cillian murphy x original female character || cillian murphy x reader
cillian murphy as Thomas Buckley
original female character as Diana Kaiden
summary:
"I drive fast, wind in my hair
I push you to the limits 'cause I just don't care
I've got a burning desire for you, baby."
...
There is no total stranger in this world. Everyone is somehow connected to one another whether if its online or personal.
Thomas Buckley started his first job wishing that this was his fresh start, but sometimes our wishes doesn't turn out the way we want.
Diana Kaiden wishes to find her true love during her stay in Cambridge but after finishing her first year, she loses hope to find that someone. But of course, what ifs will never vanish in the thoughts of someone. What if Diane already met him during her younger years?
She is familiarized with the majestic face but he is unfazed of what’s in-front of him.
Requested?: Yes! I got two requests I merged into one, where Y/N is dressed really nice and all the guys in the office are ogling her, and Jim gets un poco jealous, and another request around the Halloween episode where Dwight turns up as the Joker and when Y/N comes in as Harley he thinks it’s a sign they are meant to be together.
Word Count: 4.2K+
Author’s Note: I have been given a burst of energy recently and want to make sure all the requests I have gotten are written (even if these ones are from a month ago (I’m so sorry)). I like the idea of jealous Jim, not gonna lie, because it seems like this would be his only actual flaw. I hope you enjoy; this is my second thing with smut so bear with me.
Warning: SMUT. oral (female receiving), intercourse, sex while on the phone. I went a bit off the rails, this is new territory for me.
𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || When your boss is the most handsome, caring and adorable person you’ve ever met, falling for him was natural. But Steve has only loved one woman his entire life, his ex-wife Peggy; who has left him heartbroken and unbeknownst to him is manipulating him. So, who will Steve choose, his past or his present?
𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || smut (unprotected sex, dry humping, creampie, belt as collar, choking, spanking, non-penetrative sex, hair pulling, dom/sub dynamics, mean steeb, oral sex, degradation, praise kink, sir kink, daddy kink), angst, fluff, manipulation, happy ending!!! 𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙊𝙍𝙎 𝙋𝙇𝙀𝘼𝙎𝙀 𝘿𝙉𝙄!
a/n: written for my 3k celebration, the prompt is bolded. inspired by national treasure, the mummy (1999), and similar adventure films. the premise of this fic is based on fact/real legends, then the rest is the result of my imagination.
“Steve Rogers?”
The man hums in answer, his gaze fixated on the small television mounted above the bar.
Offering your hand, you introduce yourself. “We spoke on the phone.”
His head leisurely turns, and though they’re hidden behind dark sunglasses, you feel his eyes as they sweep over you before he accepts your outstretched hand.
“You want me to take you into the jungle.”
Glancing down at his hand as it engulfs yours, you can’t tell if he’s asking a question or stating a fact.
Either way, you respond with “Jake said you were the best man for the job.”
Sort of.
[2 DAYS PRIOR]
“Are you crazy?” Jake gawks, “I mean, yes, you’re crazy, but this is like a whole new level for you.”
“I’m not here for your opinion.” You assert, resting your palms on his desk and leaning forward. “I just need someone to take us, someone who knows the area.”
Running a hand through his spiked hair, Jake replies “Look, I know a few guys there but none are gonna buy what you’re selling. Treasure hunters are a dime a dozen in South America.”
“Explorers.” You correct, heaving a sigh. “C’mon, there has to be one guy willing.”
“I’m telling you there’s not.”
Slapping your hands on his desk, you straighten up. “Fine then, we’ll go alone.”
“What?” Jake splutters, “You wouldn’t, you - fuck, you would.” He groans.
Glaring at you for a moment, Jake shakes his head before rummaging through the papers strewn across his desk.
“Do you have any idea how dangerous Ecuador is? Do you know how many explorers die there each year?” He lectures.
“Why do you think I’m here?” You retort.
Muttering under his breath, Jake finds what he’s looking for and meets your unyielding gaze. “I’m not saying he’ll do it, but if you have a chance with anyone, it’s Rogers.”
You grab the small piece of paper Jake holds out to you, but his tight grip stops you from taking it.
“He won’t be cheap.” Jake warns.
“Of course.”
A few seconds pass before he relinquishes the paper to you.
Smiling sweetly, you pocket it. “Thank you Jake.”
Huffing, he gestures to the door. “Go.”
Your smile grows at his exasperated demand - which you quickly obey.
Jake’s voice calls out behind you just as you open his office door.
“Don’t tell Rogers what you’re looking for!”
[PRESENT]
Releasing your hand, Steve pushes up from the bar stool.
You have to tilt your head up and up as you watch him reach his full height.
“That was awfully nice of him.” Steve states dryly, his attention returning to the football game occuring on the television. “You didn’t say why you wanted to go into the jungle.”
Right.
“Well, I’m an -”
A low whistle interrupts you, drawing both your and Steve’s attention.
“Maxwell.” You greet the approaching man, smiling through gritted teeth.
Ignoring you, Max looks Steve up and down before announcing “Perfect, you’re just the kind of brute we need.”
He’s not wrong. Steve Rogers is built like a brick shithouse and most definitely suited for the task at hand.
Stopping beside you, Max extends his hand. “You must be Steve Rogers, I’m Max.”
Giving a small nod, Steve shakes his hand before aptly reminding you both “I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”
You keep your lie brief.
“As I was saying, we’re here to study specific sections of the Amazon rainforest for a thesis I’m working on.”
Throwing an arm around your shoulders, Max helpfully - and truthfully, adds “She’s an archaeologist.”
Steve studies you both, his face expressionless.
Your stomach drops.
He doesn’t believe us.
“You’re treasure hunters.” Steve declares, confirming your fear.
“Actually, we’re explorers.”
Continuing on like you hadn’t spoken, Steve says “And I’m guessing you’re after the treasure of Llanganates.”
“Good guess.”
Sighing at Max's admission, you try again “We’re -”
“Listen,” Steve cuts off. “The jungle and mountain ranges here are no joke, and I’m not risking my life just so you two can come to the same conclusion as every other schmuck that’s gone looking for that treasure, which is that it doesn’t exist.”
Your jaw drops at his words. “I’m no schmuck Mr. Rogers and just because you don't -”
“We’ll pay you well.” Max intervenes, shooting you a wary glance as you glare up at the large man.
Steve places his hands on his hips, his attention still on you while you bite your tongue.
You swear his lips twitch with a smirk.
Asshole.
“How much?” Steve eventually asks, turning his head to Max.
“How much do you want?” Max grins.
Silence falls as Steve mulls over the question.
“Five thousand a day.”
Your jaw drops again. “No way!”
“Done.”
Baffled, you gape at Max. “That’s an insane amount.”
Lifting his arm from your shoulders, he shrugs “This is an insane trip.”
All you can do is stare as Max holds his hand out to Steve once more, stipulating “Five thousand a day for you to take us exactly where we want to go and to keep us from dying horrible deaths.”
Nodding, Steve shakes his hand. “Deal.”
You should feel ecstatic.
“Well then, when do we leave?” Max asks, “We’re currently staying at the Tesoro Inn.”
“First I need to know where we’re going.”
Both men turn to look at you.
Reaching into your jean pocket reluctantly, you pull out the map you outlined the beginning of your expedition on and hand it over to Steve.
Unfolding it, he studies the red line. “It’s incomplete.”
Of course, genius.
“You can see the rest when you get us that far.” Arms crossed, you raise your eyebrows, all but daring him to argue back.
Steve regards you from behind his sunglasses before stating “We’ll meet in front of the inn tomorrow morning at five thirty.” As an afterthought he adds “Make sure you pack light.”
You can’t prove it of course, but you just know he’s directing that last comment at you.
Narrowing your eyes, you’re dragged away by Max before you can utter a scathing response.
Steve’s mouth twitches again.
[THE NEXT DAY]
You stand outside the inn, watching as the sun begins to peek above the horizon.
“So he’s an ass and terrible at keeping time.” You announce in a cheery tone.
Max groans, taking a sip of his coffee.
I suppose after last night he’s probably had enough of me ranting about Steve Rogers.
“Darling, please, just ignore his personality and focus on his good looks.”
You scoff loudly.
“Oh, don’t even try.” Max laughs, “I know how much of a sucker you are for big arms and hands.”
Whatever.
“Good morning,” A voice you unfortunately recognise calls out.
Looking over your shoulder at Steve’s approaching figure, you use the shield of your sunglasses to properly appraise him for the first time.
Steve’s tall and built, that much you had observed yesterday afternoon.
His hair is dark blond and long, the ends of it curling against the collar of his shirt while some strands fall around his face and over his still present sunglasses. The beard he has is thick and you’ll forcibly admit it’s the best you’ve ever seen.
You weren’t typically one for beards, but he made it work.
Similar to yesterday, Steve wears a long sleeved shirt that’s rolled up to his elbows and khaki military pants held up by a brown belt. Over one shoulder he carries a backpack while a duffel bag hangs from his left hand.
“Mr. Rogers,” You greet with a faux smile. “How nice of you to finally join us.”
Steve grins, coming to a stop in front of you. “Retract those claws kitten, I had to secure our ride.”
As if on cue, the loud rumble of an engine cuts through the peaceful morning air as an old pickup truck comes coasting around the corner, pulling up before you all.
“This must be the new Bentley model,” Max quips good-naturedly.
The older man hanging out of the driver’s window gives a rough laugh. “Ah, un comediante.”
“Solo medio tiempo.” Max retorts, earning another laugh.
Chucking his bags into the bed of the pickup, Steve grabs yours and Max’s off the ground and adds them to the pile. Twisting back to you, Steve extends a hand for the satchel slung across your body.
You shake your head, grasping tightly at the brown leather strap.
He raises an eyebrow but makes no further comment, instead gesturing to the bed of the pickup. “Alright you two, hop in.”
While you and Max climb into the back, Steve rounds the pickup and gets in the passenger side.
Max knocks twice on the back of the cab once you’re both seated and the pickup rolls forward with a loud bang, rocking the two of you sideways.
Resting a heavy arm around your shoulders for stability as you each sway with the motion of the pickup on the dirt road, Max states “I love riding in the bed of trucks, reminds me of -”
“Arizona.” You finish with a soft smile.
“Yep,” Max pops the p. “Where we found nothing but rock.”
“And got burnt to a crisp for our efforts.” You recall, looking up at him as he laughs.
“Let’s pray this expedition proves more fruitful.”
“It will.” You answer without a second thought, clutching your satchel again. “This time is different.”
Arizona had been a spur of the moment idea, something to do for fun and experience - nothing more. There’d been no prior research, no maps, no coordinates.
