hii ! i’m jules, i’m 18 years old, enfp, a baby writer, steve harringtons wife, single mom who works two jobs who loves her kids and never stops, jeremiah fishers biggest hater, kurt kunkle + aaron warner apologist <3
(any tips for a new tumblr user / writer would be greatly appreciated!! happy reading!)
i write for steve harrington, conrad fisher, aaron warner, james kent anderson, honestly any hayden christensen character, hoping to write for kurt, but i do take requests! :)
likes + follows + reblogs are greatly appreciated and motivate me to keep writing stuff for the 71 of you who i now feel responsible for 🥹
navigation 🪽
steve harrington masterlist
joe keery charecters + others masterlist
dividers are by @cafekitsune , @strangergraphics !!
Two Little Words - Gator Tillman x Reader - One Shot
Gator decides he needs to figure out what sort of nickname “gets you going” - so what happens when you turn the tables on him?
a/n don’t ask why or how this entered my brain . doesn’t matter.
TW/CW: pet names but no use of y/n, fingering, grinding, softer Gator (ish)
wc: 3.8k
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The television droned on in the background, some reality show you weren’t actually watching, but it was good noise to fill the apartment. Gator Tillman was sprawled on your couch, boots kicked up onto the coffee table despite the glare you’d shot him earlier. He was fidgeting, bouncing his leg, tossing your phone up and catching it repeatedly.
The two of you were still in that grey area - the "sort of dating" phase where you spent most nights together but hadn't truly had the "what are we" talk. He was decent company. When he wasn't being a pain in the ass.
"Would you quit that?" You didn’t bother to look up from the book you were trying to read on the opposite end of the couch. "You're gonna break my phone.”
"Can't help it," Gator drawled, tossing it onto a cushion. He turned his head, studying you with that intense, slightly manic stare. "I’m thinkin'."
"Awe, be careful. I’d hate to see you hurt yourself."
"Ha ha." He sat up, leaning his elbows on his knees. "No, seriously. I was thinkin' about us. About how we do all this couple stuff." He gestured vaguely between the two of you. "But we ain't got the lingo down just yet."
You sighed, marking your page and looking at him. "What lingo?"
"Names," he said simply. "Ain't that what couples do? Give each other cringe-ass nicknames that make everyone else wanna gag?"
You stared at him. "You wanna give me a nickname?"
"I think it’s required." He stood up, cracking his neck. "Yeah. Gotta figure it out. The right one."
"You can just call me by my name, Gator."
"Nah. That’s borin’. That’s for strangers. Not someone who’s already seen you naked." He started pacing the small living room area. "I gotta find one that sticks. Somethin’ that fits you."
You rolled your eyes and went back to your book, deciding to ignore him. It was usually the best strategy with Gator when he got like this - wired and looking for entertainment. If you didn't engage beyond an occasional nod, he’d eventually get bored and sit back down.
But he didn't.
You felt him walk behind the couch, leaning over your shoulder. His breath was hot against your ear, smelling of gum and the faint, lingering scent of leather and gun oil from work
"Hey, baby," he whispered. The word was low, gravelly at the edges.
You stiffened slightly, turning the page even though you hadn't read a word of it. "Stop it."
"Sure thing, little lady," he tried again, moving to the other side of the couch so he was leaning over the arm rest to whisper into your other ear. "Kinda sounds like you should be on a horse or somethin’, huh?"
"Gator, knock it off," you said, swatting a hand out to push him away. He dodged it easily, laughing as you stood and retreated to the arm chair.
"What about… Princess?” He murmured, ignoring your hand. "Think you’re a princess? Certainly got the attitude for it, goddamn.”
He moved towards you with a restless, buzzing energy radiating off of him. It was like he was hunting something. If you knew one thing about Gator Tillman, it was that he was like a damn dog with a bone. Once he latched onto something, there was almost nothing you could do to get him to let it go.
"Sugar'," Gator whispered, kneeling down next to the chair, his fingers trailing over the back of your neck. A shiver went down your spine that you tried to suppress. “Ooh, you like that?”
“Shut up.”
"Okay, sweetheart." He was in front of you now, crouching down so his face was level with yours, invading your personal space. "That one's real classic. My old man uses it.”
You looked at him, exasperated. "Are you done yet?"
"Nope." He grinned, showing teeth. "None of 'em feel right yet. I need data."
"Data?" You almost laughed out loud at how seriously he was taking this.
"Yeah. Physical evidence." He stood up abruptly, grabbing your wrist and tugging you out of the chair. You stumbled, dropping your book onto the floor.
"Hey! What the fu-“
Gator didn't let go, steering you backward with surprising strength until your back hit the living room wall with a dull thud. He boxed you in, one hand by your head, the other resting on your hip, his body pressing close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him.
"Gator," you warned, though your voice lacked the bite you wanted it to have. Your heart was pounding a little harder now, adrenaline spiking.
"Pay attention," he said, his eyes locking onto yours. They were dark, pupils blown wide. "Need to see which one works."
"Works for what?"
"Which one gets you goin'." Gator’s expression was devious at his hand slid from your hip, fingers hooking into the waistband of your sweatpants.
You inhaled sharply, grabbing his wrist to stop him, but he didn't pause. He just pushed his hand down, rough and demanding, sliding past the fabric of your panties until his fingers were pressed against you, right where you were already starting to warm up under his scrutiny and touch.
"Fucking Christ," you breathed, your grip on his wrist tightening, but you didn't pull him away. Not really.
"Relax," he teased, his voice dropping an octave. "Just testing a hypothesis."
“Pretty big word for a guy like you.”
“Think I’m stupid?”
“Just thought you mostly did monosyllables.”
His fingers moved, dragging through your folds, and he hummed in satisfaction when he felt how slick you were. "Well, well. Wouldja look at that. All ‘a this is doin’ somethin’ for you. "
You flushed, your face heating up. "Shut up."
"No, no, this is good." He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against your cheek. "Let's try again."
Gator slid a finger inside you, curling it just enough to make your breath hitch in your throat. He watched your face intently.
"Baby girl," he whispered, the words slow and deliberate. He pumped his finger once, twice, watching your eyelids flutter. "Yeah? You like that one?"
You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer, but your body betrayed you. Your hips tilted toward his hand instinctively, seeking more friction.
"M’kay. That’s a maybe," he continued, his voice a rough rasp against your ear.
“It’s not anything.”
"Quit lyin’," Gator withdrew his hand slightly, circling your clit with a maddening lightness that made your knees weak. "My sweet girl knows better than to lie to me, right?"
You let out a shaky breath, your head falling back against the wall. "Gator..."
"Say it," he demanded, pressing his thumb harder against you. "Which one?"
"I don't know," you gasped, your resolve crumbling under the steady rhythm of his hand.
"Liars get punished," he said, though there was no true malice in it, just a dark, playfulness. He added a second finger, stretching you, the sudden fullness drawing a low moan from your throat. "Come on. What one made you all like this for me? Or do you just like bein’ told what to do?”
You looked up at him, seeing the smug satisfaction written all over his face. He knew he had you. You felt exposed, pinned against the wall by his hips and his hand, completely at his mercy, and the terrifying part was that you liked it.
"I think," you managed to get out, your voice breathless, "I think you're enjoying this way too much."
"Damn right I am," Gator grinned, leaning in to bite gently at your pulse point. "Now hold still. If you ain’t gonna tell me, I’m gonna find out.”
He didn't give you a chance to recover, his wrist twisting so his palm cupped you possessively, grinding against you in a way that made your vision blur at the edges. The friction was electric, sending jolts of pleasure up your spine that made your knees threaten to buckle.
"You're trembling," he observed, his voice dropping to that low, insinuating rasp he used when he was about to do something reckless. He leaned his weight into you, pinning you harder against the plaster so you couldn't escape the rhythm of his hand. "Means it's working. But which one did it, huh? Was it sweet girl? Or are you just a slut for being manhandled?"
You opened your mouth to snap at him, tell him to get off his fucking high horse, but all that came out was a broken, pathetic moan when he curled his fingers just right, hitting a spot that made your toes curl in your socks. His grin widened, sharp and predatory, like a wolf that had cornered its prey and realized it didn't even need to chase.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," he taunted, pressing his forehead against yours, forcing you to hold his gaze. You could see the calculation in his eyes, the way he was cataloging every gasp and flutter. He didn’t even seem like he was looking for a pet name anymore. "Look at you. Tryin’ to act all tough and independent. Then the second I get my hands on you, you turn into a fuckin’ puddle. It's cute. Or pathetic. Dunno, haven’t decided yet."
"Fuck you, Gator," you gasped, trying to find purchase to push him away, but your hands lacked conviction. Instead of shoving him, you were clinging to his flannel shirt, grounding yourself as he worked you over with ruthless efficiency.
"Language," he chided, though his tone was anything but disapproving. He pulled his fingers back, teasing you with the loss of fullness before sliding them back in, deeper this time, harder. "Think you can talk to me like that when I'm fuckin’ wrist-deep in you? Doesn't seem like you're in a position to negotiate, does it, babydoll?"
He punctuated the question with a rough thrust of his hand, the wet, obscene sound of his movements filling the small apartment. You felt heat flood your face, a mix of embarrassment and arousal that was dizzying. He was right, and you hated it. You were completely at his mercy, pinned to the wall by your own traitorous body.
"Wanna try another one?” Gator murmured, ignoring your frustrated glare. He moved his mouth to your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin over your pulse point, nipping just hard enough to sting.
“No -“
"Darlin'," he drawled out the nickname, letting it hang in the air, thick with mockery. "Sounds real southern. Real gentlemanly. Does it make you feel special? What about honey? Nah, never mind. I don’t like that one.”
Gator didn't wait for a coherent response. He shifted his angle, his thumb finding your clit and circling it with agonizing slowness. Your breath hitched, your head falling back against the wall with a thud as you squeezed your eyes shut. The pleasure was building rapidly, a tight coil in your stomach that was winding tighter with every pass of his fingers.
