of course, a black card), takes the beautifully wrapped bag, and thanks the girls for their services -- and just as he's leaving, his phone rings.
of course he answers the phone with hello, darling. of course he begins to ask his girlfriend about her day, the girls think with some amount of annoyance -- of course. maybe the curse of retail isn't entitled assholes expecting you to wait on hand and foot for them -- maybe it's the handsome men coming in to splurge on their girlfriends while you're painfully single and working for pennies.
8K notes · View notes
countlessrealities · 8 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
@rainbowofsinners sent:
Sure, she wanted his head on a stake. And she took away (most of) his weapons. And his minions that one time. Buuuut he’s trying to be a better person, so he’s presenting her with a peace offering of sugar cookies of her and Charlie holding hands.
“We made cookiesssss for you, purple female!” He’s got that nervous, expectant look with his tongue flicking between his teeth. His hat has the same expression, too.
And by we, he apparently means him and his egg minions, who are all standing behind him in cute aprons, curious smiles upon their faces.
(Pentious @ Vaggie)
Tumblr media
When Pentious and his little gang of eggs approach her, Vaggie's first thought is that they have made some kind of mess and now they need help cleaning it up. And, perhaps, the sinner is also hoping that he won't get scolded too much if he fesses up before anyone can find out.
So, when she's faced with that batch of admittedly well made cookies, for a moment all she can do is staring in surprise. It's a little embarrassing, especially considering how obviously caught off guard she is, but that's something she intends to keep for herself and pretend not to have noticed.
Tumblr media
"You made...cookies. Of me and Charlie," she eventually says, talking a little slowly, as if she was trying to process the words as she spoke. "These aren't...poisoned or anything, right? Or part of one of your latest paranoid trips?"
Okay, that's a little uncalled for. After all, Pentious has done nothing but behave after Trust Exercises day, so she should give him some more credit. Or at least trust him enough to know that, if the cookies end up making her sick, it's because he sucks at baking and not because he meant to harm her on purpose.
In all honesty, she's very tempted to call Alastor and have him taste them first. That creep can eat everything, so he would have been fine anyway.
However...That's not what this whole Hotel is about. As Charlie always reminds them, this is a place of second chances. So the least she can do is make a little leap of faith.
Besides, the cookies are so freaking cute. And so are the Eggs with their little apron. How can she say not to such a display?
"You know what? Never mind that, let's just..."
Her voice trails off as she picks up one of the cookies and bites into it. The moment the flavour hits her taste buds, her eye goes wide because...holy shit, they are actually good.
"Wow, they are awesome! That's...I mean...thanks for making them. For me."
And now she's feeling beyond awkward, just as she knows the silence between them will be if she doesn't feed some more substance to the conversation.
"I didn't know you were so good at this. Where did you learn? And, uh, Charlie loves sweets, so...any chance you could teach me a little?"
0 notes
huh-i-guess · 3 months ago
Text
Fever
(Task force 141 x F!reader)
Summary: While out on a mission you are injected with a substance that might lead to a shift in the dynamics between the 141.
Warnings: SMUT 18+, sex pollen, fingering, dub-con/non-con (under the influence of sex pollen), choking, nasty Simon, Gaz has morals
Word Count: ~ 4.2k
(Reader's callsign is Pepper)
Tumblr media
I don't own MW2, the characters, or the gif above.
“What the fuck was that?” You shouted as you felt a sharp pricking sensation on your left ass cheek. You reached behind you to feel what was causing the sensation and groaned as you felt a syringe protruding from your behind. You looked down and noted that you had stepped on a pressure plate of some kind and triggered the laboratory’s defense mechanism.
“Oh fuck, lass.” Johnny mumbled.
“Shit, Pepper.” Gaz exclaimed in disbelief.
“No fucking way. Why does this shit always happen to me?” You yanked the dart-like needle from your behind and examined the leftover contents. The remaining contents appeared to be a blue syrup-like fluid. You sighed and pocketed the syringe hoping you could take it back to base to have it examined by the scientists at the lab. 
“Pepper, what was that?” Price called over the comms hearing the distress in everyone’s voices. Your thoughts ran at a mile a minute as you tried to figure out if you should tell your captain, that you probably had a mild crush on and always wanted to impress, that you just stepped on a trap. Or if you should lie. You hated lying to Price. It felt like you were letting him down and any time you did, you found yourself immediately retracting your statement and telling him the truth hoping he’d forgive your indiscretion. You readied your mouth to let out some kind of answer but snapped your mouth shut as you heard Gaz from your right side, “Looks like they tranqed Pepper or something. We were sweeping the lab and she was the first one in.” You turned your head toward Gaz and offered him a look that was a mix of thankfulness and regret. 
“Shite. You're still standing, lieutenant?” Price probed in a tone that, only those close to him could tell, was full of doubt and concern.
“Yes sir.” You pushed further into the lab taking extra care where your steps landed. The lab had been recently abandoned by russian terrorists working on some kind of bioweapon. You could only hope that you didn’t just get dosed with whatever they were concocting. As the three of you pressed further into the dingy lab you felt like the mass of your body was slowly doubling. 
“Soap. Gaz. If I drop, I need two to keep moving. We need to get this intel out of here as soon as we find it.” You could faintly hear the heavy footsteps of the terrorists behind you.
“No way in hell we’re leaving you behind.” Gaz contended. 
“Listen I-” 
You were quickly interrupted by Laswell’s voice in your ear, “Pepper. Evac will get to you and the boys in 11 minutes. It’ll be 2 clicks north of your current location. We’ll get you to the safe house from there.” 
“Copy.” You replied as Soap took a step closer and fixed his mouth to ready a response to your order. 
“Lass I don-”
“Listen. We don't have time for this. I don’t know what I got hit with but I know that at the moment we have a job to do. Let’s keep moving while I can and clear the files we came for. You will keep moving if I drop and that’s final. This mission can't be a waste of time.” You were met with an apprehensive “Yes Ma’am” and a “got it LT” and you snapped your head around to continue sweeping the lab. 
You knew you were being harsh but if you gave them room to argue you’d be stuck here going back and forth with them about it. Truthfully it was a ruse to make it look like you weren’t basically shitting bricks. You couldn’t stop the thoughts that flew through your mind.  I’m going to die today. Holy fuck I’m not making it out of this. I don’t know what I got hit with. How long do I have? You didn’t have much going on in your home life so the thought of a family didn’t even cross your mind until you thought about who around you did have one. Soap had his sisters back in Scotland that loved to “force” him to watch those really crappy rom-coms that he claimed he hated so much but then recommended for team bonding nights. Then you had Gaz who had his mom waiting at home for him. She always sent him care packages with little hand written notes that gave him updates on the status of his neighbors’ cat who had slowly been making itself comfortable on their property back in London. She even sent him photos of the cheeky little tuxedo cat. Your mind shifted from thoughts about yourself to thoughts about them. I have to get these boys out of here. They have so much going for them. They really are some of the best we have to offer. I can’t let them down. If I can't get out of here at least they can. 
Gaz went to the computer and plugged in a decryption device and began to sift through the scientist's digital files while Soap went through some of the scattered papers left in the room.
“They were in such a rush to get out of here they weren’t even effective at scrubbing their drives. Pep, I think I might have something.” You walked to the computer Gaz was stationed at and noticed a folder titled “Project Vitality”. 
“Good job, Gaz get it and we go. Soap anything?”
“A couple of poorly redacted files with the same name.” Soap chipped from your left. You made your way to him and patted his shoulder in praise.
“Alright we gotta move.” You heard the footsteps boom as the incoming enemies approached. You felt yourself slowly start to stall and noticed you had a difficult time focusing your eyes. It was like you were wearing a pair of glasses that weren’t meant for you and you couldn’t take them off. You willed your eyes to focus but it was becoming a hassle. Fuck me. You turned your head to Soap on your left and said, “Soap I need you to take point on the way out. I'll watch our backs as we exit.”
“Are you-” he started then pressed out a short, “Will do.” The look on his face was filled with so much concern, that for his sake, you almost wanted him to ask you if you were okay. He turned and rushed out of the room followed by Gaz and you at the back. The three of you navigated the winding corridors of the combatant base and made your way back, passing the rooms you had previously cleared. 
“Pepper. How we doing?” Price questioned over comms.
“Got the documents and drives, sir.”
“I know you did. That’s not what I’m asking about.”
“What kind of answer do you want, Cap?
“You know what I want to hear.” You knew Price wanted the truth but you couldn't let him know the fact that you might be starting to lose motor function and that the mass of your body felt like it had doubled. There was a large part of you that wanted to make him proud and craved his approval so the thought of disappointing him always stirred something deep inside you. But then there was Gaz and Soap. They were your sergeants and they often looked to you for guidance. The image they had of you rarely faltered from confidence and strength. They were right by your side and were clearly worried for you. If you told the truth to them they probably want to stop and question your status or maybe even try to do some kind of makeshift field evaluation on you and you’d definitely lose out on valuable time. 
A shaky, “I’m doing just fine, sir.” fell from your lips then silence. A sigh from Price that was then followed by a gruff, “Bring it in safe. I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Of course sir.” You acknowledged. He knew you were lying. The slight tremor in your voice told him exactly what he needed to know. 
Soap led the three of you out of the compound but not without running into a couple of the remaining terrorists that missed your group upon arrival. You, although struggling to see and move, caught the slight movement as you three made your way to the entrance of the compound. A brown jacket sleeve that moved just a bit too slow was all you needed to gather that the combatants had reached your location. Years of intense practice and strenuous training had you firing your weapon with a practiced precision that was barely impacted by your declining physical state. 
As soon as you exited the compound you were met with a glaring brightness from the snow of the siberian tundra. The almost blinding whiteness was a massive contrast to the dimly lit compound so the massive shift in intensity had your head spinning. Gaz noticed you stumbling but only met you with a face of concern and a hand on your shoulder as he watched you struggle to get your bearings. 
Trekking through the Siberian tundra in your worsening condition was one of the hardest things you'd had to do in your career. The whirling of the wind was so intense that it felt like someone was screaming directly next to your ear and the pressure of it was enough to make your head pound. The snow was coming down so hard that each snowflake that hit your face felt like a tiny pin prick over and over again. Your feet were so deep in the snow that it felt like you were gaining an extra 20 pounds of weight with the effects of the drug starting to control your movements. You tried to pull yourself together. It was undeniable at this point that you would not be winning the battle against whatever medication they injected you with.
“2 minutes till evac” Ghost chimed in your earpiece. Your hearing was so sensitive that you could almost feel the loud mechanical static and the whirl of the helicopter in the background of his response.
“Oh my days. Ghost is the one flying us out? I don’t want to end up out the bloody chopper again” Gaz groaned. Oh. I wasn’t the only one to hear the helicopter then. 
“It was either me or you freeze out there, Sergeant.”
“LT, if you fly that thing the way you drive, Gaz might be better staying down here. Less chance of him getting thrown from the bloody thing.” Soap chirped. 
The world slowly started to look like a mass of colors and shapes with no definite beginning or end. The only thing you could do at this point was push and pray that you were gonna have enough strength to make it to the evac point. Everything was so intense that overwhelming wasn't even the right word to describe the feeling. You struggled to pick up your head as you began to hear another distinct whooshing sound that could only belong to that of a Puma HC2.
“I’m here aren’t I?” Soap and Gaz stopped moving as Ghost put the helicopter on the ground. 
“I’m glad you are sir. Good to see you, Ghost.” Soapsaid as he flung the door open and made his way on the aircraft.
“Always good to see that ugly mug of yours, Johnny.” Ghost turned his head to get a good look at everyone. “ Pepper, you don't look too hot.” Ghost concluded as you dragged yourself into the seat next to what you could have only imagined was Gaz. The words that came out of your mouth were something along the lines of “Not” and “Good” but no one really understood you with how slurred your response was. They did however understand that something was really wrong when your body slumped backward and went limp next to Gaz. You could vaguely hear the commotion of Gaz, Soap, and Simon, around you as they shouted your name and desperately tried to keep you from slipping out of consciousness. The last thing you heard was Price pressing to be informed on your state and him telling Ghost to get all of you to the safe house. 
---
“A neurotoxin that sends the body into overdrive. Increases nervous sensitivity and impulsivity, and impairs functionality of the prefrontal cortex and hippocampus.” Price read from the lab report with a stubby cigar in hand.
“Why the hell would they want to make something like that?” Gaz questions.
“Apparently in small doses it can be used as an aphrodisiac that it increases blood flow throughout the body, promotes sexual stamina, and increases pleasure outcomes? They must’ve been trying to develop something to sell on the streets.” Price continues.
“Right so they dosed her with super viagra?” Soap questioned. 
“That's what it sounds like?” Gaz said. 
“I thought that stuff didn't work on women?” Simon interjected. 
“It looks like they’ve altered it so it impacts both sexes but they haven’t been able to work out the less desirable symptoms. Tachycardia, fever, headache, dizziness, loss of consciousness, heart failure, and death.” Price paced as he read the outcomes. 
“Oh shit.”
“Heart failure? Death? How do we make sure that that doesn’t happen?” Gaz frantically questioned.
“The only way the toxin can be expelled from the body is through coitus…” Price trailed off as he dropped his cigar into a bowl. That can’t be right. He read it three times just to be sure and the words on the page didn’t change. 
“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap deadpanned.
“No blood way.” Gaz stood with an open mouth. 
“Someone has to fuck her.” Simon said. 
---
When you awoke, you noticed you were lying on a firm mattress and were surrounded by the smell of smoke laced with a heavy sweetness that only came from Price’s cigars. You felt undeniably cold and couldn’t help but to shiver. You rubbed your fingers across your palms and felt them drenched in sweat. As you slowly began to turn to your side, you were overwhelmed with the feeling of the rough sheet that laid under you. 
“What the fuck?” You noticed that you had been stripped out of your vest and snow gear and were left in your black polyester thermals. You could feel every inch of fabric that you wore and immediately moved to take off the thermals. You were left in your sports bra and underwear.  Why am I taking off my clothes? I’m freezing? You ran your hands up and down your body trying to get a semblance of warmth but then decided that putting thermals back on would be too much for your unusually sensitive skin. As you dragged your hand down the sides of your thighs you couldn't help but notice how good it felt to touch yourself. You moved your hands to your inner thighs and couldn’t contain the moan that slipped from your mouth. You brushed your hand over the gusset of your panties and whined at the feel of your hand gliding over your already sensitive clit. 
“Pepper?” rushed out of Gaz’s mouth as he entered the room. He looked over to the pile of thermals on the end of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he probed.  When did Gaz get so attractive? He wore a red henley that hugged his arms perfectly and his soft curls made an appearance without the presence of his well worn UK hat. He made his way over to you and touched your forehead. “You’re burning up. Damn. The fever’s started.” The feeling of his hand on you was almost indescribable. He was warm and firm and exactly what you felt you needed at that moment. 
You felt yourself acting on purely impulse as you grabbed his hand and dragged it down to your mouth. You started to kiss his palm and moved your attention to his thumb. You placed it firmly between your lips and began to suck. “Oh fuck.” Gaz exhaled as he watched you with wide eyes. You continued your ministrations and moved from his thumb to his index and middle fingers. You began to lick around his digits before you engulfed them in your mouth with a guttural moan. You could taste the salt and gunpowder from the mission and it only made you crave him more. You lifted your gaze to him and willed your eyes to meet his. The groan that fell from his lips was divine. You removed his fingers from your mouth and helped his hand descend to where you really needed him. “Fuck. No. I can't do that princess. Not when you're like this.”
“But I really really want you to. Come on, Kyle. It’ll help me feel so much better.” You purred. Gaz let out a shaky breath, pulled his hand from you, and walked out the room but not without you noticing him readjusting himself in his pants. Fine, I'll do it myself. You sighed and pulled your panties down your legs till they rested at your ankles. You slid your fingers between your legs and gasped at how wet you were. You slowly started to trail your finger through your folds, collecting some of the wetness that had dripped from you and began to rub your clit. As soon as your finger pressed against your reactive little nub you were in heaven. You started in small circular motions and rubbed until you felt you needed more. You moved your other hand to your breast and tugged at your nipple. You kneaded and grabbed your breast like it was the key to your survival. You’ve never felt like this before. It's like you can feel everything, everywhere, all at the same time. You felt the rough fabric of the sheets, the scratchy wool of the pillow behind your head and you felt the soft cotton that was resting around your ankles.  You were still shivering from the fever but you felt like you could feel the stimulation of your clit in your toes. You needed more. 