Humming, Max leans forward and grabs the rolled up sleeping bag from his backpack, placing it between the cab and his head before closing his eyes. “Tell me about it again.”
Settling against his chest, you recite the story you know by heart.
“In 1532, Spanish conquistadores captured an Inca Emperor named Atahualpa who promised them a room full of gold and twice as much silver in exchange for his life. The conquistadores agreed and soon treasures from across the region were being brought to them. However, the conquistadores’ fear of a re-energised Inca military led them to kill the Emperor before the ransom was fulfilled.”
“An Inca General named Rumiñahui had been en route with an enormous amount of treasure for the Emperor’s ransom when he learnt that Atahualpa had been killed. In response Rumiñahui ordered his men to take the ransom into the uninhabited land of Llanganates and hide it.”
"Rumiñahui continued to haul even more treasure, such as gold, silver, jewels, and Inca artefacts to hide in Llanganates until he was captured by the Spanish. They tortured him for the treasure’s location, but he refused to tell them.”
“He’s a better man than me,” Max mumbles.
“In 1603 a Spaniard named Valverde married an Inca woman and he claimed that her family showed him the treasure. Before his death, he wrote out the treasure’s location and even drew a map to guide others to it. People have used and improved Valverde’s map for centuries trying to find the treasure and the last person to have claimed finding it was Barth Blake in 1886. In a letter he detailed his discovery of gold, silver, emeralds and other treasures and stated that he, nor a thousand men could remove all that he had found.”
“So in over a century no-one has claimed to have found even a piece of the treasure?” Max questions, opening his eyes and looking down at you.
Lifting your head from his chest, you shake it. “A man named Mark Honigsbaum tried to find the treasure and wrote a book about it in 2004. He concluded that either the Incans retrieved the treasure centuries ago or it’s been lost forever in the mountains.”
“You believe it’s still in the mountains, right?”
“Yes, in its original hiding spot, just not where it’s marked on Valverde’s map.”
Max shakes his head, “Why can’t they just say ‘go to this place, here’s the treasure, spend it wisely’?”
You chuckle, but both you and Max know you don’t - can’t agree with his sentiment.
Finding the location of this treasure has been your sole purpose for years. You’ve lived and breathed this lost piece of history for so long that you almost felt a part of it.
To be able to find something that you couldn’t simply be given a map to was everything to you. You’ve earned the coordinates sitting in your satchel through your own hard work and time - so much time.
Succeeding at this would be your life’s greatest achievement.
As well as your greatest honour. The artefacts, like tiles from the Temple of the Sun, stowed away with that gold and silver were invaluable pieces of lost Inca culture that deserved to be returned to the people and shared with the world.
“How much is it all worth?” Max asks with a whimsical smile.
Sighing, you give him the answer he already knows, but just likes hearing. “Thirty-seven billion dollars, at least. However its historical significance is priceless."
Max squeezes his arm around your shoulders, pulling you even further into his side. "Well seeing how you’re in it for the history, I guess you’ll have no qualms with me taking ninety percent.”
“Ninety?” You repeat, shocked. “That’s generous of you, I expected you to take at least ninety-nine.”
Pressing his mouth to the top of your head with a loud smack, Max states “You underestimate my love for you.”
[SOME HOURS LATER]
“Looks like we’ve reached the end of the road.” Max announces once the pickup has slowed to a stop.
You wouldn’t exactly call what you’ve been driving on for the past few hours ‘road’.
A door creaks open before being slammed shut.
“Alright kids,” Steve appears to your right, reaching for the bags. “This is our stop.”
Your legs wobble when you stand and your ass is completely numb from sitting so long.
Gingerly, you lower yourself out of the back of the pickup and walk over to Steve, Max ambling behind you.
Collecting your backpack off the ground, you straighten up as the pickup rolls forward with its signature loud bang and makes a u-turn.
“Buena suerte!” The driver calls out as he passes, raising a hand.
“Gracias!” You and Max return, waving back.
Sliding your sunglasses up onto your head, you turn around to face the famed Amazon rainforest and take a deep breath.
This is it.
“Please, after you.” Max smiles at Steve, sweeping his arm out towards the mass of green.
Dutifully, Steve pulls out a machete from the holder around his thigh and steps forward into the awaiting wilderness.
[SOME HOURS LATER]
The first few hours of the trek are completed in silence.
You listen to the soundtrack of the Amazon, admiring the nature around you while getting tripped up by it more often than not.
It’s thick - and humbling.
There are trees that stretch up so high they must almost touch the sky, and their trunks are so wide that you can see nothing else when standing in front of them.
Unfortunately, none of it can distract you from the heat.
The humidity is like nothing you’ve ever experienced and the sun isn’t even at its highest point yet - not that you can see it.
You removed your long sleeved shirt a while ago, stuffing it into your backpack with your sunglasses. This left you in a dark green tank top and brown hiking pants.
“We’ll take a break here.” Steve declares, breaking the long silence.
Pushing your backpack off your shoulders, you take a seat on it and pull out your water bottle, taking a greedy gulp.
“I miss the truck.” Max sighs forlornly, collapsing beside you.
His skin is shiny with sweat, just like yours.
You pat his back sympathetically.
“I thought you were looking for the treasure of Llanganates.” Steve says suddenly, sitting on a fallen tree across from the two of you.
You think it’s a question, but his tone makes it sound like a statement.
He likes doing that.
“We are.” You retort.
“Your map doesn’t follow Valverde’s.”
Surprised, your eyebrows rise. “You’re familiar with Valverde’s map?”
“Do you really think you two are the first I’ve taken on this wild goose chase?”
Raising your chin defiantly, you assert “We’ll be the first to find it.”
Steve smiles at your confidence. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see kitten, but I’ll keep my bet on you going home empty-handed.”
“Oh, I like a good bet, what are we waging?” Max pipes in.
You roll your eyes while Steve’s sunglasses continue to hide his.
After a moment your guide decides “If we find the treasure, my services will be rendered free.”
Max scoffs a laugh “How kind, and what percentage of the treasure will you be asking for?”
Steve smirks, “Nothing absurd, just one percent.”
Which would only work out to about three hundred and seventy million dollars.
Yeah, nothing absurd.
To Max, it’s a bargain.
“I knew I liked you for a reason." He grins, picking himself up and walking over to Steve to shake on their bet.
“When we find the treasure we will be donating it.” You deadpan.
“Ignore her.” Resting his hands on his hips, Max says “She doesn’t understand greed like the rest of us simpletons.”
Steve hums in agreement, “You’ve got finder’s fee written all over you kitten.”
“Would you not call me that?” You glare.
His mouth twitches.
“I thought it was fitting.” Max mumbles from where he stands.
“And yes Mr. Rogers, we will be donating the treasure and accepting whatever finder’s fee we’re offered.”
Standing up, you put your backpack on again, deciding for the group that the rest period is over.
As you stride away, you hear Max mutter to Steve “Don’t worry, we can fill our bags with goodies before the museum stiffs show up.”
[THAT NIGHT]
You sit in front of the small campfire Steve built earlier as a light source.
Heat isn’t something you’re in short supply of.
Max is lying in his sleeping bag on the ground beside you while Steve sits across from you both, on the other side of the fire.
He’s finally removed his sunglasses, but the night hides Steve’s eyes just as well as his shades. Instead of colour, all you see in his eyes is the reflection of the flickering flames between you.
“I was thinking -”
“Uh-oh.”
“Shut up.” Max sighs, lifting his hand to slap your closest arm. “I was thinking about what you said about that Blake guy, the one who wrote the letter saying he found the treasure.”
“Hmm?” You prompt.
“Well, it sounded like he really found it, so why didn’t he take it?”
“Blake took what he could carry, planning on -”
“Returning with more men and supplies to retrieve the rest, but on his way to New York from Ecuador he disappeared overboard. Most believe he was deliberately pushed to keep the treasure safe.”
Your head snaps towards Steve and he smirks at your reaction.
“Once again, not my first goose chase kitten.”
You’re about to tell him once again not to call you that, but Max speaks first, clearly trying to avoid another back and forth.
“What’s your deal anyway? How’d you end up in this hot ass country?”
Steve’s smirk fades as he shrugs, his expression hardening.
You side-eye Max.
Good one idiot.
“There’s not much to it.” Steve states. “I used to be in the military, now I’m not. Now I choose what jobs I do, which is usually anything that pays well.”
The fire crackles.
“What about you two?” Steve retorts. “Rich kids with nothing better to do? I can’t tell if you’re related or dating -”
“Ew.” You groan, pulling a face.
“We are not related, nor are we dating.” Max informs.
“And he’s the rich kid.” You add, gesturing down at Max.
“Yep, she just mooches off of me and I mooch off my dad.”
That earns a chuckle from Steve.
“His dad is the director of one of the most respected museums in the world.” You elaborate. “I interned there while completing my degree, which is how we met.”
It’s hard to believe that was almost three years ago. When you first met Max you certainly had no idea how important he’d become in your life.
You’ll never forget the first thing he ever said to you.
“So, do you consciously dress yourself like Rachel Weisz in ‘The Mummy’ or is that just an odd coincidence?”
[THE NEXT DAY]
“I take back my complaints about the jungle.” Max mutters, observing the swamp.
Midday has just passed and so has the first and shortest section of your expedition - the rainforest.
Now the wetland awaits you all. You estimate that it’ll take roughly three days to get through.
Three days of mud, stench, and the feeling of being constantly wet.
“Staring at it isn’t gonna get us through it any faster.” Steve asserts, taking the first step into the green water.
Everyone has tucked the ends of their pants into their thick socks to try and limit as much contact with the water as possible.
You follow after Steve, Max trailing behind you with a reluctant sigh.
It’s slow-going, trying to avoid branches and rocks hidden beneath the water’s surface that Steve finds with the long stick in his hand. The same stick he uses to avoid deceivingly deep puddles.
However, you soon miss the relative easiness of trekking through the water once you’ve reached the mud.
Loud suction sounds are all that can be heard as the three of you trudge through the mud that swallows your feet and then some with every step, a dark line on your pants indicating the highest it’s reached - halfway up your calves.
It takes all of your strength to free yourself, just so you can do it all over again.
“My legs are going to be ripped after this.” Max pants.
You can only huff a breath in response, too focused on pulling your feet from the mud. The suction is so strong you’re worried you might lose a boot - or two.
It also doesn’t help that your backpack feels like it’s full of bricks.
“Oh thank god, solid ground.” Max announces gratefully.
You look up - not to see if he’s telling the truth, but to see why he sounds so far away.
Wasn’t he just beside me?
