Summary: After the white jeans incident, you are certain Monaco cannot get worse for your self-control. Then Kimi wins the race, Toto goes to the podium as Mercedes representative, gets sprayed with champagne, and returns to the garage wet, happy, and far too attractive for your professional survival. Naturally, you drag him into his office.
Monaco race day should be easier. That is what you tell yourself.
The brunch disaster is behind you. The white jeans are gone. Toto is no longer wearing the pale denim shirt that nearly destroyed your professional reputation beside a display car.
Today, he is in black. Black Mercedes team shirt. Black trousers. Headset around his neck. Focused expression. Tall, calm, commanding, and deeply unfair.
So no. It is not easier. It is worse in a different font.
You stand in the back of the Mercedes pit wall room, tablet in hand, trying very hard to look like a woman who has work to do and not like a woman who is internally writing love letters to Toto Wolff’s biceps.
He sits on that high chair like it was built for him. Headset on. Eyes fixed on the screens. Voice low and certain when he speaks to the engineers. His posture is still, controlled, almost predatory in the way he absorbs information. Every radio message, every timing sector, every tyre delta, every possible threat.
He is not doing anything to you. That is the problem. He is just there. Existing. Being competent. Looking like a man who could run a Formula 1 team, a boardroom, and your entire nervous system with one raised eyebrow.
You shift your weight slightly.
Bad idea. Your thighs are already too aware of him.
The black shirt stretches over his shoulders when he leans forward. The fabric clings just enough at his chest. His sleeves sit around his arms in a way that makes you think very unprofessional thoughts about biting.
You miss the white Tommy Hilfiger shirt sometimes.
That one had been dangerous. Clean, crisp, open at the throat. Toto in that shirt had always looked like he was one champagne glass away from ruining your life.
But the black? The black is not innocent either. The black says control.
And apparently, your body has a very embarrassing relationship with authority.
George’s race goes wrong first. There is a penalty. Then confusion. Then the team misses the timing to serve it properly, and you see the exact moment Toto’s jaw tightens. Furious. Quietly furious. The dangerous kind. His voice over the internal line becomes shorter. Sharper. Cold enough to make three people in the room suddenly remember they have screens to stare at.
You feel bad for George. You really do. But some shameful part of your brain also thinks: angry Toto is a problem. A very attractive problem.
Then Kimi takes control. That is the thing about the race.
You expected Monaco to be Monaco. Start. Position. Over seventy laps of expensive procession with mild panic in the pit stops.
Instead, the final part turns into pure stress. Pressure behind. Traffic. Radio tension. A few seconds where the entire room seems to stop breathing.
Kimi does not crack. Not once. He holds it together like he was born for this exact impossible street circuit. Calm voice. Clean exits. No panic. No overdriving. No stupid mistake into the wall with victory staring him down.
When he crosses the line first, the room explodes. You hear shouting. Clapping. A chair scrapes back. Someone curses happily.
Toto removes his headset slowly, and for one second, he just looks at the screen. Then he smiles. Real. Proud. Bright enough to steal the air from your lungs.
Your chest warms. That is the Toto people do not always see. The man who carries every failure like a weight and every win like proof that the whole machine, all those people, all those sleepless nights, still means something.
Kimi’s voice crackles over the radio, emotional and breathless.
Toto leans toward the mic. “Well done, Kimi,” he says, voice thick with pride beneath the control. “Brilliant drive. Absolutely brilliant.”
You look down at your tablet because if you keep looking at him, you may do something idiotic.
Too late. He stands. People crowd him, congratulating him, clapping his back, reaching for quick handshakes. He takes them all, but when he reaches you, it is supposed to be brief. Professional. Public. Just a quick hug among many.
It is not.
His arm comes around you, and for half a second longer than necessary, he pulls you firmly into him. His chest presses to yours. His hand spreads at your back. His body is warm and solid and far too close.
“Good race,” you murmur.
His mouth brushes near your ear. “Good win.”
You feel the words more than hear them. Then he lets you go.
Your body strongly disagrees with that decision.
He glances toward the podium staging area. “I’m going up.”
Your eyes lift to him. “You?”
His mouth curves. “Yes.”
Oh no. You know what that means.
Toto avoids podiums when he can. He sends someone else. He lets the spotlight belong to the drivers, the engineers, the team. But today, Kimi’s win is different.
Today, Toto is going. Which means champagne.
Toto and champagne.
Your survival chances drop dramatically.
You follow with the team, standing below the podium among the crowd, surrounded by Mercedes shirts, phones, cheering, cameras, pure Monaco chaos.
Kimi is glowing. Lewis is on the podium too, smiling wide. Isack looks like he still cannot believe he is there.
Toto steps onto the podium as the team representative, tall and composed, trophy in hand, black team shirt still perfectly fitted, eyes bright with pride.
You stare. Again. You are becoming predictable.
The anthem plays. The trophies are lifted. The crowd cheers. Then comes the champagne.
Toto is a clever fox.
He steps back immediately when the drivers start spraying each other, letting Kimi, Lewis, and Isack drown one another first. He watches from the side with that smug little smile.
Then, when the drivers are nearly empty, Toto takes his bottle and sprays them with far too much satisfaction for a man who pretended he wanted to avoid this.
Kimi turns first. Lewis follows half a second later.
Champagne hits his shoulder, his hair, his chest. Not a full soaking, but enough. More than enough.
He laughs. Actually laughs. The sound cuts through the noise and goes straight through you.
The crowd loves it. The team screams.
You? You are done.
Champagne darkens parts of his shirt, clinging to his chest. Drops shine in his hair. A line of it runs down his neck. His trousers are damp in places, the black fabric catching the light.
Your whole body heats. No. Worse. You get wet. Instantly. Pathetically. Like your body saw wet, laughing, champagne-covered Toto and filed an emergency request.
By the time he comes back to the garage, trophy in hand, still damp and smiling, you are a public danger.
He has interviews first. He stands there with cameras in his face, still wet, still flushed from the podium, speaking with calm pride about Kimi, about pressure, about the team, about George’s unfortunate race, about how special a Monaco win is.
You hear maybe seven words.
Your attention is on the champagne still glistening near his collar. On the damp fabric sticking slightly to his chest. On the way he pushes his wet hair back with one hand. On the way his trousers sit low on his hips. On the way he looks too happy, too proud, too alive.
You are not proud of your thoughts. You are, however, committed to them.
The moment the last interview ends and someone calls him toward the back corridor, you intercept him.
“Toto.”
He looks at you. One look. That is all it takes.
His eyes narrow slightly. Then his mouth curves. “That bad?”
“You have no idea.”
“I think I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
You grab his wrist and pull him toward his office.
He laughs softly behind you. “You cannot wait five minutes?”
“No.”
“Impatient.”
“You wore white jeans yesterday.”
“That was yesterday.”
“And now you are wet with champagne.”
His laugh turns lower. “You are very affected by clothing.”
“And lack of survival instinct.”
You reach his office, pull him inside, and close the door. The second the lock clicks, you turn on him.
He is still smiling. Smug. Wet. Beautiful.
You point at him. “You are going to kill me this weekend.”
His brows lift. “I won the race?”
“Kimi won the race.”
“Our team won the race.”
“You got sprayed with champagne.”
His eyes darken. “Ah.”
“Yes. Ah.”
You step closer, your hands already on his chest.
The damp fabric is cool under your palms. You feel his body beneath it, firm and warm, and your fingers curl into the shirt.
“You look obscene.”
His mouth twitches. “At a the podium?”
“Especially at a the podium.”
“You dragged me into an office again.”
“You keep giving me reasons.”
His hands settle on your waist. “You are soaked, aren’t you?”
Your cheeks heat. You do not answer.
His smile turns slow. “Schatz.”
“Yes.”
He exhales, pleased.
You slide your hands up his chest, then down again, feeling the wet shirt cling to him.
Then you rise onto your toes, high enough that your heels almost lose balance for a second. Your palms press firmly against his chest, using him for support, and Toto’s hands immediately find your hips. Strong. Steady. Possessive.
He holds you there like he knows exactly how weak your knees have become.
You lean in and press your mouth to the damp fabric near his collarbone. Champagne. Salt. Warm skin underneath.
Toto inhales sharply.
You kiss him again, slower this time, then lick the champagne from his skin where the shirt has stretched damp and tight near his throat.
His hands tighten on your hips. “Fuck.”
Your stomach flips. “You taste like victory.”
His laugh is breathless. “That is terrible.”
“You like it.”
“Yes.”
You tug impatiently at the front of his shirt, then make a frustrated sound. “This shirt is useless.”
Toto looks down at you, amused despite the heat in his eyes. “Useless?”
“Yes. Terrible access.” You pull at the damp fabric again. “The Tommy Hilfiger one was better.”
His mouth curves. “You are complaining about my teamwear after dragging me into my office?”
“I am making a valid technical observation.”
“Of course.”
“It had buttons,” you say, glaring at the shirt like it personally ruined your life. “This one is just… tight.”
Toto’s eyes darken. “You did not seem to mind that earlier.”
“I didn’t say I minded.” Your hands slide over his chest again through the wet fabric. “I said access is bad.”
His laugh turns low. “Then fix it.”
You do.
You grab the hem of his damp shirt and pull it upward, dragging the wet fabric over his stomach until his skin is exposed to you. Toto lifts his arms just enough to help, but you do not take it off completely. You only push it high over his chest, bunching it there, because you are impatient and because the sight of him half-undressed, still damp from champagne, is somehow worse. Better. Worse. You do not know anymore.
Drops of champagne still cling to his skin. His chest is warm under your mouth when you lean in again.
You kiss him slowly. Then lick a line over his chest, tasting champagne directly from his skin this time. His stomach tightens beneath your hand, muscles shifting when your tongue moves lower.
Toto exhales through his teeth.
“There,” you whisper against him. “Much better.”
“You are impossible.”
“You love it.”
His hand slides into your hair. “I do.”
Your hand moves lower. Over his stomach. To his trousers. You palm him through the damp fabric. He is already getting hard.
You smile against his chest. “There.”
His jaw flexes. “You are dangerous after podiums.”
“You should go more often.”
“I will consider that.”
You stroke him through his trousers, slow and firm, while your mouth keeps moving over his chest and stomach. He tastes like champagne and heat, and the sounds he makes under his breath go straight between your thighs.
“Toto,” you murmur against his skin.
“Yes?”
“I want you in my mouth.”
His eyes darken instantly. “Lock is on?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
You drop to your knees. Again. Apparently this weekend has a theme.
Toto looks down at you, damp shirt open, black trousers wet in places, hair still touched by champagne, eyes dark with hunger and amusement.
“You look very pleased with yourself.”
“I am.”
“You are going to ruin your knees.”
“Worth it.”
He laughs softly, but it dies when you open his trousers and pull him free.
He is hard and heavy in your hand, beautiful against the dark, damp fabric. You look up at him while you stroke him once.
Toto’s breath catches. “You like looking at me like this,” he says.
“Yes.”
“Wet from champagne?”
“Yes.”
“Hard because of you?”
Your body pulses. “Yes.”
His hand slides into your hair. “Then show me.”
You kiss the tip first. Slow. Then the underside. Then lower, your hand working him steadily while your mouth worships him the way you have wanted to since he stepped off the podium.
Toto groans. Low. Deep.
You take him into your mouth, sinking down slowly, eyes lifted to his. His fingers tighten in your hair, not forcing, just grounding, guiding enough to make your stomach twist.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. “There. Just like that.”
You moan around him. His hips twitch.
Outside the office, the garage is loud enough to cover a lot. You hope. You do not care enough. You take him deeper, one hand around the base, the other still on his damp stomach, fingers spread over warm muscle. You love the contrast — the powerful team principal still smelling of champagne, still half wet from the podium, now losing his breath with your mouth around him.
“You were staring at me after the podium,” he says, voice rough.
You hum.
“Yes?”
You pull back just enough to breathe. “I wanted to lick the champagne off you.”
His eyes flash. “You did.”
“Not enough.”
His hand tightens. “You are filthy.”
“You like me filthy.”
His mouth curves. “Very much.”
You take him again. Deeper this time.
Toto’s head tips back, one hand braced on the desk behind him. His control thins quickly because you know him too well now. You know the pressure he likes. The rhythm. The way to use your tongue. The way to look up at him from your knees and make him forget there are people waiting outside.
His breathing turns rough. You feel him getting close.
His hand in your hair warns you first. Then his voice. “Schatz…”
You do not stop. You take him deeper, swallowing around him, and his control breaks.
He comes with a low, strained groan, release spilling hot into your mouth. You swallow all of it, eyes on his face, hand still stroking him slowly until he trembles once and exhales sharply.
When you pull back, you lick your lips. Very deliberately.
Toto stares down at you like he is considering several career-ending choices.
“You,” he says, voice wrecked, “are impossible.”
You smile. “Private assistance.”
His laugh is breathless. He pulls you up by your hand and kisses you hard, not caring that he can taste himself on your tongue. His hands grip your waist, and for one second you think he will put you on the desk.
You want him to. Badly. Your body is aching, hot, still untouched.
Then someone knocks on the door. Both of you freeze. A voice calls from outside. “Toto? They need you. Media pen. Now.”
You close your eyes. “No.”
Toto exhales through his nose, forehead resting against yours. “You heard them.”
“I heard nothing.”
His mouth brushes yours. “Liar.”
“I am still very naked in spirit.”
He laughs softly. “You are fully dressed.”
“Emotionally naked.”
“Very dramatic.”
“You owe me.”
His eyes darken again. He kisses you slowly this time. Deep enough to make your knees weak.
Then he murmurs against your lips, “I will make it up to you tonight.”
Your pulse jumps. “You better.”
“I will.”
“You are leaving me like this?”
His hand slides down your body, between your thighs, pressing just enough to feel the heat through your clothes.
His jaw tightens. “Oh, Liebling.”
“Told you.”
He kisses you again, harder. Then pulls away with visible effort. “I will take care of you properly tonight.”
The knock comes again. “Toto?”
Toto closes his eyes for half a second, then steps back and moves to the small wardrobe in the corner of his office. Of course he has extra shirts there. Of course he has spare trousers. Toto Wolff prepares for everything.
Almost everything.
He pulls off the damp team shirt, and you stare shamelessly at his bare chest again.
He catches you. “Still?”
“Always.”
He changes into a clean black shirt, then fresh trousers, moving quickly but with that irritating elegance that makes you want to undo all his work immediately.
You sigh. “What a shame.”
He looks over while fixing the waistband. “What?”
“The champagne suited you.”
His mouth curves. “It did?”
“Yes. You should go to the podium more often.”
His eyes flash with humor. “Maybe next time I should send you to collect the team trophy.”
Your body reacts instantly.
He sees it. His smile turns dangerous. “You like that idea.”
You swallow. “I would look good with champagne on me.”
“You would.”
His gaze drops slowly over your body. “Very good.”
You step closer. “Then maybe you should arrange it.”
He buttons his clean shirt, but his eyes stay on yours. “I may use that idea tonight.”
Your pulse jumps. “Toto.”
He leans in, voice low. “I will pour champagne over you and lick it off every place you were staring at on me.”
Your thighs press together.
His gaze drops. Then he smiles. “Exactly.”
He kisses you again, hard and quick, the kind of kiss that promises rather than finishes.
Then he opens the door. You both step out separately, because apparently you are still pretending to have a survival plan.
Toto walks into the garage clean, composed, fresh shirt on, trophy celebration glow still on his face.
You follow a minute later, looking mostly normal. Mostly.
George looks at Toto. Then at you. Then at Toto’s fresh shirt. His eyebrows rise.
Kimi, holding a sandwich despite having just won Monaco, looks between you both with peaceful curiosity.
“You changed,” Kimi says to Toto.
Toto does not miss a beat. “Champagne.”
Kimi nods. “Yes. It is sticky.”
George’s eyes narrow.
You look away. Badly.
George mutters, “I hate knowing things.”
Kimi looks at him. “I won Monaco.”
George sighs. “Yes, Kimi, you did.”
You take a glass of water from someone and try to focus on anything except the lingering taste of Toto, the heat between your thighs, and the promise of champagne later.
Across the garage, Toto speaks to the media team, calm and professional. Then, for half a second, his gaze finds yours. His mouth barely curves. A private warning. A promise.
Your stomach flips. Monaco has been dangerous before. But this weekend?
White jeans. A podium. Wet champagne Toto. And now the threat of him pouring champagne over you later?