You moved your hand from your plush breast to rest right at your soaked opening. You circled your middle finger a few times just to get it wet, and sank right into your leaking entrance. “Oh fuuuuuck”. You could feel the pressure of the finger at your walls as you started to curve your finger inside of yourself searching for your g-spot. You continued rubbing your clit and curling your finger inside of you hoping to seek your elease. It felt so good but it just wasn't enough. You slipped in another finger and moaned at the intrusion. You started to pant and whine with how good you were feeling, but you felt yourself needing more. You continued the calculated movements and felt your orgasm approaching. You just needed a little more. One more push to get you there. One curl of your finger turned to two, then to three, then the pleasure turned into frustration. “Fuuuuuuck.” You groaned as you  pulled your fingers from your body and layed on the mattress in a heap of sweat and frustration. You felt yourself slowly drift back into the unconscious void even as you worked to steady your breaths.  
---
“She sucked my fingers. Wanted me to fuck her. With my fingers. Uh she begged me to. And she was down to her knickers” Gaz confessed as he dropped his eyes to his combat boots, too unsure to look at his team. 
“Did you lad?” Price probed. 
“No, I couldn't do it. I really thought about it and I- I don't know. She definitely has a fever though.”
“Hm.” Was all that left Price's mouth. 
“We're gonna have to check up on her. Make sure her heart isn't working too hard and see how to keep her satiated. For her sake.” Simon stated matter of factly. 
“Does it say it has to be expelled through “sexual intercourse” or can she just, ya know, uh.. “Get there”, and work it out her system.” Soap questioned, looking toward Price and seeking the answers he normally has. 
“Johnny. It says coitus.” Simon replied. 
“No one’s gonna fuck her like this. It’s not right.” Gaz stated.
“What if we have to?” Soap doubted.
“Maybe we should see if an orgasm is the solution. If that doesn't work then last resort, someone will do what needs to be done.” Price said with a sense of finality. 
---
You felt the press of two fingers at your carotid artery and shivered at the warmth they offered. You fluttered your eyes open and nearly jumped out of your skin when they met dark brown ones behind a human skull mask. You’d seen Simon before and regularly worked with him but you'd never woken to him standing over you like the grim reaper.  
“Jesus, Simon.” 
“‘Just checking your heart rate.” He confirmed. Simon almost always has his gloves on. To feel his fingers at your neck had you craving more of his touch. You grabbed his hand that was at your neck and splayed it across your jugular. You looked up at him with full, pleading eyes and felt him squeeze a bit. A light moan left your lips as you begged him to squeeze harder. The groan that left his mouth would surely implant itself in the depths of your mind for years to come. The sound coming from him went straight to your core and you felt yourself clenching your thighs. 
“Simon, please.”
“Fuckin’ hell. Don’t look at me like that. Not while you've got your knickers round your ankles.”
“Please. Si. I need you. I’m so fucking horny. I can feel everything Simon. Please just help me feel good. I promise I’ll be good. You can use me however you want. However you need to. Please.”
“Don't say that y/n.” He turned his gaze away from your face. 
“I mean it. Please help me.”
“Just my fingers darling.” 
“Yes. Yes, thank you so much.” You nodded your head eagerly and bit down on your lip. If your fingers weren't working to get you there, maybe his would. You parted your legs for him and he hung his head and rolled his shoulders while he let out a deep “Fuck”. His grip on your neck tightened and you felt your head go light. “Oh fuck yes.” His other hand made its way between your plush legs and ran between your folds. Simon’s eyes were locked onto your pussy and he was in awe of how wet you were. He knew what the toxins effects on you were but to see them in person had him stiff as a board in his pants.  Fuck this was so wrong of him. He knew he wanted to help you but part of him was living out his sick and twisted fantasies. To have you, a stunning woman, dripping wet and begging for him to fuck you, he���d be insane to not feel at least a bit aroused. He dragged a finger around your clit and almost purred at the whine that left your lips. He continued to make slow and tedious circles around your clit. 
“Simon, please I need more. Can you - mmm fuck- can you fuck me?” How could he deny you when you’ve asked him so nicely. 
“Only with my fingers, darling.” He slipped in two fingers and groaned at how tight you were. Your back arched so deeply and he wondered to himself what it would be like to be behind you when you arched like that. Simon began to work his fingers inside of you. He started with slow but deep pumping motions and moved onto scissoring his fingers inside of you searching for that special spot that he knows will make you tick. Your breath hitched in your throat and you let out a long high pitched squeal. 
“Is that it, darling? Right there? Hm?” He beamed with a sense of condescension that made your pussy tighten on his fingers. 
“Oh fuck Simon. Please, please let me cum.” His fingers were hitting all of the right parts of you and you felt your orgasm nearing. 
“Of course you can come, darling. Fucking soak my fingers. I know you need it. Come on, darling.”
You slid your hand down to your clit and rubbed it in furious circles. His grip tightened on your neck and you felt fuzzy everywhere. “Cum all over my fingers. Make a mess, why don't you.” And at that final comment from Simon, you felt the band within you snap as you had one of the most intense orgasms of your life. Your toes curled and your back was nearly curved into a C shape. Your pussy clenched and unclenched as Simon continued his assault. You felt your ears ringing from the intensity of the orgasm and felt like you lost hearing for a little moment. As you panted and tried to recover from your climax, Simon removed his drenched fingers from you, lifted his mask to just below his nose, and brought his hand up to his mouth. He locked eyes with you and you watched him in amazement as he cleaned you from his fingers. Your eyes flutter at how intense the sight was. His strong jaw, scarred but pink lips, and traces of stubble left you wanting more. He moved the hand that was on your neck back to your pulse point to check your heart rate.
“It’s slowed a bit. Get some rest," and with that he left the room and you felt yourself slip from consciousness.
4K notes · View notes
bi-writes · 4 months ago
Note
Could you do one of Simon forgetting to bring his lunch and so his wife brings it except she turns up in a cute sundress??
mail-order bride (18+)
"simon...simon riley?" you ask.
the officer raises a brow, looking down at your ID and then back at your face. he frowns a little, scratching the back of his neck.
"he's a lieutenant," you add, biting your lip. "uhm...and he works with...with john."
"john?"
you suck in a shaky breath, biting your lip nervously.
"captain john price?"
the officer just glares at you a little before picking up his radio.
"yes, ma'am. wait here."
he turns his back to you, walking a little ways away, and you hear him speak into the radio lowly.
"...got a civilian here asking for lieutenant riley..."
"...negative, sir..."
"...oh. affirmative, sir. right away."
the officer comes back, giving you your ID back. he looks sheepish now all of the sudden, and he smiles at you, which unnerves you almost.
"u-uh, so sorry ma'am. you can park near the main office, right that way," he points to a building far to the left, "i'll have someone come meet you there to take you inside. again, apologies...we're going to put you on a list, mrs. riley."
you frown a little, shrugging. you're not upset. it's a miltiary base, for christ's sake, and you've never been here; of course they would be apprehensive about letting you in. but the private looks terrified out of his mind, so you just smile a little and make your way towards the parking spot he pointed out.
when you get out of the car, you push the door closed with your hip, picking up the bag in the passenger seat. there's a woman standing by the door, smiling and waving at you. she looks very smart, in a nice pantsuit. you smooth your dress down, smiling back at her, and you swing your purse over your shoulder before making your way to her.
"hello, mrs. riley. the lieutenant's wife, i hear?" she asks. you nod and shake her hand.
"y-yes...he...he said he was just doing administrative stuff today, but he forgot some things so...i just wanted to do something nice--"
"right!" she nods her head towards the door. "i can escort you to his office. uhm...i believe he's debriefing with captain price this afternoon, but i'm sure he can make some time." she winks at you when she says that, and you bite back a shy smile.
she takes a seat at her desk, picking up the phone. she yaps for a few minutes, and you take a seat in an empty chair, smoothing your skirt out. your wearing one of simon's favorites, the cherry-printed mini dress he loves so much, but you realize maybe he might not be the only one. there's a myriad of privates and soldiers that walk past you, and you hear some whistles by some of the bolder ones. you suddenly feel very self conscious, tucking your legs underneath yourself. you're wearing white strapped wedges, your hair styled nicely with a bow to match the dress, but now you feel silly, stupid.
why would you go to a military base dressed like a fucking pin-up girl?
"wot are you doin' 'ere?" a rough voice demands.
mmm. that's why.
you look up from your chair, smiling wide when you see him. simon stands with his arms crossed over his tact vest, tilting his head to the side as he glares at you from under his skull mask. you've never seen him strapped before, though. he's got a gun tucked into his thigh holster.
"h-hi," you pick up the basket next to you, standing up, and when you come close, simon is rough, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you near him with a short growl.
"oi," he snaps, but you just flutter your lashes at his harsh voice, smiling bigger. "can't fuckin' come 'ere lookin' so pretty."
you giggle, and even though you're wearing heels, you still find yourself standing on your toes as you try to get close to him.
"you forgot what i packed for you, simon. how could you forget?" you pout a little. he sighs deeply, smoothing his gloved hand down your back before nodding his head.
"c'mon. can't 'ave ya out here. fuckin' muppets starin' at my wife."
he turns and immediately starts walking. he's entirely too fast, and you skip in your wedges practically to try and keep up with him. when he notices, he slows his pace, and you grip the basket better in your hand before reaching for his with the other.
your hands intertwine, and you look around as you walk, reading the plaques on the wall, the shiny medals, waving at johnny when you see him holding a bag of crisps upside over his open mouth.
when simon shuts the door behind you in a dark office, you set the basket down on the desk, pushing back the kitchen towel fabric.
"okay, so i brought those muffins you like from that little shop. they had blueberry this morning, oh my gosh, simon, they also started putting out these little scones that--oh!" you gasp as he grabs you from the fat of your hips, a big flat palm over the base of your spine as he pushes you flat onto your stomach onto the desk. "simon!"
simon sucks on his teeth as he flips up your skirt, letting out a low whistle as he palms your ass, spreading the fat of it so he peek at the seam of the white lace you're wearing. you lay your palms against the desk and whimper, not used to simon being so rough, so upfront, so bold.
"can't just come here all dressed up, baby," simon grunts, shaking his head. "and not expect me to take wot i need...been surrounded by nothing but wankers all fuckin' day..."
you relax a little, giggling.
"simon," you sigh, your eyes closing as you push your hips back into his hands. "i missed you so much..."
"tha' why y'came down 'ere, luvvie?" he asks, smirking under the mask. "ya missed me? missed y'r husband? what'd ya miss, baby? tell me."
you arch your back a little, bowing it, and you laugh when he gives your ass a firm grab before picking you up and spinning you around, caging you against the desk. you smile up at him, dazed, a little dizzy, and he winks at you, eye-black dark and deadly around those killer brown eyes. he's so big, so hot, and you're suddenly very aware of how big simon looks in all his gear.
"i don't know," you say softly. "it's so cold in bed at night..."
simon snorts, "tha' right? 's cold? the lil' shits don't keep ya warm?"
"our girls like to sleep on your pillow, i think they miss you, too."
"fuckin' lil' bastards," simon chuckles, and you sigh, sliding your hands up his vest and tugging him just a little closer. your spread your knees to let him between them, and he reaches down and grips your thighs, hiking them up around his hips as he sits you onto the edge of the desk. "fuck, you're so fucking pretty..."
you tilt your head back for him.
"i miss eating with you. it's so quiet when you're not around."
"mmm. i bet, luv."
"and i miss you when i'm alone," you whisper. "i miss you when it's just me..."
simon narrow his eyes, "tell me, swee'eart."
you reach up and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down towards you. you kiss him over the mask, tasting sand and ash, licking over his lips through the cotton. it's lewd, disgusting, but he groans under the fabric.
"when, simon? when?" you ask, and he hums lowly.
"when? 'ow about right now?"
"no way, you're so gross, simon," you giggle. "our first time is not going to be on a desk in some dingy office where you work--"
you seize when he cups you between the thighs, big gloved hand palming your cunt through your lace panties. you arch your back and gasp, gripping his biceps tight as you lean into his touch.
"don't need t'make it our first time," simon tilts his head to the side. "can still make it real fuckin' nice, baby."
"oh, now you wanna touch me?" you suck in a shaky breath. "just because some of your men wanna look up my skirt?"
"oh, for tha', i'll make ya scream my bloody name, for oll of them ta hear," he growls, and you smile wide up at him.
"guess they need to learn i'm a lieutenant's wife," you giggle, and simon whistles low, tugging your panties to the side, and you whimper when you he prods at your entrance with two big gloved fingers.
"ahhhh..." simon hisses. "ya like tha' title, tha' it, baby? yeah...yeah you like tha'..."
"i like it," you whine, and when he meets your watery eyes, he plunges those big fingers deep, thumbing at your clit. your mouth falls open, your nails digging into his sleeves, and you suddenly wish you had asked him to take you to get your nails done so you could really claw it. "i like it..."
"could make these boys lick the fuckin' ground ya walk on," he mutters, and you whine when a particular rough thrust of his hand squelches between your thighs. "they'd do anythin' to please me, baby...even johnny would chew your bloody food for ya if i asked him to--"
you reach down and grip his wrist, your thighs shaking as you jolt. it feels so good, your entire body is on fire. his fingers are petting a nice little spot inside of you, stroking it as he pumps his hand nice and steady inside of you. his thumb is working you in gooey circles, flicking at your clit and putting taut the little string in your lower belly. your whole brain feels like it's fizzling, your blood rushing, and you stick out your tongue, licking over his masked jaw as you start to feel like you're gonna pass out from the wet slick, slick, slick sounding from your wet cunt.
"simon--simon--" you pant, and he groans, nodding his head.
"so pretty, baby," simon breathes. "so fuckin' tight, gonna 'ave to work ya open before i give ya my cock, lovey..."
"it's so big," you mumble, and simon coos, nodding his head.
"i know, baby, i know, 's big, real big...but you can take it, remember?" he laughs. "you can take it woteva i give you..."
you nod.
"i can take it--i can take it--!"
your vision blurs. there's tears coming down your face, sweat lining your forehead, your back, but you can't wipe the giggly, lazy smile off your face. simon cups the back of your head with his free hand, sitting you up, and when he pulls his fingers out from between your legs, his gloves are stuck to his hand practically, completely soaked through.
"y'r so pretty when y'cum," he murmurs, and you stick out your tongue for him. he gets the message, shoving his mask up just enough, and he bends to kiss you warm and wet.
"well then," you meet his eyes, all languid, all relaxed, a devious little grin on your sweet face. "why don't you give me another then?"
simon grins, all teeth.
"woteva ya want."
4K notes · View notes
freedomfireflies · 5 months ago
Text
You Again*
Summary: The one where Harry is your sister's ex-boyfriend and you finally get to see him again after 5 years.
Word Count: 11.4k
Content Warning: 18+, smut, age gap (6 years), sir kink, choking, use of a toy, exhibitionism if you squint!
Tumblr media
"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."
Your eyes widen as you look up toward the man making his way into the diner. You'd recognize him anywhere. The dark curly hair. The tattoos that bleed through the fabric of his light shirt. The rings on his fingers.
Just like that, years' worth of memories come flooding back to you all at once.
"Harry," you shriek, sliding off the stool before practically flinging yourself into his arms. 
He smells exactly the same. Like teakwood and spearmint. A rather odd mix, yet subtle enough to remind you of home.
Of him.
His chest vibrates with a deep laugh as his arms wrap around your frame to keep you against him, prolonging the hug a minute or two longer than socially acceptable. 
And when you finally lean back to see him, your cheeks begin to warm.
It's been...four years? Five? Since you last saw him? Just days before he and your sister broke up, effectively removing him from your life for good.
It had been a hard time. You wanted to be there for your sister. To comfort her through the grief of losing such a long and meaningful relationship. 
But you wanted to be there for him, too. After all, he was one of your best friends, age difference or not. He had always been the comforting, influential figure in your life that you relied on. That you counted on to get through different hardships in your life.
He had picked you up after your first day at your new job. Had held you in his arms as you cried over your first break-up. He had even listened to you talk about the boy you had fallen in love with.