“Shit.” You mutter to yourself.
Both men have made better progress than you. Max has spotted the solid ground because Steve now stands on it.
Staring back down at your engulfed feet, you grit your teeth and use every bit of strength you have left to try and quicken your pace. Every hour of daylight was precious and there wasn’t much left of today’s.
Maybe it’s their longer legs or strength - Max isn’t that much stronger than me, or maybe their backpacks simply don’t weigh a million tonnes -
God my legs are burning.
Then suddenly, it’s like a weight is lifted.
Because it is.
Your backpack is pulled from your shoulders before Steve places it over his own, his bags deserted on the hard ground ahead.
“Oh.” You squeak, startled by his presence. “Uh, thank you - wait, what - put me down!” You demand as you’re lifted from the mud with an echoing pop.
Steve’s hands grasp your hips as he pulls you out with what seems to be little effort, his arms bulging with the action. Then you’re upside down, thrown over one of his broad shoulders.
“Are you a caveman? You can’t just manhandle me!” You protest, affronted.
You brace your hands on his lower back, trying to hold yourself up so your face doesn’t bump into his back.
Is he just all muscle?
He’s rock solid underneath your hands.
Steve chuckles, “I just did kitten.”
“Would you -”
“Time is valuable out here, we can’t wait around for you to finish playing in the mud.”
Glaring at the mud beneath you, you insist “Put me down or I’ll fire you.”
It’s a very weak threat since you and Max kind of need him, but it’s all you’ve got.
Also… maybe you kind of don’t want him to put you down.
Maybe.
Another chuckle. “You didn’t hire me, nor are you the one paying me.”
“You know what -”
“Quit whining!” Max calls out, sounding close. “I told him to go get you, I want out of here.”
“See? I’m just doing what the boss asked.”
“How noble of you Mr. Rogers.” You mumble.
“Well it’s a nice change of scenery kitten.”
It takes a moment for you to understand his meaning, but it’s obvious when you do, your sharp inhale of air audible as you open your mouth to tell him to go -
You squeak again as you’re abruptly dropped onto your feet.
“And stop with the Mr. Rogers talk.” Steve says, shrugging off your backpack and hooking it over your left shoulder before you can snatch it from him. Dropping his head so that he’s looking into your eyes - his are still hidden behind those damn sunglasses, Steve purrs “But if you insist on being so formal, sir will do just fine.”
Your mouth falls open and Steve moves out of the way with a chuckle when you attempt to swing your backpack at him.
The absolute -
Max appears beside you and grabs your arm lightly, urging you forward as Steve continues trekking ahead.
“Please remember we need him alive.” Max implores.
[THAT NIGHT]
“Now will you admit to me that he’s hot?”
“Shut up.” You snap at Max, shooting him a glare.
“Just look at his -”
Covering his mouth with your hand, you raise your eyebrows in warning.
You’re sitting on a log in front of the campfire not admiring Steve in the distance, illuminated by the torch on the ground beside him, as he changes shirts for the night and -
Max snorts against your hand, making you drop it as your gaze quickly shifts to the fire while Steve changes into a different pair of pants.
Can’t he do that somewhere more private?
“Oh darling, you’d love his thighs, have a look -”
“Would you shut up?” You hiss.
“Too bad it’s dark,” Max carries on. “I can’t really see what his underwear is hiding - ow!”
Whack. “Shut.” Whack. “Up.” Whack.
“Alright, alright.” He surrenders, rubbing his arm. “Jesus, you’re in one of your violent moods today.”
Then, as if he can’t resist - because he can’t, Max smirks “Unlike Harry, I bet he’d actually know how to -”
“Oh my god -”
“Who’s Harry?”
You jump at the sound of Steve’s voice and your hand freezes midair, interrupted on its way to hit Max again.
“No one.”
“Her ex.”
I will murder you before sunrise - that’s what the look you direct at Max promises.
Steve hums, taking a seat on the other side of the fire. “And what didn’t he know how to do?”
His smirk tells you he’s already assumed.
I want to die.
No.
I want them to die.
“Cook.” You declare, glaring at him. “He didn’t know how to cook.”
“Was terrible at it,” Max reinforces with a sad tone.
You have to refrain from rolling your eyes.
“That’s a shame.” Steve states in his deep voice, a hint of laughter detectable in it. “Every man should know how to cook.”
“I wouldn’t call him much of a man.” Max inputs.
Fucking hell.
The comment is probably a little harsh, but Max is your best friend.
Harry had been your first and last attempt at a relationship. He’d been nice enough but… well, that was it really. Just nice, tolerable… passionless. You’d stick to the fictional men in your romance novels.
“Can you cook Steve?” Max asks, as casual as ever.
You turn to him with wide eyes.
“I’m a great cook.” You can clearly hear the laughter in Steve’s voice now.
“Of course you’d think that.” You jab, looking from Max to him.
Steve meets your irritated gaze over the fire with a smirk. “I’ve never had any complaints.”
“Well,” You shrug, biting back “Doesn’t mean they walked away satisfied.”
“I wouldn’t say they walked.”
Max chortles next to you, choking on his own spit while heat floods your face and neck.
“Okay.” Standing abruptly, you state “I’m going to bed.”
Their laughter follows you all the way to your sleeping bag.
[TWO DAYS LATER]
“I smell so bad.”
“I’m glad you said it.”
“Oh, because you smell so much better.” You mock, eyeing Max.
The wetland has been punishing. You’re covered in mud, bug bites, and drenched in your own sweat - not to mention every part of your body aches. It’s unpleasant, to say the least.
In an attempt to distract yourself, you decide to tell Max some more historical fun facts.
Well, they’re fun to you.
“You know, Valverde drew the map to the treasure before his death because he wanted to give it as a gift to the King of Spain.” You begin, “The King sent out an expedition to find the treasure but -”
“They were unsuccessful - obviously, and the friar that was accompanying them died in a swamp.” Steve gazes around, “This very one most likely.”
You purse your lips at his interruption, but can’t find it within yourself to be annoyed.
“Also,” You try again, addressing Max. “The Spanish conquistadors would constantly dig up large quantities of platinum while searching for gold and while we know platinum to be more valuable than gold -”
“They dismissed it as junk because being so rare, they didn’t know what it was. All they knew was that it wasn’t gold, so they would dump it as scrap.” Steve concludes, his shade covered eyes looking over at you.
“They threw away one of the rarest and most precious metals on Earth because their lust for gold, something that only had value because they gave it value, blinded them to the true, unique treasure in front of them.”
It feels like the air has been knocked out of your lungs.
Forcing a huff, you feebly respond “Would you stop that?”
“Stop what?” Steve smirks.
That damn, all-knowing smirk.
“Knowing… things.”
Wow, good one. You really got him.
Steve’s smirk widens into a grin. “Why kitten? You like it when I talk smart?”
Yes, it makes me want to climb you like a tree.
“No, I just prefer not being interrupted.”
“Someone please correct me if I’m wrong.” Max pipes up, “But is this hellhole about to end?”
You gaze ahead and see that Max hasn’t gone mad. The wetland is indeed about to end.
“We’ll set up camp on the outskirts of the swamp.” Steve directs, glancing at his watch. “Tomorrow we’ll head into the moorland, there’s a lake on our path and we should reach it by afternoon.”
[THE NEXT AFTERNOON]
“It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Max sighs lovingly, admiring the lake. “I dibs using it first.”
You shrug, “Whatever.”
After three days covered in filth, what harm could waiting an hour or so longer do?
Besides, you wanted to take your sweet, sweet time.
Leaving Max at the lake, you and Steve trek into the forestry further up from the lake. It’s a stark contrast to the thickness of the Amazon rainforest, the trees still tall but slim and spaced out almost evenly.
Steve selects a spot far enough away from the lake to give anyone using it privacy and starts setting up camp.
Max wanders up a little while later, after everything has been set up and a small fire is burning steadily.
You tell Steve he can go next and he’s quick to rise.
It feels like you wait an eternity, but you know it’s just your eagerness to be clean that drags the time out.
The moment you spot Steve approaching through the trees you’re on your feet, heading for the lake.
At the lakeside you remove your clothes, leaving your bra and underwear on. You soak your clothes first, scrubbing them clean before laying them out over the rocks around the lake to soak up the afternoon sun.
Finally, you delve into the lake’s cool waters.
You don’t rush, taking the time to rub every part of yourself spotless. Afterwards you lie on your back and float around the lake.
When your face starts to feel too hot from the sun, you submerge yourself underneath the water and hold your breath for as long as you can before coming back up.
Breaking the surface of the water, you keep your eyes shut while you run a hand over your face, removing the excess water.
When you open them again, you flinch.
“Do you mind?” You all but shriek at Steve who’s sitting on a large boulder at the lakeside, watching you.
He smirks, “Not at all.”
Glaring at him, you hiss “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
One of these days I’m going to kill him.
Swimming up to the edge of the lake, you keep everything below your neck underwater.
“Well pass me my towel would you?” You snap.
Steve raises an eyebrow and it’s only then that you realise he’s not wearing his sunglasses.
Blue.
His eyes are blue.
You’re too far away to see any great detail though.
Steve raises his other eyebrow, bringing you back to reality and making your teeth grind.
“Please.”
Leisurely, Steve reaches for your towel behind him on the boulder and holds it out to you, as far as his arm will extend.
“Are you serious?” You ask, exasperated.
He shrugs, “I’m afraid it’s the best I can do kitten.”
Groaning, you bite out “Fine, close your eyes.”
A moment passes before he eventually does as you demanded, his eyes shutting.
“No peeking.” You enforce, squinting at him.
When you’re certain he can’t see anything, you rise out of the water and quickly approach him.
The second your hand grips the towel Steve tugs on it, sending you toppling onto him.
You fall face first into his solid chest while your hands scramble for purchase to push yourself back.
“What are you -”
The words die in your throat when you feel his warm, rough hands grasp your waist and spin you around before bringing you back down to sit on his lap.
“Let me help you.” Steve husks into your ear, his beard pleasantly scratching at your skin.
His right hand presses against your bare stomach, holding you in place while his other hand picks up your towel again, swiping it over your left arm.
You open your mouth to object, but then his right hand is gliding up your wet skin to lightly wrap around your neck, tilting your head backwards so he can move the towel over your chest.
Any fight you might have had leaves your body in a giant whoosh, his touch turning you to jelly.
“There you go,” Steve coo’s. “It’s not healthy to always be so tense kitten.”
Fuck you.
That’s what you want to tell him, but instead you whimper as he suddenly drags the towel down and over your underwear.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
Since you pleasured yourself? Yes. Since you had a man touch you? Even more of a yes.