You smile into your glass. You are not surviving Monaco. Not even a little.
Toto Wolff x assistant!reader
Monaco was supposed to be all luxury, fast cars, champagne, and professional smiles. Unfortunately, Toto Wolff in white jeans, podium champagne, and a tuxedo at the winner’s gala turns one race weekend into a very dangerous game of self-control. Between hidden rooms, stolen moments, and champagne-soaked promises, your secret affair with your boss becomes hotter, messier, and far more emotional than either of you planned.
Series warnings: 18+, one big explicit smut, boss/assistant relationship, secret affair, Toto separated from Susie, 2026 Monaco GP setting, age gap, power imbalance, public event tension, risk of being caught, clothes kink, champagne kink, body worship, blowjob, oral sex, nipple play, fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, praise kink, dirty talk, aftercare, humor.
Monaco Heat Trilogy
White Jeans Problem
A Mercedes brunch in Monaco becomes impossible to survive professionally when Toto arrives looking illegally good — and your assistant duties turn dangerously private.
Champagne Damage
Kimi’s Monaco win turns into a full Mercedes celebration — until champagne-soaked Toto returns from the podium looking far too good, and your professionalism officially dies in his office.
Tuxedo Disaster
to be published: 14.06
Toto keeps his Monaco promise in the most dangerous way possible, arriving at your hotel room in a tuxedo with champagne, charm, and absolutely no intention of letting you sleep.
The Ribbon and the Room: Part 2 - The Wardrobe and the Crown
Masterlist || part 1 || part 2
Summary: Toto Wolff’s daughter reveals the full extent of her legacy to the F1 grid and team principals by leading them into her private pageant and couture wardrobe — a stunning, strategic, and emotionally loaded inner sanctum that redefines their understanding of her power, her upbringing, and what it means to carry his name.
Warnings: legacy pressure, structured childhood, parental control (non-abusive but intense)
Word Count: 1.6k
The final knot was tied. The corset hugged her waist now, laced by hands that had done it a hundred times. Done with love. With patience. With a certain practiced ease that made it look like nothing at all. She adjusted gently, skirt rustling as she stepped forward from the doorway and turned toward the firelit room. Twenty drivers. Nine other principals. And her.
Toto placed a hand briefly at the small of her back as he passed, returning to his seat and his drink. As if the moment was over. As if she hadn’t just walked into the room like a thread of royalty sewn into silk.
She took her seat beside him, poised, breath calm now, hands folded softly in her lap. And then, from further down the long stretch of table, a voice broke the silence with something warm. Gentle. A question wrapped in genuine curiosity.
“So,” Fred Vasseur began, swirling his wine, “are you going somewhere tonight, or… is that just for us?” His tone was soft, teasing only at the edges.
She smiled faintly, looking down at her dress. A blush-pink masterpiece of structure and silk. It shimmered subtly in the firelight, delicate off-shoulder folds barely resting on her skin. “No, I’m not going anywhere,” she said, her voice calm and composed. “This is one of my pageant dresses. I just needed to make sure it could still be done up.”
A few quiet chuckles. A few more glances.
“Pageants?” Lando blinked from his place on the left, his brow furrowing with sudden interest. “Wait, you do pageants?”
George made a small choked laugh into his drink. Lewis leaned forward with a grin. “Oh, he doesn’t know.”
George shot him a sideways glance and smiled. “Oh, mate, you’ve never seen the pageant room upstairs.”
More laughter, rippling and scattered like the popping of champagne corks.
She tilted her head, amused. “George.”
“What?” he asked innocently. “Come on, it’s a marvel. If you're gonna drop that kind of bomb on a room full of men who’ve just learned you walk like a Valentino bride, you have to show them.”
Toto raised an eyebrow.
George looked at him directly. “Can I?”
There was a long pause, the kind that always hung in the air just before Toto Wolff made a decision. Then, calmly, with one slight nod, “Yes.”
She laughed softly, standing with the help of Lewis, who offered his hand like a knight out of instinct, not obligation. “Come on, then,” she said, eyes dancing now. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly.”
George opened the doors. Lewis kept a hand gently at her elbow. The others followed, half in disbelief, half in curiosity, all quietly obedient to the rhythm of whatever this moment had become.
Twenty-three men, moving like schoolboys through marble corridors.
The house was quiet. Regal. Evening light stretched long through the windows, casting gold across stone floors and dark wood panels. She led them to the furthest room on the top floor. A double set of doors, white and carved with soft floral filigree.
She paused with her hand on the brass handle, looking over her shoulder. “You’re not ready.”
Then she opened it. The room was massive. Immediately, the smell of peony and silk hit them, subtle and fresh and unmistakably her. Walls lined with built-in display cases. Every surface filled with gleaming trophies. Crystal crowns. Gold tiaras. Rosettes and banners and velvet sashes embroidered in looping calligraphy.
Miss Continental Europe.
Vienna Elegance Grand Final.
Winter Queen of Florence.
World Charity Royal 2022.
And hundreds more. Some displayed in neat rows. Others stacked with casual pride. One glass shelf held a crown that looked as if it cost more than half the grid’s first contracts.
Pierre actually whistled. “This is…”
“Terrifying,” Oscar said under his breath.
George grinned. “Told you.”
But she was already walking, heels clicking softly over the polished floors as she headed toward the back of the room. Because that wasn’t it. There was more. She passed beneath a curved archway, white marble, flanked with soft spotlights, and entered the second room. The others followed.
And then they all just… stopped. Because the second room wasn’t a room. It was a wardrobe. Open. Vast. Beautiful.
Floor-to-ceiling rails on every wall. Dresses in every colour. Couture. Vintage. Custom. Feathers, lace, hand-stitched crystals. Shoes arranged by hue and heel height, shimmer lining every surface. At the centre, a velvet dais with a trio of tall standing mirrors. On the side wall, a long vanity with warm bulbs and an array of brushes, palettes, and perfume bottles lined up like an apothecary for royalty.
There was no doubt. This wasn’t aesthetic. This was operational. This was where she prepared for war.
No one spoke at first. Just quiet footsteps and breathless stares. Then Max, low, disbelieving, “This is in your dads house?”
She turned, dress floating behind her like liquid blush, and smiled softly. “I compete. I win. I keep things tidy.”
“‘Tidy,’” Charles echoed faintly, staring at a gold embroidered Marchesa piece that looked like it belonged on the Vatican steps.
Even Christian Horner, who had remained pointedly silent all night, stepped through the threshold like a man walking into a vault. One hand behind his back, one brow arched in cautious awe.
“This is…” he paused. “Strategic.”
She didn’t answer. Just smiled.
George leaned against the archway. “Most girls have a wardrobe. She has a command centre.”
Lewis grinned and nodded toward her. “And every medal, every crown, every fucking custom heel has her name on it. Go ahead. Look. They’re all engraved.”
Yuki whispered, “She’s the real boss of Mercedes.”
Toto entered last. He didn’t speak. Just stood in the archway, hands in his pockets, observing quietly as twenty-three of motorsport’s most powerful men stood shoulder to shoulder, dumbstruck, in his daughter’s inner sanctum.
She walked past them toward one of the centre rails. Pulled out a gown. Held it up like it was nothing.
In that moment, she wasn’t Toto Wolff’s daughter. She wasn’t a girl in heels or a ribboned bodice. She was proof. Proof that grace was dangerous. That femininity was a weapon. That legacy could look like lace if you underestimated it.
And in the reflection of those tall standing mirrors, they didn’t just see her. They saw themselves. Looking. Watching. Already too late to look away.
Christian was the one to break the silence. He turned slowly, hands still folded behind his back like he was afraid to touch anything. Like the room itself might turn on him. His voice was low, but tinged with something unguarded. Not sarcasm. Not bitterness. Just quiet disbelief. “This must’ve cost you a fortune.”
Toto smirked. Subtle. Almost fond. “It did.”
He stepped forward, toward the centre of the wardrobe, not to show off, but to stand beside his daughter, who was still delicately running her fingers down the skirt of a lilac beaded Zuhair Murad that shimmered like starlight under glass.
“We put her in speech lessons the moment she started talking,” Toto said, voice even, eyes soft. “Not elocution, but presence. Tempo. Eye contact. Delivery.”
Some of the younger drivers glanced at each other. Charles, blinking. Lando, visibly reeling.
“She did ballet and gymnastics from the age of three,” Toto continued. “I had to sit through three hours of Swan Lake renditions in our kitchen every Sunday for four years.”
She huffed a quiet laugh beside him but didn’t look up. Just kept running her hands along the gowns. Silent. Steady.
“She practised her speeches in front of the Mercedes engineers when she was six,” Toto added, tilting his head slightly toward the room at large. “They found it adorable. They’d all sit down and give her notes like she was presenting a chassis upgrade.”
Esteban made a faint choked noise of awe.
Toto shrugged. “I don’t know how much I’ve spent. Probably close to a billion, if I’m being honest.”
A few jaws dropped.
“She’s had a private nutritionist since she was twelve,” he said, tone still casual. “A personal trainer since fourteen. A handwriting coach. Stylists. Therapists. Language tutors. PR advisors. All of it.” He looked over at her then. Not prideful. Just real. “Because if she was going to walk into this world with my name,” he said, “she was going to do it better than I ever could.”
It wasn’t a boast. It was a fact. Plain. Unapologetic. And she hadn’t flinched. Hadn’t interrupted. Hadn’t corrected. Because every word was true.
Behind her, the room gleamed with the proof. Decades of performance and perfection in silk and Swarovski. A life built on structure, discipline, and art. Not a spoiled childhood, a forged one. Sharpened by excellence. Polished by expectation. Protected by a father who understood exactly what it would cost her to be seen.
Christian looked between them again. Then back to the far wall of glass where a single red velvet sash hung above the others, one that read Miss Imperial International Grand Prix Queen in gold embroidered thread.
He exhaled slowly. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “No wonder you listen when she speaks.”
Lewis turned, smiling. “It’s not just him.”
Toto said nothing. He just reached out and gently tucked a loose piece of hair behind his daughter’s ear. The movement was simple. Automatic. But every man watching knew they were seeing something rare.
Legacy, yes. But also love. Not the kind they were used to. Not transactional, not strategic. This was different.
This was a father who had built an empire, then built her a world bigger than it. And she had walked into it, spine straight, ribbon laced, crown perfectly balanced, like she’d always known how.
ok buuut sugar daddy!clark x sugar baby!reader, who loves to spoil her and mindlessly gives her his credit card. he's so sweet that she decides to “spoil” him in return...
you have caused a mayhem in my mind amor..bc i can't stop thinking ab them.....hope ur happy.....................(ily.)
tags: smut, older!clark, sugar baby!reader, unspecified age gap, remote sex play, sex toys (1k + wc)
—
your friends never understood your taste in men.
older, rougher, sweeter. you wanted someone who would take care of you. someone who would never leave if what you had left to offer didn't serve their own needs. maybe it was a commentary on whatever paternal love you lacked in adolescence. but your taste in men was just that, a need for a sturdy & constant presence.
when clark kent came into your life, he didn't hold back. years of superhero work aged him years beyond his actual age — though that was more of a metaphor — he was weary & restless for someone he could entirely spoil with decades worth of idle income from his external revenue streams. money that was turned down by ma & pa who only ever needed their son to visit during the holidays. so when he had the opportunity to spoil you, he didn't want to spook you away with too much too fast.
you very quickly learned that your boyfriend heard everything. all the things you could never really afford on your own paycheck, clark would buy with no arguments. and often, without your knowledge — for example, the overtly expensive body wash you briefly mentioned in passing at sephora. salt & stone's santal and vetiver. the entire collection, with the lotion, deodorant & mist, all sat by your kitchen countertop, with a receipt neatly tucked beneath if you wished to exchange the scents.
it was never a performative gesture either. he wouldn't mention any of those 'presents' he'd gotten for you. the day you addressed it was when he surprised you with a brand new honda s2000, custom-coated in metallic burgundy.
"this is, way way wayyy much, clark."
he could only look at you in adoration as you thrust the keys back against his chest. a clear refusal to his far-too generous gift, "i…can't accept this."
"yes, you can." clark's palm dwarfs yours, pressing it against his chest, where you could feel the thrum of his heart beat. steady and unnerved at the apparent purchase. "didn't you say the engine was messed up? and you were stranded until i could come get you." his free hand come up to rest on your cheeks. "what if that happens and i can't get to you in time? i can't have that."
"but clark," you try, words cut short with a gentle press of his thumb against your lower lip.
"let me do this for you. take care of everything else so you don't ever have to worry about things you shouldn't have to. okay?" his voice, resolute, left no room for doubt in your mind that this man wanted nothing more than to spoil you rotten & keep you safe.
what you didn't realise, was that your eventual relentment had come with a sleek, heavy, metallic black card. with no credit limit, to be used at your discretion. every whim of yours was satiated by clark's unwavering generosity.
you wanted to return the favour, naturally. not that clark asked anything of you, he wouldn't have entertained your offer anyway. but this time, this time you might've thought of something that would work.
clark lifts the dainty, velvety red box seated on his desk, adorned with a gold ribbon. a note sits beside it, with your endearing scrawl in blue ink.
i found us a middle ground. xx
the sparkly mesh pools beside the paperwork on his study as he undoes the covering, popping the hefty box open. inside — sat a small, printed card. a QR code.
puzzled, clark follows the instructions on his device. slumping into his seat as he's prompted to install an application. despite his weariness, he trusts you. before him is a screen — a simple user interface of adjustment settings. his brows furrow further as he scrolls down to a map, the gps icon indicating a quaint little bar downtown. a place you mentioned you were headed to meet a few friends.
on the other side of town, you feel your phone buzz, no doubt from a very perplexed clark.
"hi baby!" you chirp, covering your ears to retreat to a more quieter area of the space.
clark sighs softly, the sound of your voice soothing the aches of his day away, "hi sweetheart. i just got home. having fun?"
you hum, rocking at the balls of your feet, "depends. did you download the app yet?"
he pauses, "yeah. i'm not sure what it's for, though."
"put me on speaker," you instruct simply, clark obliges, waiting for your next steps, "you see the controls and settings? it should be labelled under modes."
"i see it," his voice is distant, you can picture how he'd have probably been squinting at his phone, phone held far. "uh. says outdoor mode, rhythm pulse, and … confetti…mode? did you buy a mood light?"
clark doesn't warn you when he clicks on the most intense setting just to start. you let out a choked, high-pitched gasp, hand snapping over your mouth to cover it. "j-jesus baby…warn….ahh…warn me…"
"what's going on," clark stiffens over the speaker, concerned, "are you okay?"
"i-i am, baby. but fuck — you clicked the most…ngh…"
he frowns when your words taper off, breathy, softer moans bleeding through his speakers. "i'm coming to get you. now."
"no!" you squeak, standing up straighter, though your thighs quiver steadily at the hard pulse of the vibrator presently wedged deep in your cunt. "the app…the app is for a remote sex toy." you whisper, bated.
clark goes silent on the other end, for so long that you had to check if he hung up.
"…it's in you now." he says, quietly to himself, drawing back to swipe down the screen, where there'd been a custom setting for him to control, or set the pulse for you.
"m-mhm.." you relax as the sensations slow, presumably from him now tinkering on the application. "jus' thought…y'know…when we're you're busy…you can still take care of me."
he huffs out a laugh as he drags his hand down his face, "jeez…where do you come up with this stuff?"
you grin to yourself, biting on your lower lip as he explores the different pulsing features. "mmmn…figured you wouldn't…turn down a present like…ah — this…"
"i gotta say…i'm not sure if i'm loving the idea of you getting stimulated with…well…without me…" he admits, the twitch of his cock in his sweats betraying his words. begrudgingly, he raises the vibration, only to hear your breathy whimpers in time.
"it's what i want…" you begin, slipping into the bathroom of the bar, "plus…mmmn…when i come home, i'll be wet and ready f'you…"
clark groans loudly, you don't hear anything after that, except the sound of wind, "you can't be saying stuff like that and expect me to sit still."
"you say that but you're doing such….a good…job…" you manage, thighs quivering as the vibrations pulse harder in you. trying to summon all the willpower to not rub at your clit. "fuck. want you here. so bad."
"where are you." he cuts, and you hear a familiar thump of music.
"um…bathroom? where are you —"
the door to the handicapped stall slams open, and you squeak. clark presses a finger on his lip to shush you, with the lock clicking loudly. he raises his phone, with a lop-sided grin on his face.