Losing him felt like losing a part of yourself.
And now, five years later...that part of you has come home.
"Hi, Dot," he beams, reaching out to take hold of your chin and squeeze. "Shit, look at you. When did this happen?"
His eyes rake over your figure and you feel your skin grown hot under his appreciative gaze. "Stop, it hasn't been that long."
"The last time I saw you, I was helping you move into your new apartment across town,” he recalls, arms crossing in thought. "And now...now what? You’re still at your job, I assume?"
"I am. I just got a promotion, actually. I’m an assistant editor now.”
His eyes seem to light up, that soft green sending chills up the back of your neck as you glance down at your feet. "Dot...that's amazing. I'm so proud of you."
You wave the compliment away. "Thanks."
"Really," he insists before following you back to the counter where you'd previously been sitting. "I know how badly you wanted to pursue a career in publishing, and this...this is really amazing. Do you like it?"
"I do," you tell him as you settle back onto your stool. "Yeah, it's really nice. The people are great, the work is fun. Plus, the promotion came with a raise."
"That's amazing," he sighs, head shaking like he can't believe it. "Really, that's so...I honestly can't believe it. I can't believe it’s been so long. You’re so…adult now.”
You snort to yourself as you twirl your straw around your milkshake. "Yeah, I know. Though I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.”
"You should." He smiles, and it's big and beautiful. "You’ve always been grown up. Even before, you were mature for your age.”
“Well…yeah. I was twenty-three. That does make me an adult.”
“And now you’re twenty-eight.” He shakes his head again. “I can’t fucking believe it.”
You glance down at the rim of your glass. He’s right, it almost doesn’t seem possible. It feels like only last week that you were following him and your sister around town, begging to be included. Traipsing after them to bars, the mini golf course, and to any and all dates. Even though you knew your sister couldn’t stand it.
But Harry was nice and always inclusive. After all, he was your friend before he was your sister’s boyfriend. And he was determined to make sure that didn’t change, no matter how many times Atta rolled her eyes.
"I don't know how you put up with me," you finally admit. "God, I was so annoying. Atta used to get so mad at me for never leaving you alone."
He shrugs one shoulder up. "You weren't annoying to me. I liked it. I mean, I liked that you still felt so...safe? Around me? I guess?"
"Yeah, I did.” You smile. “Honestly, I think you were my best friend.”
He laughs as he looks back over. "I better have been.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Cause you were mine.”
"Good."
He smirks. "Remember how you used to fall asleep on my shoulder every time we watched a movie?”
"That's right," you groan, burying your face into the palm of your hand. "See? Annoying."
"Not annoying. Cute."
"It was not cute, it was annoying. And you know she hated it.”
“I don’t care. She fell asleep on my shoulder, too. It was nice.”
You snort. “It was weird, let’s face it. But I swear I've outgrown such habits."
He seems to hesitate for only a moment, eyes flicking between yours. "Too bad."
A beat.
You feel your stomach flip as you look away, breaking you both free of the tension. "So...what, um...what brings you to town? I was a little surprised to hear from you."
He takes the cup of coffee the waitress had poured him and slides it closer. "Oh, yeah, I'm...I'm here on business. And I remembered you lived here, so...I thought I’d reach out.”
"I see."
"Yeah.” He hesitates again. "And...I missed you."
You can’t fight the flutter in your chest. "I missed you, too, Har."
The conversation lulls as the busy diner continues to bustle around you. And despite how glad you are to see him, something feels...off. Different.
You aren't sure what. Can't quite put your finger on it. It almost feels like it used to, but something has changed. He looks like your Harry. He sounds like your Harry. He feels like your Harry. And yet, he feels like a stranger.
Maybe it's because it's been so long since you've seen him. Maybe it's because you aren't twenty-three anymore. Or maybe it’s because now he’s no longer Harry, your sister’s boyfriend.
Now he’s just…Harry. Your old friend.
When you notice the way he’s staring, your eyes narrow. “What?”
"Nothing." He shrugs again before chuckling under his breath. "No, nothing. Sorry, I just...I don't know. It's just...so strange to see you again. Like this."
"Like...this?"
"Yeah. Just us. Alone. No Atta.”
“Ah.” You swallow. “Right.”
“It’s not…weird, is it? I mean, it is weird but it’s not…uncomfortable, right?”
“No,” you rush to assure him. “No, I wanted to meet you. What happened with you two has nothing to do with me.”
He glances down at his lap. “Right.”
There’s an edge to the memory that wasn’t there before, yet despite your curiosity, you bite your tongue.
“What about you?” you say instead. “What have you been up to in the last five years?”
He smirks. “Oh, not much.”
“Uh-huh. You think I’ve grown up, you’re basically an old man now.”
“Yeah, yeah, all right. I’m only 34.”
“That’s still six years older than me, which makes you old.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m serious. You're not that idiot on a motorcycle anymore. Now you say things like, 'I'm in town on business,” and you wear expensive suits, and ridiculous watches."
He glances down at the aforementioned object on his wrist. "In my defense, this was a gift.”
“Sure.” 
“It was,” he insists. His eyes flick over your face. “Look, I would have reached out sooner, but…after we broke up, I figured you wouldn’t want me to. I mean, you had just started your new job, and I knew it wouldn’t be fair to ask you to be a side, so…”
“There were no sides,” you argue softly. “You both just…grew apart. You wanted different things.”
“Yeah,” he agrees with a sigh. “But I know it hurt her. It hurt me, too. And it was weird having to say goodbye to all of you. And leave all those memories behind. You were both such a huge part of my life."
"Yeah," you whisper. "You were a huge part of mine, too."
"Does Atta know you're meeting me?"
"No. Didn't really think it was any of her business. This is about us, not her."
His brow raises. "Would she be mad if she did?"
"I don't know,” you admit. “Probably not, but...would it really matter?"
"Of course it would. I'd never want to get in the way of your relationship."
"You aren't," you insist. "Look, she's dating somebody anyway. And I'm sure you are, too. You've both moved on. We're just...old friends catching up, and she'd have to understand that."
He seems to consider this before saying, "Yeah. I'm not, though."
"You're not...what?"
"Seeing anybody," he clarifies, tongue coming out to swipe across his bottom lip. "Haven't really dated anybody since she and I broke up."
"Oh, Harry," you murmur. "I'm...I'm sorry—"
"No. No, don't be," he insists. "It wasn't...I've just been busy. Working at the firm and renovating my house. I've gone on some dates but nothing serious. I just...haven't met the right person, I guess."
"The right person, huh?" you muse teasingly as you take a sip of your drink. "Okay, and what does Harry Styles' right person look like?"
He exhales an amused chuckle. "God, I don't know. I don't really think I'm that picky. Just...anybody I can get along with, I suppose."
"That's it? No, 'They need a fat ass and the ability to make me a sandwich?'"
He grins so big, the corners of his eyes crinkle. "For fuck's sake. No, nothing like that. Look, I don't know. Call me old fashioned, but...I think sometimes you meet somebody, and you can just...tell. You know? There's this energy, this shift. You look at them...and it all just makes sense.”
And as he looks you, waiting for you to consider this…the air shifts.
"Yeah," you agree quietly, allowing your attention to fall down his features and land on his lips. "Yeah, that's...you're right."
He seems to notice the way your focus has wandered because he quickly clears his throat and looks back down at his mug. "What, um...what about you? I'm assuming you're seeing somebody."
You look away as well, willing yourself to calm. "Oh? And why do you assume that?"
"Come on," he nearly snorts, eyebrow cocking. "Look at you. You're beautiful and you're smart and you have this effortless ability to make anyone around you feel good. Who wouldn't want to date you?"
"Well...pretty much every male in the city," you retort. "I don't know. I've tried dating but...there's always something missing. It never really feels quite right."
"Yeah. I know what you mean," he hums. "There's this...disconnect. Like you're forcing something that you know isn't right."
"Exactly! It's not that I don't want to find somebody, I just...haven't. It's not as easy as it is with you."
His head tilts. "With me?"
"Yeah, you know," you sigh, hands waving about the air as you try to explain your point. "I haven't seen you in five years but we still, just...picked right back up, you know? As if no time had passed. We're still just us. We can talk, and we can laugh, and we don't have to force anything."
He nods. "Right."
"I mean, honestly? Sometimes I think it would be easier to date somebody I already know. The problem is that all the guys I know are assholes. And too immature, I guess. They've got no sense of purpose, no drive. And it’s not like I need to be taken care of, but…it’d be nice to know they could. You know?”
"Yeah. You need someone with a good head on their shoulders."
"Exactly. I need someone who feels more like an equal than this thing I need to take care. I want to date a man, not a Tamagotchi."
He laughs again and the sound brings the butterflies back to your stomach. You feel proud to have amused him. And even more proud of the way he casually places a hand on your arm as he takes a deep breath. 
When he lets go, you look down at the spot on your skin as if you can still see outline of his fingers. 
"You'll find somebody," he tells you, and you do your best to ignore the sparks dancing up the back of your neck. "You will. And they'll be perfect for you. Old enough to know better and wise enough to do it right."
You place your palm over the spot he once touched, squeezing it gently. "Yeah. Hey, and you, too. Anybody would be lucky to have you."
His eyes linger on yours. "Yeah?"
You smile. "Yeah."
The next few minutes are devoted to sharing stories about your families. He asks how your parents are, you ask about his. He tells you about his job and you tell him about your roommate. You recall every detail of the past five years, and once you've finally caught up to today, he pays for your drinks, and offers to walk you home.
You make your way along the busy streets of the city as Harry tells you that he's thinking about getting a cat. You laugh and tell him that he'd make a wonderful cat dad, and he seems to flush.
You wonder why.
Fifteen minutes later, you're walking up the steps to your building, already apologizing for the messy state of your apartment before he's even stepped foot inside.
He snorts the implication away, assuring you that no matter what, it can't be worse than how Atta used to keep her place.
And the mention of your sister breeds an odd feeling in your chest. Unease, and this strange tinge of jealousy. Like you're almost peeved at him for bringing her up. For reminding you that he's seen the inside of her room before.
But you shake it away as you push the door open, refusing to linger on the thought.
"Well...this is it," you declare, stepping aside to let him enter. "Probably looks smaller than you remember, but…it does the trick.”
He takes a moment to glance over your knickknacks and decor before he grins. “I love it.” 
"Really?"
"Yeah." He shoves his hands into his expensive coat pockets and nods. "Yeah, really. It feels...fitting."
"What do you mean?"
"I don’t know. It just feels like you.”
Your teeth gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you walk to the kitchen. "Well...thanks. I think."
You offer him a glass of water, to which he declines, before you join him back by the door. You're not sure that you’re quite ready to say goodbye, but you know he can't stay forever.
You wonder if you actually want him to.
You wonder if it would be so bad if you did.
"This was…really nice," he says as he takes a half-step through the doorframe. "Really, Dot. I'm proud of you. And everything you’ve done. And I'm really glad that I can still call you my friend after everything."
Your heart starts to pound a little harder inside your chest. "Yeah, me too. I really missed you, Har. I hope we can catch up again soon."
The side of his mouth curls up as his eyes soften. "I'd like that."
With that, he moves into the hall, and you close the door behind him.
The feeling that follows is...strange. Overwhelming. Like something is wrong. Like something has just been ripped away from you. 
Like something is missing.
You feel on edge. Off-balance. Confused and unsure and you have no idea why. There’s a pain in your stomach that wasn’t there before and a hollowness in your heart that didn’t exist before you saw him.
Suddenly, there's a sharp knock on your door. "Dot?"
He's back.
Confused and slightly excited, you swing it back open to find him braced against your frame. He’s quiet as he studies you, brows woven together in what appears to be deep thought before he strides back inside your apartment and begins to pace your floor.
"Okay," he begins. Strained. "Okay, tell me...tell me this isn't just me. Tell me this isn't just in my head."
You shut the door.  "What do you mean?”
He looks at you before frantically gesturing between your two bodies. "This. This thing we’ve been doing all afternoon. Tell me it's not just me. Tell me you feel it.”
And you're almost certain you know what he means, but the implication of it scares the shit out of you.
So, you simply tilt your head. "Har...feel what? I don't know what you're talking about—"
"Us.” He stares at you. “Us, there's something...there's something different here. Something that wasn't here before."
"Like...?"
"Like...like the way you look at me," he says, eyes on yours as you feel your heart begin to race. "You never used to look at me that way."
Your lashes flutter, and suddenly, you feel acutely aware of the way you've begun to gawk at him. Have you been looking at him differently?
"And the way you speak to me," he continues. "Talking about needing someone to take care of you. Someone older. Someone...more mature."
You swallow.
He takes a step closer. "And all day, you've just...you’ve found a way to brush your hand against mine. Or your arm. And you laugh at everything I say, even when it isn't funny. And I know you. I know this can't be what I think it is, but...you gotta tell me I'm not going crazy. You have to tell me it's not just...me."
And you realize now that you have an easy way out. You could brush off the accusation and tell him that it is just in his head. That he's your sister's ex-boyfriend, and he's your friend, and that you would never make a pass at him.
But then you say, "…what if it wasn't just you?"
He goes still, lips parting as he leans back. Almost as if struggling to understand what you've just said.
Truth be told, you're struggling to understand it yourself. You hadn't realized just how differently you'd been acting toward him. Or that you’d begun to wonder what would happen if he was your Harry instead of hers.
Because he’s not hers anymore. He’s just a man. A very attractive man. With a job, and a house, and enough emotional maturity not to make a fart joke every three minutes.
And it's not your fault that you're starting to see him in a different light. It's been years. Five whole years since you've spoken to him and you're both adults now. Completely different people, and would it really be the worst thing if you wondered what could have been?
"Dot…" he begins slowly, clearly wrestling with what he wants to say, "…you don't…I don't think you really know what you're doing."
You take a step as well, challenging him. "What am I doing?"
"You're...you're—" His fingers find the bridge of his nose as he squeezes. Hard. "Fuck, Dot. Don't…don't do this—"
"Do what? Flirt with you?"
His palms fly to his ears with a wince. "Stop. No, you didn't...you didn't say that. You're not flirting with me. You're not flirting with me—"
"What if I am?" you retort, following after him with a surge of confidence you didn’t realize you had. "Why would that be so wrong?"
"Because,” he scoffs, shooting a stern look your way. "You’re Atta’s little sister. And we’re friends. And you’re basically a child—"
"I'm not a child," you remind him. "I'm twenty-eight. I've been making capable decisions for quite some time now—"
"But not this," he hisses, the muscles in his neck straining. "Not…shit. You can't do this. You can't—”
"Why not? You said it yourself, there's something different here—"
"But not this—"
"Why not?"
"Because…you're you," he huffs. "You're...you're my best friend, and my ex’s little sister, and I’m…I’m just this big, bad man come to ruin you.”
And somehow, the idea goes straight to your cunt.
"You're not ruining me, Harry," you say, even though you wish he would. "We’re adults. Old friends catching up and realizing that maybe things can be different now."
He takes in a breath. "But they can't be. They can't be different—"
"Why—"
"Because it's not right—"
"What's not right? What?" you argue. "Is it just the age difference? Is it Atta? Is it that you aren't attracted to me, because I know you were flirting with me, too—"
His entire face twists into a grimace as he inhales sharply and presses his hands back over his ears. "God. Don't say that—"
"You were," you insist. "Like it or not, I'm not the little girl you used to know. All right, and there's...there's nothing wrong with us testing the waters—"
He steels himself, arms dropping back to his sides. "We can't."
"Why?" you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. "Why can't we? Huh? We're not breaking any rules. We're not doing anything illegal. I don't see what's so wrong with just trying—"
"I'd ruin you," he says again, with so much conviction that it makes your stomach drop. "I would ruin any chance you had at a normal relationship—a normal life. All right, being with me...it would complicate everything. And I'd never do that to you—"
"I'm not asking you to marry me. I'm just asking you to try—"
"Try what?"
"Try seeing." You take another step, making sure you have his full attention. "Just…try seeing if what we think is here is actually here. If maybe we were meant to find each other again after all this time. If this is where it all finally makes sense."
He considers this for a moment. Considers you. And you aren't sure when you suddenly became so enamored by the thought of Harry, but you’re here now. And he’s here. And there’s a shift.
And it feels right.