But he hadn’t made you feel anything close to this.
“That’s okay.” Steve whispers, as if you had answered. “I’ll take care of you, it’s what I’m getting paid for.”
Abandoning the towel, his fingers dip behind the band of your underwear and you’re almost panting in excitement.
He’s so… big around you, caging you in and overriding your senses.
“Poor kitten,” Steve teases, dragging two of his fingers along your slick folds. “Just dripping for me, huh?”
You want to punch him so badly you -
“Oh.” You can’t help but moan as his thumb presses on your clit, lightly circling it.
Instinctively, your thighs squeeze together and both of your hands wrap around his wrist to stop the action.
You’re embarrassed by how sensitive you are.
It has been a while.
Steve hushes you, “I know, I know.” Using his left hand to pry your thighs apart, he begins circling your clit again. “Just relax, I got you.”
His words seem to have a pull over you, as your body instantly relaxes in his hold.
With your body pliant, Steve’s fingers dip down further and slowly push into you - first one, then two.
Your hips eagerly lift to meet his hand.
“Good girl, fuck yourself on my fingers.” The vulgar sentence sets your face on fire while also making you clench around his digits with a gasp.
How the hell does he know just what to say?
It’s like he’s read one of your books.
Steve’s fingers start to push into you faster and a bit rougher as his thumb continues circling your clit.
Your stomach tenses, the coil within you already about to snap and god you want it, you want it so bad, so, so bad -
“Please.” You mumble, not recognising your own voice. It’s so airy and desperate. “Please let me come.”
Steve releases a guttural groan beside your ear, the sound rumbling against your back while his arousal pokes at your ass.
His thumb quickens on your clit as his fingers keep pumping into you, nudging just a bit more before -
You moan loudly when he hits the sweet spot inside you.
Steve’s warm breath tickles your cheek. “Come for me baby, make a mess on my fingers.”
Crying out, you whine Steve’s name as your orgasm collides with you.
It’s like the blood in your veins is replaced with fire, your body intoxicatingly hot as you jerk in Steve’s hold, riding out your high on his still moving fingers.
Steve’s murmuring in your ear, but it’s all white noise as you come back to yourself.
“Fuck.” You whisper when you feel a little less lightheaded.
Removing his hand from beneath your underwear, Steve raises his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean. You watch him, mouth slightly ajar.
“How was that kitten? Was it good?” Steve asks once he’s finished, his blue eyes shining down at you.
They’re a light blue - baby blue. At first you think they’re pure blue, but then you see just a flicker of green within them. Somehow it makes them even prettier.
It’s a shame he’s always hiding them away.
“Very.” You breathe out honestly, your mind still muddled.
Steve grins and lowers to brush his mouth over your cheek, the feeling of his beard making you shiver. “The chef appreciates your compliment.” He teases.
Drawing the connection back to that night days before brings you out of your orgasm-induced stupor and kicks your brain into gear.
What the hell did I just do?
Pulling yourself from Steve, you stand - your thighs still shaking a little, and snatch your towel off the ground. Wrapping it around yourself, you collect your clothes from a nearby rock.
When you turn back around you find Steve still sitting in the exact same spot, contently watching you with a lazy smirk, like nothing’s out of the ordinary - like there isn’t a large tent in his pants.
Your core throbs at the sight and you quickly look away.
Marching past him, you don’t respond when Steve calls out “I’ll be up soon kitten, I just gotta wash some of my clothes.”
The smile in his tone is obvious.
Heading for camp, you try to process what just happened.
Did I really just let Steve finger me?
“Oh god, Max.” You groan, dreading his reaction.
Just act natural, he won’t know if -
“Hello there, you took your - wait.” His eyes narrow.
To avoid looking at him you begin drying yourself and re-dressing.
“What?” You ask, trying to sound casual.
Max strides over to you and grabs your chin, forcing you to face him.
“No. Way.”
How the hell -
“Did you fuck Steve?” Max whisper-shouts, his brown eyes wide with excitement.
“No!” You respond in the same tone.
“Then what -”
“Look, he just… gave me a helping hand, okay?”
It was less painful to just tell him, otherwise he’d never drop the subject.
“Did he ask for a helping hand back?”
He’s so damn nosy about these things.
“No.” You sigh, exasperated.
Max grins, “I knew he’d be good to you.”
Squinting at him, you retort “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” Waving you off, he sits back down by the fire. “Was he good at it?”
Checking behind you to make sure Steve hadn’t snuck up, you quickly answer “He was great at it, now can we please forget this ever happened?”
Max lets out a chuckle while you finish zipping up your pants. “Good luck with that darling, you can’t exactly avoid him out here.”
Fuck, he’s right.
What were you thinking?
You were supposed to be out here finding lost treasure - the find of the century, not getting some from your guide who you literally cannot escape from until this is all over.
A guide who is going to be unbearable after this, as if he isn’t already.
-> After weeks of pining for your coworker Steven Grant, sharing chocolate over a late shift causes sparks to fly.
Gif credit belongs to @paper-n-ashes !!!
TW/CW: long ass fic. Handjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex. Relatively tame for me 👀 Not proof read, ain’t nobody got time for that.
His voice fades out as you gaze into his eyes, sparkling in excitement as he explains the mummification process to you for what must be the fifth time since you joined the museum staff a few months ago. They’re as deep and dark as the chocolate bonbons that had been pushed across the desk towards you. Melting, oozing a happiness that makes them appear even sweeter. The kind of sweet delight that made you buzz for hours on end and eventually fall into a sugar coma.
The crisp cold of the London air permeates through the stone walls of the museum's halls as if echoing Steven’s earlier sentiments that ‘even the summers in London are freezing’. It even seeps through the stitching of your cardigan as you sit in the storage room of the gift shop, helping your colleague sort through the miscellaneous gift-shop inventory, goosebumps rising on the skin of your arms as the draft floats under the heavy-set wooden doors.
However, you can’t feel the cold at all, the warmth that settles deep behind your sternum from hearing Steven talk excitedly about his interests is enough to combat the chill. It’s truly endearing, the way the exhausted man with such a mild temperament comes alive when he notices you listening to his ramblings- or rather tried.
“... and so Apep swallowed Ra’s boat, causin’ an eclipse!” He concludes with such vigor it jolts you from your trance and back to reality to find that you had been sitting with a small Anubis toy in hand for god knows how long, staring dorkily at the poor man who just wanted your attention. He doesn’t seem to notice, however, so enraptured by his storytelling that you manage to escape his scrutiny, or rather his disappointment that you hadn’t been as enthralled with his knowledge as he perhaps thought you were.
It wasn’t always this way. Upon your arrival to the museum at the beginning of spring during the new economic year, you loved his enthusiasm, the way he had toured you on his induction day despite the rambling of your boss Donna, insisting that he would never be a tour guide as long as he struggled to maintain a consistent timecard. While it wasn’t the most romantic of experiences, Steven so eager to explain how the Egyptians would push a hook through the nose of the nobility and Pharaohs, removing their brain in the process, but it certainly endeared you to him.
Drawn to his polite and mild temperament, you found yourself spending more time with him than you could really afford. Somewhere between traveling one more bus stop in order to continue the riveting conversation about the latest mummified crocodiles archaeologists had unearthed on the banks of the Nile and staying an extra thirty minutes after your shift to help Steven with the work that he had managed to rack up after three days away with little to no explanation as to where he had been, you found yourself struggling to maintain your focus on his narration.
Boredom wasn’t the cause of your affliction. No, worse than that. It was finding yourself tracing the bow of his upper lip with your line of sight, contemplating what it would be like to kiss it. Considering how soft his ebony curls would be to pass your fingers through, and how his long lashes would tickle your skin as he pressed his own lips to the expanse of your skin. Perhaps it was an understatement to claim that you would pray to every God and goddess, Egyptian or otherwise, for an opportunity to brush your fingertips against the grain of the shadow of his beard on his chin, It consumed your every waking moment, not unlike Apep swallowing the boat that Ra traveled upon so he could ride from the East and raise the sun.
You use the pause in conversation in order to switch the topic onto something he was less keen on, needing respite from the way your mind kept falling into the depths of desire, twisting like a pit of vipers in your stomach, before you managed to embarrass yourself beyond measure. “Where are these chocolates from, Steven, they’re very good.”
The bonbons that sat on the tabletop between you both were encased in a crimson-red love-heart box. You hadn’t allowed your own to go into cardiac arrest when he had entered the office holding it, convincing yourself that it couldn’t possibly be for you. Steven had never shown enough interest in you beyond his co-worker or friend to truly indicate that he would be willing to buy such a gift for you.
“Ah-” Steven stumbles over himself, a little eraser in the shape of a scarab beetle falling from his hands and clattering to the table. He’s swift to grab it again, shoving it into a basket after scanning it with a shaky hand. “It was in the- uhm, the reduced section in Tescos… I just thought they looked good and that someone might want to share!” His voice is so insistent, promising that there wasn’t an ulterior motive. It doesn’t ease the way your chest stains under the weight of your disappointment as to pick up another circular chocolate, noting the colorful sprinkles on top.
“That’s kind of you,” You say quietly, cheeks tingling with heat at the knowledge that you had been correct in your suspicions all along, that he could never really want you. It was no secret that women found him attractive, some other co-workers making that very clear on a ‘work night out’ in the local pub, in which they rambled about the way he had shamelessly flirted with them and how charming he had been. While you certainly hadn’t experienced this side of Steven, your own Steven shy and jittery, you envied those girls that held his attention in a way you seemingly failed to achieve.
“Yeah, it’s just… Sharin’ is carin’ an’ all that!” He laughs nervously, the sound bouncing off the stone walls and suffocating you. Were you really that inept in the way of seduction that he felt uncomfortable around you, yet somehow seemed to flirt blatantly with every other woman that worked in the building?!
You exhale shakily, focusing more on the items in your basket as you worked through them, scanning the barcodes and setting them in their pile with a little more force than you intended thanks to your renewed exasperation with yourself. Perhaps the dark circles under his eyes had nothing to do with the lack of sleep he consistently commented on, and rather had everything to do with the boredom he felt spending so much time with you.
“You feelin’ alright?” You hear him question cautiously, having noted the short fuse you seem to have developed within a matter of two sentences.
“Peachy,” you mumble, throwing another toy in the basket with a huff. You know you’re probably coming off as rude, and it’s cruel to give the poor, nervous Steven something else to worry about, but you can’t help feeling a little ridiculous, pining over a man who didn’t like you. He probably knew that you were, and thought poorly of you because you couldn’t control your feelings for him despite him showing not even a small amount of affection for you.