"let's see what other options there are on this, hmm?"
Attn: So finally here’s some more Geralt! I hope you all enjoy!
Word Count: 2,640
Pairing: Geralt x Reader
Summary: On the road you three stop for a bit of rest by a hot spring.
Warnings: 18+, handjob (male and female receiving), coming untouched
Previous Part:
Part Four
The next two month was spent traveling and taking jobs. With all the stops you weren’t quite halfway there but truly you weren’t in any hurry. There were monsters to be killed on the way back to your hometown. You knew it was Geralt’s job but you hated when he had to leave you, especially after his injury the first time. You three were between towns at the moment and got caught in the pouring down rain, that chilled both you and Jaskier to the bone.
“Fff-fuck,” Jaskier whined as his teeth chattered together. “Yeah, what you sss-said,” you replied. “We have to find shelter. If I remember correctly there’s a cave just ahead across from some hot springs you two can warm yourselves in,” Geralt said. “If there’s not, Poppy and I are kicking your ass,” Jaskier spat. “Is that so?,” he said as he cocked an eyebrow. “I didn’t agree to a fight. Don’t know if I even could as stiff as I am,” you sputtered. “You’re nnn-no fun Poppy,” Jaskier told you, making you laugh.
Geralt was correct. There was a cave and hot springs where he’d said. “If you don’t want to see look away!,” Jaskier said quickly. “What happened to ladies first?,” you scoffed. “You snooze, you loose Poppy. Now turn around,” he said. You did as asked. Geralt was trying to gather all the wood he could, despite it being wet. “Will it ever burn?,” you asked. “It will,” he replied. “Okay, your turn. Promise I won’t look,” Jaskier told you. You turned and saw him over towards the right of the large pool with his back to you.
“Go ahead Sweet One. I’ll keep my eyes to myself as well,” he assured you. You stripped your soaked clothes off and left them there on the ground before making your way over to the left hand side of the pool. “Alright,” you said once you were under the cover of the steamy water. You looked back up to the shore and saw Geralt looking at you. He turned back to the fire he’d built, putting more wood on it before his gaze drifted back to you, looking at you longingly.
Before you realized you’d extended your arm and motioned for him to come to you. You could see his breathing catch, but he didn’t move. You motioned for him again, and this time he began stripping himself. You turned away to afford him some privacy when you heard him enter the water. You kept your back turned until you felt his fingertips upon your shoulders. “You beckoned, Sweet One,” he breathed. You turned to face him and placed your hands on his thick chest.
“I hope this is okay. I- I wanted to be close to you,” you told him. “And how close would you like me to be?,” he questioned. “Close enough to feel your skin against mine,” you whispered as you looked up at him. He pulled you flush to his chest and wrapped his arm around you before cupping your face in his hand and kissing you eagerly. “Mmm,” he groaned deeply. He held you so tight, as if he were afraid you’d disappear. You could feel his engorged manhood pressed against your stomach, and you dared to reach down and touch it, surprising him.
“Sweet One, what are you doing?,” he breathed as you stroked him slowly. “I- I can feel it Geralt. When we lay together, when you’re behind me as we ride. I just… wanted to afford you a little release,” you said innocently. “You- you don’t have to,” he stammered as you tightened your grip. “I want to. If it’s alright, if not I’ll stop,” you told him. “Please… please don’t stop,” he said as he thrusted into your hand. You were right, he’d been aching for you for some time now, but it was okay, he could wait. He’d never even brought up anything remotely sexual because he wanted things to happen on your terms, and now that they were he could hardly control himself as he bit back the moans threatening to escape him.
He kissed you hungrily, before a thought crossed his mind. “What of you? Do you wish to find release Sweet One?,” he murmured. “Shhh. Just let me take care of you this time, my love,” you told him as you ran your thumb across his lower lip. He felt himself shudder at your words before kissing you again. He continued to hold your face with one hand as the other gripped your bottom harshly. He was quickly approaching his peak and with one more stroke of your delicate hand he fell apart.
You continued pulling at him as he released himself into the warm pool. “Huuuhh,” he husked against your lips as he became oversensitive in your hand. He reached down and stopped you, taking your hand and putting it on his chest as he kissed you languidly. His entire body felt relaxed after. He held you there in his arms kissing your lips and face over and over, thanking you and telling you he loved you between each one, making you giggle.
“I love you too Geralt. It’s nothing,” you told him. “How could you say that Sweet One? You’ve never known a man so intimately. You can’t understand how much it means that you’d even want to do this for me,” he told you as he caressed your face. “It just… feels right with you,” you replied. He kissed you tenderly and you wished the two of you could just stay in this moment forever, but of course that’s when Jaskier spoke.
“Alright I-,” he began before he noticed the two of you. “Really?,” he chided. Geralt shrugged before kissing you again. “Well, I am getting out. Anyone who doesn’t wish to see me in all my glory, you have been forewarned,” he said before making his way to shore. Geralt spun you around so that your back would be to Jaskier. “Has he always been so….,” you trailed off. “Yes,” Geralt laughed.
You two stayed in the hot spring awhile longer, just enjoying the feeling of your bare bodies against the other’s. “You aren’t afraid,” Geralt said. “What do you mean?,” you asked. “This entire time in here with me, even when you… well you know, you weren’t afraid,” he said. “I told you, being with you feels right, and not just in this way. Every part of being with you feels right Geralt,” you replied. “It does for me as well,” he replied with a kiss.
“I’ve set some dry cloths here for the two of you and I’ve made dinner,” Jaskier called before walking back to the cave. The rain had stopped and you were quite warm so you decided it was as good a time as any to get out. When you left the pool you grabbed the cloth to wrap yourself up, not caring that Geralt’s golden gaze was roaming over your body the entire time. You too were having your fill of him. His body was so firm, so thick. You wished you were still in the pool with it against you.
Jaskier gave you privacy as you dressed before handing you a bowl of stew he’d prepared. “Thank you,” you told him. “Most welcomed. Thought I’d make up for having gotten in the pool first,” he chuckled. Geralt sat on the ground behind you letting his legs and arms cradle you within his warmth. “Want a bite?,” you’d asked offering him some of your food. “I’ll get my own in a moment Sweet One. You enjoy yours for now,” he said as he kissed your temple. “You two seem… closer?,” Jaskier questioned. “Careful,” Geralt warned. “Still no memory, nosey,” you told Jaskier. “From the looks of it shouldn’t be much longer, naughty girl,” he chided teasingly. You stuck your tongue out at him before finishing off your stew.
Geralt ate then gave you a kiss before going to gather more firewood. “I hope you know my teasing is only affection, Poppy. I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable,” Jaskier told you. “I know. You’re like the annoying older brother I never had.. Or don’t know that I have anyway,” you said making both of you giggle. “I think Geralt wants to give you your memory back, if you know what I mean,” he said wiggling his eyebrows at you. “I think he does too that’s why… well. Never mind on that, but I wouldn’t be opposed to it I guess. I trust Geralt. I’m not rushing though,” you told him.
“Yes, you’re the boss,” he said as Geralt returned. “She’s the boss of who?,” Geralt asked. “Well of you, no doubt. Has you wrapped around those dainty little fingers of hers, and don’t try to lie and say otherwise,” Jaskier said. “Hmmm. Perhaps she’s mostly inclined to get her way with me, yes,” Geralt mused. “See. You’ve got all the power,” Jaskier said, looking at you sheepishly. “Don’t be a bad influence Jaskier,” Geralt chided lightly. “No influence needed. That little pouty lip pokes out and whatever little miss wants she’s getting. I’ve seen it,” he said. “Yes, yes,” Geralt dismissed. “Can little miss have some cuddles now? She’s sleepy,” you said poking your lip out.
Geralt and Jaskier roared with laughed, the sound reverberating off the cave walls. “Yes, Sweet One. Come here,” he said as he laid down and extended his arms. “Mmm. So warm,” you murmured as you snuggled in close. “Goodnight Poppy girl,” Jaskier yawned. “Night Jas,” you replied. “Goodnight my love,” you said giving Geralt a kiss. “Goodnight Sweet One,” he replied.
You woke up to Geralt’s lips pressed into your hair, his warmth enveloping you. “Hmmm,” you hummed. “Sleep well beautiful?,” Geralt asked. “I always do when I’m beside you,” you replied with a smile. “Sweet One…,” he trailed off. “Yes?,” you questioned noticing his hesitance. “You know if you’re with me I- I can’t give you children if you should want any,” he told you. “Geralt I’m not worried about that. You’re all I need,” you assured him. “Really?,” he asked doubtfully. “Yes. You’re more than enough,” you said before kissing him sweetly.
You two laid there awhile longer, Geralt caressing your face softly. “I love you,” he rasped. “I love you too,” you replied before he kissed you. The kiss grew in intensity as Geralt held you tighter. Jaskier yawned loudly as he woke. Geralt hesitantly pulled away. “Fuck,” Geralt grumbled. “Good morning,” Jaskier said none the wiser. “We heading out this morning or staying put?,” you asked. “I think one more day’s rest wouldn’t hurt,” Jaskier piped up. “Hmm. I suppose not,” Geralt agreed. “I’m going for a dip,” Jaskier said before standing and stretching.
When he was out of sight Geralt went right back to kissing you passionately. His fingers dipped into your skin as he gripped at you. He kissed your lips, your face, your jaw, and then your neck, making you gasp and mewl against him. “I want to touch you so badly Sweet One,” he breathed. “You do?,” you asked quietly. “Of course, I do. If you don’t want me to though, Sweet One there’s no pressure,” he then added. “I- I want you to. I suppose I’m just a tad bit nervous,” you told him. “I’d never hurt you,” he assured you. “Okay Geralt. Touch me,” you said as you brought your lips back to his.
He groaned deeply, sending the vibration through your body. He first ran his hands up your shirt and felt of your breasts. “Mmm,” you whined against his lips at the feeing of his rough hands against your skin. He then loosened your pants before sliding his big hand down it. “Geralt,” you gasped as he ran his fingers through your folds. “You’re so wet Sweet One,” he murmured. “I- is that good,” you stammered as he collected some of your slick and began rubbing at your clit gently. “Yes,” he growled.
Your hips jerked against his hand, the feeling of what he was doing to you sending shivers over your body. “Easy Sweet One. Relax. Enjoy it,” he encouraged before kissing you softly. You took in a shuddering breath before releasing it. An unusual feeling of pressure began building in your lower abdomen. “Geralt it- I-,” you said struggling to find the words. “It’s alright. I’ve got you. Let it happen,” he said soothingly before kissing you again. You felt your core tightening before it began convulsing wildly under his hand. You pulled back from his lips, gasping for air and moaning softly as he slowed his movements. Geralt looked down at you in wonder as he felt himself twitching in his pants.
“I do believe I’ve just come all over myself,” he said huskily. You were still trying to catch your breath as Geralt held pressure against your sensitive clit. “Does that normally happen?,” you panted. “No. J- just the sound.. the sight of you Sweet One. You were beautiful,” he said in astonishment. You smiled softly. “Was it alright? Did you enjoy yourself?,” he asked. “Yes, very much so,” you replied as you looked up at him through your lashes. He removed his hand from your pants before brining his fingers to his lips and sucking them into his mouth. He hummed appreciatively at the taste of you. You stared with your mouth hung agape, surprised at his actions.
“Sorry, couldn’t help myself,” he chuckled. “It’s okay,” you said shyly. “I’d like to taste you properly sometime. If you’d let me,” he then added. “Perhaps,” you whispered. “Hmm,” he smiled. “Should we go for a dip? Maybe clean those trousers?,” you then asked. “It’s probably a good idea,” Geralt said. “What’s a good idea?,” Jaskier asked as he reentered the cave. “Going for a dip ourselves out in the hot spring,” you told him. He eyed you suspiciously. “I won’t ask,” he said sheepishly.
This time you two remembered to bring the dry cloths to cover on yourself. You helped Geralt out of his pants before bringing them out into the water to freshen them up. “I could’ve done that Sweet One,” Geralt said as he wrapped his arms around you from behind. “I know, but I wanted to,” you assure him. You hung them on a nearby branch to dry before returning to the water with him. “Thank you,” he told you. “You’re welcome, sweetheart,” you said with a kiss. He held you close, pulling you deeper into the pool.
When he let you go you realized your feet didn’t touch the water and you scrambled to tangle yourself around him. “What’s wrong?,” he asked confusedly. “Geralt, I don’t know how to swim,” you told him. “Oh… I didn’t think of that I’m sorry,” he said. “Or did you? Did you wish for me to cling to you like this?,” you asked with a raised eyebrow. “I-well… truthfully I hadn’t thought of it but now that it’s happening I’m not upset,” he chuckled. “What a bad boy you are,” you chided playfully. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I’m sure you are,” you said as you kissed his lips.
That night you rested in the comfort of his arms once again, preparing to sleep before returning to the road once again in the morning. “Geralt…,” you said softly. “Yes, Sweet One?,” he asked. “When the time is right, I’d very much like for you to make love to me”, you told him. “You want your memories before we’ve returned to your hometown?,” he questioned. “No. I want you. That is all,” you replied. “Then, when the time is right, I shall be yours,” he said as he kissed you softly. “Goodnight my love,” you then said. “Goodnight Sweet One,” he breathed.
you're on your back in sheets that cost more than your rent and bruce is above you, all sharp jawline and disheveled hair, and he's looking at you.
not through you. not past you. at you.
and that's the problem, isn't it? that's always been the problem since the first time he bought you dinner at that restaurant where the menu doesn't have prices and you laughed at something he said—actually laughed, bright and uncalculated—and he went still across the table like you'd slapped him.
you're supposed to be a one night stand. you're supposed to be easy.
that's what he told himself after the second date turned into you staying until morning, your head on his chest while he pretended to sleep so he could keep listening to you breathe. that's what he told himself after the third date when he found your hair tie on his nightstand and didn't throw it away. that's what he's been telling himself for three weeks while he texts you good morning like a desperate teenager.
"bruce," you say, and your voice is wrecked already, thighs trembling where he's got them pressed open, "c'mon—"
he doesn't move. he's frozen above you, propped on his elbows, and his thumb is tracing your jawline like he's memorizing it. like he's going to need to know it later. like this matters.
"bruce?"
"you're not—" he starts, then stops. his eyes are dark, blown out, and when he rocks his hips against yours you can feel how hard he is through his trousers, can feel the way he's shaking with the effort of holding back. "you're not supposed to—"
"not supposed to what?"
"make me—" he cuts himself off with a noise that sounds almost pained when you arch up against him, seeking friction, and he drops his forehead to yours. his breath is hot against your mouth. "fuck. you're not supposed to make me want you. this was supposed to be simple."
and then he's kissing you, rough and desperate, all the careful billionaire charm stripped away until it's just him—bruce, messy and human and scared—tearing at your clothes like he can't get close enough. like if he gets deep enough inside you he can pretend this is still casual. like he can fuck the feelings out.
but when he pushes into you—when he finally, finally fills you up—he groans against your neck and it's your name, just your name, wrecked and reverent, and his hands are everywhere, touching like he's trying to learn you, like he's trying to keep you.
"look at me," he demands, and when you do—when you force your eyes open through the haze of it—his expression is devastating. open. vulnerable. yours. "stay. just—stay. don't go tonight."
you're not supposed to. that's the rule. that's his rule, the one he's had for years. no sleepovers. no breakfast. no seconds unless they're just physical.
but he's still inside you, throbbing and thick, and he's not moving, just holding you there, split open and pinned beneath him, and his eyes are begging even if his mouth won't say it.
"bruce," you whisper, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pull him deeper, watch his composure crack right down the middle. "i'm not going anywhere."
he fucks you then, really fucks you, all rhythm and desperation, the bed slamming against the wall, and every thrust feels like more. like he's trying to claim you. like he's trying to brand himself into your skin so you'll still be there in the morning.
when you come—when he finally lets you, his hand between your bodies, his mouth swallowing your cries—he follows immediately after, shuddering and gasping, burying his face in your shoulder like he can't look at you while he spills inside you, raw and unprotected and stupid with it.
after, he doesn't pull out. not right away. he stays there, heavy and warm, and when you try to shift he tightens his arms around you.
"don't," he says, rough. "just—give me five minutes. give me the night."
you should say no. you should protect yourself. you can feel him trembling against you, can feel his heart hammering against your chest, and you know—you know—that this man has built
Attn: So, the time has come lovelies. This is the final chapter! It has been a lot of fun writing this series. I’ve felt from the beginning it had a little something different. I guess being that it was the first Geralt I wrote. But anyways! I’m so glad you all have enjoyed this story and I hope you enjoy the final chapter as well!