"Open your damn eyes," he commanded sharply.
You forced your eyes open, vision swimming. He was watching you with an intensity that was almost frightening, like he was dissecting you.
"There she is," he said softly, though the smugness in his voice remained. "Damn, are you actually gonna let me get you off just by talkin’ to you?" He laughed, a breathy sound against your neck. "That’s fuckin' hilarious."
"Shut up," you whimpered, hips bucking involuntarily against his hand, seeking more of that friction, more of that pressure that was threatening to send you over the edge. You didn't care about his taunts anymore; you just needed him to keep going.
"Make me," he challenged, pulling his hand away slightly, denying you what you most wanted.
You let out a frustrated cry, hand flying out to grab his wrist, trying to force him back, but he was too strong. He held his ground, his fingers hovering at a cruel, teasing distance.
"Ask nicely," he said, his eyes dancing with mischief.
"No."
"Guess we're done here." He started to pull his hand out of your pants, the loss of warmth making you shiver.
"Wait," you blurted out, hating yourself for giving in. He stopped, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting.
"Go on," he prompted, his fingers twitching against your skin.
"Please," you gritted out, the word tasting like defeat.
"Please what?" He leaned in closer, his breath hot on your ear. "Please touch you? Please make you come? Or please call you my little princess?"
Gator emphasized the last word, his tone dripping with sarcasm, but as he said it, his hand was already effortlessly back into place and resuming that devastating pace. You groaned, head falling forward to rest against his shoulder, unable to hold yourself up anymore as the pleasure washed over you.
"Yeah, that's it," he crooned, his voice almost gentle now, though the undercurrent of mockery was still there. "Take it. Doin’ so good for me."
Gator’s free hand came up to grip your jaw, tilting your head back so he could look at you again. His eyes were dark, heavy-lidded with his own arousal, but the triumph in them was unmistakable. He owned you in this moment, and he knew it.
"You're so desperate," he whispered, his gaze dropping to watch his hand moving inside your sweats. "You really are my sweet girl, aren'tcha? So fuckin’ needy for me."
The combination of his voice in your ear, the grip on your jaw, and the relentless movement of his fingers was too much. The coil in your stomach snapped, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You cried out, your body arching off the wall. Gator worked you through it, drawing it out until you were shaking, your breath ragged. When you finally slumped against him, spent, he didn't pull away immediately. He kept his hand where it was, feeling the aftershocks rippling through you, a smug satisfaction radiating off him.
"Well," he said, pulling his hand out slowly a few minutes later, the movement deliberate and lingering. He held your gaze as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, tasting you. "Think we found a winner."
You stared at him, your chest heaving and face burning. "You're an asshole, Gator."
"Yeah," he agreed, wiping his hand on his jeans with a casual disregard that made your flush deepen. "But I'm your asshole. And you know you loved it."
He leaned in, pressing a quick, hard kiss to your lips, stealing your breath before you could formulate a retort.
"So, sweet girl it is?" Gator asked, backing away with a grin that said he already knew the answer.
"Go to hell," you muttered, sliding down the wall until your ass hit the floor, your legs feeling like jelly.
"Awe, boo-hoo. I'll pick you up later," he winked, stepping over your discarded book and heading back to the couch like nothing had happened. "We ain't done watching the show."
You sat on the floor for a minute, letting your heart rate settle while Gator reclaimed his spot, looking entirely too pleased with himself. He kicked his legs up on the coffee table once more, exuding a cocky confidence that made your blood boil - in the best way, but still. He thought he’d won. He thought he was the one in control here.
Pushing yourself off the floor, you smoothed down your sweatpants, wincing slightly at the lingering sensitivity. You walked over to the couch and stood right in front of the TV, blocking his view.
"Move it," he complained. "You make a better door than a window."
You ignored him, straddling his lap before he could react. He grunted in surprise, his hands automatically coming to rest on your hips, but you caught his wrists, wrenching them away from your body and pinning them against the back of the couch.
"Whoa there,” he laughed, looking up at you with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. "What's this? Round two?"
"Something like that," you murmured, leaning down so your face was only an inch or two from his. "You played your game, Gator. Now we're playing mine."
"Oh?" He challenged, though you felt his muscles tense under your grip. He wasn't used to being on this side of the pin. "What’dya want?"
"Remember how you said couples need nicknames?" You traced the line of his jaw with one hand, your touch light and teasing. "I think we need to find one for you, too."
Gator scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I ain't the sweetheart type."
"Didn't think you were," you agreed. You shifted your hips, grinding down against him experimentally as you released his writers. His breath hitched, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But everyone has a button, Gator. And I’m gonna find yours."
"Yeah, good luck with that," he smirked, trying to regain his composure, though you could feel him twitching beneath you. "I'm a simple man."
"We'll see." You leaned in, brushing your lips against his neck, right over the rapid pulse point. "How about... Cowboy?" You whispered, letting the word hang in the air.
He groaned, but it was a sound of annoyance rather than pleasure. "Don't start that shit. My old man called me that as a kid. Kills the mood."
"Noted." You moved lower, nipping at his collarbone. "How about... Handsome?"
"What am I, goin’ to my first communion? Are you my grandma?”
"Okay big guy?" You felt his stomach muscles contract as you laughed softly against his skin. "Tough guy?"
"You're runnin’ out of steam, sweetheart," he taunted, though his grip on your hips tightened, pulling you closer. "Just admit it, you can't fluster me."
You pulled back to look him in the eye, a slow smile spreading across your face. You could see the challenge in his brown eyes, the arrogance that made you want to wipe that smug look right off his face. You leaned in close, your lips ghosting over his ear, taking your time. You felt him tense up, waiting for the strike.
"Bad boy?"
He let out a shaky breath, his fingers digging into your waist. "That's a given. Try harder."
You shifted again, deliberately rolling your hips against the growing hardness in his jeans. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, his head falling back against the couch cushion. You had him now; you just had to find the right key.
"Daddy?" you suggested, dragging the word out.
"Absolutely not," he choked out, his eyes flying open. "Christ. Don't ever fuckin' say that again. Weirds me out."
"Okay, okay," you soothed, secretly relieved because you didn’t want to have to call him that.
You ran your hands down his chest, feeling the way his heart was beating against his ribs. He was affected, more than he wanted to admit. He liked the chase, but he wasn't used to being the prey.
Then, a thought struck you. All the times you'd seen him with his dad, the way he sought approval, the way he bristled at authority but secretly craved some direction. You thought about the way he looked at you sometimes, like he wanted you to tell him what to do. He talked a big game, but you knew he’d secretly do anything to see a trace of happiness from you.
"Hmm," you hummed, pretending to think. "You try so hard, don't you? Always acting out, always making noise." You leaned in, kissing the corner of his mouth. "But I know what you really are."
"Yeah?" he rasped, his voice rough and husky. "And what's that?"
You moved your mouth to his other ear, tugging at his earlobe lightly with your teeth before your voice dropped to a whisper that was barely audible.
"My good boy."
The reaction was instantaneous. Gator froze, his entire body going rigid beneath you. A sound tore from his throat - half-groan, half-whimper - and his eyes squeezed shut as if he’d been struck with dizziness. You felt him twitch violently against your core, his hardness pressing up against you, undeniable and sudden.
"Awe, you alright there, Gator?" You pulled back to see his face. He was flushed - lips parted and chest heaving. When he opened his eyes, the pupils were blown so wide the chocolatey color was just a thin rim. He looked utterly wrecked, and it delighted you.
"Say it again," he breathed, voice cracking.
You whispered the words once more, watching him shiver.
"Fuck," he hissed, his head falling forward to rest against your shoulder. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as he pressed several kisses against you.
"Oh, you like that?" you teased, though you were secretly thrilled by how easily he’d crumbled. You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his nails lightly against his scalp, and he practically purred. "You like being my good boy?"
"Y-yeah," he admitted, the word muffled against your neck. He was practically nuzzling into you, seeking friction, completely abandoning his earlier bravado. "I like it."
"That's because you are, aren't you?" you cooed, tightening your grip in his hair and pulling his head back so he had to look at you. "Deep down. All that attitude. Your gun and badge... But you just want to be told you're doing good, dontcha?”
He stared up at you, his eyes wide and glassy, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world. The arrogance was gone, replaced by a desperate, pleading need that made your stomach flip. The power rush was intoxicating. You’d never seen him like this - pliable, eager, submissive. It was like finding a secret weapon.
"I am," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm good. I'll be so good for you."
His hands scrambled for purchase on your hips, his grip bruising as he tried to pull you down harder, but you held back, keeping the pace maddeningly slow.
"Please," he whimpered, actually whimpered. The sound went straight to your core. "Please let me..."
"Let you what?" You asked, enjoying the way he was squirming beneath you.
"Touch you," he gasped. "Fuck you. Don’t care. Anythin’. Just... Say it again."
You leaned down, kissing him deeply, swallowing his moan. When you pulled back, you brushed a stray lock of hair off his forehead.
"Good boy," you whispered.