Deft fingers take out another chocolate as he watches you, holding onto it for a moment while he seemingly thinks of something to bring the mood back up again.
“… Have I ever told you the story of Isis and Osiris?” Steven asked, his voice quiet as those mahogany eyes gaze at your face, no doubt scanning your expression for any refusal to listen. But how could you? How could you turn him away when he was looking at you with a level of desperation you’d never seen on him before, wanting to please you, to make you happy again.
You shake your head silently, eyes settling on his face as he sat back in his chair to ready himself for the story. The chocolate pinched between the pads of his thumb and forefinger is melting under his body heat, caving in slightly as the solid chocolate began to liquefy down to the middle.
“Then I’ve done you a disservice! How could I not ‘ave told you the greatest love story in mythology?” He asked you with a nervous grin, pushing aside the toys he was supposed to be sorting through to one side in order to begin his theatrics.
Despite your efforts and your utter frustration, your lips stretched into a smile at his enthusiasm. How could you not? It was endlessly charming. He’s sitting up, his free hand laying his palm across the tabletop and fingers splayed wide. They’re tanned, large. The veins on the back have a blue tint, protruding and appearing more intense under the lighting. Perhaps if you stopped staring, you would have noticed the years of built-up scarring across his knuckles.
Immediately, your mind begins falling into the bad habit that it had developed over the time you and Steven had spent together, producing utterly obscene images. His palms cupping and grasping at your breasts, thumbs torturing your nipples. His fingers pushing into your dripping cun- No no no STOP! Stop it!
How ridiculous it was, that you were so invested in a man who wasn’t at all interested in you. So overcome with need for him that you couldn’t even focus on his voice without wanting him to bend you across the tabletop-
“Well,” Steven begins, the chocolate he continued to pinch beginning to cave in from the heat between his thumb pad and fingertip, “Isis was married to the King of Egypt, Osiris, and she supported him with his rule.” His eyes are set firmly on your face, ensuring that you still wanted to listen to him ramble. It meant you simply couldn’t allow yourself to drift into the realm of daydreams, because he would notice as soon as your eyes glazed over.
Seeing no disdain for his voice, Steven continued, a grin spreading across his face as he allowed himself to get excited about his storytelling.
“Isis helped the women of Egypt with skills, teachin’ them how to weave and bake and brew beer. Both she and Osiris were loved, and this caused Isis’ brother, Seth to get jealous, and so he hatched a plan.” He’s sparkling, his keenness rolling off him in waves. The dark circles under his eyes didn’t seem so stark, and he didn’t stammer as he spoke, driven by his love for Egyptian myth.
“Seth trapped Osiris in a wooden chest, which he covered in lead and threw in the Nile. With Osiris out of the way, Seth became King of Egypt- Oh, bugger“ he paused, finally having noted that the once circular chocolate bonbon was flat between his fingers, coating his fingers in sticky, melted chocolate.
He was swift to rectify the problem, lifting his thumb to his mouth with a mumble of ‘sorry’ and ‘pardon me’, wrapping his lips around it and sucking the chocolate from his skin. You watch as his upper lip drags across his knuckle, Steven’s eyes closed as he relished the taste of the chocolate against his tongue. It was torturous, like someone had lit the touch paper in your abdomen and the fire was spreading through your veins, crawling up your spine. The pink of his tongue slips from his lips, pulling across his fingerprint and collecting the chocolate left behind.
As if he knew your mouth was watering as you watched him, his bronze eyes lift to find your own. Looking through his lashes at you as he slipped his finger into his mouth too, cleaning his fingerprint with his deft tongue. You wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole in your chair. Was- Was that meant to look so erotic?!
“Mhm, so as I was sayin’,” he continued as though he hadn’t just single-handedly flooded your panties, oblivious to your internal struggle. “Seth became the King of Egypt, and Isis was devastated.” Despite your best efforts, his voice was fading out, and you found yourself just staring at the man in front of you. You studied his dark hair that fell in tight ringlets in front of his forehead, his deep, emotive eyes, and his sharp cheekbones. He was just stunningly handsome, it was no wonder he felt so confident flirting with girls he actually liked.
It was during this assessment of his face as he continued to talk about Isis’ revenge that you noted the chocolate spread on his lower lip. Utterly exhausted from trying to push away the filthy daydreams that flashed into your mind's eye, you let them run ragged. You’d sacrifice yourself to the Egyptian Gods if it meant you could run your tongue across the expanse of his lip, tasting the chocolate against his skin. Though, you were entirely sure that he would taste much sweeter-
“There somethin’ on my face?”
You startle immediately, eyes so wide you can feel your eyelids strain. It’s like ice water had been thrown on your blazing body, a panic settling in now that you have been caught. When your mind catches back up with your line of vision, you see Steven gazing at you with an innocent look of confusion, his brows pulled up in the middle.
“Ah- y… Yeah, you have chocolate on your lip,” you admit weakly, pointing vaguely at his mouth with a shaky hand. Steven laughs nervously, shaking his head in his embarrassment.
“Silly me! Can’t even feed myself properly!” His comments are strained as he wipes the pad of his thumb across his mouth in an attempt to remove the sticky residue. The veins in the back of his palm are prominent still, catching your eye. Your brain stills entirely. It’s infuriating, watching him struggle so much to remove the stain, somehow managing to miss it entirely every time he passes his digits over his lips.
“Steven,” you whisper, a little breathless now as you feel your blood boil under your skin with arousal.
“It’s alright, I got it. Stubborn bugger!” He laughs again, the sound lacking humor in his mortified state.
“Steven-“
“Why can’t I ju-“
Scraping the legs of the chair you had been sitting in across the hard flooring, you stand in a violent fashion, stunning Steven into silence when you reach across the tabletop and grab his chin with a firm grip, forcing him to look up at you.
“Sit still,” you insist, desperate to ease your devastatingly hot arousal by taking away the distracting variable. Swiping your tongue over the pad of your own thumb mindlessly, you apply pressure to the affected skin and clean the chocolate from his mouth with a few passes.
Steven sits perfectly still for you, almost stiff in your palm as your fingertips dig into the soft flesh of his cheeks as you hold him in place. If it wasn’t for the heat radiating from his skin, you’d think he’s been mummified into this position.
Glancing up from his mouth into his eyes, you feel your heart stop at the view. Steven is looking at you through his lashes with almost a needy look. There’s an intense longing to his eyes that almost has your knees buckling, his jaw slack as he gazes up at you. Rose spreads across his cheeks, a pink tinge that explains the feverish feeling to his skin underneath your hand.
“Steven,” you whisper, heart in your throat as you gaze back at him. Surely you weren’t imagining the tension prickling in the air between the two of you? You couldn’t describe it in any other way other than a gas leak. The invisible, volatile gas lingering in the air, laying in wait for the slightest drag of friction to light a spark and ignite the museum and everything in it. It was suffocating, burning your lungs.
Did he look at the other girls like this? The ones that bragged about how charming he was when he flirted with them in the entrance hall or wooed them on lunch break in the form of a compliment about their hair. Did he look at them with such a clear and defined need for them to climb across the table and kiss him?
Trembling fingers ease their grip on his jaw, slowly pulling away to slump back into your chair. Your heart is thumping so loud it’s like thunder in your ears, drowning out the shaky exhale that you release as you finally break eye contact with Steven and turn your attention back to the task at hand- whatever it was, you can barely remember why you were even here anymore.
“S-Sorry to interrupt,” you stumble over your words a little, motioning with a flick of your wrist for Steven to carry on, refusing to look up from the ankh necklace that you had blindly picked up from your basket. It was a cheap metal, not at all heavy, with a simple pendant. Though the Ankh was a symbol of life, you needn’t wear the charm as proof of living- the pulse of blood that you swore you could feel through every single extension in your veins made your condition evident enough.
Much to your utter dismay, Steven didn’t continue talking, the pressure in the air pulling your lungs even tighter. He just gazed at you with hooded eyes and parted mouth. It was utterly disarming, the way his tongue swiped across his lip as if to taste the area you’d touched.
“Steven, I really didn’t mean to be rude-“
“You can’t just be doin’ that,” he spoke on an exhale, sounding positively wrecked.
“I know, I’m sorry, I really di-“
“No no, you can’t be doin’ that and leavin’ me like this!” He insists, in a pleading tone, pitchy and almost whiney. You don’t know what to do as you stare at him, and you swear you must look like a fish out of water due to the way your mouth opens and closes as you try to form a sentence in response.
Maybe it’s the combination of pining after Steven, a late night, and scanning barcodes for hours on end, but you swore you could feel the dynamic between you shift significantly. As though it was no longer Steven that held the power to change the kind of relationship the two of you shared. It was as if he had relinquished that power to you, and now he waited for you to make the move you had been silently begging Steven to make for many weeks now.
Silence drags between the two of you like nails on a chalkboard, the lack of sound devastatingly uncomfortable. Steven’s muscles are bound tight, seemingly ready to spring from his seat but awaiting your orders with an expectant expression.
It’s not clear to you what exactly snaps the tension between you, but all of a sudden you find yourself leaping into action. You push aside the baskets of merchandise you’d both been sorting through, which clatter to the floor and empty themselves as you climb across the table clumsily. With shaky hands, you take Steven’s face into your palms, catching a glimpse of his wide eyes just before you press your lips to his messily.
A moan rips from Steven’s throat and into the kiss, a broken, wrecked sound. The soft, plump flesh of his lips settles so perfectly against your own and yet the way they move against each other is clumsy. Nervousness shared between the both of you makes it hard to time the kiss just right, noses bumping and teeth clacking against each other, yet you’ve never experienced such mind-numbing relief.
Stumbling swiftly to pull away, to lower yourself from the table, you find your body moving itself without the receptors of your brain even having thought it up. Your leg hooks over the expanse of his thighs, settling your hips in his lap and resting the weight of your body against the muscles there. He fumbles with the syllables of your name like it’s a foreign language as you wind your fingers in his hair, taking a firm grip of it and pulling his face towards your own.
Inexperience coats his every action like thick honey that Steven can’t shake, but it emboldens you. Somehow this new position bridges the awkwardness of your first kiss, and your lips mould against his in a much smoother, precise way. You’re able to part his mouth, sliding your tongue against his and tasting the cocoa that had settled there. Judging by the hum of pleasure that ripples in his chest, Steven can taste it also. His scalp is warm underneath your fingertips as you wind his ebony locks around your digits, getting a firmer grip of the strands as you push his face impossibly closer to yours. This proximity isn’t enough. It can’t ever be enough.