Word Count: 1,770
Pairing: Geralt x Reader
Sunmary: You finally recuperate and are able to leave town with Geralt.
Warnings: 18+, sex (p in v), sex in the bath, a smidge of violence
Previous Part:
Part Six
When you awoke Geralt was still laid there beside you, watching intently. “How don’t feel?,” he asked. “Much better. How long have I been asleep?,” you asked. “Two days,” he told you. Your eyes widened in surprise. “Yes. I was starting to worry a bit Sweet One,” he admitted. “I’m alright Geralt,” you said as you ran your hand over face. He leaned into your touch and placed his hand over yours. “I love you. I don’t think I could live if something happened to you,” he breathed. “I love you too. I’m fine my love, I promise,” you assured him.
You leaned in and kissed him softly before he cupped your face and deepened the kiss. He pulled your body closer to his, desperate to feel you against him. “Make love to me again Geralt,” you pleaded. “Sweet One I- I shouldn’t. You’ve only just awoken. Y- you…,” he stammered as you kissed his neck. “I want you,” you insisted. “Fuck it,” he growled before rolling over on top of you. He kissed you hungrily as you tangled your fingers into his hair. “Mmm,” he groaned deeply, rutting himself into your clothed core.
You began pulling at his clothes, needing to touch more of his skin. You got his shirt off and ran your hands over his warm body. You could feel his skin quiver under your hands. You undid his pants and shoved your hand in to grab his hard cock. “Shit…Sweet One. Slow down,” he gasped. “I don’t want to wait. Please,” you begged. He moved your hand away gently before undressing you with haste, and shoving his pants off. He moved to touch you but you shook your head.
“I have to prepare you,” he then said. “I need you Geralt,” you said looking up at him. “Sweet One what’s the matter?,” he questioned, concern etching his features. “I just… I just love you so much. I want to feel you. I want you so badly, Geralt,” you said desperately. “I love you,” he said before kissing you again. He reached down and placed himself at your waiting cunt, dripping with arousal for him. He eased in and you felt sore, but satisfied that he wasn’t making you wait.
He continued kissing you languidly as he began to move gently. You pulled him down so his body would be flush to yours, not caring that his weight was essentially crushing you. You whimpered against his lips as you came for him. You wrapped your legs around him and encouraged him to move faster. He held you tightly as he started thrusting at a quicker pace. “Geralt,” you moaned as your body arched into him. He kissed the column of your throat as you threw your head back into the pillows.
“You feel so good Sweet One, so perfect,” he groaned. “So do you,” you said before kissing him passionately. You could feel him growing thicker inside you all the while you tightened up again. “Together,” he rasped. He pushed in deeply as he began to spill himself inside you. The feeling of his cock pulsing sent you right over the edge. You whimpered beneath him, the overwhelming feeling of your orgasm and all the love you had for him washing over you. “I’ve got you,” he said soothingly.
When your orgasms ebbed, Geralt kissed you softly all over your face, then on your lips. “My Sweet One,” he murmured. “Always,” you whispered. When you two got up and together Geralt took you downstairs so the you could get a bath. He washed you gently while holding you close. He looked at you with soft eyes as you returned the favor. He kissed you sweetly before you rinsed him. You two dressed and decided to go next door to grab a bite to eat.
“Ah so our girl is back!,” Jaskier said as he saw the two of you. Hugged you tightly before pulling out a chair for you. “How are you feeling?,” he asked. “I’m perfectly fine,” you smiled. “Oh well that’s… You little minx!,” he chided playfully. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you giggled. “So do you still want to go with us? You know, now that you’re in your “right mind” and all,” he asked. “Of course I do. Now that I’m feeling better I’ll be glad to leave whenever Geralt is ready,” you told him. “I think after we have our food we’ll get back on the road. As I said the next town is a three day’s trip but we can rest more when we get there,” he assured you.
The three of you ate before heading back to the inn and packing. “You ready Sweet One?,” Geralt asked. “Yes. I’m ready to spend the rest of my life with you,” you said as you wrapped your arms around him. “Hmmm. You think you can tolerate me that long?,” he chuckled as he held you close. “Oh for sure,” you giggled before giving him a kiss. “I’ll hold you to that because truly, I’d planned on keeping you,” he said softly. Just then Jaskier knocked on the door. “You two ready to go?,” he asked, peeking his head in the door. “Yes,” Geralt responded.
When you went to collect Roach Geralt helped you up into the saddle then took the reins and walked beside you. Jaskier stood on the other side, both of the hyper aware of your surroundings. You’d nearly made it out of town when you were met with a group of about six men. “Stop Witcher,” one said. You looked down and realized it was Marius. “You bastard,” you spat as you tried to get down. “No, Sweet One,” Geralt said as he held you where you were.
“She’s clearly worse off than we even imagined,” he told everyone. “I’m to be your husband darling. There shouldn’t be such venom in your words when you speak to me. You’re merely confused without your memories,” he said talking to you directly now. “I have my memories,” you said smugly. “What? Y- you let this… Witcher defile you?,” he shouted. “And I’ll let him do it again,” you replied. His entire face and neck turned bright red.
“Oh what’s the matter? Can’t take my virginity now can you? Awww. Oh and that means I have all my memories, not that you let me forget what you did to me. Perhaps Cara can marry you no, although I doubt she’s a virgin,” you rambled off. “Little whore. No one would want you now anyway,” Marius said angrily. “I do, and I mean to leave town with her. Now are you going to move or shall I make you?,” Geralt asked. Marius scoffed. “Gladly, take her with you. She has no place here anymore,” he said as if that was an insult.
The men parted, making room for you all to pass. Before carrying on Geralt stood toe to toe with Marius. He then quickly pulled back and hit him square between his eyes, effectively knocking him out. You smiled happily to yourself as he turned and led Roach out of town. You three traveled until it was nearly dark before setting up camp.
Geralt helped you down and you quickly embraced him. “Well what did I do to deserve this?,” he chuckled. “You know what you did,” Jaskier said before you got the chance. “Mmhmm,” you replied before taking his face in your hands and kissing him deeply. “Alright lovers keep it tame in front of me if you please,” Jaskier then said. “Yeah, yeah,” Geralt grumbled before smiling down at you.
That night he held you tighter than ever, as you slept contentedly in his arms. You three traveled hard the next few days to return to civilization. Geralt was eager to get you back somewhere more comfortable. You three rolled up to the nearest inn where Geralt asked for two rooms and a bath immediately. He swiftly took your things to the room before coming back downstairs to join you in the bath. You’d already cleaned yourself and sat back waiting for him to finish.
Once he was done you straddled his lap and felt how hard he was. “Hmm,” you mused. Geralt raised his eyebrow as you sat up on your knees and slowly sat yourself on his cock. He held your hips tightly as he gasped. When you were fully sat, he groaned deeply. “Is this why you were so eager to get me here my love? Did you need me?,” you asked him. He looked up at you awestricken. “Sweet One?,” he said, brows furrowed together. “Have I done something wrong?,” you asked innocently. “No, not at all. You’ve surprised me,” he told you before pulling you in for a kiss.
You rolled your hips experimentally making Geralt cry out. You started doing it again and again, enjoying the effect you were having on him. “This angle… so tight,” he huffed. “Mmhmm,” you whined. Geralt grabbed your ass, and helped you move faster. You moaned loudly as your orgasm approached. “Me too Sweet One. So close,” he told you. You didn’t know it, but the way you’d taken charge had deeply aroused him. With another roll of your hips you came hard. “Huuuh. Hmmm fuck,” he rasped as he came as well.
You two cleaned yourselves up before dressing and heading up to your room to rest. You laid in the bed, wrapped up in Geralt’s arms as he looked at you fondly. “What is it Geralt,” you chuckled. “Just thinking about the night we met. I had no idea it would be the beginning of my forever,” he told you. “Me either, but I’m so glad it was you,” you said. “Me too, Sweet One, me too,” he said before kissing you softly. “I love you, endlessly,” he uttered. “I love you too,” you replied.
And as he said, the day you two met was the start of your forever. From that moment on you two hadn’t been apart and never would be. You were gladly going to follow him to the ends of the Continent for the rest of your days. Lying there with him, his soft lips slotted into yours, you couldn’t help but think you’d never been so content in your entire life. Many would argue the life you’d chosen wasn’t practical, perhaps even reckless, but it was the life you wanted because it was with him. The road to remembering had been long, but it was well worth it because you had Geralt and he was all you’d ever need.
ꕥWhen Superman gets blasted by some aphrodisiac monster, he tries to stay away from you but just can't.ꕥ
ꕥTags/warnings: reader knows clark is superman, smut, girlfriend!reader, sex pollen, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, vocal!clark, unprotected PIV (wrap it before you tap it folks), rough sex, overstimulation, masturbation (male), munch!clarkꕥ
ꕥWC: 3k (ish)ꕥ
ꕥInsired by Venus by Shocking Blueꕥ
ꕥAN: My first fic on here, so be kind and let me know if there are any mistakesꕥ
❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀
When fighting intercosmic beings, the last thing Clark anticipated was a raging hard on. The cosmic being had some last dying act of revenge as it screamed, it sprayed plumes of rose-colored smoke out of what Clark could only hope was its mouth. It’s burp-esc vapors causing his mind to fill with images that would be banned from porn sites for how illicit they were. It was a version of hell that caused his suit to tighten and his body to carry itself to your apartment. His mind only caught up when he was halfway there, when he decidedly thought that he was infected with something, and he could not contaminate his sweet girlfriend as well.
He flew to the fortress of solitude and stumbled in, the bitter cold air doing little to ease his tension. As he lay down on the metal table, Gary’s diagnostics were already firing off in that calm voice.
“Sir, your heart rate is 178 bpm, your blood pressure is 200/125, and your internal temperature is elevated greatly.”
Clark sighs as his dick absolutely screams for attention. He ignores it and the overwhelming feeling of his clothes being too tight, and sits in the yellow sun's rays magnified by the large glass ceiling. Surely he will heal, and this will all be over soon. But when he lies there, the feeling only becomes more unbearable, his body humming with need.
He stands suddenly and paces the floor, but the action only causes a groan of desperate need to escape him, the feeling of the suit's rough texture on him. Time for plan B. He starts to walk out when he is interrupted by Gary’s pleas that he is still very unwell and it would be wise to remain here.
“I’ll be fine, Gary,” he assures the robot.
He files for hours, and the pain does not stop. You're sitting in your apartment with no update, and you're starting to panic. The news released hours ago was that the threat was gone, but you’ve heard nothing from your sweet boyfriend. Perhaps he's healing or just decompressing and just forgot to text you an update, even though he's never done that once, the possibility is still there.
He lands at his apartment and tears off his suit, ridding himself of the constricting fabric. Throwing himself on the sleek couch with a thud, his hand gripping his aching cock with white knuckles, every touch sends waves of pleasure down his spine. His hand speeds up as images of you flash in his mind without his permission. Images of you bent before him with your back arched, spread-eagled on a bed your weeping pussy glistening, kneeling before him with his cock in between your plush lips, him kneeling before you suffocating himself between your thighs. His hand speeds up, but no relief comes. Over half an hour of this torture and no peak to help with this awful feeling of how good it feels, but it is just not enough.
He takes a cold shower, embarrassed by his need, and dresses in starchy jeans and tries to distract himself with pushups, books, loud music, and a dull documentary, but his thoughts drift back to you in compromising positions, moaning his name in his ear. When his phone rings, and a picture of you and him smiling on the beach fills the screen, he moans out loud at the sight of you like some creep. He answers the call with held breath.
“Hey, baby, I tried texting you, but you haven’t answered. Is everything okay?”
Your voice sounds like a symphony composed to drive him to insanity. Full of worry, care, innocent love. His dick grows even harder at just the sound.
“Everything’s fine,” he grits out, cold and sharp. He usually would never speak to you in that tone, but he’s not himself currently.
“Baby, I’m worried about you. Why don’t you come over?”
It’s your pleading voice that breaks him.
“I can’t. I’ll hurt you,” He moans out.
“Clark, what is going on? Are you mad at me? Are you hurt?” he sounds odd, you think, you've never heard him so… tense
“I was sprayed by that thing, and now I’m so horny I might die. I’ve tried everything: the sun, flying, touching myself, cold showers, books, documentaries, pushups, everything! And it won't go away! It’s painful baby,” he rants angrily. He’s usually not so cavalier with his words, but he doesn't even have the audacity to look embarrassed currently, just in excruciating pain.
Your heart aches for him, you want to help him, and if helping him means letting him fuck you into next Tuesday, you are more than happy to oblige.
“Clark, come over right now.” Your voice is husky with want and commanding.
“Baby, no I don-”
“Now Clark.”
He arrives at your apartment not two minutes later, looking flushed and windswept. You pull him over the threshold by the collar of his t-shirt and kiss him before he has the chance to be a gentleman, and he responds instantly, pushing you against the opposing wall and attacking your lips with his.
“Please, baby, let me help you,” you murmur against his lips, and he groans as his hip bucks into yours without permission. You grind back into him with a gasp. His lips are hot and insistent on your neck, feasting on any of your skin he can reach.
“Tell me to stop,” he groans against your soft skin. He can’t do this to you, take advantage of you like this. Maybe this aphrodisiac is deadly to humans. He wants to stop, but he can’t. You smell like a devilish combination of your shampoo, your body lotion, your perfume, your house, your natural musk, your laundry detergent, your dampening panties, your soda sitting on the coffee table, like you and it's intoxicating. He’s like an addict, the way he’s basically huffing your neck with deep breaths.
“No. Do not stop, Clark,” you whine as you rake your hands through his hair. His lips are hot on your skin, searing a path down your neck, teeth nipping at the delicate skin like a starved man.
“I don’t want…” he trails off after finding a particularly captivating hollow in your neck and sucks a bruise with a focus unlike you’ve ever seen.
“I think that's a lie, sweetheart.” You giggle out. You grab a hold of his chin lightly and guide his mouth back to yours. He groans like you’ve punched him, his lips more hungry and demanding.
Time seems to move at a different speed when you’re like this, his lips devouring yours, tongue and teeth clashing, moving like melting honey. His hands kneaded desperately on your hips before rushing to the small of your back, then drifting to your ass to grip you closer. Clark has always been passionate, but this feels entirely different. Entirely desperate. Entirely and completely in need. He’s usually patient, teasing, maybe even a little cocky, but right now? He kisses you like you’re water, and he’s a man dying of thirst. When you pull back, his lips chase yours until you push lightly on his chest. Superman might be able to live without oxygen, but you are not so fortunate and have to come up for air for a moment. Clark looks at you like a kicked puppy, his blue eyes eclipsed by lust blown pupiples.
“I’m sorry,” he whines, but his apology is much less convincing due to the greedy nature of his hands on your body.
“Clark,” your eyes find his, and in one of those moments of human need, almost telepathic understanding, he understands that though he’s the one being affected by the aphrodisiac, you are needing. Needing him now more than you can comprehend.
The next moments are blurry in your memory, flurries of clothing being stripped, hungry hands, moving to the living room, and your body landing on the sofa before he follows on top of you. Lips finding yours, like how every moment his are not on yours, it feels like a poison coursing through his veins, an unbearable pain that only the sweet salve of your love can soothe.
His hard cock is flushed and absolutely weeping with need. It should be pathetic how much he wants you, but then again, you can’t help but find it deeply erotic. It also helps that you’re almost leaking onto the uplorstry with your own desire for him.
Words seem to fail you both, too loud yet not loud enough. With a nod from you, he slips inside your fluttering entrance, groaning loudly. The stretch of him stings as it always does, but it quickly disappears into a melting pool of pleasure in the base of your spine.
“Clark! Holy- oh my-” your head lolls back as he sinks deeper inside you. He is buried to the hilt when a groan rattles his chest.
“I’m sorry, princess, I didn’t prep you. I’m so sorry, love,” he's looking at you with those pathetic puppy eyes again. He's right, he usually will make you cum on his tongue and around his fingers before he would even consider getting inside of you. He’s large, and without some prep, he can be a little painful, but when he looks at you like that, your body responds like he’s spent hours between your thighs and not minutes kissing you in your doorway. You don’t know what's wrong with him. Why he’s like this, but you most certainly don’t mind.
His lips leave a burning path down your neck as he rocks his hips into yours. You can feel him calling on every ounce of strength to be some version of gentle.