Then, his head begins to shake. "No. No, I know better. I have to know better. I have to do better than this. I can't...God, I can't believe I'm even...no. No, you mean too much to me for me to ruin this."
You feel your chest deflate as your lips press into a thin line. And you stare at him. You stare and you see the indecision and anguish on his face. You see the way he wrestles with the idea you've given him. The way he wrestles with himself.
The way he wrestles with you.
You don't want to push him. Because you know this is something you can never take back. And maybe there's just too much adrenaline in your veins right now. Maybe you aren't thinking straight, and once he leaves and the moment passes, you’ll wonder what you were so worked up about anyway.
But right now, all you feel is disappointment.
"Fine," you whisper, and his eyes soften. "No, fine. You're right. You're right, this is...I never should have said anything. I was…confused. I was just happy to see you again and I thought it was something else, but…you're right. It's nothing. And I don't wanna be your mid-life crisis. I just want us to be friends again.”
Your tiny apartment falls silent as you both settle onto this conclusion. As you let your heartbreak dangle in the air.
Then, his fingers between to flex and his teeth begin to grit, and watch in real time as he starts to change his mind.
Then, he murmurs, “Oh, fuck it.”
Next thing you know, he's closing the gap between you, taking hold of your face and kissing you hard.
You don’t have time to process it. Don’t even care to process it. But you don’t care. Because everything makes sense now.
So, you feel him. Surrender to him. Indulge in the dominate pull of his hands on your jaw as he takes a taste of you on his tongue. As he presses his hips so hard into yours that you feel your knees go weak.
You make a noise in your throat as he goes deeper, and he growls. Like he's fighting himself. Fighting the urge to take as he begins roughly walking you back until you’re slammed against the wall.
He knows exactly what he's doing in a way that younger men never have. He makes you feel both taken care of and somehow, still completely helpless. You don't have to think about anything with him because he does everything. 
He presses his strong, tall frame into yours until he practically disappears into you. His large hand grips onto the back of your neck as you whimper, taking control of the moment—of you—until the only thought left in your head is just more.
And you don't doubt that he'd give you more if you asked, but before you can, he pulls back, and puts the moment on pause.
You feel breathless. Dejected. Wilting in his hold as he meets your eye and looks for your reaction.
But he won’t find it. And you bite back a whine as you wait for him to come back.
He sweeps his thumbs along your cheek before sighing to himself. "Dot..."
You feel your stomach turn at the nickname. At the way it comes out raspy and desperate. "Don’t say it."
But he does, anyway. "We shouldn't do this."
"I know," you murmur, fingers disappearing into his hair while he seems to nestle into your touch. "I know, but I want to. I want to, Har. So…please don’t make me lose you again.”
Another beat passes before he groans and presses his forehead to yours. “God,” he nearly growls, and the sound makes your thighs squeeze together. “Dot—”
"I won't tell," you promise while his jaw clenches. "I won't, I swear. I'll be your secret."
Just like that, the hand he placed on your thigh tightens. Squeezing until you're squirming beneath him. He’s losing his conviction and you’re losing your patience.
"This is wrong," he mumbles. "S'wrong, Dot. I can't do this to you. Can't do this with you...I can't...I know better. I have to do better.”
You tug on his hair as you straighten up, whining beneath a strained breath. "I don’t want you to do better. I want you to do me.”
He exhales deeply with this, nose running down the side of your face as his lips travel to your neck. He seems to take refuge there, subtly pressing kisses to your throat as he thinks. "I want to," he tells you softly. "You have no idea how badly I want to. How badly I want to do everything for you. Show you how a real man fucks. Until you see stars.”
"Har," you just about gasp, anxious to have him do just that. "Please...please—"
"Fuck." His thigh slots between the both of yours and you writhe against him, searching for anything you might find. "Be so easy to take you. Be so easy to show you what you're missing. To wreck you until you’re begging for more—"
"So do it," you plead, pulling on him until his mouth meets yours. "Do it, Har. Please. Just once. Just once, and I promise I'll be so good. Be so good for you. Won't ever ask you again—"
His hold on you grows more determined before he's ripping you away from the wall and slinging you toward your bed a few feet away.
He’s on you in seconds, hovering about where you lie as you greedily grab for him. "Promise me," he hisses as his palm slips beneath your shirt, and a needy whimper bleeds from your throat. "Promise me that this is what you want."
"I promise," you repeat quickly, arching into his touch. "Promise—"
"Promise me...that you'll be good," he says next, fingers brushing over the material of your bra. "That you'll behave. That you'll do exactly what I tell you."
"Yes," you breathe, eyes falling shut.
"Fucking promise me..." he continues as he scratches down your chest, "...that you won't tell. That you'll be my dirty little secret. That you'll be mine. That you'll let me ruin you and that you'll fucking thank me for doing it—"
The last domino falls. Crashes to the ground as you tug him down to you so you can kiss him. So, you can prove your loyalty. Prove that this is everything you’ve ever wanted.
You feel him smile.
"You little fucking minx,” he purrs.
Your skin warms as Harry's stunned but unceasingly enthralled gaze lingers on the red lace of your underwear. However, his fingers move instead for your hips. His hauntingly empty touch ghosting across the fabric of your underwear as you anxiously await contact.
But he doesn't give it to you. Not quite, not yet. He just wants to look at you. Wants to drink you in. Allow himself the privilege of seeing what he never has before.
"Did you wear these just for me, little one?" he asks in a gravely drawl, eyes flicking up to yours from where he lays between your thighs. 
You swallow as you look across your stomach at him. You're not sure why you picked out this particular set today. Perhaps it was a subconscious choice or perhaps destiny was simply on your side.
"Maybe," you murmur, nails curling into your palm as you work in shallow breaths. God, you need him to touch you. Need him to do something about the mess that's sitting two inches in front of his face.
The very same mess he's pretending he doesn't notice.
Your response encourages a smirk as he hums and glances back down at the little white bow placed delicately in the center. "S'cute, Dot," he says softly, pinching the ribbon between his thumb and forefinger. "Fucking precious, actually. Knowing you got yourself all dolled up. Just to see me."
He pulls his lip between his teeth and glances back over your face. He's amused by the weary and desperate expression you wear and you're two seconds away from groaning.
His touch moves down. Down, down, down until the pad of his finger brushes over your clit. 
You tense before releasing a shaky exhale. 
Satisfied with this reaction, he moves even lower. Until he finds that growing wet patch that's beginning to hurt.
"What's this?" he coos, looking down toward the darkened red fabric. "Oh, darling...s'this for me, too?"
You're not sure where your quippy attitude from before has gone because now you can do nothing but nod mutely as you shift beneath his hand.
"Yeah?" His eyebrow raises as he grins at you. "Is this what has you so anxious?"
You give him another nod.
He hums. "Think I need to see for myself, hm?" He smirks and pats his palms against your hips. "Take these off for me."
You quickly reach down to hook your fingers around the hem of your underwear and drag them down your thighs. Once they've been pulled from your body, you get ready to toss them onto the other side of the bed. But before they can be flicked from the tips of your fingers, Harry snatches them with his fist.
"Uh-uh," he tuts as he tucks them into his suit's breast pocket. "These are mine now."
You suck in a sharp, eager pant. "Har—"
"Shh." He settles back onto his stomach, hands curling around your thighs to guide them apart and allow him a better visual. "M'busy, little one."
But it’s nearly impossible to stay quiet as his warm breath fans across your pussy, making the mess that much more obvious to you both. In fact, you can practically see the glistening reflection in his eye as he studies your cunt in the most intimate of ways.
You're not sure what he wants. What he's doing or planning or thinking. And you don't know why, but the way he stares at you does more for the apprehensive coil in your gut than him actually touching you has.
Finally, he makes another satisfied noise deep within the back of his throat before he brings his fingers back to you.
Two are placed just above your clit before he teasingly drags them down. However, when your hips buck up, he merely shoves them back down with a tsk.
Once you’re still, he starts again. Easing himself through your folds as he spreads you with the utmost glee. Fascinated by the way your body feels, the way it reacts to him.
His tongue sits between his lips as he ventures down, and the moment he finds the pooling of arousal waiting for him...you see the muscles in his neck contract.
"Darling…" The nickname is whispered across your body as he scoots closer. "Bet this hurts, doesn't it?"
"Yes," you reply instantaneously, straining around the singular word as you resist the urge to whimper. 
He circles the tip of his finger around your aching hole, almost as if to test you. "Oh, precious girl...how long, hm? How long have you been in so much pain?"
Truthfully, since you hugged him at the diner.
"All day," you say aloud, hands gripping onto the duvet beneath you. "All day, Har. Been thinking about you all day."
And that is the honest answer. You'd been anxiously awaiting your meeting from the moment you woke up.
But he smiles as if he knows better, despite the way he seems to bask in your response. "All day, hm? And what were you gonna do if I never came back? Were you just gonna sit here and rub your pretty thighs together?"
Your heart skips while your hands gather atop of your stomach.
His brow raises. "No? Well then how were you gonna take care of it, hm?"
For a moment, you think this is simply rhetorical, but the longer the silence stretches, the more obvious it becomes that he expects an answer.
You swallow the odd lump in your throat. "How do you think?"
"Uh-uh," he chastises again. "I wanna hear you say it. Want you to tell me exactly how you were gonna fix this little problem of yours had I not been here."
Your head flops back against the pillows as you glare at the ceiling. He's always been rather infuriating but now he's a menace.
"Dot..." He's warning you. Calling you back. Urging you not to be so bratty.
With a tentative sigh, you look back at him. "My...vibrator."
He perks up. "Yeah?"
You nod faintly. 
"Tell me how," he instructs next, jutting his chin toward you. "Better yet...show me. Show me how you've been taking care of yourself all these years."
Feeling rather embarrassed under the spotlight of such an intimate request, you shyly look over toward your nightstand and outstretch a hand. After pulling the drawer open, you slip inside and find the purple wand that's just small enough to fit snugly inside your palm.
And Harry watches with a certain wonder in his eye as you bring the dainty toy closer. Yet, he says nothing while you slowly guide it toward your stomach and down to your thighs.
But he does, however, shift in order to make room, scooting back by a hair to allow you the space you need to place the head right above your aching clit.
For some reason, doing something so private in front of him feels...odd. Strange and almost unsettling. And perhaps that's just nerves, but you can't deny the heat that rushes to your face as he looks between you and the vibrator.
"S'this it, then?" he murmurs, a hint of teasing laced within the remark. "Don't even have to turn it on?"
Your thumb taps against the power button, a nervous tic, although you refrain from switching the toy on just yet. "No..."
His smirk is borderline haughty. "Then what do you do, little one? How do you use it?"
You say nothing. You hold his stare, and you hold a deep breath, and you hold the wand to your glistening cunt.
Then...you flip the switch.
The soft, dainty vibrations echo across the room, across your bodies, and across your clit as it's met with the instant stimulation of the pulsating wand.
You choke on a gasp as you return your eyes to the ceiling, allowing for the feeling to take control of each remaining sense.
And as you do, Harry's hands make themselves known to you as they begin to smooth up your legs, helping guide your thighs further apart once again.
There's an ever-so-slight stretch that follows as your muscles are pulled, and the distinctive burn makes your lashes flutter shut.
"There you go," he whispers. "So pretty, darling. God, could watch you do this all day."
Truthfully, you imagine you’re quite a sight. After all, you’ve watched yourself before. You know how it looks. Know exactly the kind of visual fantasy Harry is witness to right now.
So, you play it up, give him a show. After all...he's got a front row seat.
You rotate the head slowly, circling down and around your hole before retreating and dragging the object back up and through.
And you shiver every time it brushes against that particular sweet spot. Every time the pulses slow just to speed up once more. It's almost torturous the way your body is being bent to such salacious desires. And cruel the way you're forced to do this while he only watches.
A whimper slips free, and you arch off the bed, pressing the toy as tight against your body as you can stand.
You hear Harry chuckle. 
"Easy," he warns before you feel his fingers curl around your wrist, encouraging your grip to relax. "Take it slow, Dot. Not in a hurry, are you?"
"No," you breathe, head shaking zealously. "No, m'just...feels good."
"Does it?" He almost sounds surprised. "Hm. Interesting. Seeing as you're doing it wrong."
Your head lifts.
He glances toward the vibrator. "May I?"
You nod.
Pleased, he slips the toy free from between your fingers and clears his throat. Focused eyes landing on your body as he readies the bullet. 
Then...he begins.
It meets your clit—an innocent, familiar touch—before it's instantly being dragged down. He's slow with it. Giving you enough time to feel each particular flutter and twitch. 
Your soft gasps and grateful sighs carry him further, until the tiny head of the toy is swimming through your arousal. You fall still, attention locked on the man by your knees. 
But he’s still focused. Soft, green eyebrows weaving together as his pretty cherry lips stretch into a smile.
Something changes—everything changes—when he slips the head inside. Your entire body ripples from the vibrations as you stumble over his name and squirm across the mattress.
He only laughs before placing his arm overtop your stomach to keep you cemented to the bed. "None of that. Stay still for me."
"Har," you whisper, depleted of any strength. "Please..."
"What, little one? What do you want?"
"I need...please, I'm..."
"What? Does it feel good?"
"Yes. Yes...yes, feels so good. Please..."
"Please what? What do you want, sugar?"
More. Everything. Anything. "Fuck, I'm—don't stop. Please don't stop."
"Oh, darling," he breathes. "I'd never dream of it."
He takes the toy out and moves it back to your clit, circling gently a few times before pressing down hard. 
And you almost miss the full feeling it provided as it was eased into you, but before you can dwell for too long...Harry's extending his fingers and slipping them into your cunt.
Not one, but two of those beautiful digits push past your walls and begin to stretch you, ripping a gasp from your throat at the simultaneous stimulation. 
"Attagirl," he murmurs from below, and you can hear the smug undertone. "That's what you wanted, hm? Needed something to fill you."
Your chest heaves, the red lace of your bra lifting and falling as you roll your head back. "God, Har—"
"Tell me, darling," he continues, easing himself out just to push back in. "Were you gonna use your own fingers? If I wasn't here? Gonna ride your pretty little hand?"
You can't tell if he already knows the answer or if he just wants to picture your hand between your thighs.
Either way, you pant out, "Mhm."
"Yeah? How many, honey? How many were you gonna use?"
"...two."
He tsks, seemingly disappointed with this answer. "Just two? Hm. And would it have felt like this, darling? Would they be able to do it for you the way mine can?"
To accompany this ask, he curls upward, nearly yanking the pleasure out of you as you choke on a cry and writhe away from him. 
"Fuck—" Your teeth tug on your bottom lip. "Shit, Har—"
"Is that a no, then?" He thrusts his fingers out and back in again. "Would you have gotten yourself this wet...with just your own hand?"
The sound of him slipping through your arousal meets your ear as you groan and look down.
"No?" He adds a third finger while making sure to keep the wand of the vibrator exactly where it needs to be. "What about when you thought of me? Would that have done it for you, sugar? Thinking of me while you soaked your sheets? While you dripped down your knuckles as you fucked yourself?"
You've never heard a man talk to you this way. You already knew his experience superseded that of any man you'd been with before but this. None of those other boys ever knew how. But Harry...God. He knows just what to say. Knows exactly what you need to hear, and it overwhelms you.
"Har...Har—"
"Need an answer," he reminds you, but when you refuse to offer him one, he takes himself away. His fingers, the toy, his body. Leaning away completely as your pussy goes completely quiet.
"Harry," you just about moan, pushing up onto your elbows to leverage the playing field. "You...I'm...I was just—"
"Disobeying," he answers for you. "That's what you were doing. And I don't think that's fair, do you?"
You frown. You know this tone he's taking with you. Authoritative and condescending. It makes you huff. "Fine. I'll try again."
"Good girl," he murmurs, nodding at you as if to encourage confidence.
"I...wait, what was the question again?"
He smiles at this, releasing an amused chuckle beneath his breath before crawling back to you. His hands find the mattress beside your hips and he settles between your parted thighs, lips dangerously closer now.
And you can smell him. Smell his cologne, and his aftershave, and his shampoo. Can feel the heat radiating off his body, even through the expensive suit. Can see how much he wants to take care of you—ruin you. As promised.
"Do you get yourself this wet...when I'm not around?" he repeats, and the tip of his nose brushes against yours.
Your breath hitches. "No."
The answer was always obvious, but you know he needed to hear you say it. 