Tearing your mouth from his before you lose yourself to it, your exhale sounds pitchy and wrong to your own ears. Almost as though it had pained you. Regardless, your lips busy themself on his jaw, pressing firm kisses along the length of the skin stretching across the bone there before trailing down his neck. Goosebumps seem to litter his skin in the wake of your ministrations, his head tilting backward slowly in an attempt to expose more of his throat to you.
His pulse is heavy as you take the skin above his jugular between your teeth, sucking the skin there so perfect hues of purple and red blossom throughout his tan. His palms settle shakily on your thighs and he digs his fingertips into the flesh so it dips to his will, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he unsuccessfully swallows down a raspy ‘Fuck’.
It’s his turn for those deft fingers that haunted your every waking moment to spread through the strands of your hair, stroking across your scalp as you drag your tongue along the expanse of his skin, moaning as his scent imprints itself permanently upon your brain. The scent of cut grass on a rainy day, clean and soft. You’re quick to blow a soft flow of air from your lips across his skin, the area in which you had focused your tongue growing cold under the draft you produced.
“O-Oh god, god darlin’- darlin’ that feels so good,” you can faintly hear him gasp over the rush of your blood through your ears. Tracing the buttons of his shirt, feeling each of them catch on the knuckles of your fingers on your hand's journey down his chest, you hum in agreement, sucking more marks into the junction of his neck and shoulder.
His skin is released from the pressure with a pop upon the sensation of your pinkie brushing the coarse leather of his belt. A weak moan falls from your mouth, eyelids heavy as you watch his head crane to the side to follow the movements of your fingers.
“Steven,” you whisper, tracing the cold brass of his belt buckle as you maintain eye contact with him, “We need to be quick.” You’re breathless with the speed in which this little make-out session is progressing. The wanton desperation that has lingered on your end for so many weeks was making it hard for you to think clearly and maintain a level of decorum. Your hands seem to move of their own accord, hips grinding achingly slow against the tense muscle of his thigh without thought.
“Y-Yeah? Oh- Oh god yes,” he practically wails, hands pushing aside your own as he unhooks the leather strap from the brass tong shakily. “Yes, we do.” Both of your movements are almost feverish as Steven lifts his hips from the chair, accidentally grinding his hardening cock against your aching, clothed cunt while you pull his belt from the loops of his pants.
Whimpers bubble in your throat, chest tight as you swiftly throw his belt to the floor and struggle to make quick work of the button on your own pants. Your hands are so shaky, the bones in your fingers almost like jelly as you flub getting ahold of the pesky metal circle.
“F-Fuck, Steven I-“
“Come ‘ere,” his husky voice soothes the impatient panic bubbling under the surface of your skin. Your hands busy themselves in his curls one more as you watch his fingers easily slip the pesky button from its loop, easing the waistband of your pants. He doesn’t stop there, pinching the zipper between his forefinger and thumb and dragging it down. The sound is as loud as gunfire in your ears, your heart thrumming violently against your sternum with the adrenaline of the moment.
The exhale that seeps from your lungs is shaky as you use your knees on the edge of the chair to sit up and slip your pants from your hips, thumbs dragging over the flesh of your hip bones and tracing the lacy material of your panties. You find yourself praising Isis that you’d chosen a nice pair to wear today as he stares down at them, a mixture of lust and anxiety swirling in the coffee color of his iris’.
It’s your turn to unbutton his pants, somehow managing to ease your own nerves to open them up without a hitch before undoing his fly. Your breath is a little heavy with excitement as you palm the bulge. Once again, Steven’s head dips back with a low groan as you slip your hand inside his boxers to wrap your fingers around the velvety skin of his cock. His hips jut slightly against your touch, the grip his fingers have on your thighs almost bruising now. There’s precum beading at the tip, you can feel it smear underneath your thumbprint across the silky smooth head.
“Oh-ohhhh fuck,” Steven chokes, hips jerking up under your touch to gain further friction. You can feel his cock twitch underneath your palm, can hear shuddering inhale and exhale of his lungs as he attempts to ease the taut muscles in his thighs. You can make him feel even better. You want him to feel better-
Sinking slowly from his lap to the floor, you settle your torso between his thighs as you continue to ever so lightly stroke your fist over the length of his cock. He’s so pretty, the rosy skin is such a deep red it’s almost purple.
“Darlin’ where are you goin’-?” His lazy, slurred question cuts suddenly into a gasp, his head snapping up from its relaxed position to show his startled expression in response to the flat of your tongue tracing the slick precum leaking from his flushed, swollen tip. You swear you can see his dark eyes, almost black as a result of his dilated pupils, roll all the way back into his skull as you take him hot and heavy, further into your throat. His hand immediately jumps into your hair, gripping tightly in an attempt to steady himself against your ministrations out of concern that you’re working him far too quickly.
Your cunt pulses needily between your thighs, toes curling in your shoes as you focus your attention on sucking his cock. He’s deep in your mouth, head pushing against your palette as the tip of your tongue traces the ridge of his veins on the underside of the soft flesh. His cock twitches again when you moan around his length, the vibrations shooting down his cock and settling at the base of his spine with an unintelligible moan.
“I c-can’t, darlin’, I can’t! I can’t-‘ The fingers wound deep into the strands of your hair pull you off his cock quickly, the rapidly increasing pressure threatening to burst forward in his shuddering abdomen. Your own intake of oxygen is heavy and unstable, the sight of him gazing down at you with utterly fucked out eyes almost enough to drive you to the edge.
Quick to your feet, you drag your eyes over his sensitive body. The leaking tip of his flushed cock, the hardening nipples underneath the fabric of his shirt, it all makes your cunt flutter around nothing as it begs to be filled. It’s impossible to hold yourself back now, body moving on its own as you straddle his lap as you had before, settling your palms on his shoulders to steady yourself.
Much to your surprise, nervous Steven doesn’t need direction. He appears to also be working in his own form of autopilot, eyes hypnotized by the way your eyelids flutter when his digits slip between the soft flesh of your thighs and trace the inside with a gentle touch. You could be imagining it, but you’re certain his fingers are a little shaky as they stroke your slit through the crotch of your panties, stopping just shy of your clit underneath the lacy fabric.
Whimpering at the lack of friction just where you need it, you grind your hips slightly into his fingerprints. Steven is quick to gently shush you, hooking his fingers into the crotch of your panties to pull them to the side. The cold air against your soaking folds causes you to grip at the material of Steven’s shirt, wrinkling the fabric with creases you swore he’d never be able to iron out.
“A-Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Soft Steven, lovely Steven checks in with you. Ensures you’re not engaging in something you’re uncomfortable with. It makes your heart yearn for him, more than you have these past few weeks of locking yourself in the bathroom and gazing into the mirror with pained expressions after his fingers brushed yours when taking a pen he’d asked to borrow, or when you would hold your mobile to your chest at the end of a phone call that was about as something as mundane as his shift hours.
“Steven, I want nothing more-“ you strain, reaching behind your own hips to take ahold of his cock and line the weeping tip up perfectly. It catches against your clit first, causing your body to jolt in shock before you sweep him through your dripping folds. Steven grabs ahold of your hips, seemingly at a loss as to where else to hold you. His eyes are flickering all across your bare skin, unable to settle on the best spot.
A chorus of gasps sounds between the two of you as you slowly roll down onto his dick, harmonizing almost like a symphony. He stretches you deliciously, not too big as to hurt- he’s just perfect. Perfectly filling. It’s like you lose all sense of direction, unsure of up from down, left from right. Your hips must stutter and still from the shock because through your haze you feel Steven thrust upward and into you to bridge the gap until he’s bottoming out in your slick pussy.
“Oh- Oh fuck-it feels so good, Steven,” you groan, finally sitting down on his length with your full weight. Your quads are already shaking from the overwhelming pleasure that simmers between them, but the desire to chase the feeling is enough to get them to lift despite the effort it takes.
Rising back over the curve in his cock, you lift yourself back up until only his tip is pressed up against your head. You don’t mean to, truly you don’t, but you pause before you sink back down. Like this, you see the almost pained look in Steven’s hazy eyes as he gazed up at you through his lashes that were damp with pleasured tears. You never want to go without seeing that view for even one day.
“God, please darli- Yesss, oh yes!” He chokes as you rock your hips for him to slip straight back into, his voice cracking under the pressure that builds at the base of his spine. You find that slow and steady pace that tortures you both, pleasurable but teetering on not enough, teasing the embers of a building orgasm but not stoking the fire.
The slippery sound of your cunt being filled over and over echoes and brunches off of the stone museum walls, the air that had held a chill seemingly warming at your shared exertion. You can barely hear Steven’s whimpers, your pulse thrumming so loud in your ears that you’re convinced he can probably feel it thudding in your walls.
There’s tension in your forehead, no doubt from your eyebrows arching in bliss as the ridge of his head catches up against something so incredible that you’re drowning between your thighs. Your movements are stuttering at the way a familiar simmering feeling begins deep inside your abdomen, but Steven doesn’t want you to stop. His hands take a firm grip of your hips, forcing them down as he begins to thrust up and into you in that same lazy pace you had set.
The legs of the chair you’re both sat in strain under the pressure of Steven’s movements, but neither of you seem to notice as he continues to brush against that part of you that just obliterates any coherent thoughts. You’re not exactly sure what part of his body you’re holding onto, so far away from comprehension, but you know you’re holding it in a bruising grip, one that leaves a perfect impression of each of your fingertips that could probably secure a conviction if they were used as evidence of your activities.
Despite the slow, even pace, Steven looks entirely fucked out. His curls are messy and falling into his perfectly pink face. His tongue darts out to wet his chapped lips mindlessly, eyes settled on the way you take his cocks so well. At this angle, he thinks he can see the tip nudging up against your stomach from the inside. That’s all he needs to increase the speed and strength of his thrusts.
It winds you, the brutal pace that he sets, and the gentle smolder is exacerbated into a churning, broiling sensation that rips through you within seconds. Your thighs are tight against his own as you sob out wordlessly, desperate in your attempts to prevent your orgasm from coming too fast. You’ve waited so long, you don’t want this moment to end.
Oh, but Steven is so eager to please. His fumbling fingers are quick to blindly search for your clit as he rocks violently into your soaking wet cunt. It sparks through you like white-hot lightning when he catches the sensitive bundle of nerves, and your reaction must make it obvious he’s found what he’s looking for because he focuses all of his attention on that one spot that has your vision going white.