He broke. With a guttural groan, he surged up, flipping you over so your back hit the couch cushions. He settled between your legs, his weight heavy and grounding, kissing you with a frantic intensity that bordered on desperation. You wrapped your legs around his waist, laughing softly against his mouth as you realized you had him exactly where you wanted him - putty in your hands, all because of two little words.
steve wants to make you juno bad. it was no secret that steve really wanted to have kids. that he wanted a big family. he made that very obvious when you first got together. you thought it was sweet he knew exactly what he wanted but you told him you may have to compromise on the whole six kids thing. so, it came as no surprise that this man had the biggest breeding kink going. when it came to imagining getting you pregnant—his hormones are high. and outside the bedroom, steve loved to try and tempt you, telling you that one of him was cute but two of him though? even better. you’d roll your eyes but secretly agree.
the amount of times you had text your friends “we almost broke up again last night” when it came to gator tillman was…a lot. more than you care to admit. but you wouldn’t have it any other way. you fought, one of you threatened to leave and then—one of you (usually gator) would give in. you’d have sex (incredible, incredible sex) and you’d both say sorry. it was a cycle, it was probably—most definitely—unhealthy but it was you and gator.
your bed chem with teacake was well—it was fucking incredible. that man had the stamina of a damn race horse. the way he picked you up, put you down, turned you around always got you going. the way he knew exactly what your body wanted. the way he talked so fucking sweet while doing the dirtiest things to you. the way he would look at you—you were pretty fucking obsessed.
keys treated you so well that you joked a lot that it made tears run down your thighs. keys would always go red when you’d say that. he’d tell you to shush but his lips would twitch as though he was trying hard not to smile. he didn’t just treat you good but he was always so responsible. he wasn’t a manchild. you never had to baby him. you never had to remind him about an upcoming special event, he communicated so well that you began to wonder why you bothered wearing clothes around him.
you constantly had kurt talking nonsense. he couldn’t help it, it was like his tongue went numb as soon you were anywhere near him. he was in deep with you. he caught that l-o-v-e and he caught it bad. the butterflies in his stomach weren’t just fluttering around you—they were doing damn cartwheels when you were in the room. you couldn’t talk because you weren’t much better when it came to him. kurt made you forget about every ex you ever had. you had no chill about him, kurt had made you lost it. you’d find yourself wondering how on earth did he do this to you?
i DO indeed want to hear about you jerking off to me and all the perverted stuff you thought of you must inform me about it expeditiously. how is it fair that you get to jerk off to me and i don’t get to jerk off to hearing about it 😒
in the least parasocial way ever, how am i going to stand 4 feet away from joe fucking keery and not feel immense guilt what i do to smut written about him 😨😨😨
masterlist | DILF!Steve Harrington x Younger!Reader
| Word Count: 6.5k
| CW: 18+ explicit material, age gap (f!22 + m!45), protected piv, slight breeding kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, daddy kink, size kink (big dick steve)
| Summary: being only 22, reader hopelessly flirts with an older man who she’s found herself acquainted with. she’s always found him attractive but it wasn’t like a 45 year old would want someone her age, right?
idea/req from @maricxnt
Ever since you first laid your eyes on Steve Harrington, he was the wallpaper of your eyelids. You’d fall asleep while making silly little scenarios in your mind that centred around him (and you), and even dream about him if you were lucky.
Embarrassingly, you also doodled at work sometimes. They weren’t good depictions of him in any sense of the word, but you still always threw them out to avoid any awkward conversations with coworkers.
Steve was your fantasy man.
You knew him first as your younger brother’s baseball coach, and then as the town mechanic. He was hotter as the mechanic—you thought.
Often, he would be glistening with sweat, leaving behind a black smudge where he had tried to wipe some off his forehead. It seemed like a kind of mundane, if not gross, thing, but it meant so much to your lingering eyes and creative imagination.
Sometimes you just hung out at the cafe across from the shop, trying your best to be casual and invisible, and you were certain that he’d never pick up on your little habit.
The thing is, though, Steve saw you all the time, and he recognized you, too. Maybe he didn’t at first, but eventually he pinpointed why you were familiar.
He didn’t like to think too much about it, but he’d thought you were pretty when he first met you, even if you had only been 18 at the time. Analyzing the feeling he had upon meeting you would make him sick, he was sure.
An 18-year-old girl was hot to him? What was his problem? Was he really that gross?
The self-imposed insults and accusations always came about when he’d catch sight of you “casually” walking by the open garage door to his workspace, the harsh thoughts tripling when you wore a short skirt and he could almost see the edge of your ass along with your completely bare and shiny legs.
Like most older men, he had a thing for legs. Boobs, sure, but legs were more pleasing to catch a peek at in his opinion. Boobs were better for touching than for looking, was his reasoning.
He also allowed himself more grace when looking at that part of you because they looked like they belonged to a woman. Which you absolutely were, but you seemed too young to have the legs of a 35-year-old Hollywood bombshell.
Regrettably, he mentioned it to some of these things to his fellow auto shop employees. As expected (not by him), they immediately got vulgar and, frankly, horrifying. Some of the things they said he’d thought about in private, but to voice them? That seemed insane and disrespectful. He felt bad for you, even though you didn’t hear it for yourself.
After that torturous group conversation, he made an effort to avoid you and your longing looks from across the asphalt. He didn’t want to be creepy.
You missed the occasional eye contact and flirty smiles he’d send your way, and it forced you into a more bank-account-draining route. You kind of started fucking your car up to get formal interactions with him… But you were lucky that your Dad’s allowance was enough to cover the costs.
The shop was loud and busy during your visits, so there wasn’t much call for conversation, though you made use of it anyway. You’d often stretch your arms over your head and moan because “no one could hear you”, but Steve could hear you, given the close proximity. He could also see most of your midsection when you did that, which he started to consider his once-a-week treat.
After months of persistent “car troubles” and your allowances not growing your bank account like your dad noticed they should have been, he finally just bought you a new one for your 22nd birthday. You thanked him, and he told you that “better not take it to that shitty mechanic like the last one”.
As much as you were grateful, you were also irritated because you had to find a new way to see Steve.
That’s where you were now, sitting on your bed with a fucking notebook like you were back in high school doing an assignment.
Your pen taps on the paper incessantly as you try to think of anything, but your brain seems clogged up. Going through scenarios isn’t working because they keep becoming sexual—and therefore unrealistic—and there aren’t exactly any books that outline how to flirt with a man over twice your age…
Groaning, you toss yourself back into your pillows and give up, letting your hand slip between your legs and clear your mind.
Steve himself actually starts to miss your almost constant presence while he works, the way your soft voice would ask questions about how he was going to fix your breaks (they really only needed to be cleaned), and when your hand would touch his shoulder to get his attention. That was really the only physical touch he ever got from you, but he’s craving it now that it’s gone.
He also starts finding himself letting thoughts of you slip more and more into the sexual realm. He tells himself that it’s fine because he never sees you anymore, so you’re like a fictional character, or a celebrity, maybe… And he tries to not think of them, he really does, but you’re just so pretty…
And it doesn’t take long for him to paw at his crotch when thoughts of you arise.
You both find yourselves sexually frustrated over the next month, but what could you do?
You think of sending him a nude Polaroid, but that was really cliché and, honestly, too risky for your liking. You settle on a note.
It’s sent through postage to be “professional”, but it’s contradictorily written in green glitter pen on a cream coloured post-it. Surprisingly, you actually didn’t have too much trouble crafting your message.
Steve, just wanted to thank you for all the car work that you did for me (at a discount, no less), and maybe extend an invite to a party my parents are having :)
Your number was on the back, and you felt weirdly confident about this approach. It wasn’t like you were saying “call this number if you wanna fuck me,” but really, you kind of were.
The writing was almost too much to fit on the small piece of paper, but you made it work anyway, using your best, small handwriting. You thought it would impress him, for some reason.
You’re absolutely nerve-wrecked the day after sending it, though, despite your original excess of confidence.
What if he laughed at it? Or what if he thought you were just a cute “kid”?
You resented the idea of being categorized as a child since you were multiple years into your 20s now, but it was very plausible that that’s how he saw you. He was so mature, and he really was attractive—there’s no way he was unaware of that fact.
Hands bouncing nervously, you finally invite a friend over to confess your plan.
She’s sitting on your desk chair, and you’re sitting on the very edge of your bed, bouncing your knee nervously.
“I mean—he’s gonna come, right?” You try to convince yourself that he wouldn’t turn something like that down because it was quite casual, and he’s always been a nice guy.
“I’m sure he will,” She reassures you. “He knows you, and obviously likes you enough to give you that discount…”
“But he hasn’t calledddd!” You whine and drop your head into your hands.
“How long has it been?”
A low, frustrated groan emanates from your chest. “6 days.”
She seems to grimace uncomfortably at that, not wanting to be the bearer of bad news, but knowing that 6 days doesn’t really have a lot of excuses.
“Could the mail have just been extra slow? I know it’s only 10 minutes away, but it could’ve been that?”
You give her a look that says yeah, right.
When the neighbour’s dog begins his morning barking, you wake up feeling not very well rested. You tossed and turned and felt anxiety seeping into your bones while you poorly attempted sleep, and it left you aching now.
Dragging yourself out of bed, you reluctantly get ready for the day. You don’t spend as long fiddling with your hair today—it doesn’t feel worth it. You make yourself look presentable, but that’s about it.
Your bowl of yogurt and fruits stares up at you, but you don’t feel hungry. Instead, you check your machine, that tinge of hope still lingering.
You place it on your lap and press play, lazily leaning against the counter because you’re tired and aren’t expecting anything interesting.
Your heart nearly stops when you hear his voice, the joy and confusion and feeling that you were right to hold out hope suffocating you so much you almost miss his message.
“Sorry to be calling so late, but I just wanted to make sure you actually were inviting me, of all people, to a fancy marketing company’s party? Anyway, gimme a call back at —————————. Thanks, Y/N.”
Embarrassingly, you squeal and knock your breakfast over in your haste to get a pen and paper to take down his number. You kind of were still like a teenager sometimes…
It took Steve a long time to work up the nerve to call you back and accept your offer because he was still worried about your age.
The 23 year age gap was making him feel icky for even thinking about accepting your offer, but he couldn’t take only having access to imaginary you anymore. His hand was getting tired, and he knew it was at least worth a gentlemanly try.
He knew he wasn’t going to be aggressive or sexual in his “proposition” and that he was going to be rather ambiguous about it in case you were offended or you felt uncomfortable. He really didn’t want to be known as the town creep.
The days prior to the event were very busy for you, with hair appointments, spa treatments, and a trip to the mall for a fancy and attractive outfit.
The mall visit took the longest, as you and your friends spending hours trying to find something that would look enticing to someone of another generation.
Unfortunately, you were at a disadvantage since clothing styles had changed so much since the 1980s. It was difficult, but you found something that had the right vibe.