"Do you touch yourself...the way I touch you?" 
"No."
"Can you make yourself come the way I can?"
"God, no—" you gasp before taking hold of his face and smashing his mouth against yours.
His lips are perfect and his kiss is perfect and the two of you are perfect together. A connection so seamless, so effortless...it's as if you were always meant to be.
A ridiculous notion, you think to yourself, but right now...it's quite nice.
He pulls himself back just enough to meet your eye and offer a devious grin. "Then let’s find out, hm?"
Rough fingertips travel up the length of your inner thigh, forming goosebumps in the wake. You shiver, ready to receive his touch once again before he dances right past your cunt, and up your hip. 
He moves for the lace on your chest, tugging on the wire between your breasts with a disappointed tsk.
"I want this gone," he decides, plucking it from your skin. "Need to see all of you, Dot."
And before you can even reach back to undo the hook, he's looping an arm underneath your back, lifting you up, and flicking the clasp free. 
Once done, he yanks the bra down your arms and body before flinging it somewhere behind him.
Your eyes shut as your naked chest is revealed to him, heart hammering against your ribcage.
But then, you feel those lips again. He wraps his mouth around your left nipple before you can even whisper his name, sucking on you as though he's determined to make you see stars.
Which you do the moment his teeth pull on the sensitive skin. And you can't help but mewl as his tongue flicks cruel and merciless patterns against before moving for your collarbone.
He groans as he goes, situating his knee between your legs and pressing it directly against your cunt. His other hand gropes at your right breast, kneading at the tender flesh until his mouth reaches your neck. He nips at a vein just below your jaw and you arch up into him, chest knocking into his.
He sucks sweet bruises into the curve of your throat before licking apologies over the newly ruined skin. It's slow and painful and beautifully good.
Everything about him is beautiful and good.
His entire body seems to cater to yours as he cages you to the mattress and easily pulls whimpers from your throat. As he touches you, and pleases you, and knows you in a way nobody else ever has. 
You grind yourself against his leg before glancing down. And that’s when you notice the way your arousal has begun to soak through his nice pants. The way a dark little patch seeps into the fancy—and expensive—material. A sight both erotic and humiliating.
Your whimper forces his eyes to where yours reside, and he smirks when he sees your mess.
"What's the matter, little one?" he asks, taking his hand from your tit and using it to grab onto your jaw. "Are you embarrassed?"
You nod, despite his hold.
"Oh, my dirty little girl,” he hums. “I don't mind you soaking my trousers. But I'd rather you soak my cock."
You'd rather that, too, and you're more than grateful when he leans back to undo his belt. You don't know where this will lead you. If you’ll fuck him and then lose contact for another five years. 
Or if you’ll fuck him and change everything.
But right now, you don't mind. You'll happily exist in this moment with him. In these bad decisions until you're coming so hard, you forget your own name.
He leans back to begin ridding himself of his clothes and you scramble upward to help him along. Your greedy hands grab at his jacket and his shirt, wrestling them down his arms and off his broad chest. Wanting to see him the way he can see you.
You nearly moan when his inked skin is revealed to you. You knew he'd gotten a few tattoos in college, and even some a bit after. But seeing them now, painted across such a tan, toned canvas makes your head spin.
"Easy," he laughs, reaching out to swipe his thumb beside your mouth to collect the pooling drool. "Save some for me, hm?" 
But you can't. Instead, you take his finger between your lips and bury it beside your tongue.
Surprised, his lashes flutter. But once you realize he won’t be able to undo his pants without both hands, you regretfully pop his digit free. Allowing him to slip out of his briefs until his cock springs free.
He’s…perfect. Still. Somehow. Red and swollen and leaking just for you. And you clench from the mere thought of having something so beautiful inside you.
You crawl closer, eager for a taste, but Harry simply grabs hold of your chin.
"Yes, little one?" he murmurs, using his other hand to hold his cock. "Did you want  something?"
You nod and lean forward another inch.
"All right," he concedes, pumping himself before subtly tugging you down. "Just a taste, honey. Since you've been so good."
He leads your mouth to him and without a moment's hesitation, you outstretch your tongue, and drag it along the underside.
You revel in the way you feel him twitch. In the way he exhales a deep breath through parted lips while moving his fingers to your hair, guiding you closer but not too close. Just enough to get him on your tastebuds.
You hum when you reach the tip, eager to indulge in the pre-cum already beading in pearly drops. And the vibrations from your eager appreciation make the muscles in his stomach quiver as he curses your name.
However, you barely get the chance to wrap your mouth around him before he's yanking on your hair, and straightening you back up.
"What did I say?" he hisses. "Don't be greedy, Dot."
"I'm sorry," you whisper, swallowing the bit of him still lingering in your mouth. "M'sorry, won't do it again."
"No, you won't. Or I'll go back on my promise."
"No," you whine, needy fingers wrapping around his wrist to keep him close. "No, won't do it again. I promise."
You know he’s amused with your desperation, and even though you're slipping fast, he can't help but be entertained. "We'll see, little one."
With a fervent motion of your head, you scramble back to the pillows to lay down, legs spreading as if to invite him in.
He smirks as he strokes his cock a time or two more while settling himself between your thighs. You imagine he could have you in a number of ways, a plethora of positions. But he chooses this. He chooses to see your face this first time. To see every ounce of pleasure etched within your features.
And truth be told, you don't mind. You could stare at him forever.
"Do you have any condoms?" he asks next, dipping down to press his lips to yours for only a second. "Or would you prefer to go without?"
You consider this. You're on birth control and you do have a bit of a creampie kink, so you shake your head. 
"Without," you answer quickly before lifting an eyebrow. "Unless you'd like to?"
"No," he chuckles, placing a kiss to your nose this time. "Just wanted to make sure. Promised to take care of you, and that's what I plan to do."
Your heart flutters.
"Okay, gonna need you to be good, honey," he tells you now, large palm landing on your hip to steady you. "Gonna need you to take me and do as I say, all right? And I'll make it worth it."
"I will," you agree quickly, fingers traveling up the dips in his arms, ghosting over each muscle until you reach his shoulders. "Be so good, Har, promise."
"Uh-uh." His hand smacks against your inner thigh in warning before his thick eyebrow cocks up. "S'not my name, darling. Not right now."
Curious as to what he might mean, you study him for only a moment before you realize.
"I'm sorry, Sir."
Just like that, something in his demeanor switches. 
Truth be told, the name doesn't do much for you. But you revel in the way he feeds off it. Find absolute euphoria in the way he lights up at your obedience until you want nothing more than to please him again. To call him anything he wants as long as he keeps looking at you like that.
"Good girl," he growls beneath a deep breath before he's bringing his cock closer.
He starts by dragging it along your clit, making you jolt and buck before his hand splays across your stomach to force you back down.
"No," he says simply, eyes fixated on the torture he's currently implementing. 
He does it again, letting your swollen, puffy clit jump from the slight brush of his tip while he drags it through your arousal and shifts forward.
"Breathe," he orders next, stealing a quick glance at your puckered lips and wide eyes. “All right?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He slides in slowly, pushing past your tight walls, coaxing the muscles to stretch to his size.
At first, it's nothing more than a soft, easy sensation. Relaxing, in a sense as it aids the ache and fills the void his fingers left behind.
Then...he goes deeper. 
And this is what you'd been waiting for. The slight tension and subtle burn as your body is forced to accommodate him. You're thankful he goes slow. Not just because of the pain. But because you both want to watch.
You want to watch the way he pulls your body apart. Wanna watch him disappear into your tight hole that pulls him in. Wanna watch the way you flutter and clench and claim him the way he’s claiming you.
"Oh, that's my fucking girl," he groans to himself. "Fucking hell, Dot. Didn’t think you’d be so tight."
"Yeah, well…never had someone like you before," you tease, gauging your body's reaction by slowly rolling your hips up. 
"Yeah?" His hand lands on your throat, smoothing up the sides of your neck until he can squeeze a gasp from your lips. “Never, huh?”
You shake your head and with one quick thrust, he bottoms out, forcing a strangled cry as you arch into him.
“Never had someone stretch this pretty pussy the way it deserves, yeah?” He tsks again. “What a fucking shame.”
He rears back, and the pain and the pleasure that follow him out make your chest cave in.
However, he’s quickly driving himself back in before you can complain, pushing past the fluttering muscles once more as you keen and rake your nails down the blanket.
"Harry," you breathe, his name like a lifeline as you drown in his sin. 
But it earns you another firm smack to your outer thigh as he grunts his disapproval into your neck. "No," he warns before nipping just below your jaw. "You know better."
But really…you don’t. "Sir...please," you amend.
"Hm. S'a good girl," he praises. "Knew you'd behave for me, yeah? My perfect little toy—"
A rather debauched moan rips from between your gritted teeth as his hips ram into yours. You can feel him everywhere. In your stomach, in your head, in your heart. His legs against yours, his chest against yours, his entire body against yours until you're almost convinced he's gonna become one with your bloodstream.
Not that you'd mind.
His arm slips beneath you once more in order to lift you up and provide him with a new angle. Then, he thrusts himself into you again as your mouth hangs open in a silent gasp for air.
"There she is, that's what you needed. Yeah, little one?' He does it again, brushing against that one spot that makes your toes curl. "The other boys never did it, did they?"
You whine, knees bending besides his hips as you attempt to follow after him when he pulls back. 
But he's quick to tut and knock you back down onto your ass. "No. You don't rush me, darling. We do this my way. On my time. If I wanna stay here and fuck you nice and slow, then you’ll behave, and you’ll fucking take me.”
You’d like to agree, but he’s thrusting himself back in before you can.
"You will thank me for taking my time," he continues in a coarse cadence that seems to reverberate from his chest. "You will thank me...for being so goddamn good to you. And you will thank me…for doing it right."
"Harry, please—" you just about wail, hands finding his arms as you grasp on for dear life.
But the fingers around your throat tighten until the edges of your vision begin to blur.
"There you fucking go again," he growls, stilling his rhythmic attacks as he meets your eye. He seems to enjoy watching your focus go fuzzy. "Starting to think you like to be punished, hm? And here I thought you had a praise kink."
You clutch onto his wrist, nails scratching along the veins in his arm as he pounds into you at a harder pace.
But you don't mind. You enjoy watching him give into the voices inside his head. Enjoy the way his chocolate brown curls sweep across his forehead, the way his eyebrows weave together and the muscles in his jaw constrict.
For a 34-year-old man, he seems to possess quite a bit of stamina. He'd mentioned earlier his enjoyment for running and exercising, detailing his rather excessive and diligent routine.
And you'd smirked because you'd assumed he was showing off or because he was trying to stay ahead of the inevitable "dad-bod" in his future.
But now you understand why he's really so meticulous. He's a long way from looking his age. Apart from some subtle, but soft crinkles near his eyes and a few gray hairs that peek through the auburn waves, he looks rather youthful. 
And his body. You swallow another noise as you let your hungry gaze trail over every inch, every muscle, every quiver in his thighs as he braces himself above you.
Sir feels like a more appropriate title to you now. Because he is. He is your superior in this moment A man to be respected and revered. Someone who not only knows better,.but knows you. Knows your body and how to play it like an instrument. 
There's something exciting about submitting to him. Something tantalizing about being at his mercy. Most of the other men you've been with have felt more like your equals than anything else. Which you haven't minded in the least bit.
But the way Harry has managed to fit you into the submissive, subservient role so quickly suggests that perhaps...this is where you were always meant to be.
Beneath him.
"Oh, honey," he coos, a mix of condescension and amusement. "Can feel you squeezin' me. Need it so bad, don't you? Need to come, hm?"
"Yes. Yes," you whisper, nuzzling your face into his neck, lips eagerly pressing into the salty skin at your disposal. "Please, Ha—Sir. Please let me come. Can't...can't hold it—"
"You will,” he says before he’s grabbing hold of your wrist and hosting it above your head. Burying into the pillow and preventing you from reaching for your clit. “Forget it, Princess. Told you to take me. So you will. Exactly how I tell you.” 
"Sir—"
"I said no. I plan to keep you here for quite some time. Plan to feel you coming around my cock as many times as I see fit. And I expect you to behave for me the way you promised. Can you do that? Or do I need to stop?"
"No," you gasp, tears springing to your eyes at the very thought. "No, no, please—"
"Then what are you going to do?"
You swallow a moan and lift your chin proudly. "Take it."
A pleased smile crawls across his face as he hums and dips down to press his mouth to yours. "There she is," he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip. "My good girl. Try to remember that, yeah? Or I'll keep you here all day."
However, that’s something else you wouldn't exactly mind, and you shiver as he pushes your knee into your chest.
"Fucking hell, Dot," he mumbles, eyes falling back down to where you're coating his cock. "Oh, my perfect toy. Look at the way you treat me, honey. Treat me so well, fucking soaking me, aren't you—"
"Yes, Yes, please…"
"I know. I know, little one. Feels so good to be filled, yeah? To be fucked the right way—"
"God, yes. More...please—"
"More, huh? Need more? Need me to make it better? Need me to fucking take—"
Suddenly, your phone rings.
The soft, melodic chime cuts through Harry’s vulgar response, bringing the moment to a close as his thrusts falter and he glances over.
God, you hate that stupid, evil, sadistic machine. Right now, you wish you'd never bought it. You wish you could throw it again the wall until it shatters into a thousand fucking pieces so as long as he just keeps going.
Instead, he searches your nightstand for the small device before he's releasing your leg in order to reach for it. 
"No, Har," you plead, attempting to grab onto his hand. "Just let it go to voicemail, it's fine—"
"But that wouldn't be very polite, now, would it?" he tuts, glancing over the screen. "And I think you need to take this, darling."
"Harry, please—"
"Shh," he says sharply. “You're gonna take this phone call and you're gonna use your word. And then, and you're gonna come for me."
His thumb hovers over the green button and he guides the phone to your ear. 
"And you're not gonna make a fucking sound," he adds, dropping his voice to a threatening hiss before pressing the receiver to your ear. "Or I fucking stop. Do you understand?"
You do your best to nod, and he smiles before tapping the screen.
Through a slight quiver, you say, "Hello?"
"Hey! Long time no talk, babe. How are you?"
Your eyes just about pop out of your head.
Atta.
Her cheerful tone and eager greeting make the blood drain from your face as you look up at the man hovering above you.
"Speak," he mouths with a wicked grin while nodding his chin at you. 
But you can't. You physically cannot get the words to come out of your mouth as Harry keeps the device glued to the side of your head.
"H...hi," you stammer, forcing a more confident cadence. "I'm...good. How...how are you?"
"Oh, I'm good. Good, yeah," your sister replies, and you hear a bit of shuffling. "Been working a lot. Got today off, which is nice. God, you'd never believe how much shit we have to go through since we changed our filing system—"
"Mhm," you reply right as Harry rams his hips into yours.
You gasp and quickly turn your head away from the phone in an attempt to keep the excitable noise from making it into the microphone. 
However, he uses his other hand to grasp onto your jaw and force you back. "No," he whispers, shooting you a stern look of warning. "You know better."
"—which is wild because we've been using the same program since '08," Atta is saying, although you can hardly hear her over the imminent pleasure rushing through your veins. "But...whatever. Once we're done, it'll make things so much easier. Which will be nice. I can cut back on my hours—"
"Yeah, mhm," you repeat, and it's outrageously strained as Harry pulls himself out, leaving you depraved and so goddamn empty.
You have to fight the urge to cry out for him, glancing down at the string of arousal that follows his cock. And it's almost too much for you to handle as you greedily reach for him once more.
However, he bats your hands away and brings his free fingers from your chin to your clit, rubbing into the sensitive nerves until you arch up.
"—so, yeah. What about you?"
Your eyes squeeze shut as that tightly wound ball of pleasure in your stomach expands. "I'm...I...good. I'm...good. You know, not...not a lot going on. At the moment."
Harry smirks to himself before sinking all the way back in and thrusting up.
Your lip fights its way between your teeth and you writhe beneath his chest while praying for the strength to stay quiet.
"Well...I guess no news is good news, yeah?" she chuckles. "Oh, hey, speaking of which...I heard that Harry's in town."
That's not the only thing he's in. 
"Oh?" you squeak, placing a palm on Harry's chest almost as if in retaliation. "He is?"