His cock sinks deep inside you, head continuing to spear that impossibly sensitive spot inside you as he traces your swollen clit with imperfect circles. You barely notice it until it’s surging forward so quickly that you don’t have the time to brace for it. The wail of Steven’s name that escapes you would probably wake the mummified dead on the floor above when your body tremors with a pleasure so annihilating that you’re gushing, flooding around him and streaming tears from your eyes. Your toes curl almost painfully, gripping onto him so hard your knuckles go white.
The extra lubrication and easiness in which Steven is able to sink into your sopping heat must tip him over the edge alongside you, because even through your blinding relief you can feel his back arch slightly as he settles as far into your cunt as he can possibly go, emptying his load with a pitiful groan that melts all of your nerves. He’s slurring your name with each of his final thrusts, keeps going and going until he can’t take it anymore and he’s too sensitive to move.
Boneless, you slump against his heaving chest with a sob. The silence that follows is almost deafening, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you try to breathe evenly to steady the erratic slamming of your heart against your ribcage.
Massaging his fingers through your hair, Steven lets out a nervous laugh that causes you to burst into a fit of giggles through your exhaustion. Maybe it’s delirium that makes you find humor in the situation or the relief of so many months of pining for this one man. Regardless, it’s freeing. Your body feels lighter, though that could just be you floating after what is easily the best orgasm you’d ever experienced in your life.
“… Oh fuckin’ hell,” Steven is breathless, speaking over your laughter to point at the corner of the ceiling. “The fuckin’ camera.” Of course. This whole museum was covered in CCTV. Though, you hadn’t considered that when he’d practically begged you to make out with him.
“Oh well,” you breathe, sitting up to look him in the eyes and brush his curls from his face with a gentle stroke and a cheeky grin. “I’m sure J.B will love the view.”
Summary: You can’t think of a better to start your summer than to get railed by Ari. Who cares if he’s your dad’s best friend.
Pairing: Mean DBF!Ari x reader
Warnings: Smut, creampies, jealous/possessive Ari, rough smut, forced exhibitionism (reader is into it though), bratty reader, praise kink, size kink, spanking, slight degradation, age gap, ari is 6'6".
Word count: 2.4k
A/N: Second official sinday drabble, unbeta’d and written on my phone. Comments and reblogs are cherished.
|Masterlist|Ari Levinson Masterlist|Library| ☕️
For as long as you can remember, it’s been a family tradition to kick off summer with a small get-together in your backyard. Your dad is adamant that everyone shows up. He called you three times yesterday to make sure you were still on your way. Of course, you would never miss the chance to attend the party, it’s a fun occasion with good music, even better food and one thing you can’t find anywhere else, especially not at your college.
Ari Levison.
He’s the best thing about these parties. Always has been. Sure, he’s your dad’s best friend, but frankly, that makes you want him even more. The semi-retired boxer is sex on legs and the reason you have a drawer full of toys beside your bed.
Standing in your childhood bedroom, the sounds of boisterous conversations and steaks sizzling on the grill float through your open window with the warm summer breeze. Notes of freshly cut grass and barbecue follow, sweeping across your face, and a grin tugs at your lips. Oh, you love the smell of summer.
Slipping the wide strap of your new summer dress over your shoulder, you stare at your reflection. You look incredible. It was worth the three hours you spent in the mall, dragging Wanda and Monica through store after store until you found the right one.
The soft, lacy material fits your body perfectly, enhancing your curves, the top cinches under your breasts, pushing them up. And the color makes your skin glow. And if you had any anxieties about wearing it, they were wiped away after Bucky got a look at you in it. Your roommate’s eyes bulged out of his head and he made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a moan when he asked you to twirl for him.
Hearing a familiar deep voice, you pad to your window, leaning on the frame as you pull on your sandal. Parting the sheer curtains with your fingers, you easily find the one man you’re constantly seeking out. At 6’6" he’s taller than every person in the yard.
“Damn,” your eyes widen as they rake over his massive frame.
Even from a distance, he looks like a greek god come to life. Long legs that go on forever, his large hands flying through the air as he talks to your dad. A faded blue towel casually thrown over his bare shoulder. Water drips off his tanned, lightly freckled chest, thin rivulets that lead down to the waistband of his black swimming trunks, they cling to his thick muscular thighs, emphasizing just how big he is.
summary. | Is he on edge? Stressed? Fed up? Or is he simply just tired of it all?
warnings. | Smut, fluff, vaginal penetration, rough sex, cockwarming, stress relief, begging, dirty talk, degradation, praise, choking, creampie, step dad/step daughter relationship, Daddy kink, bratty!reader, age gap, arguments, cheating (chris and reader), mentions of manhandling and masturbation, reader has mild dom vibes at the end, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!
word count. | 3.6k
pairings. | Step Father!Chris Evans x Step Daughter!Reader.
author’s note. | happy early birthday @buckysthot! thank you so much for everything, i’m so grateful to have met you! i love you! please enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know.
Your head is thrown back, and your neck is stretched, too. You’ve got a slight ache there, possibly from the odd position you fell asleep in last night. You tossed, and you turned, not one moment of peace as you tangled your legs between the sheets. It’s why your eyes are so heavy and your movements so lethargic. You’re not a fan of naps, and you’re not a fan of sleeping in, either. Once you’re awake, you’re awake. And until the clock hits ten in the night, you’ll stay awake as always. You shut your eyes, and you let the dark only consume a piece of you.
It only ever wants a part, not the whole.
The phone rings, and he curses. Your lids don’t flutter open, but your ears perk up, and your heart beats wildly from the scare. “Hello?” he greets, a sort of abrasiveness in his voice that only grows by the day. You’re not the only one who’s tired. You shift just as bit, and his hand lands on your thigh. He squeezes you harshly, and Chris stifles a moan. A smirk splays itself on your face, and your wickedness doesn’t seem to have a retiring hour. “I can’t hear you, speak up,” he demands through the phone, and you look up.
Is he on edge? Stressed? Fed up? Or is he simply just tired of it all?
“Are you at the hotel?” he questions, and you let out an ‘oh.’ You’re a bit displeased because you know who’s on the other end. “Is that Mom?” you ask him, and he nods his head. You crane your face towards him, not caring about the pain that takes over your muscles. It’s nothing an Aspirin can’t fix. You can’t hear what she’s saying, and you’re not sure if it’s because the volume isn’t high enough or if your brain has decided that maybe you should be spared just this once.
“What do you mean you’re not there? Are you at the airport?” Chris interrogates, and his hand tightens up even more. You try to wiggle out of his grip, but you do more harm than good. The tip of his cock presses against your g-spot, and you find yourself letting out a gasp that gets cut off by your Step-Father. He mouths something along the lines of ‘behave yourself,’ and even though you’re a good girl, you like to get a rise out of him every now and then.
Your Mother explains something, twisting her words and actions in such a way you think she’d make a great writer yet a horrible storyteller. “So you’re in Arizona, but you didn’t get on the flight? That doesn’t make sense. How did you get there?” Chris further presses, like a doctor who’s trying to find out what’s wrong with their patient. He’ll push, and he’ll prod until it hurts, and even then, he’ll continue until they’re crying out for him to stop.
You’d know. He’s done it to you before.
“She probably took a bus or something like that… Don’t worry about it. If she’s safe and in Arizona, it’s fine,” you mumble to him, and Chris pinches your skin. “Ouch! What was that for? I’m just trying to calm you down. And plus, she’ll probably say it herself!” you protest, upset and yet a bit glad that you’ve gotten a reaction out of him. You play him like a fiddle, and he does the same to you, too. Except he’s more rough and handsy than you are.
He places the phone on his shoulder as your Mom puts him on mute, saying that she’ll be right back. “Keep quiet, and keep my cock warm. Oh, and don’t act like you didn’t enjoy that. I felt your stupid cunt get wet,” Chris spits, and you’re left dumbfounded. His words make you needier, and you curl your toes just a bit. Your pussy hugs him tightly, and he grins at you. “Be good for me. I’d hate to leave you empty and desperate,” he finishes before bringing the phone back to his ear.
But you’re rigid and hard to win, so you choose to disobey him.
“Back to what I was saying, why didn’t you take the flight?” Chris asks once again, and you roll your eyes. “Didn’t you just ask that? You’re such an old man. So forgetful,” you snicker, arching your back against his chest just a tiny bit. Your exhaustion and tiredness have disappeared, ceased to exist, and you’re ready to cause a ruckus. Your Mother starts to ramble and stutter, trying her hardest to fight the nerves that keep her from explaining her trip. Chris mutes his microphone, and his lips are suddenly right next to your ear.
“Shut the fuck up. Aren’t you the one who constantly begs this old man of yours to fuck you? To stuff that pussy full? To put you in your place? Hm? Exactly. Do your job, don’t make me leave you here with just your hands to satisfy you. But even then, you and I both know that you’d be crawling back to me in just a few seconds,” he growls, and you know he’s more than correct. Such a bright, brilliant man. It’s no wonder you’re so enraptured by him. “Hello?” your Mother calls through the phone, and she wonders why she can’t hear Chris.
He unmutes himself, and he opens his mouth to lie straight through his pearly teeth. “Sorry? I can’t hear you. You’re really quiet,” he tells her, and you can hear her groaning in frustration. “I said that I met an old friend at the airport, and they offered to give me a ride!” she explains, and you place your hand on Chris’s. His veins pop out just a bit from his stress, and you wish you could calm him down. Though his anger sends shivers down your spine in the best way possible, you don’t want him to be anything but relaxed.
“Pretend that she’s breaking up or that someone else is calling you. Maybe your agent, or maybe your sister. Just come up with an excuse. You shouldn’t be getting this mad. It’s not good for you,” you whisper, trying your hardest to sway him. But he’s as sturdy as a statue, and he just won’t budge at all. “C’mon… You’d have much more fun using me as a toy, wouldn’t you?” you tempt, with sultriness in your voice and a sort of dark, mischievous look on your face. Chris looks at you from the side, and you bite down on your bottom lip just a tiny bit.
It’s one of his most significant weaknesses, and you’re so intent on using it until he snaps. “You know that’s not safe. And plus, you lost money from the trip, didn’t you?” he questions, and you roll your eyes. “Hm, maybe I should just get up and leave you alone. I can take care of myself much better than you are right now,” you ponder out loud, even though your threat is empty. His jaw clenches, and he lets out a heavy sigh. “Yes, airlines keep your money if you don’t show up. But it’s fine! I’m here either way, okay, honey?” she reassures, and Chris is fed up with both of your antics.
You place your hands on the arms of the chair that holds you and Chris, and you lock your elbows. Pushing upwards, you stand up, and his cock slowly slips out of your pussy. A hand on your waist quickly brings you back to where you belong, and you let out a gasp as he bottoms out in you once again. “We’ll talk about this later,” he grumbles before hanging up the phone. You can hear your Mother’s voice being cut off suddenly, and it puts the most wicked of smiles on your face.