When the party was nearing its beginning, you thought you did a pretty great job because you looked exactly like your mother in her prime (which just so happened to be when Steve was about your age). You twirled happily in your mirror and felt pretty enough to make a move on someone out of reach.
The party is boring, like it always is, but at least you have something to look forward to this time, you think. You’re still going to have to be the cute daughter that your father’s coworkers awe at, but other than that, you get to do your own thing.
Which isn’t much. It mainly entails you sitting on the couch with your elbow digging into the arm, a glass of expensive champagne in hand. It sparkles in the crystal glass as you swirl it around, the boredom clear in your disinterested eyes.
It takes an hour, but Steve finally shows up. He’s wearing dark dress pants and a white button-up, and you can’t see it yet, but he has a single rose in his left hand.
His eyes search around the room for the only familiar face he expects to see, but you’re already running towards him, well, speed walking, but it’s reasonable considering your shoe choice.
“Y/N, hey!” He smiles brightly when he sees you approaching.
You give him a little wave and beam back at him. “I was starting to think you weren’t going to make it.” You admit with a soft, relieved huff.
“Miss this gala? I don’t think so…”
You laugh. “It’s not a gala, it’s just fancy.”
“Looks like a gala to me.” He quips back as you usher him away from the door and to the main room of your house, where the party is.
When you find a relatively uncrowded space, and he finally hands you the rose that you didn’t notice.
“I uh, I got you this.”
Your heart is already fluttering, and all he’s done is give you a likely friendly flower. You take the rose from him and gently run your fingertips over the soft outer petals.
“Thank you.” You murmur, smelling the flower before giving him a full-toothed grin back.
“I was debating giving that to you, actually…” He confesses while nervously scratching the back of his neck.
You give him a confused look and tilt your head. You’ve never seen him anxious before.
“Well, I wasn’t sure if you’d, y’know, take it the wrong way or something. That you’d think I was this creepy old man.” He tries to chuckle, but it sounds awkward and doesn’t land the way he intends.
“Oh…” Your face falls a little.
“Not that—uhm. Not that I don’t mean it to be any bit romantic…” His voice is a little higher-pitched in his haste to correct himself, but it lilts into something smoother.
“Romantic, huh?” You mock even though you really, really hope that he meant what he just said.
He nods. “If that’s okay?”
“Absolutely.”
The rest of the party consists of you two becoming Velcro. You’re absolutely stuck to each other, wandering around the crowd of oblivious strangers, talking about any topic that was available to you.
You found that his takes on politics and movies (among other things), were very similar to your own, and that he had a very attention capturing way of speaking. His voice could drawl on for hours and you’d never become sick of it, you thought as he talked about fuel injectors and other engine technics that you didn’t understand.
Neither of you felt bored that entire gala—as Steve liked to call it, and you almost taste the future dates you’d have with him.
He told you to call him when he was leaving, and you promised that you would.
You kept the promise and called him the next morning. You talked as if you had spent the night together, although you did in some way. But you wanted a real night with him, and it seemed you were about to get just that when he asked.
“Do you wanna go to dinner with me tonight? I know this great place; I can pick you up.”
You were sure that he could hear the giddy smile on your face when you responded.
“Sounds perfect.”
All day was like a repeat of before the party, frantically trying to get ready while seemingly in a time crunch even though you had until 7pm. Luckily, you had more leeway on the outfit this time, seeing as how it was a casual affair. It didn’t have to be super fancy or formal, so it definitely left room to be more promiscuous.
You felt hot when you looked in the mirror, like something to be admired. The dress you chose had been the best to ever hang in your closet. It was an expensive 16th birthday present, and you were incredibly relieved when it still fit you in a flattering way.
Everything came together so well and you wondered if you had a secret fairy godmother whisking her wand to keep you in order from behind a curtain. Your hair cooperated, and your makeup looked smooth and polished. You looked like a movie star.
The car that pulls up to your house is nicer than what you expect, or at least, better kept. You suppose that you should have known that a mechanic would take good care of his vehicle, but to be completely honest, you only ever thought of him as that manly, messy man you always saw at the shop.
Your mother gives you a kiss on the cheek as you hustle to and out the front door, too excited to think of anything but being in Steve’s presence.
"Have fun!" She shouts at your back and you turn your head to give her a smile before continuing on your path.
He leans over the seat to pop the door open for you, giving you a gentlemanly smile.
“Good evening, sweetheart.” His voice is honeyed and his eyes drag over your body. “You look beautiful.”
Your cheeks redden under the blush you’d applied just 20 minutes before, and you turn your head away from him bashfully.
“Oh, please.” You beg. “Don’t flatter me too much now, or else what will you have to say to me at dinner?”
The sly, teasing quality of your tone isn’t lost on him, and he lays his hand on your thigh.
“I’ve got lots in the bank, don’t worry.” He squeezes your thigh before putting the car in second and pulling away from the curb in front of your house.
Soft smelling candles light the entire main room of the restaurant Steve leads you into, his hand on the dip of your lower back. You get chills every time he curls his fingers to scratch you through your dress. He doesn’t seem to notice your reaction.
The hostess is a kind young girl who is probably only 16 years old, who has natural blonde hair and slightly crooked, but very white, teeth. She leads the pair of you to a secluded table and removes a nameplate that seems to have Harrington carved into it.
“Did you reserve a specific table too?” You ask, surprise evident in your expression.
He nods, biting his lip before explaining.
“I’ve been here before,” He gestures vaguely. “and most of the tables are just, horrible. They’re so loud and, honestly, a little rickety.”
His palms flatten on the table and he pushes down on each side of the table, one, and then the other. The table doesn’t budge.
“This one though,” He continues. “is sturdy. It’s also quieter.”
You smile at his thoughtfulness. What man your age would have thought to go through all that trouble for a slightly more enjoyable meal?
“How’d you know this one was okay? Did you come take a tour?”
He takes a sip of his water that was already on the table when you arrived before responding.
“I made it.” He says simply. “The table, I mean.” He clarifies with a soft laugh. You could swear you see his cheeks redden in embarrassment from the simple miscommunication—if you can even call it that.
“You’re a carpenter too?” You tilt your head at him with curiosity, picking up your own glass of water and sipping.
“No,” He shakes his head. “but when you dabble in one trade, the others come pretty easy.”
“I didn’t know that…” You comment, your nails tapping gently on the crystal of your cup.
“‘Nough about me.” He says with a mock firmness that makes you smile. “How was your day?”
You go on to explain how stressed out you’d been to find the right outfit and accessories and he listens as if it’s Sports News. His eyes look like they’re shining when he’s looking at you.
For such a mature guy, he sure does look like a lovesick puppy.
Your abdominal muscles ache when the check comes, your eyes tearing up from laughter. He’s just such good and fun company that you can’t contain yourself.
He doesn’t let you touch the bill, his hand slapping yours away playfully when you try to see the total. The restaurant is an expensive one, and you’re aware that the meal wasn’t cheap.
“On me, sweetheart.” He cooes over the cute little candle in the middle of the table.
His large hand was splayed across your thigh almost the entire drive back to his place, save for switching gears, of course.
Watching him drive was so hot and your thighs pressed themselves together without you even noticing. Steve noticed, though.
His house is beautiful and large.
“I bought it from my parents,” He explains. “It’s worth double what I bought it for now.”
The master bedroom is spacious and well decorated and very tidy—he must’ve cleaned specially for this evening.
He kisses you after you finish curiously exploring his room, pressing you against his dresser. The handle digs into your ass, but you don’t mind.
His lips are so soft, and his hands are everywhere. You feel dizzy, you feel like you can’t breathe.
You’ve wanted this for so long that it feels like a fever dream now that it’s actually happening.
“S’this okay?” He mumbles into your mouth before pulling away to look at your face and assess your expression.
Swallowing hard, you cup his jaw and nod. “Yeah,”
It makes him smile, and he kisses you again as you’re guided onto his bed. It squeaks when you put your weight on it.
The sheets are plush and have a very soft, grey cover on the duvet. You rub your palms on the fabric as he lays you down, and all you can feel is his hands everywhere.
They’re touching you in ways you haven’t been before, they’re cupping your breasts through your shirt and squeezing your hips, and it’s making your heart beat so fast you think you might pass out.
He can feel the gentle quiver of your muscles, and he soothes your arms with his fingertips. It only makes you shiver.
“You’re shaking.” He comments, his movements slow to almost caring instead of the hasty, sexually charged way they were before.
“It’s okay, I’m okay.” You whisper, but you don’t really believe it yourself.
His hesitation is clear, but he wraps his arms under your body and drags you up to his pillows. There’s one memory foam pillow, and 2 fluffier ones that both have dark green cotton cases. The memory foam one has a silk case, though. It feels amazing against your cheek when he turns your head to have better access to your neck.
The slow line of affection from your clavicle to your jaw is chilling and you can feel the tingles of anticipation between your thighs.
“Steve,” You sigh, your fingers curling in his hair to force his eyes to yours. “wanna kiss you. Kiss me, please.”
Your voice is undoubtedly pathetic and it cracks a grin of adoration into his face. He cups your burning cheeks and presses his lips to yours, slow and gentle, like a man.
Tongues slide along one another and he tastes faintly of cigarettes—he must’ve had one before he picked you up. His arm delicately snakes under your body to squeeze your lower back in his large hand, his body pressing you into the mattress.
“Can I unzip this?” He asks breathlessly from the kiss.
“Yes,” You nod excitedly, lifting your upper body off the bed and arching as he smoothly slides the zipper down to your tailbone.
The air feels chilly on your heated skin and you shiver. He kisses you again with his mouth open, the force pushing you back against his pillows.
His body feels heavy on yours, like a comfortable weighted blanket and it makes you sigh.
He lets you kiss him for a while, get used to the feel of him. You’re smiling a lot, teeth continuously bumping into his.
The both of you give up after about 10 minutes, not wanting any chipper teeth.