“Clark, please, I can take it,” you tell it’s taking everything in him to hold back, and if he’s in such pain, you just want to help him. His hands shake from their place on your hips. You grasp his chin to make him look at you, your eyes again. His eyes are droopy and lust-filled behind his glasses. You take them off (you usually make him keep them on cause he’s so hot with them, but you need him focused currently), and he nuzzles into your palm on his cheek.
“Baby, you need to feel better. Please. Let me help. Just take it out on me. Use me,” you try to convince him with your eyes that you're serious and want this. Want him. Badly. And it seems to break the poor man. With an agonised groan, his hips twitch.
“Are you-” you interrupt him, your patience running thin.
“Yes, Clark.”
He hoists your thighs over your shoulders, hips snapping against yours, and it’s akin to heaven. He's so deep it feels like he's in your throat, and all you can do is gasp and moan at the sensation fluttering around his brutal thrusts.
You thought he was vocal before, but it’s like every thought the man has spills from his lips, babbling and groaning.
“You're so pretty.”
“Gosh, keep squeezing love.”
“My perfect girl”
“You're stunning.”
“Feel so good.”
Your hips start to canter into his, matching each thrust with eager need.
“This pussy is amazing.”
“I love you.”
“I need you.”
“Good girl”
“So pretty like this.”
It’s like a spell; every word that falls from his lips makes you melt and moan.
“Those sounds baby-golly.”
“Keep looking at me.”
“Such a good pussy.”
“You got it.”
That all too familiar feeling builds in the base of your spine. Warmth bleeding through your veins.
“Attagirl.”
“Look at you, taking me so well.”
“You’re perfect.”
One of his hands that was kneading your hips moves to your messy clit, the swollen nub almost painful to the touch, but god does it feel good when his thick, talented fingers circle it.
“That’s it, sweetheart.”
“So good, baby.”
“Wanna cum on my cock, huh?”
“Gonna let me fill you up, my princess?”
The string of yes’s and please’s that flow from you are almost embarrassingly needy, just so cock drunk as you watch him move in and out of you like your hypnotized by the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing.
“Like watching, baby?”
He’s so thick and deep that you can see your stomach bulge with every thrust. He takes one of your hands and places it over the curve.
“Feel that?”
“Feel how good you’re taking me?”
“Such a good girl for me.”
A shudder runs down your spine, back arching off the sofa and into him.
“That’s it, my love.”
“You make me feel so good.”
“I’m so close.”
“Fuck! Clark, I’m gonna, oh baby-” You try to warn him as it feels all of a sudden like you're on the edge of a massive chasm about to tumble. Then he does something absolutely evil and brings one of his hands back to your clit, rubbing it in tight little circles.
“Attagirl, come on. Cum for me.”
And you do, clamping down as sparks fly behind your eyes, thighs shuddering, some truly pornographic sounds leaving your lips. But he doesn’t even falter, keeping the same bullying pace.
“Good girl. So perfect love.”
His hands find your breasts as the edges of your orgasm fade. Squeezing the soft flesh while still pounding into you. Your mind is fuzzy with pleasure as hip moth succkles on your left nipple, one hand on the other breast, giving it some attention, and the other hand digging into your hip to keep you from squirming away, his hips still meeting yours in dizzing thrusts.
He worships each one, eyes closed in soothed bliss, moaning like your skin is the most delectable thing he's ever tasted, he seems to run with that idea and kiss down your soft skin. You whine at the loss of him inside you, until he is face-to-face with your now fluttering, dripping core, looking at it like a lion about to feast on a gazelle. He shoves his face and begins digging into the soft lips with his tongue and teeth, slurping up the essence flowing out of you. He’s grunting and groaning your name against the sensitive skin.
“You taste so good, holy-”
He can’t even finish his own sentence before he dives back in. he’s always given good head, but damn, this is on another level, before he was watching every twitch and breath you made to try and make it feel better for you. But now? It’s like he couldn’t care less if it feels good for you, like he simply needs to taste everything you’ll give him.
“Clarkie! Holy shit!” you gasp out as your hands tug on his dark curls. He groans into your flesh, but you could not decipher what he meant. You tasted like sweet summer sun and lazy mornings and something so human and musky that Clark couldn’t imagine being parted from between your thighs. That is, until he hears it.
A moan that causes a break in him. A gasp that sends a shiver down his spine. It’s not like you even tried to sound good for him, but having him feast on your pussy has an effect. He sits back from you, a dazed look in his eyes.
“Fuck.”
Clark never swears. Like ever. Like you’ve never heard him swear until now. Surprise etched in every corner of your face. He doesn't seem to notice, burying his throbbing cock inside you again and fucking you harder than before. Entirely selfish in his movement, groaning into your shoulder. Folding your legs over his shoulders to get deeper, the momentum of his thrusts causing the couch to bang into the wall loudly, probably leaving a dent. Again, he doesn’t seem to notice or care, pistoning into you.
Words seem to fail him, only half-formed whines of your name and the first syllables of exploitives fall from his lips. Your cunt is so sensitive that even the feeling of the dark curls at the base of his pelvis rubbing against your clit is overwhelming. When you clamp down on him, he only groans and starts to fuck you deeper and harder until he whimpers in your ear.
“Need you to cum, sweetheart. Need you to squeeze me.”
He’s breathless, pleading. It doesn’t take long until you're babbling his name and fluttering around him and squeezing him with deep pulls cumming once again. He makes a hungry grunt before leaning down to your ear.
“Gonna cum baby, shit, gonna fill you up.”
You make a keening noise as he moans and thrusts into you. You feel him throb and leak inside you, finally being able to reach his climax, and it feels so incredibly good, like finally breathing after what felt like years without oxygen. He collapses on top of you with a sigh, his dick finally softening.
“Thank you, honey. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine Clark. Just come to me first next time. You worried me half to death.”
A/n: Some of these thots stem from conversations with @kryptidfiles so thank you for texting back queen
Classification: Smut +18 | Detailed descriptions of penetrative sex, oral sex (including deepthroating and 69-style), creampies, multiple orgasms, prolonged intercourse, power imbalance/superpowered sex, BDSM/kink elements, voyeurism and exhibitionism.
Word count: 2,5k
Divider by me ;)
A - Aftercare and altitude sex: Clark loves wrapping you in his cape and flying you somewhere private for soft cuddles right after heated sex. He checks your pulse and focuses on your breathing because he’s terrified of hurting you or losing control of his abilities when it comes to you. He tries to bring you even higher than the sex itself. It’s followed by slow, weightless floating aftercare, with him keeping his eyes on you while you look down at the world and he admires his.
B - Bondage: Whether it’s with his tie after work or heat vision-welded restraints (especially if you’re superpowered), Clark doesn’t necessarily need them but he knows how much you love being manhandled. He enjoys using his super-strength carefully to pin you or letting you tie him down so he has to hold back from breaking free while you ride him. He’s stuck watching, relying only on his self-control as you sink down on his throbbing cock, back arching, head thrown back, nipples hard and nails scratching his tensing abs.
C - Creampies and breeding kink: It stems from Clark’s alien biology and his deep need to feel connected. He can go multiple rounds and always holds you close while he fills you, whispering about how perfect you feel. He definitely indulges in light breeding talk, “I want to put a baby in you…even if we can’t.” At the beginning of the relationship he worries about getting you pregnant, not because he doesn’t want kids but because he fears it might be too much for you. Once he makes peace with it and you start trying, his biology is no joke. There’s no real “trying” it was one and done and you were carrying his child. He can control when he cums if he focuses, but he loses that control when it comes to you.
D - Dirty talk (in that low Kansas drawl): It’s all soft praise mixed with filthy promises, “That’s it, honey…take all of me,” and “You’re the only one who can handle me like this,” growled right against your ear while he’s buried deep inside your weeping pussy. His accent mostly comes out during sex and the intensity depends on how hard you’re going or how long it’s been since you last had each other. He praises not just how good you’re doing, but how you sound and look and it always pushes you over the edge prematurely, which he fucking loves. He grins at the sight, especially when you beg him to keep talking like that, all while maintaining intense eye contact.
E - Edging and overstimulation: Super-speed means he can edge you for hours and his pattern recognition makes the sex feel perfect. He alternates between slow, deep thrusts and vibrating super-speed tongue or fingers until you’re shaking and begging. He loves hearing your keening mewls and watching you writhe under him, trying to run from the feeling while still pushing your body back into him, desperate for more.
F - Flight and floating sex: It didn’t take long for you to agree to this once you realized how easily he inspires absolute trust. Who’s better than Superman himself? Zero-gravity fucking high above Metropolis happens at least once a week. He could do it in normal clothes but chooses the suit so he can wrap you in his cape, keeping you naked yet warm all over, not just where his cock breaches your pussy. He holds you confidently mid-air while pounding into you, wind whipping around you both as your moans erupt freely into the night sky.
G - Gentle giant / guided sex: Clark is extremely careful with his strength when it isn’t needed, while still giving you everything he has. As big and commanding as he is, he lets you guide him on exactly how rough you want it, “Harder, Clark. I can take it.” His priority is your pleasure, making sure you get everything you want and need every time you take his thick cock. He holds your hips, maintains eye contact when the position allows and reads your body. Don’t even think about lying to him, his ears may be drowned by the sound of your squelching pussy but they’re also glued to your heartbeat and he knows exactly how to tell the difference between pleasure and anything else.
H - Heat vision play: There are insane levels of intimacy and trust involved when he uses controlled heat vision to warm your skin, trace patterns that fade in seconds or lightly stimulate sensitive spots without burning. He also leaves heavy hickeys that he heals with super-breath afterward. He loves watching his marks disappear, replaced by goosebumps spreading across your skin.
I - Invulnerability play: Solar eclipses are always marked on your calendars for this. You marking him by scratching, biting and riding him as hard as you want, is a sweet treat he wouldn’t miss for anything. On normal days, since he can barely feel it, he focuses entirely on how it feels for you and how you can’t help but try to mark him anyway.
J - Jealousy (reporter vs hero): Clark wouldn’t call himself a jealous person but ‘possessive Clark’ comes out whenever someone flirts with you at the Daily Planet. It leads to rough but apologetic office or alleyway sex where he reminds you and mostly himself, exactly who you belong to. “Didn’t mean to act like a jerk, sweetheart,” he breathes into your ear as his thrusts get deeper. “Or to raise my voice…you can be mad at me, just let me feel you cum.”
K - Kryptonite play (consensual and careful): This only happens if he suggests it first and requires insane levels of trust. A controlled amount makes him feel more human and sensitive. It stays at a safe distance, ideally with you in the dominating position, riding him while watching deep green veins crawl up his skin. When you start worrying and try to move faster, he begs you to slow down so he can experience this vulnerability under your control. He’ll tell you when he needs it to stop but often keeps it around during aftercare so he can feel tired and sleepy with you.
L - Lingerie: He absolutely adores the nights you wear nothing but his cape or just his dress shirt and glasses, making a whole show of slow dancing and bending over for him. He watches you through walls, fighting the urge to abandon dinner on the stove and follow you to the bedroom. You love using his cape as lingerie because he’s torn up expensive pieces before, even when trying to be careful but when you do wear it, he ends up pushing it aside to thrust into you gently, murmuring between your moans and whines, “I’m so sorry honey, I should know how delicate lace is…Let me make it up to you, yeah?”
M - Manhandling: He loves how much you love it and how it makes your heart jump, even when you trust him completely not to hurt you. He effortlessly lifts and flips you, grabbing your ass while you cook or brush your teeth, which often leads to him pulling you into the shower, lifting you smoothly and pushing his cock into your unprepared pussy just to hear your moans bounce off the tile walls. He loves leaving fingerprint bruises he kisses better later and biting your shoulder while pulling your ass back onto his cock.
N - Nipple play (with super-breath): Super-breath on wet nipples is his go-to. It makes your back arch, pushing them into his warm mouth as he sucks the chill away. The contrast is heaven and the noises he makes while doing it drive you wild.
O - Oral (super-powered): The first time he went down on you, he tried not to show off but his tongue and super speed still gave you the best head of your life. You pulled his hair hard enough to leave bald spots on anyone else. You also had to beg him to let you deepthroat him, “Clark come on, let’s just give it a shot.” Clark looked at you in disbelief, “It’s not like I’m asking you to hold me upside down in the air while doing it,” You added and held in laughter as you watched his eyes widen.
In the end, he ended up holding you like he was doing bicep curls before wearing your legs like a scarf, tongue buried deep in your pussy while trying not to thrust too hard into your mouth and choke you.
P - Praise kink: Clark loves being told he’s good, whether you’re dressed or naked, under him or on top. The words and tone go straight to his cock. “Such a good hero,” you moan as you feel his muscles clench under your fingertips. “You’re so strong but so gentle for me,” you whine when he hits your G-spot just right. It makes him melt and fuck you harder just to hear more.
Q - Quickies: They’re never really quick with Clark. He always makes time for you, especially if he gets multiple orgasms out of it. Between saving the world and deadlines, you stay late at the office so he can make up for disappearing in the middle of the day by fucking you on your desk once the building empties. Rooftop quickies happen while he’s still breathing heavily in the suit or he superspeeds you somewhere private for fifteen minutes that feel like hours.
R - Rough sex (very controlled if you’re human): Pinning you against walls or furniture, delivering hard deep thrusts, light choking with perfect pressure control so he can feel your pulse under his fingers. He pulls your hair to redirect your kisses or guide your mouth along his cock while he growls your name. “There you go, all the way in… that’s it,” he rasps, watching your lips stretch around his length, saliva coating it and dripping down your chin, knowing he’ll kiss it clean later.
S - Super-speed and stamina: Hours of endless sex. He never gets tired but you eventually will, so it becomes a game of how long he can keep you right on the edge. You adore the sensory overload of him moving at different speeds inside you while he watches your body tense, back arching, toes curling, then trembling as your orgasm builds.
T - Toys and teasing: Clark sees toys as teammates. He blushes in sex stores but carefully checks materials so he can make sure they’re safe to warm up with heat vision or cool them with arctic breath. He especially loves remote toys he can control while across the city, listening to you writhe and moan his name with super-hearing.
U - Uniform kink: You welcome him with open arms and legs whenever he comes home in the Superman suit, no matter how dirty or ripped it is. You beg him to fuck you with the cape still on, always face-to-face so you can trace the emblem and hold onto it during orgasms. You’re just as turned on when he’s in his glasses and button-up, watching them fog up as he kisses you while fucking you into whatever furniture you land on.
V - Voyeurism: There’s the thrill of possibly being seen from below while floating and fucking mid-air or the spontaneous moments on the fire escape where you lean over the railing and he takes you from behind, the fresh air cooling the heat in your core. He’s also not above using super-hearing and x-ray vision to watch and listen to you touching yourself from miles away, it’s like immersive phone sex.
W - Worship: There’s deep body worship from both sides. It’s easy to worship every inch of the Man of Steel but even easier to make him forget he was built for the world. You worship Clark, the man you get wholly and completely while he worships you like you’re the only thing that makes him feel human.
X - X-Ray vision: He teases you by describing in detail exactly how wet and aroused you are and how your pussy walls contract around him. He watches his cock slide in and out from inside, the tip kissing your cervix as he fills you. Best of all is watching himself cum inside you in real time as he shamelessly tracks your racing heartbeat during foreplay, driving you crazy with it.
Y - Yearning (and yandere-lite): Clark practically invented the concept, even before you started dating. The intense longing when he’s away saving the world leads to desperate “I missed you so much” reunions that last all night and into the morning with soft, gentle sex all over the bed until the sheets are soaked. Even after you’re done, you cockwarm while talking and kissing, trading whispers about how you knew he’d come home safe and how he could only think of you out there.
Z - Zoned Out: Clark is an expert at fucking you so good you go blissed-out and cockdrunk, drooling, eyes rolling and whining with every breath while he watches you fall apart with pure adoration and lust, thanking the skies for his stamina because he can make it last.
He doesn't just want to fuck you, he wants to erase the world around you until there is nothing left but the sensation of his cock filling you and the sound of your own broken whimpers.
He isn't rushing, Clark knows exactly how to pace himself, using his inhuman stamina to maintain a relentless, grinding rhythm that hits your G-spot with surgical precision. Every thrust is deep, heavy and unwavering, driving into you with a force that makes your entire body shudder.