"Yeah. Saw it on Facebook," she answers, and you hear her move around. "Figured he might try to reach out. I know you guys are still on good terms, right?"
"Me and Harry?" you repeat pointedly, garnering a curious look from the aforementioned man. "Uh...we're...yeah. I guess. But we’re not…that close."
He grins.
"Well...I just thought I'd let you know in case he does," she says, and your lashes flutter shut as the guilt begins to find you.
"Would it be weird...if he did?" you ask before the patterns being traced against your clit make you whimper.
Terrified, you quickly cough in an attempt at burying the sound, but Atta doesn't seem to hear. 
"I mean...maybe? I don't know. He and I are fine, I think. And I know you two were friends. I guess you could at least...check on him. Make sure he's doing okay."
"Yeah," you breathe, sneaking a glance up. "I'm...I'm sure he's doing just fine."
Harry smiles once more before moving his palm to your thigh and pressing it into the bed to spread you at a different angle. 
"I hope," Atta sighs. "Anyway, I wanted to call and check in. Just to make sure everything is going okay for you—"
"Mhm, yeah. I'm...I'm glad you did," you blubber while attempting to send Harry a pointed look. You're close. So fucking close, and if he keeps going...
"Are you sure you're all right? You sound a bit flustered—"
"Yes. Yes, yes, I'm..." Your head shakes quickly, nails scratching down Harry's chest in warning. He needs to stop. He needs to stop or you won't make it. "I'm fine. I'm...a little under the weather, but I'm—" 
Suddenly, he sheathes himself inside your cunt, face burying in your neck with a groan as your entire body shivers.
"Are you sure? You kind of sound like you're in pain—"
"Listen, Atta, I...I gotta go—" you gasp, so close to your orgasm that you can practically taste it. “I’m sorry—”
"Oh, yeah. Hey, text me, okay? Just let me know that you're all right—"
"Mhm, yeah, I will—fuck—"
It happens before you can stop it. Ripping through every muscle and fiber in your body as you rake your fingers down Harry's back and choke on a moan.
Thankfully for you, Harry has already ended the call and thrown the phone to the other side of the room so he can loop his arm beneath your hips and tug you up into his body.
"Go," he breathes. "Give it to me. Come on, little one. Just like that. Good fucking girl, just like that. Let me feel you—"
Your room fills with the sound of his name, dancing effortlessly between the whimpers that follow.
It feels like you've touched heaven. A sensation so overwhelming and euphoric that you don't even realize his hand has returned to your throat. Don't realize he's squeezing your neck in his tight fist as he comes, filling your cunt with everything he has to give you.
You don't even realize you can't breathe, but you love it. Love the way he presses his teeth into your shoulder and presses his body into your chest. Until you're trapped against the mattress while you live through the high. 
Every joint in your body aches. Radiating pain and pleasure all at once as you hook your leg over his hip and snake your arms around his neck.
And you keep him inside of you for what feels like hours. Even after you've regained a bit of consciousness. And a bit of common sense.
Perhaps the moment he pulls out, you'll realize the mistake you've made. You’ll realize that this isn't a secret you can keep. Or a choice that you can ever choose again. And maybe he’ll realize it, too.
But until then…
You’re happy to have your Harry back.
Tumblr media
~ Masterlist
Taglist: @littlenatilda @prettythingsworld @heartateasee @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @monicaalexandraaa
@cinnamonone @triski73 @lemoncrushh @vamprry @lady-lamb21
@lillefroe @kirstiea05 @ribbonknives @lunaharrygurl @harringtonhundreds
@swiftmendeshoran @sundresstyles @eldahae @becauseheartsgetbroken-hs
@hannahdressedasabanana @sykostyles @lukesaprince @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus
@lovrave @nuggetdean @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @babegoals @lc-fics
3K notes · View notes
seapomelo · 8 months ago
Text
My current hole asked me why I told her to edge a couple of times a day. I just told her it makes her a good girl, but of course there's more to it.
After edging she is left needy. Her cunt distracts her all the time, so she is dumber. She just can't think about serious things if the first thought she has is "god I want to be railed soooooo hard right now" accompanied by daydreaming about cocks entering all her holes.
This on its own would be enough, but combining edging with teaching orgasm obedience is a man's superpower over a slut, because it lets him punish or praise her with sex. Even if you're angry at her, you can still fuck her and she will still learn her lesson.
She did something wrong? I tell her to edge herself twice as often that day and wait a few hours. After that she will do anything just to get dicked down.
Not only she will offer herself, saying "I'm terribly sorry Sir", but she will follow up with "please please fuck me, I'll do anything, please, just give me your cock, I want it so bad, you can even fuck my ass".
And I will fuck her. But I won't let her come, since she was a bad bitch and needs to be corrected. I will do all the stuff she loves because I taught her how good choking, name calling, beating or being on a leash feels, but warn that if she comes, she'll receive her worst punishment so far.
So she perserveres through all that. And the sight of her face twisted by both pleasure and concentration to not cross the edge is a balm on my broken by her disobedience heart. The tears of frustration are the sweetest nectar I've ever tasted.
The fact that she doesn't give up to the pleasure is the thing that will make me forgive her. But I won't let her orgasm, she needs a material lesson.
Instead I just pump my sperm in her, make her lick my cock clean and thank me for the session.
The craving to cum her brains out will make her behave. The memory of frustration she is feeling as my cum leaks out of her hole, used, but not satisfied, will prevent her making the same mistake ever again
Keep your toys edged and teach them to only cum on command.
4K notes · View notes
corkinavoid · 2 months ago
Text
DPxDC Police Officer Wes
"Excuse me, sorry, Mr. Batman, sir!"
That's definitely not a voice he knows. Bruce halts in his steps, aborting his usual retreat into the shadows, and turns back around. Commissioner Gordon, who was still in the process of wrapping up his small talk with Tim - the term 'grumpy banter' would describe their conversation more accurately at this point, but Bruce knows better than to argue with the two over semantics - also turns around, pausing in the middle of the sentence.
A ginger haired boy, wide-eyed and obviously either nervous, starstruck, or both, is staring at him from a few feet behind the Commissioner. Bruce can see a few more faces peeking from behind the half-opened door to the roof, all of them filled with anticipation. He knows two of them: detectives that work directly under Gordon, Isaiah Vasquez, and Tasha Kuznets. The third one, a black man in his forties, also looks vaguely familiar, but Bruce can't recall a name.
Yet, he knows absolutely nothing about the ginger, who hasn't blinked once since Bruce noticed him and is now biting on his lips. But he is wearing a police uniform, so, possibly, a new hire?
"Weston, get out," Jim sighs, waving a shooing hand at the boy with a look of barely concealed exasperation on his face. Definitely a new hire, then. That's the level of annoyance he reserves only for the overachieving rookies that he begrudgingly likes but never admits to.
"I-" newly named Weston starts but cuts himself off. Then, he takes a deep breath and straightens up, "Just one question, sir!"
"Weston, I swear to God," Commissioner pinches the bridge of his nose, lifting his glasses up a bit. But Tim tilts his head to the side, looking in the ginger's direction and raising his eyebrows. His domino mask hides it, but Bruce knows his menagerie of kids well enough to see that he is at least a bit curious about the boy. So he turns back around fully and inclines his head, giving Weston his attention. He doesn't mind talking with those rare few members of GCPD that Gordon likes.
Weston perks up like a very eager dog at the sight of a treat. In the contrast lighting of the BatSignal, his hair looks like it's on fire.
"If you don't mind, was the 'Smiling case' relevant to Joker in any sense?" The boy asks, loud and clear - maybe even too loud - with his unblinking gaze still glued to Bruce. Like he is afraid that if he closes his eyes for a moment, Gotham's vigilantes are going to disappear without a trace.
It's not a question Bruce expected, to be honest. The 'Smiling case' was closed just a few days ago, Gordon was still not done with the paperwork, as far as Oracle's records went. A murder of three, where all victims had some badly drawn clown makeup on them - post-mortem makeup, as it turned out, the murderer tried to deceive the investigation by trying to cover it up as Joker's doing. Only, he didn't do a good job at it, all the Bats were way too familiar with the Mad Clown's signature style. Not to mention that Joker was still securely sealed in his Arkham cell.
Bruce turns to look at Red Robin. He was the one working on the case, so Bruce gives him the choice of answering or not. Tim jerks his shoulder, looks the ginger boy up and down, and then shakes his head.
"Aside from a poor attempt at leading the investigation in the wrong direction, no, it wasn't," Tim shrugs, "The guy isn't even a Gothamite, he knew of Joker only from the rumors and media. And the clown faces were a makeshift cover-up."
Weston visibly deflates at the answer. Bruce watches in a slight amusement as Tasha nudges the other officer, one he doesn't remember the name of, in the shoulder, and stage-whispers, "Pay up." The older man huffs and disappears behind the door, followed by Isaiah.
"Thank you, Mr. Red Robin," Wesley nods politely and takes a step back, his eyes darting to Gordon. Tim snorts a laugh but doesn't correct him. Commissioner, though, gives the boy a long, dreadful sigh.
"Is that all, officer Weston?" He asks, not even bothering to hide his 'tired dad' voice.
The ginger nods again, "Yes, Commissioner Gordon."
"Then get out of my sight before I make all your shifts double," Jim commands, and Weston nearly runs back to the door with a speed that makes Bruce involuntarily think of speedsters. Must be the red hair.
Tim turns to look at the Commissioner right as the door to the roof slams shut behind both Weston and Kuznets.
"Who is he?"
Bruce is also a bit curious now. New recruits in the GCPD are nothing out of the ordinary, but Jim seems to know this one personally, and Kuznets, who is one of his trusted detectives, seems to also like the officer.
Gordon briefly huffs and stuffs his hands in the pockets of his coat. It's quite chilly today; Bruce makes a mental note to switch everyone to their more insulated suits. Scarecrow is currently out on the loose. It won't do any good if any of the Bats went down with a cold.
"Wesley Weston, fresh out of the Academy," Commissioner sighs, but, somehow, Bruce gets the impression it's not a sound of simple exasperation over a new officer eager to prove himself. Jim proves his assumptions by looking around the shoulder to make sure the door to the roof is still closed, and continuing, "Born and raised in the middle of nowhere, Illinois, but GCPD was his first choice. He explained it as having a few friends living in the city, which, unfortunately, proved to be right."
Bruce frowns and grunts, alarm bells ringing in his mind. Deliberately choosing to work in Gotham despite not being from here can be caused by many reasons, and nearly none of them are good reasons.
"Unfortunately?" Tim inquires suspiciously, also with a slight frown, but Jim waves them both off.
"No, he's got nothing to do with any of the criminals. It was the first thing I checked when he mentioned 'friends'. If anything, he's quite on the opposite; he'd make a great detective one day, what with his countless conspiracy theories, determination and the insane urge to dig up every single detail known to mankind," he laughs a bit, and Bruce notices a slight, teasing twinkle to the Commissioner's eyes behind his glasses. "On his second day here, the boy went and plain told me he knows that Batman is Bruce Wayne and that he's saying that because he knows I know and he is aware we're working together."
The alarm bells in Bruce's mind turn into sirens. They never discussed the matters of Bats' real identities with Gordon - Bruce had his suspicions that the man knew it and simply kept his status quo. In all fairness, James Gordon didn't make it to Gotham's Commissioner by sheer dumb luck, so all the Bats kind of expected him to figure it out one day.
But Jim knowing who's behind the cowl is one thing. A new, out of town officer is quite another.
"What did you answer?" Tim asks with an easy smile, but Bruce sees the barely noticeable tension in his shoulders.
Gordon nearly grins, "I didn't believe him, which turned out to be exactly what he expected. He also told me of some kind of a familial curse - he called it 'Cassandra's curse', I believe you're aware of what it means. And then, when I naturally expressed my doubts, proceeded to show it in action. Believe me, it works. Sometimes, it even works too well," the man looks to the side with an amused huff, "That's why officer Weston is strictly prohibited from voicing his opinions on any of the ongoing cases outloud. Detective Kuznets almost missed some critical evidence because of his input once."
Cassandra's curse, Bruce has heard of that saying before. Granted, he never thought it could be a real thing, and he is not intending on starting now, not before he investigates the matter thoroughly. But he does trust Jim - years and years of working together would do that to people - so he simply nods in understanding, leaving the matter of supernatural aside for now.
"What about his friends?" Red Robin asks again, and that causes Gordon to wince momentarily.
"That, I believe, was the cause of his performance just now. One of his friends runs an occult shop, and the other one loves to hang around our forensic scientists and coroners occasionally," the man waves their immediate frowns off again, "I don't go into the morgue often, but I heard he's good at finding out the causes of death by a few looks at the body. And they run a lot of bets between them three," Jim shrugs nonchalantly, "The last one was about the 'Smiling case', I take it."
"Any reason to worry about them?" Bruce can't help but ask. It's not unusual for people to be weird in this city, and running an occult shop and hanging out with pathologists are not exactly reasons to go through background checks when they've got much more pressing issues on their plate. Namely, Scarecrow: it's been more than a week since his escape, but none of the Bats have heard anything about him yet. Oracle is already busy enough with that and the current uprise of gang activity in the Narrows, there's no point in piling even more work on her shoulders just because of some gossip that rubs Bruce the wrong way.
Gordon, thankfully, doesn't take his question lightly and pauses, scratching his chin.
"No," he finally concludes after some thought, "They are a bit strange for non-Gothamites, I'll say that, but in terms of this city? They are no stranger than my neighbors from upstairs." Gordon doesn't tell them to leave it alone, Bruce notices. However, it's probably not because of any doubts he has; the Bats just have a habit of tripplechecking everything anyways, and who would know that better than Jim Gordon?
A quick glance to Tim proves Bruce's thoughts. Red Robin, despite the mask, looks thoughtful. How many cases is he already working on, seven? Bruce makes another mental note to ask Alfred to cut his caffeine intake. It might be a bit hypocritical of him, what with his own plans to send a few messages to JLD about the 'Cassandra's curse', but Bruce excuses himself as the adult in the family.
Commissioner Gordon clears his throat.
"Do you want me to turn around so you can make your mysterious escape, or-" he starts, but both vigilantes are already gone by the time he finishes, "-or not, okay."
1K notes · View notes
hajimesh · 24 days ago
Text
crybaby. gojo satoru
Tumblr media
fluff‐parents au. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ non sorcerers au, slice of life, mom!reader, unnamed eight-month-old baby girl, mentions of needles and vaccines
little sunshines au
Tumblr media
two pairs of blue eyes stare at each other (one of them is already brimming with unshed tears).
"satoru, you can't be serious."
"she has no idea!"
your eight-month-old grins at her dad, blissfully unaware of what's happening while he dreads what's about to come.
the nurse side-eyes him but says nothing besides instructing him on how to hold her hands so they won't get in the way and accidentally hurt her.
"oh god." he whispers, staring up at the ceiling and forcing himself to ignore the baby's babbles. "i can't watch this."
funny, you think. because all these years, he seemed just fine with holding your boys as they got their shots. even going as far as encouraging them with promises of gifts and ice cream after braving through the pain.
but now, god forbid someone—or rather, something, like a vaccine—hurt his princess.
you snicker behind your hand at his worried face while he bounces his leg in anxiousness, murmuring to himself as he stares at the ceiling.
and that must've been the last straw.
"sir, don't ever get your eyes off of your child."
satoru quickly turns his head towards the nurse, eyes wide as if he just got caught committing a crime, but he's met with their blank stare.
"you have to make sure i administer the vaccine correctly." the nurse continues, lecturing your husband—respectfully, of course.
his jaw opens, but nothing comes out, closing it again when he realizes his mistake. his eyes move down to watch your baby, still smiley and babbling nonsense.
a small smile grows on his lips as he carefully maneuvers her little hands in his, and a similar one appears on your face as you watch the interaction.
"I got you." he murmurs while briefly making eye contact with the needle going in her tiny arm. he grimaces, and the baby tenses up after a second, her eyes never leaving satoru's. "you're so brave, my little mochi. papa is so proud of you."
he coos and keeps whispering sweet things as the baby starts to cry, her face red and eyes screwed shut. satoru's tearing up too, but he doesn't seem to realize or simply doesn't care because he continues on comforting your daughter.
once the nurse has placed a little bandaid on the baby's arm, they hand out a lollipop to satoru.
