a never-ending midnight sun @jamdoughnutmagician - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
a never-ending midnight sun
@jamdoughnutmagician
❌️Minors Do Not Interact ❌️ Hiya! Claudia/29/Welsh/Secret 6th member of the Spice Girls welcome to my blog! It's really just a mish-mash of all the things I like with a sprinkling of memes
hate when im reading and theres a word i dont know so i search it in the dictionary and its like: beuperer. noun. a person who beupers. i'll fucking kill you
One shot summary is in the title LMAOOOO and ofc a play on words of Fat Daddy Slim.
Older!Fat!Steve Harrington x f!reader
2.4k Words
Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI!! PORN THIS IS JUST PORN AND 1% PLOT, Daddy kink, Age gap (17 years), classic hospo worker shenanigans (sleeping with ur coworkers), probably immense overuse of pet names (pretty girl, babygirl, sweet girl etc), P in V, fucking RAW, (good lord wrap before you tap people), creampie <3
!! Hey so I suck balls at smut but @keer-y wanted some GOOD HONEST Daddy Kink Steve Harrington, and I just love him so ofc I HAD TO. Also for my sweet @djob00bies
⟡°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⟡
“—c’mon sweet girl, I know you got one more f’me.”
Knees pressed up against your chest, folded in half like a pretzel while one of Steve’s hands holds your legs in place and the other fucks into you brutally. Thumb circling and pressing onto your abused nub, spurring you on to jerk upwards.
“There she is, there’s my good girl. Daddy makin’ you feel good hm?” He cooed breathily, all flushed cheeks and sweaty tendrils of hair sticking to his face. God he’s a vision. Fuller cheeks and heavier set than the pictures of him that scattered around the apartment indicated.
He’s so manly. Gut, tits and all.
“U-uh-huum, fuck,” you whine, eyes screwing shut and back arching off the bed, “you-ah— you always make m’feel good Daddy.”
His fingers yank out of your pulsing hole, ripping another whine from you and subsequently denying you the release that was oh so close, “oh so now we like Daddy, hm? Should let you sit here all soaked and needy after the stunt you pulled earlier.”
The playful lilt of his voice brings you back to earlier at how you even ended up in this situation.
It was a slow night at The Hideout, as always was the case on Tuesdays when Trivia, Bingo or a band weren’t on. A manager always needed to be on, (lest Eddie go on a tirade about his staff getting abused again — it was one time) and since supervisors also have to be rostered on closes; the night time rotation was you, Steve and Roxy.
No one had come in for 25 minutes so you sat at the far end of the bar with a cosmopolitan magazine while the other two chatted and messed around to pass the time. It was lucky Steve was so charismatic with the other staff because it meant that the companies best kept secret would stay that way — a secret.
That most nights after a close you’re stowing away in your managers beat-up pick up to have the most mind blowing sex with said manager. The manager who was about to turn forty next month and that made him precisely 17 years your senior.
Weird, it was weird. Super weird.
Easier to keep that under wraps than to explain to anyone who cared how or why there was attraction there. Steve is an easy guy to be attracted to, great hair, great personality, great body, even now if it was covered by one of his stupid fucking slogan shirts. Today's said 'Blink if you want me' and you'd made a concerted effort to not engage lest you blow this secret out of the water by making fuck-me eyes at him all day.
You still do that but you just make them across the bar while watching him play games with coasters and bottle caps to entertain Roxy. “Oh yeah, that’s right, come to daddy.” He has that playful tone, but the word sends you into another dimension almost.
Roxy pulls a face and immediately loses interest in the game, “gross! Don’t talk about yourself in third person, yuck.”
Coolly, you lift your head and barely raise your eyes to look at either of them deadpan, “that’s what you got from that? The third person reference and not ‘Daddy’?” It was a little on the nose, really, but he started it by saying it outside of the bedroom and you were always a little too good at psychological warfare.
“Everybody loves Daddy,” he defends with a shit eating grin, eyes dropping down to so obviously check you out. He’s getting cocky.
Asshole.
You pull a face, “eugh, as if.” And returned to the magazine without incident.
That attitude, the act of pretending like you weren’t completely obsessed with this man was why you’re being folded in half, pussy squeezing around nothing while Steve slowly tortures you to complete madness.
Though he 'd stopped completely, laid your legs back down and held a hand up to cup the side of your face, “hey, sweetheart — you with me?” Just like that, he can be sweet, dirty, sour and everything in between. He’s seen the faraway look in your eyes and waits for the moment to pass where you’re present.