He watches with dilated pupils as the "glaze" begins to take over. Your eyes start to roll back, the whites showing as your consciousness drifts away from the room and sinks deep into the heat of the friction. You aren't even speaking words anymore, just whining, a high, needy sound that vibrates in the back of your throat, your breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps every time he thrusts back in.
"That's it," he rumbles, voice a low and vibrating growl that you feel in your chest. "Let me in and let everything else go. Give it all to me, I can take it."
He increases the speed, his powerful hips slamming against yours with a wet, rhythmic slap. He watches a thin trail of drool escape the corner of your mouth, jaw slack and your expression one of total, mindless bliss. You are completely cockdrunk, intoxicated by the sheer volume of pleasure he is pumping into you. You try to cling to him but your fingers just twitch uselessly against his biceps, muscles turning to jelly.
Clark feels a surge of pure, possessive adoration. He looks down at your ruined face, warm, sweating and utterly undone and he feels a primal pride. His Kryptonian endurance allows him to keep you in this state of suspended animation for hours if he wants to, milking every moan and tremor out of you.
He leans down, licking the drool from your lip before burying his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he praises your pussy. He feels your internal muscles clamping down on him in a desperate, involuntary rhythm and he simply smiles, digging deeper, determined to keep you floating in that mindless, erotic void until you completely forget your own name.
A/N: If you enjoyed this story, feel free to explore the archive for more! Liking and reblogging helps others discover my writing and comments always make my day, they’re a huge encouragement for me to keep creating. Thank you so much for reading!
there wasn’t a single man on earth who wasn’t jealous of bruce wayne
i mean, look at him— he literally has it all. besides his face and physique, bruce belonged to one of the founding families of gotham and is single-handedly the richest and most powerful man in the entire city. not to mention, you were his striking and beautiful wife, always by his side as a wife any man would dream for
a group of men approached you and bruce’s table, watching you laugh at something he whispered in your ear with a faint smirk. “wayne” one of the men spoke, making both bruce and you pause your conversation and look at them
“we need to talk about business” the other said, his eyes darting at you before quickly looking away and clearing his throat, almost distracted by your beauty. i mean, you were wearing bvlgari
bruce raised a small eyebrow, his smirk fading. “gentleman i’d love to. but as you can see, me and my wife—"
“it’s fine” you turned to give him a small, reassuring smile. “i can go”
“are you sure, sweetheart?”
“mhm. plus, i spotted dinah with ollie”
bruce gave you a soft, worried look. a look that silently told you that you didn’t need to do this and that he’d rather spend the night with you. but your smile just softened, and you silently nodded as an ‘i’m-sure’, not looking offended at all. of course, you didn’t like it when your husband was busy. but at the end of the day, business is business
you got up from your seat, feeling bruce’s hand on your waist reluctantly slither away from the soft silk of your dress. but before you could fully walk away from the table, your hand slowly trailed on the top rail of the chair before gently lifting bruce’s head for you to kiss him from behind— a kiss that was soft and deep, a kiss that would immediately turn passionate if it were not for the group of men that were watching
you pulled away— despite bruce wanting more— before giving a polite smile to the group of men and walking away towards dinah and ollie's direction, wiping your smudged lipstick with your finger
meanwhile bruce turned to face the men, his lips now having very visible traces of your lipstick— all with no intention from him to wipe it off. instead, he gestured to the free seats in front of him.
“gentlemen” he spoke, not caring about the color on his lips while ignoring the slightly dropped jaws from the men and envious eyes. “lets talk business”
what a lucky man bruce wayne was, indeed
—————————————————————————
masterlist!
(a/n: its been SO long since i wrote wife!reader for bruce stop thats my #dada anyway i wrote this on the train in like 10 mins help)
@henrycavill Warm up phase for Superman training started today! Posting this pic to set myself a minimum goal…and force myself to actually keep going haha!
Or: You ask a sleepy Bruce the age old question "would you rather be a cowboy or a pirate?"
Warnings: none, complete and absolute teeth rotting fluff // longer than usual so the rest of it is under the cut! <3
Morph's thoughts: this idea came up in a conversation with @batwngs and i haven't been able to stop thinking about it :p
"Bruce…?" It's barely loud enough to be considered a whisper, a quiet mutter of your husband's name that somehow manages to fill the silence in the quiet Manor.
You stay completely still for a moment, trying to gauge if he might be awake. You wouldn't want to ruin it if it were the case, not the one time in weeks —perhaps even months, but you'd rather not think about that too hard— that he finally decides to hang the cowl and cape for the night and properly rest.
There's no real answer for a moment, not when he just shifts a little closer, the arm around your waist tightening the tiniest bit around you. A few more seconds go by and then, a quiet hum of acknowledgement, something that you feel against your back more than you hear. His face nuzzling against the back of your neck a reassurance that he is listening.
"You awake?" Maybe not your brightest moment, but in your defence, it’s late and quiet enough to double and triple check.
"Mhm," another vibration of his chest that rumbles through your back, and another squeeze to your waist, more firm and aware than the previous one. "I am, darling."
You give a light nod, and before you can say anything else he's burying his face into the side of your neck. A small smile starts pulling at your lips as you feel the tickle of his scruff, one of your hands leaving the spot it was occupying on your pillow to instead cover his. Your fingers tangling together almost immediately.
"That all you wanted to know?" A soft peck to the base of your neck and another light nuzzle.
For a moment you shake your head, but the doubts of him being able to see the gesture in the darkness of the blackout curtains take over soon after. "No, was just making sure."
A comfortable silence settled in, the only little sound making it through the still air of the night a light ruffling of fabric caused by the rhythmic rubbing of Bruce's thumb over your wedding band.
"Which one would you rather be…" you have to pause for a second, lightly biting the inside of your cheek to avoid laughing preemptively. Perhaps this kind of questions were part of Bruce's reasoning for only leaving his responsibilities as the Bat once you were deep in sleep. "A cowboy or a pirate?"
A sigh leaves him, one that only makes it harder for you to hold the laugh in. Quietness settles for a minute again, only interrupted by the surprised squeal that leaves you when Bruce easily turns you around so you're facing him.
"Hi," it should be embarrassing, how lovesick the little coo that leaves you sounds, specially given that it's prompted by a barely-perceptible contour of his face.
"Hi," perhaps not as embarrassing when his murmur comes just as soft. Your eyes fluttering closed when the pressure of his forehead settles against yours. "Mind repeating that question for me, sweetheart?"
"Mhm," there's a light nod to go along with it, although it mostly achieves having your forehead a bit more squished up to his. "My question, my dear, was weather you'd be a cowboy or a pirate if you could choose."
He hums for a moment, as if deep in thought, truly contemplating the type of lifestyle he'd pick. Instead, "and where does that question come from?"
You let out a dramatic little groan, readjusting so you can bury your face into his neck as a sign of your discontent at his lack of straight answer. Despite your pretended indignation, any tension in your muscles melt the moment the familiar smell of his cologne fills your nostrils. "Curiosity. Not everyone has ulterior motives."
"Are you sure?" Right, you can't see him, but you can hear the smile in Bruce's tone, the way he's just being complicated for his own amusement now. "How can i know this is not a set up?"
"A set up for what?" your head lifts so you can look at the spot in the void where you presume his eyes are. "So i can ship you off into a life of pirate adventure? Even if it were the case, how would that be a bad thing? It sounds awesome."
A satisfied smile settles on your lips when a soft yet unrestrained laugh leaves him, one of his hands finding the spot between your shoulder blades so he can pull you in and onto his chest. You're more than happy to melt against it, ear perfectly placed to hear the constant thump of his heart.
"So you did plan to sail me off?" You're the one laughing this time, snaking your arms around his waist to give a light squeeze.
"You wish," you murmur with a lighthearted scoff, pressing a soft kiss to his shirtless pec before resting your head there again. "You're stuck with me, love."
A soft scoff leaves Bruce at the same time his arms tighten around you, making it so every part of your body is pressed up against his. "Nowhere else i'd rather be."
Comfortable silence blankets the room once more, the mix of his even heartbeat under your ear and the light drag of his fingers against your arms and shoulders proving to be effective to lull you to sleep.
"Pirate then?" you mumble, words slurred in that way that only happens while being in the brink of sleep.
"Definitely not," he murmurs in return, his head ducking for a moment so he can press a kiss to your forehead. "Cowboy all the way. Would manage cattle all day and then get home to you as soon as the sun goes down."
Attn: Here comes our favorite big bear detective!!!! This chapter is so cute to me. I hope you all enjoy!
Word Count: 2,444
Pairing: Walter Marshall x Computer Analyst Gf Reader
Summary: You spend the weekend with Walter and Faye.
Warnings: Major fluff, 18+, sex (p in v)
Previous Part:
Part Seven
After Christmas you kind of just… started staying with Walter. He didn’t want you you to leave so the two of you packed up a bunch of clothes and he took you right back home with him. You couldn’t lie you were enjoying it. He was still as grumpy as ever with everyone else but he treated you like you were a precious gem, always tending to you, always wanting to be close, never able to keep his hands off of you whether it be sexually or simply just in an intimate manner.
Just like now, you two were on the couch and he was rubbing your back as your head laid in his lap. His big hands covered so much and were so warm, you felt like you were melting. “That feels nice,” you said softly. “Yeah?,” he asked. “Mmhmm,” you hummed. “Kitten,” he whispered. “Yeah?,” you questioned. “Faye is going to stay with me this weekend,” he said. “Oh… So I need to head home Friday huh?,” you questioned. “Well she was hoping you’d stay. She wants to spend more time with you,” he told you.
“Really?,” you asked. “Yeah. She mentioned wanting us all to play cards together and maybe having a spa night. I’m sure that would be more for the two of you,” he laughed. “Well if you both are sure I’ll stay. I don’t want to cut into the time you have together,” you told him. “You won’t be Kitten. You’re part of our family now,” he told you. For some reason it made you emotional, you tearing up. “Please don’t cry,” he said pulling you up against him.
“S- sorry. I just-,” you stammered. “It’s okay my sweet. I’ve overwhelmed you,” he said. “They’re not bad tears,” you said looking into his eyes. He smiled at you tenderly before kissing you. He pulled back and looked at you lovingly. “I love you,” he uttered. “I love you too, babe,” you replied.
The week went by quickly and Friday you nervously awaited Faye’s arrival. “Kit!,” she squealed as soon as she came in the door. She threw herself into your arms and squeezed you tightly. “I’m so happy you’re here,” she told you. “I’m happy to be here,” you laughed. “We’re gonna have so much fun!,” she said excitedly before heading to her room to put her bag down. At the door stood her mom. She and Walter were talking when he turned his attention to you and motioned you to come over.
“Hello, I’m Angie, Faye’s mom. I just wanted to come and meet you quickly since you’re going to be spending time with my daughter now. You’ve made quite the impression on her,” she said, extending her hand. “Of course and I have?,” you said, introducing yourself as you shook her hand. “Yeah she’s really happy you’re with her father. It makes me feel good if I’m being honest. Kids can really tell if someone’s a good person or not so I’m trusting her judgement here,” she said. “Oh well that’s… very kind of you, thank you,” you told her.
“Sure. I wanted to tell you I’m perfectly fine with you coming with Walter to the park for her pre formal pictures as well. Overall I’m sure we’ll be seeing lots of each other and I want things to be pleasant for our sakes of course but for Faye’s most of all,” she said. “That’s all I want as well. Faye’s a great kid,” you replied. “Thank you. Well I’ll leave you all to it then! Have a good weekend,” she said before walking away.
“Well that was terrifying,” you chuckled when Walter shut the door. “Angie is alright. We weren’t good together at all but we do our best to be good for Faye, if that makes sense,” he said. “It does. I’m glad for her kindness and levelheadedness. I’d be nervous as heck if my kid was meeting my ex’s new girlfriend,” you told him. “You’re so empathic my little Kitten. Sweetest thing ever,” he said before giving you a kiss. “Awww,” you heard Faye coo as she came out of her room, making Walter chuckle. “I love you two together I swear. So what’s for dinner. I’m starved,” she said.
“New chicken meal we’re trying. It’s got some kind of sauce, spinach, mushrooms, and rice,” Walter told her. “Sounds good. Is it ready?,” she asked. “Not yet sweetie. Haven’t started it,” he laughed. “I’ll get a little snack while you start it,” she said before grabbing a bag of chips. You and Walter worked together, checking and rechecking the recipe to make sure you were doing it right. “Here,” he said offering you a taste once it was finished. “Mmm,” you hummed. “Good?,” he questioned. “Yeah. You try,” you said offering him a bite. “That is good. Food’s ready Faye,” he said, making you laugh.
The three of you sat at the table and enjoyed your meal Faye, eyeing the two of you periodically as you sat close by each other. “What is it Faye?,” Walter asked amusedly. “I’m just really happy you found someone so good for you is all, and someone willing to build a relationship with me as well” she said sweetly.
“Of course. I wouldn’t be with her otherwise. You know that.,” he told her. “Yeah I do,” she said with a sour face. “Uh oh. What’s that about?,” you asked. “Last girlfriend dad had, Rachel, was nice enough but she was cold. I was younger back then but she kinda made me feel like a stupid kid. You’ve never done that,” she told you. “And I never would,” you assured her, which made her smile. “You guys wanna plays phase 10 now?,” she then asked. “Sure,” Walter replied.
He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer while Faye went after the cards. He was staring intently before you realized. “What is it sweetheart?,” you asked as you touched his face. “Nothing, Kitten. Nothing at all,” he said softly before giving you a kiss. “Okay! Found the cards! Be prepared to get destroyed!,” she announced, making the two of you laugh. You three played two rounds Faye winning both times before she declared it was spa time.
“I’ll leave you two to it then,” Walter chuckled. “Nope! You’re doing face and hair masks with us,” Faye said in a singsong voice, making Walter laugh more. You were all sat around with the green face mask on and shower caps over your well saturated hair as you and Faye dug through the nail polish she brought. “I like that one for you, Kitten,” Walter said as he pointed to the bottle of nail polish you were holding. “Fingers and toes. Let me see them Kit!,” she said excitedly. You sat there and let her paint all your nails. She leaned back, inspecting her work before nodding her head in contentment. “Alright your turn,” you said encouraging her to pick a color.
You painted her nails as Walter sat and watched the two of you. “What are you staring like that for Dad?,” Faye laughed. “Just enjoying watching my two best girls,” he said simply. “You’re looking at Kit like… like.. Nooooo! You wanna have a baby with her!,” she giggled. “What?,” you and Walter said in unison. “Awww. A baby. I’d love a little sister,” she smiled. “It’s a bit early for a baby Faye,” Walter chuckled, his cheeks and nose bright red. “Hmmm. Well I’m just calling it like I see it,” she shrugged as you finished her toes.
The face and hair masks were washed away and Faye bid you both goodnight before heading to her room. You turned your attention to Walter and he looked away bashfully. “So she was right then,” you teased. “Kitten I- I..,” he stammered. You wrapped your arms around his torso and looked up at him. “You want to have a baby with me Walter?,” you asked. “Someday,” he said quietly as he held you. “That could be arranged,” you told him. “Really? You’d have a baby with me?,” he asked uncertainly. “Like you said, someday. I’m not in a hurry or anything,” you told him.
“I know Faye is hardly a child anymore, and definitely not a baby, but seeing you with her… It’s like it just comes naturally to you. It got me thinking about what you’d be like round with my child, seeing you hold a tiny baby in your arms, being my wife. I know we’re not that far into this relationship, but Kitten I’d do it all with you, if you’d have me,” he said nervously. “Walter,” you said softly, overwhelmed by his confession. “I love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I need you to know that,” he told you. “I’d be proud to have you as my husband, and as the father of my children, Walter. You have no idea how much I love you,” you told him as you brushed a curl back from his face.
He kissed you softly before it built, and you felt him hardening against you. “Walter… we can’t. Not while Faye is here. I don’t feel comfortable with that,” you told him. “I know. I know. I just have so much love for you in me. I want to give it to you,” he whispered against your lips. “I can feel it sweetheart. I feel it all the time,” you assured him. “Let’s go to bed. I want to hold you,” he then said. You two cuddled up, Walter gently caressing your face as he stared into your eyes. “You’re so beautiful,” he told you. “So are you,” you told him as you placed your hand over top of his.
He kissed you sensually as he pulled you closer, tangling himself up in you. You could feel he was still hard but really you just couldn’t have sex when Faye was there. She’d definitely hear and that was way inappropriate. “I want you so badly,” he told you. “I know, me too,” you breathed. Just then there was a knock on the bedroom door.