“Do you wanna have sex?” He asks, intentionally being very clear with his words. He knows that it’s risky with how young you are, and he wants to make sure you’re totally sure.
“I do.” You answer plainly, squeezing his hand in yours while your other moves hastily to open his dress pants.
He wants to stop you, to slow you down, but he doesn’t. He allows you to open his bottoms and he even takes off his top while you do.
You swallow hard when his cock becomes exposed. It smacks his stomach thickly and you stare for a moment.
“What’s wrong?” He asks gently, holding your face.
“I just… you’re, uhm.” You laugh and he smiles.
“Big? Yeah, sorry about that.” His voice is jokey but he does mean it too. This wouldn’t be the first time he hurt someone with his cock. “M’sure it’ll fit, don’t worry.”
The assurance from an experienced person helps calm the nerves that have started to fizzle inside you. You nod and lean forward to see him closer. There’s a chunky vein running up the bottom of it, and a plump pink tip. It spits out a tiny bit of something gooey and you make a soft sound of surprise.
He laughs at you.
“Sorry…” You blush. “Can I…?”
He gestures with his hand and a nod and you hesitatingly dip your head down. Your tongue swiped across the opening at the tip of his cock, the salty precum smearing over your taste buds.
You make a bit of a face and he cooes.
“Y’don’t have to put anything in your mouth, pretty girl.” He soothes. “Just wanna play with you, yeah? Young thing like you doesn’t need to be giving blowjobs.”
Your stomach is doing flips. The way he speaks to you is so caring and a little bit condescending and it makes you feel like his toy.
He picks you up under your armpits and lays you back down onto the bed, his fingers delicately undressing you like a doll.
With each new bit of skin revealed to him, his eyes get a little softer, a little more endearing. Your skin is so smooth to the touch and he’s almost sick with the need to touch every bit of it.
“You’re so pretty,” He whimpers, laying kisses to your thighs. “gonna make you come, sweetheart. This pretty pussy…”
His voice is low and mumbly, so desperate for you. You wish you could have a video of this, just to be able to run it back over and over until it was burned into your brain.
You tangle your fingers into his thick hair and he dips his head low between your legs. You can feel his breath on your most sensitive parts.
“So wet, all for me…” He comments, index finger toying with your gooey hole.
The digit slides in easy, all the way down to the base. He can feel your slick on his other knuckles.
You mewl at the intrusion but he just hushes you, free hand petting your thigh soothingly. Being able to feel the warmth of such a small part of him inside you is so strange, but it makes your head spin.
His finger curls to press into the sponginess of you, exploring where he’s soon to be buried. Your eyes squeeze shut and your legs attempt the same, though Steve won’t allow that.
“Don’t close up, gotta get you ready.” He murmurs, lips brushing your cunt.
You swallow hard and give him a weak, obedient nod. His finger slips from you and he holds your body open.
He makes eye contact with you as he kisses you, his tongue flat on your hole. The sounds of him making out with your cunt are wet and slow, gentle lips pressing to delicate, slippery skin.
The wide eyes looking up at you are the kicker though, so big and brown and hot. He can’t get enough of the way you sigh and squirm from only kisses to this part of you, and he can’t wait to see how you act when stuffed with his cock.
Soon, he has you whining and writhing under his mouth. He sucks as your clit while 2 of his fingers pump your tight little opening.
He makes you come with a prideful smile, teeth pressing against your nervy bud.
You shiver and he holds you to his chest, kisses your head.
“S’okay, you did a good job. My good girl.” His voice coos into your hair, his arms cradling you to his body.
Your breasts press to his chest and you can feel his cock twitch from where it’s squished under your ass. You look up at him, curious as to how he’s alright with not only not being inside you yet, but also letting you crush him.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” You ask in a quiet voice, gesturing to his crotch beneath you.
“It’s fine,” He shrugs. “it’s my balls that are starting to get a bit sore.”
The mention of “balls” makes your cheeks flush and a giggle rumble in your chest. God, you were juvenile.
“C’mon, it’s not funny.” He pouts dramatically.
“You’re right.” You crawl off his lap and lay back down. “Can I help?”
The smile that spreads across his face is one of genuine happiness and excitement.
“Been waitin’ so long for this, baby.” He breathes. “You don’t even know…”
His hands trace your waist and breasts, your hips and thighs, memorizing every bit of your naked frame. He isn’t sure if he’ll ever see it again, but he hopes that he will every night until he dies.
“Really?” You ask, astonished that he was actually interested in you all that time. “I—I thought I was crazy for flirting with you…”
Your embarrassed admition makes him chuckle and tuck his face under your chin.
“You’re beautiful,” He says softly. “how could I not take the opportunity to be with you?”
“Well you’re… older. I thought you might not want someone so young.” You explain, absentmindedly massaging his thick biceps.
He just presses his lips to yours, sucking your tongue in to play with his own.
“You’re cute,” He kisses the words into your mouth. “gonna be such a sweetheart for me when I fuck you.”
Your stomach flips and he gets in between your legs. His cock lays on your lower tummy, thick and heavy.
He looks down and sees how large he looks, cock stretching all the way from your cunt to just above your belly button.
“Goddamn,” He swears. “I’m not sure I was right—what I said before, about it fitting.”
You frown and reach to touch his side.
“Please try,” You beg, spreading a little more to welcome him in. “maybe you can fit half?”
“‘Dunno,” He tilts his head in thought. “might be too thick, too.”
“Please, Steve. Wanna feel you inside.” Your whining is wearing at his resolve and figures a couple inches will be fine.
“Okay…” He concedes, folding your body for better access.
He hooks your arms under your knees for you, patting your wrist lovingly when you held them there.
“Look at this puffy pussy, waiting for my cock.”
You whimper at his filthy words and the way his voice gathers more edge with each word.
His pushes his cock to the side to smudge slick over your hole with his palm and makes a mess between your thighs. Its gentleness deceives you because you receive a sharp smack, the impact only drawing more arousal from you.
You shove his hand away and he frowns at you sympathetically.
“Did that hurt?” He asks, condescending and caring all at once. You nod pitifully and he awes at you.
“I’ll make it better, don’t worry, baby.”
You didn’t see him grab it, but he’s rolling a condom onto himself, cock bobbing above you. He fists its base and brings it to the space between your legs, nudging it at the edges of where you’ll accept it.
He starts pressing the fat tip of himself into your squishy opening, finally giving you what you’ve been day dreaming about. It should fit, your body should mold to his shape, but it’s still giving you trouble.
He flicks his hips forward hard to get it over with, grunting when the first few inches sink into your plushy insides.
The air is knocked from your lungs, your throat tight and your mind fuzzy. Your eyes get a bit teary so he cups your face and kisses your nose.
“It’s gonna feel good soon, give it a second.” His breath is hot on your face, and he’s lightly panting with the effort to not push more of his cock into you. He doesn’t want to hurt you, but he wants to fuck you so bad.
He’s only halfway in, but he can feel your cervix snug to his tip. There’s a string of sounds spilling from your lips. Adorable sounds, Steve thinks, even if they accompany tears.
The ache of being so full slowly ebbs away and it starts to offer you a small, steady flow of pleasure.
“Move, please.” You whisper, fingers tangling in his hair.
He rolls his hips once, letting you test out the feeling before he edges a couple inches out to push them back in. Your lips part in a soft moan that makes him smile.
“S’that feel good, sweet girl? Hm?” He asks, one of his hands splaying over your stomach.
You nod, tiny and frantic.
“Daddy,” You whimper, unable to think.
His forehead falls to your clavicle and he grumbles something unintelligible to you. You don’t even realize what you’ve called him.
The slow, shallow thrusts leave no room in your brain for thoughts, your mind being filled with his cock just as much as your poor cunny.
“Fuckin’—call me that again.” He demands, shoving a couple more inches into you that make you squeal.
“Daddy!” You whine, starting to actually cry now that you hear what you’re calling him. It’s so wrong. It’s taboo and cliche, but god does it feel good.
The way his cock twitches at the name tells you that it feels good for him too.
Your wetness soaks the hair at the base of his cock the longer he fucks you, sinking deeper every few thrusts.
His thumb meets your sensitive clit and rubs in tight circles in attempts to loosen you up. He wants to fill you all the way.
“Can I put it all the way in, baby? Please?” He pleads, voice flimsy and needy.
You know it probably won’t fit, but you choke out a pathetic “yes,” anyway.
He gives a few more gentle thrusts before pushing the last few inches in. You feel your womb being annexed up to your stomach and his heavy balls pressing to your ass.
He doesn’t let you cry, kissing you to swallow any pained sounds you make (which is many).
You try to let go of your legs so you can close them, push him out of you, but he lays his body down on top of you to keep them there.
“I know it hurts, I know. Remember how good it felt to come, though? I’ll make it happen again, babe, make you feel good.” He babbles, hips returning to their previous pace, fucking you into the mattress.
He thumbs clumsily at your clit, too focused now on not finishing too quickly.
Delicate praises wash over your ears like gentle tides at a beach as your abdomen is filled over and over by another person. You’re not even making anymore sounds, just clinging to him, jaw hanging open.
He keeps his promise though, his mind tightening up enough to work your nerves properly. His thumb and index pinch the bundle at the top of your cunt, his hips angling his cock to press into you at an angle.
It pokes an extra spongy spot inside you, almost at your tailbone, and it makes you choke out a moan for him. He notes the area that draws such a reaction from you, and bullies it until your legs are weakly and involuntarily kicking under his weight.
Your insides seem to tighten up, strangling his big cock and biting the space between his neck and shoulder.
“That’s it, that’s a good girl.” He praises, stroking your hair and pushing some loose pieces behind your ear. “How’s it feel to come on my cock?”
You whimper at his question, throat raw from repeatedly sucking in sharp breaths to get through your orgasm.
He laughs at you and you hide your face in his neck. It feels so good, but the pump of his thickness now feels overwhelming.
“Too much,” You mumble, fists bumping his chest weakly.
“M’almost done, sweetheart, just a second.” He promises.