"let's go home, my two babies." you kiss your daughter's cheek, before smiling at your husband.
and once you return to the comfort of your home, you spend the afternoon watching over them, father and daughter deeply asleep and with matching blotched faces.
Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
yeyinde · 1 month ago
Text
kinda enamoured with the thought of our poor mc going to a dud of party but meeting Kyle and Johnny there (both looking as out of place as you feel) but instead of taking you home, they bring you back to Price and Ghost. a sweet little treat for them all to share.
and they're charming, of course. too charming. but alcohol numbs most of your inhibitions about how touchy they are. how physical. folding themselves into your space, leaning down to whisper in your ear when you can hear them just fine. hands on the small on your back. around your wrist. your waist. knuckles against your cheek—
god, you're such a pretty little thing, aren't you?
warm skin. breath that smells of thick, sweet cream and oaky black tea. hands curling under the hem of your shirt—shush, shush, doe, ahm jus' helpin' ye; yer hot, ain't ye? lemme help ye out o'yer jumper—thick, sunkissed fingers dancing over your skin.
you feel funny, you slur into his—Kyle, he huffs, grinning wide; wolfish: call me Kyle, sweet thing—neck, chasing the scent of spiced vanilla and wild, ripened plums. everything is spinning. spinning—
"god, he's gonna just love you—"
but they'll take you somewhere. home. you nod, nose tucked tight against his warm, steady pulse. "wanna go home—" you mumble into salt-tinged skin, and they laugh.
"oh, don't worry, beautiful. we'll get you right where you need to be."
you trust them, of course. let them usher you into their car, curled up against a broad, warm chest. lulled under a blanket of security wrapped tight in strong, firm arms. and if his hand wanders, fingers tickling the insides of your thighs. well—
you can't deny they're attractive. maybe you can get their number after and call them in the morning.
but that doesn't happen.
you wake to the sound of voices. hands sliding under your knees, around your shoulder. carried into a house that isn't your own—some strange cabin deep in the forest. the glow of the wood stove in the only light on inside, and you struggle to adjust to the thick orange haze.
"what's going on?" you ask, blinking at the sight that greets your liquid eyes.
Kyle places you down on a rug, holding your hips tight when you fumble. laughing, just a little, under his breath when you gasp.
sitting in an old, wooden chair is a man you've never seen before. big, broad. intimidating. his thick legs spread lazily—one kicked out against the rug, the other bent at the knee. and elbow rests on it. in his hand, a lit cigar. the other dangles, loose and lax, off the armrest. fingers curling, unfurling, into spasmic fists.
his eyes burn caeruleum in the flickering gold.
you fight back a shiver, but feel it slide like hot oil down your spine.
"what—?"
"my boys didn't explain it to you?" he asks, voice a rough, abrasive scratch in your head. gritty. porous. you feel it against your skin. fingers digging into your nape. bad girl. there's something about him that commands attention, and you give it easily as he tuts, pale lips pulling into a condescending sneer beneath the thick of his beard. "or maybe you just weren't payin' attention, sweetheart."
"attention to what—" sir almost trembles out. his lips twitch like he heard all the same. "i just want to go home—"
the hand dangling over the ledge flares to life. he flicks it careless around the room with a hum. "you are home."
"my real home—"
and then you see it.
he moves like liquid through the shadows. folds himself into the dark like its where he belongs. and you thought—and still very much do—the man sitting on his throne was large, intimidating, but it pales at the absurd height of this thing that slinks out of the corner with a heavy, laden gaze. powdered charcoal. endlessly black. flat, though. amused.
when he speaks, it's all brass. "what's this? Johnny brought 'ome a stray?"
"nah," you hear Kyle's grin. feel the phantom shift of sharp teeth against your neck. breathless laugher. warm hands. baby, you feel so good. "we found 'er in a club. lost little lamb."
"and you dragged her back to the wolf's den, mm?"
"you complainin', cap?"
it takes all of your willpower to tear your eyes off the man, but you manage. ripping them away until you find him—Price—again. he stares back with a lidded, heavy gaze. unflinching. hungry.
"not in the slightest."
Kyle purrs. "Johnny couldn't keep his hands off her, sir. might have some competition for who goes first."
cold air on your nape. dread bubbles up in your belly. "no—"
they continue like you hadn't spoken. like you don't exist. the man in the corner folds his thick arms over his broad chest, shaking his head a chainsaw-like grunt. laughter, you think.
but Price doesn't seem to find it nearly as funny. his teeth sink into the butt of the cigar with a growl. "gonna fight me for first, Sargeant?"
Johnny snorts, and rubs his finger under his nose.
"she's sweet," he murmurs, all wide-eyed and feverish. cheeks pinked under the warm spill of orange. "cannae blame a man fer wantin' such a pretty little thing—"
"back of the line," Kyle prods. and you wish his touch made your stomach churn, but that thread of intrigue, alcohol spooled want, still thrums in your veins.
"i just—" you stammer, eyes widening as real, tangible fear sets in. skewers into your belly. heart in your throat. the erratic echoes pounding in your ears. "i just want to go home."
"you are home, birdie—" he speaks and it feels like the walls shake. "didn't get a bright, did you, Johnny?"
"tha's mean, Lt—" his hands snake around your waist, pulling you into his hard chest. "didnae anyone teach ye 'ow tae chirp at birds?" the shorn sides of his Mohawk scratch against your cheek when he nuzzles, kittenish, against your face. "don't listen tae 'im, doe. yer th' sweetest, brightest lit'le thing—"
"mm, and such a bright little girl would know how to behave, wouldn't she?"
even with the alcohol dulling your senses—thoughts scattered and thin as two pairs of hands start pulling at your clothes, stripping you down to nothing—you can still see his words for what it is:
a threat.
as if to reinforce this idea, the man—Ghost, Johnny whines into your burning, stinging cheek, skin chafing from the graze of his buzzed sides: gotta 'ave a taste, Lt—moves, his body spilling out in a dizzying tumble of thick limbs. he stands by the door—the only one—and folds his arms over his chest once more, head cocking to the side as he stares down at you.
"don't worry, Johnny," he rumbles, lids slipping to half cresences over the ink black of his eyes. "i intend to."
the air stills when Price hums. your attention is pulled back to him instantly, but a part of you—all animal—halves it down the middle, keeping Ghost in your sights at all times. turning your back on him feels—
stupid.
you shiver.
Price shifts in the chair, reaching up for the cigar still pinched between his teeth. the look in his eyes is a startling, heavy thing. doom tastes like ash between your teeth.
"an' you're a bright girl, aren't you?"
it's not really a question. you nod anyway, feeling the fight in your body dissolve like wisps of smoke in the dense, thickened air. excitement, desire, hums—an electrical current—in the air, bubbling up between them. they move around you in a way that's dizzingly coordinated—a living, thrumming dance. stigmergy. as your clothes fall, as their hands grab your flesh, pinching and caressing, moaning in your ear about how soft you are, how sweet, one, horrifying thought thickens in the back of your head:
you know, then, that you're not going home.
"oh, sweetheart," Price drawls like he knows what you're thinking. a mocking little coo as he tucks his knuckles under your chin, lifting your head up to meet his burning gaze. there's something in there, you think. something awful. something hungry.
"you already are."
1K notes · View notes
gloomwitchwrites · 30 days ago
Note
141 when a younger recruit has a very obvious crush on you (not dating yet)
Tumblr media
Oh, anon. I had fun with this one. Simply because it's a "we aren't dating yet so why are you jealous" scenario just waiting to happen. That's where my mind went with this. The boys have zero claim on you but they are possessive and territorial as fuck. omg. Do you hear that? It's me standing outside screaming because I need to get a fucking grip. Anyway! Enjoy!
Presented in four double drabbles.
For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE
Task Force 141 x Reader (gn!reader except on Simon's)
Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): hidden feelings, jealousy, possessive behavior, intimidation, crushes, suggestive themes, swearing
Word Count: 800
ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist
Tumblr media
John Price
John is the superior here. He's the one in charge.
Yet he feels completely out of control.
This isn't happening. This isn't fucking happening. He has spent months—months gently putting himself before you. Jealousy and possession are strange to him. They don’t come easy. And yet here they are, eating him from the inside out, chewing away at his resolve.
Anger and irritation are starting to seep in.
A new recruit with an obvious crush shouldn't make him this irate. There isn't any competition, but John can't help himself. All he sees is this wanker making eyes at you, speaking softly and with such tenderness that it's driving John up the fucking wall.
Which is insane. Stupid. You do not belong to him. The two of you are not dating—not anything—but somehow that doesn't matter.
His feet are moving before he even realizes it. The recruit turns in John's direction and instantly pales.
Good. Fucking good.
You turn too, brow furrowed.
"Captain?" asks the recruit, straightening his spine.
John shoves himself between, staring the recruit down, all venom. "You're wanted elsewhere."
"Y—yes. Sir."
The recruit salutes and takes off, the primal jealousy purring softly with contentment.
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
Kyle is going to grind his teeth into dust if he doesn’t unclench his jaw.
What the fuck is this bloke doing over on this side of the complex anyway? He’s a goddamn new recruit. Freshly arrived and still green.
Do you even realize he’s flirting? Kyle can tell just be the way he stands far too close, or the subtle way he touches your arm. His smile is stupidly large. The man is completely struck by you. You appear completely oblivious, having a conversation with him like there’s nothing amiss.
Nope. Kyle is pissed. Furious. Which is fucking ridiculous. The two of you are not a couple, even though Kyle wishes otherwise.
“You look right scunnered.” Soap appears at Kyle’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“That,” he growls.
Soap frowns, following Kyle’s line of sight. Soap’s frown turns to a knowing smirk. He turns it on Kyle with a mischievous glint. “Want Ghost to scare the shit out of him?”
The rest of the team knows how Kyle feels about you even if they don’t comment on it.
“That would be great,” says Kyle flatly.
Soap lightly pats Kyle’s shoulder. Turning around, he cups his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Lt!”
John "Soap" MacTavish
"I could rig an explosive. Put it under his bunk. That’d be fucking brilliant,” murmurs Johnny.
"We're looking to scare him. Not to maim everyone in his immediate radius,” replies Kyle.
"What about a firework? Poppers? Oh! A stink bomb?"
"That’s fucking childish, Johnny,” mutters Simon.
Johnny isn't jealous. Really, he's not.
He's just...protective. That's what he tells himself anyway.
Kyle, Johnny, and Simon observe you from across the communal gym. A new recruit from the latest batch is hanging on the ropes of the boxing ring. His stance is casual, skin glistening with sweat as he gives you his best smile while he chats you up.
The lad is putting it on thick, and Johnny is having none of it.
You are not Johnny’s spouse. You are not dating. You are not his…anything.
But that hardly matters.
Because Johnny has stolen plenty of kisses from you. He’s put his hands on your body. He’s been far too close for the comfort of a coworker or friend. In that, there is a claim. Johnny can draw the line somewhere.
He is so close to making you his.
No one is getting in his way. Not even a charming new recruit.
Simon "Ghost" Riley (Female Reader)
"Don't do it, Simon. It's not worth it."
Johnny's words don't satiate the anger. Rage is boiling beneath Simon's skin. It is white hot—fierce. All of this emotion and yet Simon has no claim over you.
It still hurts. Still aches.
The two of you are not together—not dating. But it's Simon's name you scream with pleasure, and that counts for fucking something.
His fists clench, muscles coiled with wrought tension. Johnny places his hands on Simon's shoulders and shoves him back down in his seat. If Simon weren’t ready to flay his newest target alive, Johnny wouldn’t be so bold.
"Remove. Your. Hands," growls Simon, slowly.
Kyle grimaces, his gaze darting between Simon and Johnny. He looks ready to jump in if Johnny needs him.
"I'm doing this for you, Lt,” murmurs Johnny, even as his hands keep the pressure.
"She's mine."
"We know,” reply Johnny and Kyle in unison.
One of the new recruits is putting on his best performance, following you around like a lovesick puppy. Johnny is right. Simon can't go over there and knock the man to the ground, no matter how much he wants to.
"Take a deep breath, Lt."
"I'm trying."
taglist:
@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath
@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus
@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41
@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat
@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim
@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307
@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic
@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld
@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff
@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen
2K notes · View notes
prael · 4 months ago
Text
Cleaning Service
Kinktember Day 2: Maid Play
Aespa Karina x male reader smut
words: 4,000 Kinktember Masterlist
Tumblr media
"Hey, babe?" You poke your head from the door of your home office. "What's with all the noise?"
Karina is hooking her head around the corner at the end of the hallway and calls back to you, "Noise? Oh, whoops! I was just sweeping the floor and dropped the brush. Sorry, sir."
"Sir?" you question under your breath as she disappears around the corner. "Whatever..." You retreat into the office once again, plopping down onto the comfy computer chair. You turn your focus back to the work documents in front of you. This lasts for all of two minutes before you hear a loud thumping noise once again from somewhere in the apartment.
You leave your chair, cross the room, and open the door, poking your head out in confusion once more. "Karina?" There is no reply. The hallway is quiet. The doors to the bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen are all closed. You take a step into the hall and you're greeted by the loud scraping of furniture on the floor from the living and dining room at the far end.
You advance towards the corner in apprehension, calling out again, "Karina? What's going on?"
She is half over the dining table and looking over her shoulder. "I'm still cleaning, sir. Sorry if I'm loud. I have been told that I'm too loud with everything I do." There's a lilt in her voice on those last words. Between that and her choice of dress, it is hard not to have your mind in the gutter.
"What the hell are you wearing?" You probably intended to ask that in your own head but you couldn't help but blurt it out. In reality, it's very clear what she is wearing, the better question would have been why is she wearing it, but it's too late for that.
"Sir, this is standard dress for a maid. I am the maid you hired after all. I'm here to give your big, long... hallway a long, hard, deep clean, right after I finish here in the dining room."
At this point, you haven't made eye contact for a single second of the conversation, too drawn to how her skirt is so short that not only can you see her panties, but you can see the bare skin of her lower back above them as she bends. Your gaze wanders down the backs of her tasty thighs and the gap between them.
Karina speaks again after a soft laugh at how you seem to be stunned, "Perhaps you would like to watch me work? Make sure that I don't miss a spot and get into all these... tight spaces?"
"Karina... I have work. I have to finish this paperwork..." you respond half-heartedly.
"Okay sir, if you don't want to watch, I can just keep working on my own." As you lean back on the wall by the corner, thinking, she bends forward, so that her ass rises into the air. "I promise not to make too much noise."
Working is a fool's errand, every time you hear something outside your office, you're reminded of what Karina is up to—of her ridiculous outfit. You want to watch her. There isn't enough blood in your brain for you to think clearly. And then the door opens. Brush in hand, Karina steps into the office and bends over to run the bristles across the floor in long sweeping strokes. It is impossible not to notice the slight sway in her hips.
You look away, turn, and focus back on your work. For a brief second, anyway. Her long and slightly wavy black hair hangs in front of her shoulder as she bends over to sweep, between the locks, the white low-cut lace frills of her outfit struggle to contain her chest. It's fitted so tight that they spill over, each sweep of her arms threatening to push them free.
You can't help it anymore. You steer into the skid and fuel the roleplay. "I expect every inch of this place swept, cleaned, and shined. Do you hear me?"
"Yes, sir, the place has to be clean, really clean. I am here to serve you to the best of my abilities."
"Clean this desk," you instruct simply, returning to your computer screen with a smug smirk, as though you are oblivious to the real intent of your words. You aren't really oblivious to it—you're relishing it. She is likely doing the same thing, of course. This is her plan. Her choice of outfit—from the black and white dress down to the choker on her neck has an intention behind it, and there's no point pretending that she isn't trying to seduce you.
She steps over next to you, duster in hand, and with exaggeratedly graceful gestures she dusts down the desk you work at. She reaches over you, to the far side, instead of walking around, this way she can push her chest right into your face. In between writing lines in an email, you check out the cleavage just inches from you. You breathe a gentle warm sigh right onto her.
Karina whines, softly, in your ear, and then speaks, "Oh master... It looks like there's some dirt I have to clean right"—Karina reaches down below the desk to grasp your trousers, over your bulge—"here. I know just what it needs. A nice spit-shine."
"I did hire you to clean everything," you smile. Karina settles down to her knees on the floor and then crawls under your desk. You spread your legs a little more to let her inside and roll your chair forward ever so slightly. You type your email; there are so many to work through, after all.