“Sorry,” you mumble, nudging against his hand, “I’m here. I’m okay.”
“Where’d you go?” His thumb brushes over the apple of your cheek, tracing the contours of your face before resting by your lower lip. He asks because he wants to know, but you’ve disrupted the flow of the moment enough and simply answer by parting your lips for his thumb.
Dropping his head with a groan, his salt and pepper hair flops with it, “that,” he grinds against you, “isn’t an answer, sweet girl.”
You suck his thumb harder, biting down on it gently, urgently while you paw at his pillowy gut for him. “Wan’chu Da’ddy,” against his thumb gets jumbled up and barely a proper sentence but he understands enough to groan again.
“Needy thing,” he tsks, dropping down to kiss along your cheek, pulling his thumb out of your mouth, smearing your own drool all over your lips. The sensation makes your hips buck up, desperate for attention and friction. “What do you want, sweetheart? Mouth or cock?”
His fingers ghost over your folds, the absence of his touch maddening and making you frantic for something. “Mmf—fuck, your cock — please, please I need you to feel you p-please, Steve.”
Cocking his head with that look on his face, you can guess you’ve said something wrong, mouth going dry and an indignant whine forces itself out of you.
“Princess,” he chides, parting your legs and leaning over you, arms braced either side of your head trembling to keep himself upright, “you were doing so well. Try again. Who am I?” His nose nudges up against your cheek, then his wet lips follow in messy little pecks.
Tonight he’s pushier than usual, which means that the playful jabbing at work had gotten to him. Normally you enjoy pushing back but with how desperate you were for something, you acquiesce instantly, “Daddy, I’m sorry—”
“Ah.” He nips at your jaw, a wordless direction to try again.
You gulp and buck up against him, dragging your abused hole along his chubbed up cock. Fuck, he’s always good at turning you on, but tonight was practically unbearable. Another whimper tumbles out, catching into the sob that followed, “Da-ah — Daddy.”
A groan slips out, smothering it against your temple which is the only indicator that he’s on the cusp of falling apart as much as you. “F-hmm, yeah. That’s right, pretty girl. You want Daddy’s cock, hm?”
Whole-body tingles trickle through you as he looks down with those ridiculously playful eyes and already wrecked expression. You risk another buck of your hips, eyes fluttering at the contact of him against you again “mm-hmm, please.”
“Yeah? Want me to remind you of who I am so it sinks in?” He kisses and nips along your throat, “or do you want me to fuck you stupid?”
The decision was already made before it could even form as an answer in your mouth. He sits up, the rush of cold is sobering until you’re blessed with the view of him stroking himself lazily. God he’s perfect.
“Daddy’s gonna fuck his pretty girl stupid, isn’t he?” He grits through his teeth, hungry eyes roving over you laid across his bed. He tracks down from your face, then to your tits and slowly down all the way to your cunt where you clench again under his stare. “Jesus. ‘lright, legs.”
Without a second thought, your legs lift and rest over his shoulders. His lips twitch almost giving way to a laugh, maybe a different night he’d have laughed at how eager you were being. Not tonight. “Thaaat’s my good girl. Look at this pretty pussy, cryin’ f’me.”
Steve liked taking his time, though whatever was in the air had him skipping the theatrics and cutting straight to the finale. Another whine cuts through a sharp breath when he lines himself up, “gonna make y’feel so good, Princess.”
“P-ah, fuck, please Daddy.” You knead roughly into his chest, feeling already so overwhelmed and now impatient to feel him anywhere. Mouth, ass, cunt — somewhere to alleviate the restlessness.
Hearing you, he buries himself completely inside your waiting hole with a guttural moan. The sensation is sharp, pulling a choked sob from you. As always is the case with how wide he is.
“Fuck, feels like heaven, babygirl. Always take me so well,” he groans, taking a moment to collect himself before thrusting at a rapid pace in short bursts. “Mf— y’ know the drill, honey. Touch y’self,” he pants.
Honey.
Through the complete haze of how filled he makes you feel, the surprisingly sweet endearment felt different than all the others. He’s never called you that before, not like this. Cock sheathed completely inside you, bullying your hole, he’s never called you honey.
Heeding his direction, one hand flicks and plays with your tits while the other glides down to circle your clit. God, you were so slick with want for him, picking up the pace whenever he slowed his thrusts for a few minutes.