He digs deep for the last few thrusts, making sure all of him is buried inside you.
You feel when his balls tighten up, plastered against your ass. His hair tickles you as his hips stutter, filling the condom with warm, sticky come.
Expletives slip from his throat and into your mouth when he kisses you, his body still trying to hump the come into your womb as if there isn’t a condom trapping it.
“Wish I could—fuck. Wish I could come in you, princess. Get you pregnant.” He grunts, his lips moving to trace your jaw and nip at your neck.
Your brain is thoroughly fucked out, but you manage little giggles and a simple response.
“I’ll let you if you buy me a ring.”
It’s mostly a joke, but you really would down the line if he did.
A smile spreads across his face and he kisses your nose.
“I’d like that.” He says.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
The eye contact is filled with a weird amount of emotion for a first time together, but it feels right.
“Can I clean you up? You’re all wet…” He asks, making you realize that, yes, your thighs are incredibly slick.
“Yes please.”
He gives you one more kiss before very gently easing his XL cock from your poor, swollen cunt. He definitely ruined you for the next few days.
The condom looks more full than you expected it too, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He just ties it off and tosses it into the trash bin in the corner of his bedroom.
“Be right back.” He says, and he is.
Soft towel in his right hand, and glass of water in his left, he sits down on the edge of the bed next to you.
You take the water gratefully, chugging half the glass without a breath. He smiles at your antics and nudges you back to lay down, opening your legs once again.
This time when he’s between your legs though, he’s only wiping away mess with a damp, gentle fabric.
He places a single kiss to your folds before leaning over the side of the mattress and grabbing your panties. He puts them on you just like he took them off, carefully, like you were an expensive doll.
You feel so cared for and you know that you’ll never be able to be with someone your age again.
After tucking you into the plushy sheets, he leaves to take a shower. You allow yourself to stretch out and enjoy the spaciousness of his California King. When he joins you is a different story.
You cuddle right up to him, leg draped over his waist and face tucked under his jaw.
He doesn’t mind the closeness. It’s great, actually. He hadn’t gotten to sleep with a girl in quite a while and he never realized how much he missed it.
Sex was cool, but physical closeness was worth much more.
A/N: I never write stuff this long so apologies if it sucks… this is definitely gonna be like an ongoing thing (dilf!steve), but I can see more blurbs than oneshots… any ideas you guys have would be great bc as much as I’d love to write a bunch about this version (or any) of Steve, I can’t think of that many scenarios
Also I did not proof read this before posting bc I just wanted to get it out there as soon as possible but I’ll fix any mistakes if I catch them during a later read.
✰Taglist:
@anthgoldenhrry @naxinomi @beaslebee
—I do not authorize my content to be fed to artificial intelligence—
You slammed the front door of Steve’s apartment so hard the framed photo on the wall rattled, he was already home, sprawled on the couch in gray sweatpants and a faded Hawkins High tee that stretched across his broad chest. His hair was still perfectly tousled even after a long day, and that signature Harrington smirk faded the second he saw the attitude written all over your face.
“Rough shift?” he asked, sitting up slowly, elbows resting on his knees.
You kicked your shoes off aggressively, one landing near the TV.
“You could say that. Some asshole customers talking down to me the entire time and you…” You shot him a glare as you walked past, “...didn’t even text me back when I said I was having a shit day.”
Steve’s eyes narrowed, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
“I was driving home, princess, didn’t want to crash just to reply ‘hang in there.’”
You stopped in the hallway, turning to face him with your hands on your hips.
The tight tank top and tiny denim shorts you wore after your shift at the video store left very little to the imagination.
“Maybe I wanted more than ‘hang in there.’, maybe I wanted you to actually pay attention to me.”
He stood up, tall and lean, moving toward you with that effortless stride.
“You’ve been in a mood since you woke up this morning. Snapping at me over breakfast, ignoring me at work when I stopped by Family Video, and now this.”
He stopped just inches away, looking down at you.
“Keep running that mouth and I’ll do something about it.”
You tilted your chin up defiantly, stepping closer until your chest brushed his.
“Do something then, Harrington. Or are you all talk?”
Steve’s hand shot out, gripping your jaw firmly but gently, tilting your face up, his honey-brown eyes darkened.
“Careful, you’re playing a dangerous game tonight.”
You smiled sweetly, then deliberately licked your lips. “Maybe I like dangerous.”
That was all it took.
Steve spun you around and pressed you against the hallway wall, his tall body molding against your back, one hand pinned both of yours above your head while the other slid down your side, squeezing your ass hard.
“You want to act like a brat?” he growled against your ear, voice low and rough. “Fine but brats get punished.”
He yanked your denim shorts and panties down in one swift motion, letting them pool at your ankles. Cool air hit your bare skin as his fingers immediately dipped between your thighs, finding you already soaked.
“Fuck, baby,” he chuckled darkly, “this wet already? All that attitude and your pussy is begging for me.”
You tried to push back against him, but he kept you pinned.
“Maybe I’m wet because I’ve been thinking about someone who actually knows how to handle me.”
Steve’s hand cracked across your ass with a sharp smack, you gasped, the sting blooming into heat.
“Say that again,” he warned, rubbing the spot he just spanked. “I dare you.”
When you stayed quiet, he smirked against your neck and plunged two thick fingers inside you without warning, you moaned loudly, knees buckling, but he held you up, fucking you with his fingers in a steady, punishing rhythm.
“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, curling his fingers against that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes. “All bark, no bite… until I touch you.”
You were panting, grinding back on his hand despite yourself.
Just as you felt the edge approaching, Steve pulled his fingers out completely.
“No!” you whined, twisting in his grip.
He spun you to face him, lifting you effortlessly and carrying you to the bedroom. Once there he tossed you onto the bed like you weighed nothing, then stripped his shirt off, revealing his toned chest and the faint scars from everything you’d been through together.
“On your knees,” he ordered.
You stayed on your back, spreading your legs instead, giving him a defiant little smile.
“Make me.”
Steve’s eyes flashed, he grabbed your ankles and dragged you to the edge of the bed, dropping to his knees between your thighs. Before you could say anything else, his mouth was on you, hot, hungry, and relentless.
His tongue dragged up your slit, circling your clit before sucking it between his lips.
You cried out, fingers flying to his perfect hair, tugging hard and he groaned against you, the vibration making your toes curl.
“Steve—fuck…”
He ate you like a man starved, two fingers back inside you, pumping fast while his tongue worked your clit. Your thighs started shaking, hips bucking against his face and right when you were about to come, he pulled back again, lips shiny with your arousal.
“You asshole,” you gasped, trying to pull his head back down.
Steve wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood up, pushing his sweatpants down. His cock sprang free,thick, long, and already leaking.
He stroked himself slowly, watching you with dark eyes.
“Brats don’t get to come until they learn how to behave,” he said, voice husky. “Now turn over.”
This time you listened, flipping onto your stomach, Steve grabbed your hips and pulled you up onto your knees, then pushed your upper body down so your cheek pressed into the mattress.
He rubbed the head of his cock along your soaked folds, teasing.
“You gonna keep acting up?”
“Maybe,” you mumbled into the sheets, pushing back against him.
Steve slapped your ass again, harder this time, then he thrust into you in one deep stroke, burying himself completely. You moaned loudly at the stretch, fingers twisting in the sheets.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, gripping your hips as he started moving, his pace was brutal from the start, deep, hard thrusts that made the bed creak.
“This what you wanted? To get fucked like a brat?”
“Yes,” you moaned, pushing back to meet every thrust. “Harder, Steve.”
He fisted your hair, pulling your head back as he leaned over you, pounding into you faster. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room along with your desperate moans.
“You’re such a little shit,” he panted against your ear, biting your shoulder. “Acting up just so I’d wreck you.”
He reached around and rubbed your clit in tight circles, your orgasm hit you like a freight train, walls clenching around him as you cried out his name. Steve fucked you through it, then pulled out and flipped you onto your back.
He hooked your legs over his shoulders and slid back inside, the new angle making you see stars, his thrusts were deep and grinding, hitting that perfect spot every time.
“Look at me,” he demanded.
You met his eyes, blown wide with lust, hair messy from your fingers.
He looked gorgeous like this, flushed and focused entirely on ruining you.
“I’m gonna come again,” you whimpered.
“Not yet.” He slowed down, teasing you with shallow thrusts. “Tell me you’re sorry for being a brat.”
“I’m not sorry,” you shot back, even as your voice shook.
Steve grinned, that cocky smirk. “Wrong answer, baby.”
He pulled out completely and edged you for what felt like forever, alternating between his fingers, his tongue, and shallow thrusts until you were a sobbing, begging mess.
“Please, Steve… I need it. I’ll be good…fuck, I swear.”
Finally satisfied, he slammed back into you, fucking you hard and fast.
His thumb rubbed your clit and you came so intensely your vision blurred, crying out as your whole body shook. Steve followed right after, burying himself deep and groaning your name as he filled you.
He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his chest, breathing hard, his hand stroked your back gently, a total contrast to how rough he’d been minutes earlier.
“You okay?” he asked softly, kissing your forehead.
You smiled against his skin.
“Yeah… but don’t think I’m done pushing your buttons, Harrington.”
He laughed, the sound warm. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”
The next morning you woke up sore in the best way.
Steve was in the kitchen making coffee, wearing only those gray sweatpants again, you slipped on his red Family Video vest over nothing but panties and walked out.
“Morning,” you said sweetly, hopping up onto the counter.
Steve turned, eyes immediately dropping to your bare legs.
“You’re wearing my vest with no shirt? Really?”
You shrugged, crossing your legs slowly. “It’s comfy.”
He stepped between your thighs, hands sliding up under the vest to cup your breasts. “You’re gonna be late for your shift.”
“Then you better make it quick, Steve.”
He didn’t need telling twice, he shoved the vest open, mouth latching onto your nipple while he pushed your panties aside and sank two fingers into you. You gasped, head falling back.