Her hands explore over your trousers until she is firmly clasping at you, massaging through your pants. "It's so dirty down here," Karina puts a feigned whine into her voice. "I'm going to have to get in there and really make it nice and clean, master."
Karina tugs at the zipper of your trousers and pulls it down, next she has your boxer shorts tugged down as well. She cradles you in her right hand, toying, feeling it grow harder in the palm of her hand. For some time, she playfully toys and strokes, squeezing and palming and groping all over. This is heaven.
"This is a really big job, sir, I do hope it's worth a nice, big tip. The maid likes to be rewarded well." You hear and feel the giggle against your inner thigh before she runs her wet, slick tongue all the way from the base of your length right up to the head. She spits onto it and collects it with her stroking hand, creating a smooth and slippery glide.
She uses her other hand to massage your balls, cupping and stroking them. She seems to work you over for so long without making a change and it has you wondering if she intends to use just her hand all the way. Her fingertips play over your sensitive cock, teasing, working you into a fever. Your fingertips brush the keyboard, working away while your cock is worked over, a display of inhuman self-control.
"Are you going to be a good maid and clean it for me, or just play with it all day?" Your hand wanders to the top of her head to rub her.
"Sorry master, I have been known to enjoy my job a little too much at times. Don't worry, I will have your dick all cleaned and polished right away." Karina doesn't waste another second, before her mouth engulfs you, sinking down onto you, wet and soft and slippery, hotter than even the warmth of her hands had been, her lips gliding down on you and wrapping snugly.
Your fingers tap wildly over the keyboard. She runs her lips and tongue all along your shaft as she moves down and then up. Every movement causes your toes to curl, and your body to arch forward in your seat. The movements cause your hands to slow over the keyboard. "Good girl."
Karina grabs and caresses your thigh in silent appreciation. It tickles more than anything, making you writhe ever so slightly, but that just sends you deeper into the warmth and wetness. It is absolute bliss, the smooth, warm feeling enveloping your entire shaft.
Her hands kneed your upper thighs as she pushes her head down all the way, before coming up to gasp for air, catching her breath, and then descending back onto you with eagerness. In a moment like this, you can feel every little thing she shoes with her mouth. She plays her tongue over your tip and you grip the keyboard as if you plan to twist it in half. You stare straight ahead blankly, knowing that if you were to look down, you would be a lost cause.
That tongue swirls and twists around the head, a feat that cannot go unacknowledged. You reach down with one hand and tangle up in her soft, silken black hair and push her harder. It's all the direction she needs as she brings the full heat and pressure of her mouth down into your lap, bobbing up and down rapidly. She is drooling all over you. Your fingers are gently caressing her as her tongue draws all sorts of sensations over your flesh.
At last, the task is done and you hit enter and fire off your email. Just in time to grip the arm of your chair. " Fuck..." you exhale under your breath. Karina hums happily as your cock hits the back of her throat, sending ripples through you, driving you ever closer. Harder she sucks, desperate to suck you clean. Your mouth goes dry, and a violent shiver courses through your body, toes and fingers tingling. "I'm going to..." you exhale as a shiver rushes over you, eyes widening, pleasure mounting, peaking.
You tremble. Then, your eyes shut and you squeeze into a fistful of hair. You let out a low, long growl and thrust your hips forward, grunting. You cum, right down the back of Karina's throat, and she works you the entire time, sucking down every drop of you into herself. This is ecstasy. You could float right up away through the roof and into the sky at any minute.
Karina bobs her head for a short time, the intense sensitivity is almost unbearable, every second, every stroke is an overload to your system, but she won't give in into you have released every drop. Finally, she pulls her mouth away. Your whole body sags in relief as Karina leans her face against your thigh. "I trust my work has satisfied?" she whispers, and all you can do is nod. "Then I should continue my other tasks."
Karina crawls out from under your desk, and as she stands, she wipes around her mouth with her fingers. Her lip gloss is smeared at the sides of her lips, her cheeks reddened and her hair messy, but she still gives you the most beautiful smile. She stands straight and neatens her dress. 
"Where was I... Ah, yes, I should dust the shelves. Sir." You roughly pull up your trousers and underwear and watch as Karina retrieves her duster and sets about her work. You look back at your screen but she's still there in the periphery, standing on her tiptoes as she dusts, the hem of her little dress not even half-covering her perky ass. "Don't let me distract you, sir, work hard. Really, really hard."
What else were you meant to do? You watch Karina as she dances around, dusting in a way that doesn't even clean anything. Everything else has become unimportant, apart from the curves of her body moving in front of you. You could sit there all day, watching her, and, well, that's probably just what Karina wants. She has effectively just said don't try to do any work, sit there and think about fucking me instead.
A few emails later she's still there, leaning to reach the lower shelves, arching her back and showing you everything. Your commitment wanes by the second, just staring, thinking and wanting, it's like torture. "How can I focus while you're just there? In front of me?" You ask her directly at last, leaving your chair, walking past and watching her over her shoulder, pressing a kiss onto the side of her neck.
"What's wrong, sir? Have I done something wrong? Please don't fire me, I'll do anything." You stand directly behind her, nose in her neck, your hands resting on her hips, before sliding down and cupping her round ass. Karina fakes a stammer in her voice, "Sir, that's... that's..."
She doesn't resist. Your hands slip between her legs and stroke her underwear. You can feel how wet she is by just grazing over her. "I didn't hire you to be pretty, slutty and wet, you know? I hired you to work."
Karina pushes back into you, grinding against your fingers, wanting more than a tease. "Sir, I thought those were the only reasons you hired me."
You grip the band of her panties, before tugging them down her thighs. Karina grips the bookshelf, pushing her ass out towards you. "You really want to earn a tip?"
"Yes sir, a big, hard, throbbing, long tip..." Karina purrs, squirming against you, trying to get some stimulation where she needs it most, pushing her wet slit back towards you.
You plant one firm palm between her shoulder blades, using a hard force to pin her against the bookcase. Your fingertips travel down between her legs and you slip one inside her, causing her to inhale sharply through clenched teeth.
You follow this with another. They slide right in with a groan. You whisper in her ear, "How can a maid clean when she is so dirty? Look at the mess you are dripping down your leg." You say that with a tinge of aggression even if you're really happy about it. "It's going to get on my floor. The very floor you should be keeping clean."
"I can mop it all up. I'm so sorry." Her voice is an irresistible plea as you massage her soaked insides. "You can even make a mess of me if you want, then I will clean it all up. You will think I'm the very best maid."
"Want to be a good maid?" You spit onto the floor by her foot. "Get down there and clean that up. Quick." Karina immediately descends and begins licking your saliva off the floor.
You lower to your own knees, right behind her, and push your trousers down again, pulling your hardened, still-wet, cock free once more. Karina's licks are frantic—even if there's nothing left on the floor, you order her to continue until it's spotless while you take hold of her hips in a firm, dominant grasp.
You guide her body as needed as you press yourself against her pussy, running your stiffened cock over her flesh. "You clean that floor well and I'll give you a very... very big tip."
"Yes sir," is a repeated series of eager replies punctuated by soft groans, as you grind your shaft against her, lubing yourself up with her sticky juices. She shudders in your grasp and quivers every time the tip of your cock brushes across her clit.
Her attention falters with each one, causing her tongue to get slower. "Keep... Cleaning. You're not done yet." You hold your cock right at her entrance, and she pushes back, a subtle attempt to get you in her, she gets as much as the first inch before you pull back out.
Karina cries out at the teasing, "Nooo, please, put it inside me, sir." She glances back at you, and there's a glaze over those hazel eyes. Desperation.
"Keep licking," you tease Karina, pushing the head of your cock into her and out, never quite fucking her but driving her crazy. "Show me how clean you can get my floor. Then I'll fuck you... Hard... You want that, don't you?"
"Yes," she pants and shivers, unable to even formulate more of a sentence.
You reach up for the back of her dress, the black fabric held together by a white string, which you easily pull free. You keep pulling and it all unwinds from her, exposing her beautiful pale skin down to her lower back. Her breathing speeds as the reality sets in, you're taking control, pulling off her clothing, baring her. You grab the dress, yanking it down her body, and she doesn't even wear a bra so those heavy tits hang freely.
You return a palm to her upper back, pinning her to the floor. You readjust your position behind her.
Now she is near-nude, pressed flush against the cold and wet floor, and you're leaning over her. You steady your grasp back on her waist, taking her firmly. "What do you want?"
"I want payment for my services, sir, in the form of a big, hot load in my slutty, little pussy," Karina moans. She feels vulnerable now, underneath you as you lean over her back.
You begin to press inside her, feeling all of that clinging wetness, hearing her little noises. Slowly at first, before increasing your intensity, driving inside of her all the way. As you do, you speak over her, "Paid in sex? Paid in cum? And where will it go after we're done?"
"I'll keep it inside me, sir, so there's no mess. You can even dump it all inside my ass, and then I will make sure it all stays there." Karina quivers under you, her back is so slender and delicate, smooth as silk. You run your fingers across her spine and see her skin ripple and her butt rise slightly upwards in response.
"Think I might just do that then..." You begin to build up a rhythm inside her, picking up momentum. She seems so delicate and weak under you, everything Karina usually is not. She's whimpering already, a sign of how desperately horny she is, how she wants to be yours. You grip the soft flesh of her ass and then give a slap with your palm, leaving a red mark.
"Thank you, sir." There's a sincere sense of submission in Karina, which you drink up. She enjoys this change of pace just as much as you do.
You slip a thumb between her cheeks and run it up and down her crack. You prod her hole, eliciting another high-pitched whine from her lips and her insides tighten around you which feels fucking amazing. You gather more of the sticky juices leaking down from her pussy, moistening your thumb further and begin pressing your finger more firmly into her, inching the first knuckle up inside her ass.
With each press inside, a squeal leaves her lips, though her words beg for more, "Give me more, sir, don't stop, it's so good... Thank you!"
Karina is reacting like crazy, it is unlike her to be this sensitive, in the moment, she doesn't allow anyone to control her, but this is everything to her now. You push deeper into her, and deeper, and with a little more resistance, all the way inside. Now you're pressed to the hilt, all the way inside Karina's pussy, and thumb-deep inside her ass at the same moment, drawing more delicious, delicate noises from her, turning your beautiful domineering woman into a helpless mess of blissful whimpers.
Keeping your length inside her, you work your thumb with a twist and a push and you let your spit spill onto her hole, slicking it and making the movement smoother. You use your spare hand to brush over the cheeks and grope. Karina trembles violently, moaning, pushing herself backwards on your digit. She loves having you deep inside her like this, both holes stuffed.
There are so many things that you could say, so many taunts, so many vulgar things, but to bask in the revelry of Karina being a messy submissive girl is to not even need to say them, her expressions, noises, reactions and the pure depravity of it are more than enough for you. This is it.
This is it.
You pull from her cunt and cock back your thumb, ready to replace it with all the pumped-up eagerness of a man possessed, and then you spread her wide. Little to stop you as you slide forward, plunging into the warm and snug grip of her ass. She cries out in response to your breach, making those cute, sexy noises all over again, as you slowly slide into her, gritting your own teeth and groaning as you bury yourself completely within the grip of Karina's asshole, every bit as intense and delightful as you knew it would be.
"God you've got the best ass," you say with a growl. "Fit to take everything I have."
Karina could say anything, sarcastic or clever, or maybe something born out of depravity, but she can barely summon up anything more than an approving murmur. The kind of sound a girl makes when her mind isn't here anymore, focused on a single, wonderful feeling—being stuffed and stretched out.
Your hands caress the supple skin of Karina's ass as you begin to withdraw, holding the soft flesh between your fingers and taking handfuls of her.
Karina clutches, clawing at the floor, but says nothing, letting the sensations take her away, overwhelmed. Just her moans and the deep gasping breath through her nose as you roll your hips into her, grinding and stroking over her and causing her to go so rigid and tense. Her eyes roll back as you lose yourself within her.
A rhythm forms and you're barrelling towards giving her the mess she wants inside her ass. She strains to say, "Fuck my ass. Fuck it. Fuck it and then fill it. Want you so deep. Want all that cum."
Your fingernails dig in, gouging red scratches on her pale ass cheeks as you squeeze her tighter. Karina's hole grows snugger and hotter by the second as if the warmth and depth were begging for what Karina had voiced—an ass full of cum. You certainly want that, and the faster and rougher your hips work the closer it is. "Love filling all your tight holes."
"Do it, cum," Karina moans.
Hard and fast it arrives, the need that you can't prevent. You erupt within her. Violent spasms accompany your filling of her ass, of what must be the most satisfying, taboo orgasm of your life (so far). She takes it all so beautifully, moaning and squealing as she fills up.
No mess. None at all. "So full," she whines. No mess but the one in her.
You lean down, head at her shoulder as you catch your breath, and she cranes her head to nuzzle against you, reaching up to touch your cheek and make eye contact with you through heavy-lidded, satisfied eyes. In that gaze, she doesn't have a smirk or any sort of mischief, just a pleased look of joy, appreciation, and perhaps even a desire for more. You'd be lying to yourself if you didn't say you shared the feeling.
You leave her there, slumped onto the floor, ass in the air. Her little maid outfit is barely even affixed to her body anymore, crumpled and hanging around her midsection. The skin of her ass still bears the marks of your nails. She remains where you have left her. Karina's face and breasts smudge and push against the floor with each breath she takes. The room smells of sex, her, the two of you.
"Clean yourself up. Clean my office up," you instruct her while buckling yourself back up before heading for the door.
Karina coughs once, then admits, "I don't know if I can manage that. Maybe we need a real maid."
2K notes · View notes
leaky-bunny · 3 months ago
Text
omo tropes i absolutely adore:
humping to help hold. watching someone wiggle and whimper and moan while rubbing against their hand or a pillow (or my fav: a partner's leg) is enough to make anyone's mouth water. when someone is so close to an accident that they have to distract themselves with the enticing friction of something pressing on their parts? delicious.
peeing in bottles. for amabs, they have to try and aim their twitching cock into the hole while drops leak out of the tip. for afabs, they have to line up their pee hole with the bottle's opening, oftentimes making a mess because the piss just sprays out too aggressively. either way, it's just sooo *chefs kiss*
physically holding the pee hole shut. this is something i've tried a couple times myself and let me tell you, it's a truly magical thing. with a finger firmly pressed against someone's pee hole, you essentially cut off their option of relief completely. no matter how hard they squirm and relax and even push, nothing can come out. they're forced to sit with the maddening feeling of fullness until eventually the finger is removed and all the piss comes gushing out of them in a torrent.
begging. probably a basic answer but i don't care, i'm a whore for dirty talk. phrases like "i can't hold it much longer" or "i feel so full" or even just "please let me pee" is enough to make me instantly slick. bonus points if there's a term of authority in there like mistress or sir.
peeing outside, especially in the woods. there's something so electrifying about squatting down behind a bush or watching a stream splatter against a tree trunk or make a puddle in the dirt, especially if someone is at their absolute limit and has to find a spot for a last resort.
having to stop mid way through peeing. imagine finally, finally getting the release you crave and then all of a sudden having to shut it off. the shiver you get, the way your pee hole convulses, your bladder aching with all that liquid still trapped inside. my favorite scenarios of this include: being stumbled upon while peeing outside, someone physically pulling a character away from the toilet, a dom stopping a sub's stream just to be mean, and even the classic "i'll just pee a little to relive some pressure."
being tied up while desperate. one time i read this fic about a girl being strapped to a chair and pressed for information by this guy who kept giving her water as "mercy" since she'd been there a while. her bladder started filling and soon she was desperate and he used that to his advantage, pressing on her bulge and teasing her until she broke and told him everything in exchange for access to the bathroom. i can't remember how it ended and god i wish i could find that again, because the idea of being restrained and not even able to squirm is delicious.
the iconic pee dance. i mean come on, what's not to love? when someone's resolve finally crumbles enough for them to abandon all sense of dignity, you know they're truly at their breaking point. seeing the full package is truly a treat; i'm talking hands shoved between thighs, feet prancing back and forth, knees bending up and down, body hunched over at the waist, face scrunched in concentration, the whole ordeal. it's the sexiest sight imaginable, especially if that dance suddenly stills and a flood follows soon after.
2K notes · View notes