You two separated quickly before Faye peeked her head in. “Sorry to bother you guys but I got my period and I need some products. I meant to tell you Dad so we’d have some here, but I forgot,” she told him. “Sorry sweetie. It’s as much my fault as anyone’s. I should’ve grabbed some,” Walter apologized. “I have some tampons and pads if you use either of those?,” you question. “Oh my God yeas please,” she said with relief. You went to the bathroom and grabbed both for her. “I just need-,” she began. “Just take them. Mine isn’t due until next week so I’ll get more later,” you told her. “Thank you so much,” she said before heading back out.
“Time for sleep I think. I feel like we just got busted and we weren’t even doing anything,” you laughed. “I agree. We can be good for one weekend,” he added. “Right. Goodnight babe. I love you,” you said with a kiss. “Goodnight Kitten. I love you too.
The rest of the weekend was really nice, just the three of you and before you realized it was over. “I had a lot of fun spending time with you this weekend Kit,” she told you before she left. “Yeah it was super fun,” you agreed. “I’ll see you guys Friday for Winter Formal,” she said before hugging you both and heading out with her mom.
After she and Angie were gone Walter was on you. “Mmmm,” he groaned as he kissed you hungrily. “Am I just that irresistible baby? Can’t go two days without me?,” you asked. “Not hardly,” he replied breathlessly before snatching your and his clothes off. The feeling of his body on yours was enough to drive you wild. You loved the feeling of his warm, furry bulk against you. He pulled away long enough to drag you into the bedroom and lay you on the bed before pouncing on you.
“Oooh fuck,” he strained as he entered you. You couldn’t deny seeing him so needy for you was making you soaking wet. He put his lips back on yours as he began to move, the two of you whimpering against the other’s lips the entire time. He laid with his chest flat on yours, as he wrapped you up in his arms. It felt like he was crushing you and you loved it. You wrapped your arms and legs around him as he picked up his pace. “Missed you so much this weekend, Kitten,” he told you. “I missed you too Walter,” you replied before kissing him again.
You felt the coil within you on the precipice of snapping. “Gonna come for me Kitten?,” he asked. “Yes,” you squeaked as it washed over you. “Love seeing you like this,” he said before slotting his lips against yours, devouring your mouth with his. You felt him starting to tense as he kept up his brutal rhythm. He grunted as he shot thick ropes of come deep within your velvety cavern. He shuddered with his last thrust.
“Shit. Still hard again,” he chuckled, between trying to catch his breath. You threw your weight and rolled so you’d be on top of him. You were grinding down into him, rocking back and forth while he pawed at your thighs. “Mmm,” you whined as he began playing with your clit. With a few more shifts of your hips you came hard, throwing your head back and moaning loudly. “Holy shit,” you heard Walter whisper. He grabbed your face in his hands and pulled you down into a slow sensual kiss as he rutted into you.
“Walter,” you whimpered as you kissed down his jaw and neck. You latched onto his neck, earning a moan from him. “Oooh Kitten. Feels so good. You feel so good,” he told you. “So do you,” you said before kissing his lips. “Uhhhh,” he moaned throatily as he came. His orgasm sent you into another of your own, you crying out against his lips as your forehead rested on his. He rolled so he’d be on top of you as he kissed you breathless. “I love you Kitten,” he told you while running his hands all over your body. “I love you too Walter,” you replied while holding his face in your hands. The two of you laid there, quietly adoring one another in the afterglow of your lovemaking, content to just be in that moment, two together as one as the world outside faded away.
Attn: I started on this the other day and decided to finish it today. I have had the hardest time today with focusing for some reason tho sooo I hope it’s good and you all enjoy it.
Word Count: 3,260
Pairing: Walter Marshall x Computer Analyst Coworker turned gf
Summary: Christmas with Walter 😊
Warnings: 18+, sex (p in v), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, oral sex (male and female receiving)
Previous Part:
Part Six
It was mid week and Walter came down to the lab to collect you once again for lunch. “Kitten,” he said as he took you in his arms. “Yes?,” you said looking up at him. “I was wondering what you’re doing for Christmas,” he said. “Well Christmas Eve we celebrate at Mathew’s doing presents and have lunch. Then I’ll go home. Christmas Day I don’t have any plans, why?,” you asked.
“Well I was hoping that would be the case. I have Christmas Eve morning with Faye before Angie comes to take her to her grandparents for dinner then they have their Christmas together with each other and Angie’s husband. I’ll be all alone too that evening and Christmas morning so I was wondering-,” he said as you were already nodding. “Yeah?,” he laughed. “Yeah! I didn’t know what your plans were exactly but I was hoping maybe I’d get to see you sometime. Staying together is even better. I got something for us, if it’s something you’re willing to do,” you told him.
“Should I be present for this conversation?,” Matthew asked apprehensively. “Get your mind out of the gutter!,” you chided. “Well what is it Kitten?,” Walter laughed. “Matching Christmas pajamas,” you said as you looked up at him through your lashes. “Yeah, of course I’ll wear them,” he said before kissing you softly. “I can’t believe it,” Matthew chuckled. “What?,” Walter said giving him a look. “I never thought I’d witness the day when someone would have the world’s grumpiest man wearing matching Christmas pajamas,” he laughed. “I’d do anything for her,” he said unashamedly. “Maybe you’re alright after all Marshall,” Matthew smirked.
“I’m so excited. I love you,” you told Walter. “I love you too Kitten. You ready for lunch now?,” he asked before kissing you again. “Yeah,” you replied happily. The week came and went and it was finally time to be with Walter.
Christmas Eve was on a Sunday. You headed to Walter’s after lunch with your bag and Walter’s presents. “Let me help you Kitten,” Walter said as he met you at your car. You followed him in and began placing his presents under the tree. When you rose up Walter was right there behind you. “Did you enjoy your time with your family?,” he asked as he wrapped his arm around your waist. “I did. What about your time with Faye?,” you asked as he nuzzled his face into the side of your neck, his beard tickling against your skin.
“It was good. I’ve missed you though,” he breathed as he began kissing your neck softly. He moved closer, pushing his erection against your ass. “Oh, you did miss me,” you said as you began grinding your hips into him, making him groan. He started sucking and nipping at your neck harder as he ran his hands up your shirt, hastily pushing your bra up so he could feel your skin under his fingers, but that wasn’t enough. He impatiently pulled your your shirt over your head and unclasped your bra from your body and threw it to the side.
“Missed you so much. Been thinking about getting my hands on you since I’ve been by myself. You’re so soft,” he murmured. He stood there rolling your nipples under his thumbs and rubbing his hands ups and down your body over and over giving you chills. He took his shirt off and let his warm body press against yours. He then began grinding his hips into your ass. “Walter,” you whined. “You feel what you’re doing to me Kitten? Making my cock so hard for you. You have me wanting you so badly,” he rasped. “Then take me. Stop teasing me Walter,” you begged.
He spun you around and crashed his lips into yours. You mewled at the feeling of his body hair scrubbing against you. He had you so wound up, so freaking wet, you couldn’t take it. You pulled back before jumping up into his arms, him grunting in approval before he carried you to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed before ridding the both of you of your pants and underwear.
When he got up on the bed you met him, climbing into his lap as he sat back on his knees. You kissed him feverishly as you raised up and sunk down onto him. A strangled noise left Walter’s throat as you began bouncing up and down on him. “Fuck,” he gasped before he started ramming into you. You couldn’t keep up your pace, and let Walter take over. He had one big hand gripping your ass while the other held the back of your neck.
He kissed you with everything he had before he began whispering sweet nothings against your lips. “I love you so much Kitten. You’re one of the best things to ever happen to me. Mean so much to me. So beautiful. So perfect,” he strained. His words overwhelmed you with emotion. “I love you so much too Walter. You’re so good to me,” you said before he kissed you hungrily. You squeezed his shoulders as you felt your orgasm tingling down your spine.
“So close Kitten. Come on,” he whispered as he tilted his hips slightly. “Mmm. Don’t stop Walter. Right there… right-,” you gasped before you came. Stars exploded behind your eyes as your body shook in his strong arms. You opened your eyes to see him watching you intently. He smiled softly down at you before kissing you again.
“Have you got one more for me Kitten?,” he asked as he laid you back on the bed. “Yeah,” you breathed before he wrapped you up in his arms and started pounding you. You gripped at his strong back, reveling in the feeling of being overcome by him as he kissed your lips. He snaked his hand down under your ass and tilted your hips slightly, making it so he was hitting just the right spot.
You began huffing through your nose, him not letting go of your lips as usual, before your second orgasm hit you like a tidal wave. You screamed against his mouth while tugging at his curls. “Ooooh. Mmmm. Huh,” Walter groaned as the force of your orgasm sent him into his. He moaned throatily against your lips as he came. “Oh fuck that was so good Kitten. Never come so hard in my life,” he whined as he rocked into you a few more times. He kissed you some more and you realized he was still hard.
“Walter…,” you murmured. “I don’t want to hurt you Kitten,” he told you. “You won’t. Just one more time,” you told him, as you grabbed his ass and pulled him further into you. “Oooh,” he shuddered as he began, his oversensitive cock twitching within you. Usually Walter kept you close but this time he leaned back on his knees and rutted into you wildly while holding your hips. “Oh fuck. You’re so beautiful Kitten,” he groaned. He ran one hand up your body, sliding up to your throat. You nodded before leaning your head back back to give him access. He choked you lightly, applying just enough pressure for it to feel nice.
Walter was stoic mostly, grumpy to some, soft with you, but you’d never seen him like this. He was so drunk on you, he’d come completely unglued. His mouth hung open and endless groans and pleas left his lips, his jaw slack and eyes rolling back into his head. “Kitten… fuck. Please. Mmm. Need to come. Hurts but feels so good. What… the fuck,” he huffed before moving his hand from your throat to the back of your head and lifting you up against him. He held you tight, whining into your ear.
Fuck he was a sight to be seen like this. He leaned back and put his forehead to yours. “Ooooh. I’m all yours Kitten. I belong to you. Every part of me. Say you’re mine. Say you belong to me, Kitten. Please, please, please,” he begged desperately. “I’m all yours Walter. I belong to you. All of me,” you cried right as you came. He slammed into you and stopped, his entire body going rigid as his engorged cock began to throb.
Tears formed at the corners of his eyes as he pumped into you gently, riding out his orgasm. He kissed you, soft whimpers being pressed against your lips. You ran your hands over his body soothingly trying to help him calm down as he shook in your arms. He laid you back and all but collapsed on top of you. His head laid on your chest as his lower body laid to your side. You continued to rub him, him still shaking as he tried to catch his breath.
“You okay babe?,” you asked him. “What did you just call me?,” he mumbled, not lifting his head. “Babe?,” you questioned. “Mmm,” he hummed. You could feel him smiling softly against your skin. “You like that?,” you asked as you stroked his soft curls. “Mmhmm,” he replied. You smiled to yourself. “Well, are you okay babe?,” you asked again. “I’m perfect Kitten. Just tired now. Let’s take a nap,” he said softly. “Alright,” you replied. He turned and snuggled up beside you, letting you keep him against your chest.
When you awoke Walter had moved around so that he was holding you, your head on his shoulder. You looked up at him and expected him to still be sleeping but we’re met by his big blue eyes looking down at you. “How long have you been awake?,” you asked. “Not long,” he murmured as he reached up and caressed your cheek. “You could’ve woke me up,” you chuckled. “You looked so peaceful, why would I?,” he said gently. “I love you Walter,” you told him before giving him a kiss. “I love you too Kitten,” he smiled before kissing you again.
“What do you say we get up, shower, then eat. I’m curious to see these pajamas you bought for us,” he told you. “Okay,” you replied excitedly. When you finished your shower you dug through your bag. “Here,” you said. Handing him his. He looked at them and chuckled. They were navy blue, with a Christmas tree surrounded by presents and a snowman on the top and snowflakes on the bottoms. “These are great,” he smiled. “Yeah? You really like them?,” you asked. “I do. Thank you,” he said before giving you a kiss.
You two headed to the kitchen, it now being late enough for dinner. “I figured we’d have leftovers. I cooked way too much food for just Faye and I, which is on brand for me,” he laughed. “Sounds great,” you said as you squeezed him. Walter brought out all the food and the two of you ate before cuddling up on the couch and trying to decide on a movie. “What’s your favorite Christmas movie Kitten?,” he asked. “Home Alone and you?,” you replied. “I was always fond of The Santa Claus movies growing up,” he told you. “Either is fine with me,” you told him.
He put on Home Alone and held you tighter. You were so happy, so content there in his strong arms you couldn’t imagine what you’d ever done with yourself before him. He was about to start the second movie when he got up to get something. “Try these,” he said as he took the lid off a Christmas themed bowl. It was full of sugar cookies. “Ooooh. Don’t mind if I do,” you said. You took a bite and hummed. “Good?,” he asked. “Delicious,” you told him, making him smile. “I made them myself,” he said.
That night you two went to bed, Walter cuddling up behind you pulling you close before kissing all over the side of your face, making you giggle. “Goodnight my sweet. I love you,” he told you. “Goodnight Walter. I love you too,” you replied.
You two woke up around eight, Walter fixing the both of you a cup of coffee before headed over to sit in front of the tree to exchange presents. You felt a childlike giddiness as you sat in front of him with your legs crisscrossed. “Here you go Kitten,” he said, handing you a present. You unwrapped it and gasped. “Babe!,” you squealed. “You like it?,” he asked. “I do! Very much, thank you,” you said softly. “I remember you saying you wanted an ereader. That one had the best reviews. Oh and I got you a gift card, just there, so you could buy some books,” he told you.
“You researched it and everything?,” you asked him as you clambered into his lap and gave him a bunch of kisses, making him laugh. “It’s nothing Kitten,” he told you. “Here, open yours,” you said as you made your way back to your spot on the floor and grabbed his present. “Alright,” he smiled as he began unwrapping it. He looked at the present, reading what over what it said on the packaging. “You- this is so thoughtful,” he told you. “I saw it and had to get it for you. I couldn’t believe they had both cooling sheets and a weighted blanket in one set. I was hoping it would help you sleep better,” you told him.
He quickly pulled you up into his lap and kissed you. “You are the sweetest,” he told you as he rubbed his nose against yours. “Noooo,” you giggled. “Yes. The sweetest, kindest, most thoughtful little Kitten,” he breathed. “Walter,” you said as you held his face in your hands. “I mean it,” he said before kissing you again. “I have this for you too,” you told him as you pulled the bag over to the two of you. “You shouldn’t have. I don’t have anything else-,” he began. “It’s not much Walter. Just something I noticed you needed,” you told him. “Okay,” he said as he opened the bag.
He pulled out the slippers with a chuckle. “You’re right I do need these,” he told you. “Yeah, yours are in rough shape,” you laughed. “Thank you,” he said sweetly. “You’re welcome babe, and thank you for mine. I love it,” you assured him. “You’re most welcome. Will you help me put these sheets on? I want to try them, which I sleep better with you next to me anyway, but still. I’m excited to try them,” he told you. “Sure,” you replied.
You got the sheets on and Walter hopped into bed, pulling you along with him. You were giggling endlessly as he began tickling you. “Walter!,” you shouted before he took you by surprise and kissed you. What started as an innocent tickle fight turned into a hot and heavy make out session on the brand new sheets. “Take off your clothes,” you whispered. Walter quickly stripped before you began kissing all over his body. You reached his hips and sucked harshly at the skin there, making him jolt before taking his hard cock in your hands.
You watched bead after bead of precum dripping from him and just had to have a taste. You ran your tongue up the slit before taking him in your mouth. “Fuck,” he moaned. You bobbed your head up and down while fondling his balls when he started clawing at your pants and snatching them off of you. He pulled you around so you’d be sitting on his face, while facing his manhood.
He wasted no time in eating you ferociously while you gave him a blowjob. It was hard to focus on what you were doing with the way he was making you feel but you wanted so badly to suck him off until he finished you kept right on sucking and sucking until he was a groaning mess against your clit. The vibrations were making you ache. You deep throated him a few time, then sped up while jerking what of him your mouth couldn’t take. “Mmm,” you whined around his cock as your pussy began to clench.