Within minutes he had you bent over the kitchen counter, fucking you from behind with deep, steady strokes, one hand was tangled in your hair, the other rubbing your clit until you came hard, moaning his name. He followed, spilling inside you with a low groan.
“Keep my cum in you today,” he whispered against your neck. “Every time you move, I want you to remember who you belong to.”
At work later that afternoon, Steve stopped by Family Video during your shift and you made sure to bend over unnecessarily in front of him while shelving tapes, giving him a perfect view up your skirt. When no one was looking, you brushed your hand across the front of his jeans, feeling him harden instantly.
His eyes darkened. “Bathroom. Now.”
You barely made it inside before he locked the door, lifted you onto the sink, and fucked you fast and dirty. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust into you, hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.
“You’re such a fucking tease,” he growled, biting your neck. “Gonna make you pay for this later.”
You came biting his shoulder, and he filled you again, kissing you messily afterward.
and that night he made good on his promise.
Steve tied your wrists to the headboard with one of his old Scoops Ahoy ties and spent over an hour edging you, he’d bring you right to the brink with his tongue, then pull away, over and over until you were crying and begging.
“Steve, please… I can’t take it anymore.”
He finally slid into you, fucking you slow and deep while looking straight into your eyes. “You’re mine, baby. All that bratty shit? It’s cute but this pussy is mine to tease, mine to fuck, mine to fill.”
You came harder than you ever had, shaking and sobbing his name. Steve followed, collapsing on top of you and kissing you tenderly as you both came down.
The dynamic continued for weeks, you pushed, Steve pushed back harder.
Morning shower sex where he fucked you against the tiles until your legs gave out, quickies in the back of his car after late shifts, slow, lazy nights where he held you close and whispered filthy praises while rocking into you gently.
No matter how bratty you got, Steve always matched your fire, turning your attitude into soaked sheets and moans.
you guys don't understand how bad i need joe in a fifty shades of grey type of role where he's a hardass CEO hard ass and when you come in for an interview everyone's muttering 'good luck' and shit like that and yeah during your interview as his receptionist you're terrified and shaking with nerves. but you get the job and one evening you're both leaving super after hours and he stops you from being almost mugged in the parking lot. then he starts being everywhere coincidentally.
come to find out he's on some YOU type of shit. he's been stalking you this entire time. he didn't even have anymore interviews lined up for the role. only yours. actually hacked into your computer to have the job only show to you in some way (he's a billionaire they could do that probably). you only find out because you were putting something on his desk after you left and got nosey, snooping through drawers rightfully so. Snooping specifically through a legal folder with your name on it. thinking it was only your onboarding papers and resume maybe. but it's surviellance pictures of your home. your parents background and history. yearbook pictures of you.
summary; after an awfully long time of being separated from your boyfriend, all you can do is miss him. and when he returns, he shows you exactly how much he missed you too.
warnings; explicit sexual content, 18+ mdni, unprotected piv (please stay safe!), phone sex during a facetime call, female masturbation, mentions of male masturbation, getting caught, mention of drinking, thigh riding, oral (f receiving), morning sex, creampie, dirty talk, fluff, no use of y/n, badly proofread (as always)
word count; 3,617
words of vanilla; i've been so excited since i got that request. turned out as the longest fic i’ve ever written so far and left me horny and craving him even more. thank you again for the request, i hope you like how it turned out. enjoy reading sweetie because i definitely enjoyed writing it! xx
it had been one month and twenty eight days since the last time you’ve seen joe.
and it would’ve been a lie if you said that you didn’t miss him. to be honest, you were pretty desperate at this point.
of course you called and spoke to each other on facetime multiple times. but it was still different than to actually talk to him in person.
you missed him just like he missed you, and neither of you could wait for him to come home in less than a week.
it was the steady buzzing of your phone that ripped you out of your thoughts while you cleaned up the kitchen.
you put away the rag, taking your phone, smiling when you saw his name on the screen.
“i was wondering when you’d call. thought you might’ve forgotten me,” you teased him right after you accepted the facetime call, making him chuckle.
“ouch. so that’s what you think of me?” he answered with that stupid grin on his beautiful face.
you giggled softly, walking through your apartment as someone suddenly snatched his phone out of his hands.
“hi there,” a familiar voice sounded, and gaten grinned widely at you, showing you his perfectly grown teeth.
you could hear joe complaining in the background, and something like ‘give me that damn phone back, gaten’.
your giggle turned into a soft laugh, gaten’s grin replaced by joe’s face.
“it was nice to see you!” you said with a raised voice, hoping gaten still heard it.
his answer was muffled, hard to understand when joe already started to walk away.
“sorry, princess. i was just about to leave anyway.” a slight tilt of his head. “how’s my girl doing?” he added while he moved, probably back to his hotel room.
“she’s doing fine. misses you, that’s all,” you answered, reaching your bedroom and falling onto the bed, back against the mattress.
you held your phone right over your face so he had a good look on you from above.
he stepped inside his own room and closed the door behind him. “is that so?” there was a smile on his face, voice dropping an octave and you bit your bottom lip. “i know a few things that could help against that.”
you felt heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks. “yeah? tell me more…”
he shrugged, switching on the lights in his room so you could see is face again.
“mhmm. you better tell me what you’re wearing right now,” he replied, and your heart started to beat faster.
you slowly turned the camera down, giving him a good look at the black tank top, matching with his boxers.
“shit.”
the curse sounded breathless, almost like he’s been holding his breath while he looked at the view you’ve been showing to him.
“you have no idea how bad i want to touch you right now, baby,” he added then, and you looked back to the screen.
“i could do it for you if you want,” you offered, maybe a little too fast. but it was exactly what he wanted to hear.
“can you take off your shirt for me?” his voice sounded strained, almost like he had to hold himself back from jumping through the screen right there.
you nodded slowly, sitting up again, placing the phone against one of your pillows so he had a good sight on you.
without waisting another second, you took off the tank top, exposing your breasts to him before throwing the fabric away.
a throaty growl escaped him when he saw you sitting in front of the phone like this, one the hand that wasn’t holding the phone already palming his erection through his pants.
“jesus christ, you wanna kill me, right?” he choked out, making you bite your bottom lip as you leaned forward, slowly crawling closer to the phone. “come back home soon. this is what’s waiting for you.”
“i can’t fucking wait for it,” he breathed, his gaze roaming over your chest. “play with your nipples.”
you watched him for a moment, before guiding one hand to your breasts, starting to play with your nipple while he watched you like a predator watches its prey. after that, you repeated the same action on the other side.
“fucking delicious,” he growled, the sound of his voice making you arch your back.
“oh my god, joe,” you whimpered, hips rocking forward.
“touch yourself, princess. give yourself the pleasure you need. but stay exactly like this. lemme watch you while you tear yourself apart f’me.”
he didn’t need to repeat himself.
your hand already slipped past the waistband of his boxers, touching your aching pussy.
a soft moan slipped from your mouth as you started to tease your lips, smearing the wetness there.
“talk to me, baby.” you heard joe’s voice through the lust that clouded your mind.
“so wet. so wet for you.” it came out a little breathless, slowly playing with your clit, circling your index finger around it.
it sent little jolts of electricity through your body and you leaned backwards on your heels, making sure that he could see all of how your body reacted to it.
you brushed your fingers through your folds, grazing over your entrance before pushing them inside, moaning out softly.
“christ, baby. if you could see yourself right now… i wish i could touch you. i wish…” he paused, groaning quietly, “i wish i could fuck you.”
you cried out softly, your walls clenching around your fingers, the thought of his cock inside of you—instead of your fingers—felt like pure agony since he was on the other side of the country.
“joe,” you whimpered, hips bucking mindlessly against your own fingers as you chased your release, hoping it would stop the unbearable ache in your lower abdomen.
when your thumb touched your clit again, rubbing over it i tight circles, the coil in your stomach snapped, and you came all over your hand, practically dripping onto the bedsheets.
just in time, you heard a muffled sound from where the phone leaned against your pillow, his screen black as the phone probably had fallen from his hands.
he picked it up a few heartbeats later, smiling awkwardly into the camera. “holy shit, baby. i just came in my pants,” he chuckled, and you couldn’t help but giggle, falling onto the bed.
“you’re kidding, right?” you asked, hiding your face behind your hands.
“not about that, promise,” he declared too fast if it was a lie.
“you’re incredible, keery,” you muttered, shaking your head slightly.
“and you’re absolutely beautiful. and i can’t wait to take you in my arms soon.”
he got quiet before meeting your gaze again. “no touching until we see each other again. the next time when you come like this…i want to be the one who does that to you. promise me, baby.”
“i promise…” you whispered back, your eyes already fluttering shut. “can’t wait to have you back home.”
you didn’t even notice when he hung up.
you’d already fallen asleep.
. ⊹*ﾟ･ﾟ｡. ⭑.*｡･ﾟ⊹*.
the streetlights shone through the floor-deep windows, illuminating the darkness of your living room as you sat on the couch, a glass of wine in your hands.
it had been a long and exhausting day. and the worst part was that you haven’t heard from him in hours. maybe that was the reason why you held that glass against your lips. it was half empty, the alcohol giving your head a dizzy feeling already.
slowly, you stood up from where you were sitting on the couch, swaying slightly as you tried to keep your balance.