Since the Christmas party last year and the first time this happened, Steve had an inexplicable ability to make you so beyond horny it was almost frustrating. It was laughable that at one point in your life, you had committed to the idea that sex was boring and you could live without it.
But with this man in all of his glory, has somehow managed to get you going in a way no other person had before.
A year of this; him fucking you into his bed with all the care and time in the world and you letting him, and it has yet to get old.
“Ah fuck y’squeezing Daddy so fucking tight. Mmf — Love fucking my sweet girl raw.”
His thrusts pick up again, so do your fingers around your clit to chase that feeling again. Each snap of his hips leave you feeling so filled and somehow its never enough, for either of you.
“I-hmm — Daddy I’m close,” you breathe and arch up, lifting hips up enough to change the angle enough that both of you groan in unison.
By now, he’d have you ride him, but considering how worked up you’d gotten it was barely a thought to him right now. He loves watching your tits bounce when you ride him as much as you love making his tits jiggle, but now was more about a feverish need to keep momentum and chase that release.
“Ha-I, fuck, I know.” He chuckles quietly, his vocalisations were always soft gleeful little moans. Like he was in complete disbelief that you let him defile you every time he asks for you to come over. You once told him defile was a strong word, and he had said it was hot and continued to fuck into you on his couch.
That tightness starts to strengthen, that sinking feeling in your tummy as your movements feel lighter becomes more apparent with each thrust of his cock and glide of your fingers, “God, don’t stop, please.”
“That’s my good girl. C’mon — come f’me, come for, ah — Daddy.”
Your hips half up buck up, your face scrunches and jaw loosens to let out a breathy moan from orgasmic bliss. It pulses in waves while your cunt clenches and un-clenches around him, urging him into his own release. “ohmygod,” you seize up while it rushes through your core and blooms outward to your head.
His pace picks up now, grunting and moaning quietly while effectively fucking into your now rag-dolling post orgasm body, which he pretends never to get excited over but always fails. He loves fucking you boneless and loose, only ever admitted in the way his eyes rove over your tired face and he smiles proudly about it.
Like yes, he did this to you. He fucked you so good and hard that you’re loose limbed and lethargic in a euphoric daze all from his cock. But its not just his cock, its all of him. Face, body, hair, him.
“Gonna fill up my pretty girl, yeah? You gonna let Daddy fill you up?” He asks but it was never as if you’d tell him no. Because there was something about him filling you up that was so lewd about feeling him for hours afterwards.
You nod lazily, too blissed out to say much of anything, which he knows. Bringing a hand to caress your face and slipping his thumb through plush lips, “thats my girl. So good f’me.” The tenderness stops when he hangs his head and then his hips pick up a brutal pace.
His thumb hooked into your mouth keeps your head steady while he hammers into you with such intense concentration. No one fucks like Steve Harrington. And somehow you were the lucky recipient to experience it all, the sweet talk, the tender moments, the absolute abuse on your pussy when he fucks you hard and fast.
It’s a head spin to feel already at the height of overstimulation that it was almost unbearable.
“Ah, fuck. Fuck. I’m —” his hips notch as close to yours as possible as he spills his load into you, rocking his hips slowly until he’d completely emptied himself. He languidly slides your legs off his shoulders, the position they’d been in for so long has them prickle with pins and needles.
With an exhausted boyish smile, he leans down to pepper wet kiss along your neck and face, and collapses onto the bed, dragging you on top with a tired smile. “Mmf, you are so pretty when you come on my cock, honey.” And he dives back in again for more kisses.
There it is again, honey.
You feel his spend oozing out of you, probably getting all over his meaty thigh, but he doesn’t care and neither did you. He’d clean it up after a moment to catch his breath, which was honestly, your favourite part of being with Steve. How sweet and mushy he got after sending you into an alternate reality with his cock.
“Y’know I was thinking the same about you, honey.” You murmur, drawing shapes across his soft chest, pulling gently at his hair absently.
He doesn’t say anything about the pet name, no verbal acknowledgement that indicated he had thoughts about it. But there was a self satisfied little smile on his lips and that look of content in his eyes that gave away more than words ever could.
And yeah, that checks out, but you felt the exact same way.
Sometimes the best fic you’ve ever written isn’t on ao3. It’s in 50 frenetic discord messages sent over a fifteen minute span where you and your friend yes and each other into a perfect story that will never actually be written.