Right when you came Walter grew thick in your mouth. “Kitten, I’m going to cum all in your mouth if you don’t st-,” he strained but it was too late. His thick cum started to fill up your mouth, you gladly swallowing every last bit. “Fucking fuck,” he breathed as he finished. You climbed off his face and turned to look at him. He smiled hazily at you. “I can’t believe you just did that”, he chuckled. “Did what?,” you laughed. “Swallowed. No one’s ever done that for me before,” he admitted. “I wanted to and I want to do it again sometime. I- I liked it,” you told him. He shuddered at your admission. “I didn’t know you were so naughty Kitten,” he teased as he sat up. “Just for you babe,” you told him sultrily.
“You’re going to get me hard all over again,” he said huskily. “I wouldn’t complain if that happened,” you told him. He groaned. “We’re going to mess up these fresh sheets though,” you told him as you sat in his lap. “Not if I bend you over the side of the bed,” he said as his cock twitched against your slick clit. “Is that what you want babe? To bend me over?,” you asked. “Fuck yes,” he said as he shot up. He pulled your shirt off before bending you over the bed and easing into you. He ran his hands down your back, curving you to his liking before kneading at the flesh of your ass.
He began at a slow grind before working up to his usual feral pace. He had hold of your hips as his slammed into the back of your thighs and ass over and over again. “Oh my god…Walter,” you keened as you came. He kept throttling you before he started begging you to come again. “Come on Kitten. One more. Want to feel you. Want you to come with me”, he said as he reached around and began rubbing tight circles into your clit. Before it was over you were giving him what he wanting, coming just as he did.
When he pulled out and let you go you nearly fell over when you turned and tried to stand. “Easy Kitten,” he said as he held you. “I feel like jello,” you laughed. “Come here,” he said as he scooped you up. You clung to you feebly as he carried you to the shower. He held you close beneath the water until your legs felt sturdy enough to stand on. “I didn’t hurt you did I?,” he asked, worry etching his ever feature. “No sweetheart. I enjoyed myself very much,” you assured him with a kiss. “Okay,” he replied before beginning to clean himself up.
The rest of the day the two of you lounged about, enjoying one another’s company, watching all kinds of Christmas movies. At one point you had laid your head in Walter’s lap when you noticed him staring at you. “What is it?,” you said, sitting up and scooting into his lap. “I was just hoping you had a good Christmas, Kitten,” he said. “Walter… This just hasn’t been a good Christmas, this has been my best Christmas ever,” you told him. “Yeah?,” he asked. “Yes,” you replied. “That makes me very happy,” he told you before you gave him a kiss. “I love you,” you told him. “And I you,” he replied, holding you tightly.
Attn: Here’s some of our fav detective 😊 my head has been killing me this week so my posting isn’t as frequent as usual but I’m just hoping this is good and my migraine brain didn’t flub things up. Hope y’all enjoy!
Word Count: 2,995
Pairing: Walter Marshall x Computer Analyst Coworker
Summary: You meet Walter’s daughter then spend the night with him.
Warnings: Dad Walter, 18+, fingering, handjob, oral (female receiving), sex (p in v), lots of flufc
Previous Part:
Part Five
The week went on and one day Walter hadn’t come after you for lunch. You made your way upstairs to look for him. You knocked on the door of his office before opening it. “What?,” he all but growled before he realized it was you. His eyes widening in surprise. “I- uh… can come back later,” you said as you began retreating. “No, please don’t leave,” he said, pulling you into the office. His face and neck were red and he seemed to be shaking.
“I’m so sorry Kitten. I didn’t realize it was you. These idiots I work with they just- just… make me want to fucking choke someone. I swear-,” he rambled as he paced the room. “You could choke me,” you said offhandedly. His head snapped up, and he laughed uproariously before crossing the room and taking you in his arms. “You naughty little minx,” he chided as he swatted your bottom lightly. “Just offering,” you shrugged with a smirk.
“I can’t do that with you… Not here anyway. I’d tear this entire office apart,” he said, a light blush dusting over his cheeks and the end of his nose. “You just make it sound so unappealing,” you sighed. He laughed again, his broad chest rumbling against you. You leaned up and gave him a kiss, letting it linger. “Mmm,” he hummed against your lips. “I love you,” you told him before kissing him once more. “I love you, my sweet. Now, where would you like to go for lunch?,” he asked. “Doesn’t matter. You pick,” you told him.
He took you to the diner, holding you close as you ordered your favorite soup. “I wanted to ask you something, Kitten,” he told you. “Ask away,” you smiled. “I’ve told my daughter about you and she’d like to meet you,” he admitted. “Would she really?,” you asked. “Mmhmm. I was telling her all about you last weekend when she stayed with me, and she insisted on it actually. Wants to meet the lady making her dad so happy,” he told you with a smile. “I’d love to meet her, Walter,” you replied. “Yeah?,” he asked. “Yeah. I’ll be honest I’ve never dated anyone with a child so this is all new to me, but it makes me feel good she wants to meet. Hopefully I live up to her expectations,” you told him. “I’m sure she’ll love you, just as I do,” he said before kissing your temple.
“Hopefully. When are we meeting?,” you asked. “Next week is Christmas break. I was thinking whatever day she’d like she could come meet us for lunch,” he suggested. “Sounds good,” you replied. You were excited but nervous at the same time but you’d known that this would come to pass eventually. You loved Walter and of course wanted to meet his daughter. You only hoped you could be a friend to her and she’d be comfortable around you.
The week came and went and before you knew it the day to meet Faye arrived. “Dad!,” she squealed as she came into the diner. “Hello sweetie,” he said as he stood and wrapped her up in his big arms. “Oh hi!,” she said happily as she turned to embrace you. “Hi, it’s so nice to meet you,” you told her. “You too! Seriously when my dad was telling me about you he was being so soft. I couldn’t deal. It was so sweet. I had to meet you,” she told you as she held your forearms in her hands. “Faye, who’s this?,” Walter then asked, motioning to a meek, blonde haired young man she had with her.
“Well I figured I was meeting your girlfriend so you could meet my boyfriend. This is Liam,” she told him. “Hello, sir,” Liam said holding his hand out to Walter. Walter eyed him suspiciously before taking his hand. You all sat down and Walter continued cutting his eyes at poor Liam.
“So my dad calls you Kitten and told me your real name but I loooove nicknames. I guess I’m kinda obsessed because it’s hard to shorten Faye and I’ve never had a cool nickname. I was thinking if it was alright with you, I could call you Kit for short. Kitten is cute but has more of a romantic tone but Kit sounds cool to me,” she told you. “Yeah that’s totally fine if that’s what you want to do,” you replied.
“Eee! I feel like we’re gonna be friends. My dad has never really had a girlfriend that I met, and of course I have a mom, so I don’t need another. I just hope we can be friendly and have mutual respect for one another,” she added. You were impressed with the young girl’s maturity, and honestly it eased your mind. “That’s exactly what I’d like as well,” you replied.
You then noticed Walter and Liam were sitting there quietly, Walter seemingly unhappy and Liam uncomfortable. “Walter,” you said softly as you nudged him. “Hmm?, he said turning his attention to you. His eyes softened as they met yours. You took his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “You’re scaring him sweetheart,” you told him, referring to Liam. “Well I-,” he grumbled before you shushed him with a light kiss. “Give him a chance,” you encouraged.
After that Walter relaxed a bit and began getting to know Liam. “So you’re going to the local community college as well?,” he asked Liam. “Yes, sir. I want to be an engineer. Not completely sure what kind yet but all of the basics are the same so I’m going to start there,” he told him. “What are you going to study Faye?,” you asked. “Nursing,” she replied proudly. “An admirable profession,” you said. “Thank you. I just want to help take care of people, you know?,” she replied. You nodded knowingly.
“Did you ever pick a dress for your winter formal sweetie?,” Walter then asked her. “I did!,” she said excitedly. “Can I see?,” he asked. “Nope. Gonna let it be a surprise,” she said sheepishly. “Hmm,” he chuckled. “Oh! Can Kit come to the park with you for the pre formal pictures?,” she then asked. “Would you like to Kitten? All the families meet with their kids at the park to take pictures of them with all their friends and such before the dance,” he told you. “I’d love to, as long as it’s alright with your mom,” you told Faye. “I’ll make sure to ask and let Dad know, okay?,” she said. “Sure,” you replied.
“That went even better than I hoped. She’s such a sweet girl, Walter,” you told him as you two pulled back up to the station. “Yeah, and I suppose her boyfriend seems nice too,” he replied. “It’s weird isn’t it?,” you asked. “What?,” he asked. “You seeing her grow up,” you told him. “It is. I’ve always had the instinct to protect her, of course, but now she’s about to be out in this world and I just- I worry,” he confessed.
“She’s always going to be your little girl, so that’s understandable. I know I don’t have any children, but I imagine I’d be the same way if I did,” you told him. “Do you want children, Kitten?,” he asked. “I’ve thought about it, sure,” you replied. “What stopped you?,” he said. “I’m not about to have a baby with just anybody. Some of my past relationships just didn’t work or weren’t very long. No big deal, you know? The one guy I saw a future with ended up not being who I thought he was. We got engaged and he started mistreating me. Haven’t dated anyone else until now,” you told him.
“Well, their loss is my gain. You’re my little treasure,” he said, leaning across the console to kiss you. You ran your hands up his face, enjoying the feeling of his beard under them, until you carded your fingers into the back of his hair and deepened the kiss. You kissed him fervently, not wanting to stop, but suddenly his lips left yours. You pouted at the loss. “So cute,” he said running his thumb across your pouty lip before kissing you again.
“Come home with me tonight. We’ll swing by your place, grab some clothes, and I’ll make you dinner,” he said as he pulled away. “I’d love to,” you told him, making him grin happily. He rubbed his nose against yours before kissing you once more. “We’ve got to go in. There’s just never enough time with you,” he sighed. “Well, you’ll have me all night,” you said seductively. “Will I now?,” he said as he cocked an eyebrow. “Mmmhmm,” you said before kissing him again, making him groan against your lips.
His big tongue swiped across your lower lip, sending a shiver over your entire body. You opened your mouth, granting him access. You whimpered as he massaged his tongue against yours. “We’ve got to stop,” he rasped. “I know. I wish you could just take me home right now though,” you told him. “Me too, Kitten. Me too,” he said softly. After Walter calmed down you two walked inside, Walter squeezing you tightly and giving you a kiss before heading back to work.
You were so excited to be going home with him you could hardly focus on work. “What’s gotten into you?,” Matthew laughed. “I’m going home with Walter tonight. He’s making me dinner,” you said giddily. “Oh yeah? How’d meeting Faye go?,” he asked. “Really good actually. She’s a sweet girl,” you told him. “That’s great, Sissy. I’m happy everything’s falling into place for you,” he said. “Thanks,” you told him.
Around six Walter came to collect you. When you got to your house you packed a bag at record speed. “I’m ready,” you told Walter, making him chuckle. “What are we having for dinner?,” you asked him. “I’d planned on making a beef and vegetable sheet pan meal. It’s not special by any means but I’ve got the meat and veggies already,” he told you. “Sounds good,” you replied.
When you arrived Walter took your bag and took it to his bedroom then looked at you intently. “I don’t know whether I want to take you to bed, shower with you, or make you dinner fist,” he said. You made your way over to him, draping your arms around his neck. “How about you do exactly what you said, in that order,” you told him. He took his bottom lip between his teeth while he grabbed your bottom and pulled you against him. You groaned at the feeling of his hard cock, and ground yourself into him.
“You’ve been eager for me all day Kitten. You really want me to take you to bed, huh?,” he asked. “Please Walter,” you begged. He took you by your hands and pulled you into the bedroom before he began undressing you. You were fully undressed while he still had his clothes on. You ran your hands beneath his sweater, feeling his coarse body hair before pushing it over his head. You worked on his pants, him never taking his eyes off of you.
His pupils were blown with love and lust for you as you began stroking him. He brought his lips to yours, kissing you just how he always did. While you stroked him he began touching you as well. Thick fingers sliding from your wet folds to your clit and back again. The feeling was quickly building your arousal and within a few moments you came with a whimper against his lips. “I want to taste you,” he whispered. “You can have whatever you want Walter. I’m all yours,” you told him. His breath hitch at the back of his throat at your words.
He kissed you again as he led you to the bed, laying you back and putting himself between your legs. He kissed your jaw, then down your neck, he stopped at your breasts for a moment licking and nipping at them, making you arch and squirm under him. He slid down further until he finally reached his destination. He flattened his tongue out and swiped it from your cunt up to your clit, before swirling it around your aching bud. “Walter,” you gasped. He wrapped his arms under your legs, pulling you closer than resting his hands on your hips.
“You taste so sweet,” he murmured before he continued swirling his tongue around and around, his beard prickling against you in the best way possible. You were panting heavily, him pushing you further and further towards the edge. “Shit,” you shouted as you came hard. Your aching pussy pulsed around nothing, making you want Walter all the more. “Please,” you gasped. He brought his lips to yours before quickly entering you. “Mmm,” you mewled.
He leaned back slightly, pushing your knees into your chest before laying back over you and building up speed. He kept his lips pressed to yours as usual, never being able to get enough of your kiss. “Oh, I love you,” he groaned quickly before kissing you again. “I love you too,” you replied against his lips, short of breath. He kissed you again before leaning back and looking into your eyes. The love pouring off of him overwhelmed you. “Kitten,” he strained as you began tightening around him.
He pressed his lips to yours just as you came, him following soon thereafter. He kept kissing you as you ran your hands down his back, before pulling him against you and holding him tight. You two laid there wrapped in one another, lips still locked as Walter continued devouring your lips. “I’ll never get enough of this,” he told you hurriedly before kissing you again. You two stayed like that awhile, wrapped up in one another, sweet kisses shared between your lips before Walter took both his big hands and brushed your hair away from your face.
“Shower?,” he asked. “Yeah,” you nodded. After you got all cleaned up you followed Walter into the kitchen. “Do you want me to help?,” you asked. “No Kitten, I want to take care of you. You sit,” he said. “We can take care of each other,” you suggested. “You’re always taking care of me,” he said tenderly. “But, I don’t do anything,” you said confusedly. Walter stopped and took you in his arms. “You do so much every single day, you don’t even realize Kitten,” he told you. You started to protested but he quieted you with a kiss. “Please, just let me cook for you while you sit over there watching me, looking beautiful as you always do,” he said softly.
Ever bit of resistance in your body steadfastly slipped away. “Okay,” you replied. He kissed you once more before you made your way to sit. You watched him as he seasoned up the meat, then as he cut the vegetables and placed everything onto the sheet pan before putting it in the oven. He stood there contemplating before he went into the fridge and pulled out some cookie dough. You couldn’t help yourself anymore. The urge to touch him being too strong.
You raised from your seat and wrapped your arms around his broad frame from behind and rested your head on his back. He laughed lightly as you squeezed him tightly, sighing contentedly at the feeling of his warm body against yours. “Missed me already did you?,” he asked as he turned around in your arms. “Mmhmm,” you hummed as you rested your head on his chest. He leaned back slightly, resting against the counter as he let his head lay atop yours.
Finally the food finished up and Walter put the cookies on. He plated both of your food and you two ate in comfortable quiet. When the cookies were done you two retired to the couch for a cuddle as they cooled down. “I love you, Kitten,” Walter told you. “I love you too,” you replied as you looked up at him. He smiled softly as he held you tighter. He cupped your face in his hand as his azure gaze roamed over your face. You brought your hand to his wrist, holding him just there as you ran your thumb over the back of his hand.
“I’m never going to let you go,” he whispered. “Never?,” you questioned. “Never,” he reiterated before kissing you heatedly. Before it was over he had you pulled up into his lap, straddling his thick thighs. The two of you hastily pulled your sleep pants down just enough to connect with one another. “Walter,” you whined as he held your ass tightly, slamming you down onto his cock. He buried his head into your neck, grunting loudly as he thickened within you. “Come with me, Kitten,” he gasped desperately.
“Oooh,” you moaned loudly as your taut cunt squeezed down around him. “Yes,” he breathed as thick ropes of cum began filling you full. He leaned his head back on the couch, eyes closed, lips parted as he stroked into you a few more time. He smiled hazily while you leaned down and kissed his neck. “Mmm. My Kitten,” he hummed. You leaned up and kissed his lips before the two of you got up and got cleaned up again.
“Here,” Walter said as he held a cookie to your mouth. You took a bite from it as he took a bite from the other side, making you laugh. You two stood in the kitchen having your fill of the sweet treat before heading to bed. “Goodnight, Kitten,” Walter said as he pulled you tight to him. “Goodnight sweetheart,” you cooed before giving him a kiss.