“dammit,” you cursed.
and when you finally felt steady on your feet, you made your way to your headphones, which lay on the counter on the other side of the room.
of course, you could also watch a movie. but that wasn’t what you needed right now.
you switched on the music, starting to move to it, swaying your hips with the rhythm.
soon you were dancing around in your living room, enjoying it just being you, your favourite songs and your best friend named wine—that never failed to let you down.
but it only took you a few minutes before you got too exhausted, falling down on the couch again, eyes to the ceiling.
fuck, there was this feeling again.
that thrumming pulse between your legs, and the despair of feeling your boyfriend’s body on top of you.
it had been too long.
and even though you promised him to not touch yourself again until he came back, you just couldn’t stop yourself.
you needed him, and it was bad.
so all you did, was to let your fingers slip past the waistband of your sweatpants and panties, finding yourself soaked.
your hips bucked up involuntarily, searching for friction as you teased your entrance with your fingers, triggering that sensation.
but you didn’t want to wait any longer. you’ve really waited long enough.
the music still played softly over your headphones as you started to circle your clit torturously slow, building up the pleasure.
it happened fast—thanks to the alcohol in your system—and soon your hips bucked up into thin air, your inner walls clenching painfully around nothing.
your breath quickened and you knew you were close.
but right before you could fall over that edge of pure bliss, a hand clamped down over your eyes.
you jumped instantly, all that pleasure gone as pure adrenaline rushed through your body. you turned your head, looking into the familiar eyes of your boyfriend who looked down at you with an unreadable expression.
“fucking hell, joe. you scared the shit out of me,” you gasped after you ripped the headphones off your head.
you were still a little out of breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart.
“and you broke your promise. think we’re pretty much even. i thought no touching until i’m back home,” he replied, slowly moving around the couch so he was standing right in front of you.
without waiting for an answer, he took your hand—the one that had been in your pants only seconds before—and brought it up to his face.
he breathed in deeply, inhaling your scent before closing his lips around them, sucking off the remaining taste of you.
the air got caught in your throat as you watched his eyes close, tongue swirling around your fingertips until he pulled away with a wet pop.
for a moment, you weren’t even sure if this was real or if it just happened inside your head after you’d fallen asleep on the couch. but he was definitely there, you felt it in the way your body reacted to his presence.
“joe…” you started but didn’t come far. he sat down on the couch next to you, pulling you with him, forcing you to sit on top of him, straddling his thighs.
“after six hours on a plane and one hour in a taxi after that… i come home to this. you… almost about to cum on your own fucking fingers. though you promised to wait,” he nearly growled, his grip tightening on you.
“what are we gonna do about that?”
you swallowed hard, not finding the right words but you didn’t have to—joe already knew exactly what he was gonna do.
“ride my thigh.”
it wasn’t a question.
it was a command.
“but i-“
he cut you off by grabbing your chin gently but firm, forcing you to look into his eyes.
“ride. my. thigh.”
he repeated it, even more firm than the last time, and you finally obeyed.
you positioned yourself above his right thigh, slowly grinding down on it.
the sensation felt too good on your already swollen clit, and you moaned out quietly.
“yeah, just like that,” joe hummed, one of his hands sliding to your back, the other into your hair.
his words urged you to move faster, rubbing yourself against him through your clothes.
your breath quickened again, your body still on edge from your former encounter.
so it didn’t take long until he had you where he wanted you falling apart on top of him, cumming into your pants—just like him a few days ago—while his name left your lips over and over again.
you sank against him when you came down from your high, forehead pressed against his shoulder.
he buried his face in your hair, breathing in the smell of your shampoo and something so unmistakably you, holding you in his arms.
“i’m sorry i broke the promise.” your voice felt agonizingly loud in the silence of the room—maybe it was because of the ringing sound in your ears. “i just… i missed you. and i couldn’t wait for you to come back home.”
joe chuckled softly, pushing you away only far enough so he could look into your eyes.
“it’s okay. i forgive you, baby,” he smiled, cupping your face with his hands, finally pressing a soft kiss against your lips.
you let out a hum, your eyes closing as you deepened the kiss. as your mouths moved together, you started to shift on his hips, feeling his clothed erection pressing against your core.
but he stopped your right there.
“hey,” his grip tightened on your face. “i’m pretty exhausted from my flight. i don’t think i can do much tonight.”
by now you realized the deep shadows under his eyes, suddenly feeling bad for even trying to get him to more.
“i’m so sorry, i-“
he drowned the words in another kiss and you placed one hand against his cheek, feeling the stubble growing back underneath your palm.
“let’s go to bed, hm?” he suggested softly, his hand slipping underneath your ass as he stood up, your body still on his hips.
your legs tightened around him while he carried you, both of you giggling as you fell on the mattress together.
you didn’t even remember at which point sleep got you.
all you actually did remember was, that your head was pressed against his chest, the steady beat of his heart underneath your ear.
the next thing you knew was that feeling. it was probably also the reason why you woke up.
little sparks exploding in your abdomen, causing the first soft moans to slip past your lips.
then you felt him move between your legs. or more—his head.
his hands were on your thighs, holding you open as his tongue lapped on your pussy.
“joe…” you moaned, still half-asleep, your hand finding its way into his hair. “oh, f-fuck…”
“morning, baby,” he hummed, the deep sound of it rumbling through your body, your walls clenching around nothing.
“oh my god.”
it was the only thing you got out, your back arching off the bed when his tongue swirled around your clit.
you only got wetter, your hips rocking up against his face. “joe…”
“shhhh…”
his grip on your thighs tightened, pushing you down, keeping you from moving. “just let me take care of you,” he continued, his fingers teasing your hole but not pushing inside.
you whimpered, the need to feel something inside almost killing your still sleep-hazed head.
“fuck baby, you’re dripping,” he murmured, his tongue licking up a long stripe from your entrance to your clit.
then he finally pushed it inside, gathering more of your arousal before swallowing it down.
“god, baby. y’taste so good,” he groaned into your heat, and you whimpered again, your hand moving into his hair as the other clenched into the sheets.
“joe… oh god… please,” you cried out, trying to catch your breath while he pushed his tongue in and out of you at a relentless pace.
he didn’t answer you this time, just focused on you and those sweet little sounds that left your lips over and over again.
his fingers found your bundle of nerves, rubbing gently over it, grinning against you as your body trembled violently.
“joe, i-i can’t…”
“i know, it’s okay. cum for me, baby. wanna taste you,” he whispered, sending you over the edge.
you came, coating the lower half of his face with your juices as the world spun around you, little whimpers leaving your lips.
he took everything you offered, lapping at you for dear life, moaning into you until there was nothing left.
“joe…” you tried to pull him away from you, his hair soft like silk between your fingers.
“please, baby… i need you inside of me.”
joe moved away, crawling up your body, his chin glistening from your juices. “god, i missed you so much,” he said quietly, kissing you softly, letting you taste yourself on him.
“mmmmh…”
you couldn’t say more, his cock already nudging at your entrance, only the tip slipping inside of you.
you didn’t remember when he got out of his clothes, you couldn’t care less.
all you could think of was to finally feel him again after that awfully long time of two months.
both of you panted heavily as he slid deeper, his thick cock stretching your walls in the most delicious way.
he didn’t stop until he was completely buried inside of you, his breath mixing with yours. “you feel so… fucking incredible,” he hissed, pressing his forehead against yours, slowly starting to move.
the first thrust caused you to moan into each other’s mouths as you half-kissed, and right after the next followed.
he fucked you slow and gentle into the mattress, waking you up even more, holding himself upright on his elbows on either side of your head.
your nails scratched down his back, leaving little marks in their wake, making him hiss again.
“please… harder…” you panted, your legs locking around his waist, pushing him deeper.
“as you wish, princess.”
with that, he increased his pace and soon the slapping of his balls against your ass, just as the little sounds you made, were the only thing that was heard in your bedroom.
“fuck, joe!” you whined, your whole body trembling from the sensation that cursed through your body.
he reacted to it, taking one of your hands, pressing it down on the mattress right next to your head, lacing your fingers with his.
“i’m here, baby,” he pressed out, his voice laced with lust, lips brushing along your jaw. “i’m right here. you wanna cum? you wanna cum on my cock?”
his words reached your ears through the pleasure, and you nodded your head frantically.
“use your words. let me hear how much you want it.”
“please, joe. please lemme cum,” you whimpered, your fingers tightening around his as he still held your hand down.
“good girl.”
the praise made your walls flutter wildly, and he let go of your hand, reaching down to add extra pressure on your clit.
that was all you needed to fall apart underneath him, whimpering and moaning softly as your orgasm crashed down on you.
you called out his name, nails digging into his shoulders, leaving little crescents behind.
he kissed along your jaw as he continued to fuck you through your climax but wasn’t nearly finished with you yet.
you only had a few minutes to catch your breath before he rolled you over, bringing you on top of him.
you didn’t need a command from him, you knew what he wanted. and you where pleased to give it to him.
you took his hands, holding them up in the air as you intertwined your fingers with his, slowly starting to rock your hips.
“f-fuck,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his grip on your hands tightening.
your head fell back into your neck when you felt him twitch inside of you, so deep it sent sparks up your spine.
“you feel s’good around me, baby,” he groaned, hips bucking up to meet your movements.
it didn’t make you stop, it only urged you to move faster. you knew he was close when you heard his breathing change.
“fuck, baby! i’m gonna cum… f-fuck…” he warned, and with one last deep thrust, he emptied his balls deep inside of you, coating your walls with thick ropes of his cum.
his body shook and trembled underneath you, his eyes closed and mouth hanging open.
he looked like pure sin.
the most beautiful sin you’ve ever seen in your life and you’d never get enough of it.
you leaned forward, now pressing his hands on the mattress at either side of his head, nose nuzzling against his sweaty neck.
“i’m glad you’re back,” you whispered, breaking the silence between you.
he squeezed your hands gently. “me too, princess. i promise, next time i’m gone for that long, i’m taking your with me. even though i really enjoy what happens when i come back home and you miss me.”
“oh, shut up. i was drunk,” you giggled, letting go of his hands so he could wrap his arms around you, his cock softening inside you.
“lame excuse, baby,” he teased, pressing a kiss to your temple.
it caused you to giggle, both of you gasping when you rolled off of him, causing his cock to slip out, your mixed juices leaking from your pussy.
“soo, what now?” you asked, turning your head to look at him.
he seemed to think for a few seconds, then grinned mischievously. “now… i’m gonna eat you out again, making sure you’re ready for round two, sweet girl. we still got a lot to catch up to.”
you didn’t get to answer as he positioned himself on top of you again, his head already diving back between your legs.