“Is that what you wanted? Hm? Is that what you wanted, you little brat?” Chris presses, staring at you intensely. “Well, yes, but I expected it to be a bit more satisfying,” you explain to him, and he lets out a groan. “Shut your stupid mouth up. Quit acting like such a smartass because I know as soon as I start to fuck you, you’re gonna turn into a slut,” he spits through gritted teeth, and suddenly you’ve lost all confidence.
You’re silent. Absolutely silent, and it’s laughable. “Nothing to say now? Aw, poor baby, just wanted to get your brains fucked out, right?” he asks, and you nod. “Oh, I know, sweetie, I know you’re just desperate for my cock,” Chris coos, and your pussy clenches around him tightly from his words. He lets out a chuckle, and you let out a pathetic whine. “Just fuck me, please? I know you want to! You can take all of your anger out on me. I won’t mind. You know I don’t,” you exclaim, grasping at whatever pieces left of your ego that he always manages to deflate.
Chris is tight-lipped, and you are as well. The sounds of your chests rising and falling fill the room, and you’re waiting for him to do something. Anything. “You know, you’re a smart girl. But, you can be a little dumb sometimes,” he says after a while, and you furrow your eyebrows in insult. He doesn’t take a long pause because he knows you’re quick-witted. “Maybe it’s because my cock is inside you. But who the fuck do you think you are to give me permission to fuck you however I like? This is my little pussy. It belongs to me. Therefore, I can do whatever I like with it,” he informs, and you nod your head.
“For the last time, shut that mouth of yours, and know your place,” he grumbles, and your jaw falls slack in shock. You quickly close it, though. “Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, not even realizing what your words do to him. You’re suddenly lifted up, and the shift leaves you disoriented. “What?” you mumble in shock as you’re carried to the bed that is only a few steps away. Your limbs fan out against the soft mattress as he lays you down, and you hum from the comfort. Chris’s cock stays locked inside you, and he’s hovering above you.
A strand of his hair slips from the matted mess that rests upon his head. It dangles and swings a little bit, and it brushes against the skin of his forehead lightly. You fight the urge to put it back between his other pieces. You both stare at each other just a bit before Chris charmingly smiles at you. His hands come up against the back of your thighs. The space of skin between his thumbs and forefingers finds a home behind your knees.
You hum, and he pushes your legs as far back as they can go. As soon as you wince in pain, he stops, and he apologizes. “It’s fine. I’m okay, just not used to it after sitting for so long. Don’t worry about me,” you reassure, straining your head to look up at him. He nods, and he looks down to where you’re both connected. Chris’s thick cock stretches your cunt out, and you hug him tightly. He’s slick with your wetness, and your poor clit throbs with desire.
“Pretty, pretty pussy… Can’t wait to ruin it,” he snickers, and butterflies of excitement fill you up. Chris’s hips slowly move backwards, and his cock drags against your sensitive walls. His fat tip no longer touches your g-spot, yet it remains inside of you still. The sudden feeling of emptiness has you whining, and he quickly reassures you by shushing. “Shh…” he repeats, and your head falls back against the bed. You stare up at the ceiling, and your bottom lip rests between your teeth.
“Going a bit slow there? What? Are you tired or something?” you question impatiently, just to rile him up. Chris rolls his eyes at your words, and he thrusts his hips forward. He sheaths his entire length inside you, and you let out a loud moan. “Fuck!” you cry out, not caring about how much noise you’re making. Chris ignores you, and he begins to fuck into you roughly. His eyes are dark, and so are yours. “Yeah, you like that?” he questions even though he knows the answer is ‘yes.’
You squeeze your eyes shut, and he pounds into you without relent. You can sense the anger and stress seeping out of his pores, and inside, you feel accomplished. Each thrust is rougher than the next, and you take it all like the good girl you are. A big hand crawls up your body, and it belongs to Chris. It reaches for your neck, and it suddenly wraps around your throat. You’re shocked at first, but you don’t hate it at all. Your right hand grabs onto his wrist, and your left hand goes for the bedsheets that have been ruined more than once.
Chris’s pelvis rubs against your swollen clit with his thrusts, and he even kisses your sweet spot with his swollen head every now and then. “Daddy, oh my God,” you whisper as pleasure takes over your body. “Look at you, so sensitive and slutty. Taking my cock like a fucking whore and a good girl. Like you were made for it, made for me to use you as I please,” Chris says, and you nod your head in agreement even though you’re focusing on the way he’s ruining you.
“Bet none of those young college boys can fuck you this good. They don’t know how you need me all the Goddamn time,” Chris chuckles, swiping his tongue against his lips to wet them. You do the same, and a smile claims you before you can do anything else. “Y- Yeah, only you can fuck me this good, Daddy,” you breathlessly tell him, and his ego grows immensely. “I know, baby, I know,” he mumbles, loving the feeling of your pussy being wrapped around him.
You’re a perfect fit. Practically tailored just for him.
His short nails dig into the soft skin of your thighs just a bit, but he’s too caught up in the pleasure to apologize. “You like getting used like this, whore?” Chris questions, leaning down and placing his knee on the bed. His lips connect with your chest, and he leaves sloppy kisses all over you. Your Step Father’s scruffy beard tickles you lightly, and it only melts your brain even more. The tickling turns into an empty sensation, and you’ve gotten used to it.
“I love it when you use my pussy like this. I love it so much. I’m just your little fleshlight for you to ruin,” you moan out through clenched teeth and labour breathing. Your words make Chris’s hips stutter, and his movements suddenly halt. Chris’s throbbing cock simply rests inside of you, and he raises his head from your body. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he swears, even though he’s got a St. Christopher pendant dangling from his neck. It’s silver, and you love to play around with it whenever you’re sitting on his lap.
Suddenly, his lips slot against yours in a passionate, sensual kiss. You keep up with him as best as you can, and he decides to adjust his slightly uncomfortable position. The hand on your thigh leaves you, and the one on your throat unwraps itself. They move upwards as if he’s reaching for the sky, and they cage your head into one spot. Your legs involuntarily wrap around Chris’s muscular waist, and your feet lock at your ankles right above his butt. He stops kissing you, though he doesn’t pull away too far to create a significant distance from you.
“Please fuck me, Daddy, I need you to make me come,” you beg him, and he playfully knits his eyebrows in an overly dramatic state of confusion. Ever the theatre freak, you never fail to make him want to get up and overexert his talents. “What happened to me using you until I’m satisfied? Oh, well, I guess once a selfish little girl, always a selfish little girl,” Chris husks, and he begins to fuck into you once again.
You let out a whine that gets cut off by a pathetic, pornstar-like moan. It’s all music to Chris’s ears, along with the slapping sounds of skin on skin. It’s a nice rhythm, and maybe it needs a drum’s beat or a guitar’s strum playing lightly in the background. Your sweet spot is repeatedly pummeled on, and each time has you seeing stars. Through your panting that resembles a bitch in heat, you try to argue with Chris. “I’m not selfish!” you cry out, not even having a justification.
He ignores you, and he takes in the way your body jerks with his harshness. “Oh, I think I’m gonna come,” you whisper to him, feeling that lovely tightness inside you beginning to build up. Your skin is so scalding, and your heart blooms in pleasure. Like a new rose in a garden, ready to stay for the few months that are bright and sunny until the coldness of September comes and ends it all.
Your noises grow higher in pitch, and your mouth is wide open from the building intensity in your body. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you curse, digging your nails into his arms. Chris swears from the small amounts of pain, yet he powers through it and brings you to your climax. “Daddy!” you wail, your back arching off the bed as your pussy clamps down on his thick cock.
Your juices coat him until he’s shining. Your cum drips down to his balls and even to the bedsheets. Your eyes roll back into your head, and your ears burn until you can barely hear anything. “Shit, you look so fucking gorgeous when you’re coming,” Chris groans, revelling in the way you’re gripping him. His thrusts are now much slower, yet they keep the same brutality that he started with. He fucks you through your orgasm, and the feeling is absolutely euphoric. “Feels so so good,” you croak out, curling your toes at the same time.
“Your cock is so fucking amazing, Daddy. I love the way it makes me feel,” you whisper to him, even though you’re still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm. They make your legs twitch, and your skin slickens up. “You’re so good to me. You treat me so well. Nobody can fuck me the way you do, Daddy,” you tell him, slowly regaining your strength. You have the sudden urge to help him get closer to the edge because it’s what Chris deserves. That, and even more.
He blushes vibrantly from your words, and you decide to keep going. “I always think of you ruining my pussy whenever I touch myself. I think about how you’d throw me around and bounce me on your cock until I’m coming so hard,” you admit to him, and Chris moans softly. His thrusts are sloppy, and he can feel his balls beginning to tighten up. “I- I think about you too, baby. You know, I’m even thinkin’ about you right now,” he chuckles, with his heart thrumming wildly.
“Really?” you question and your head tilts to the side even though your pussy is being pummeled by him. “Yeah, I’m thinking about filling this cunt with my cum and watching it leak out. I love seeing you full of my seed, baby, and I know you love it, too,” Chris whispers, and suddenly the elastic inside him breaks. Before you can even say anything in return, he’s groaning loudly and trying to get a hold of himself. His eyes squeeze shut, and he shoves his still hips as forwards as they’ll go.
His full balls are snug against your ass, and you can feel each drop of his cum coating your walls. You stare at his pretty, glowing face. Chris’s features are scrunched up in pleasure, and yours are wide in awe. “Fuck,” you mumble, already feeling some of his cum leaking past the sides of his cock. It drips down your butt cheeks and onto the bedsheets. It mixes with your juices, and you know for a fact that you’ll have to put them in the washing machine as soon as possible.
“God, that was amazing,” he sighs, resting his head on your shoulder. His nose tickles your neck just a bit, and you let out a giggle. “I know… I loved it so much. And you, of course,” you profess, and Chris lifts his head back up. “I love you, too,” he replies, and he simply just admires you. It’s a quiet, awkward moment, yet it’s so lovely and memorable. You wish you could remain this way forever, but you know it’s not possible.
Suddenly, a loud sound breaks the silence. It makes both of you jump in fear until you realize it’s his phone that’s at fault. You fight the urge to roll your eyes. “It’s her,” you tell him, and he sadly nods his head. “…Are you going to answer it?” you follow up, hoping for a morally incorrect and petty answer. “Nope. I’ll deal with it later. Right now, I just want to stay like this,” Chris says as the ringing continues, and you smile up at him. You keep your lips pressed in a bright line, and his cock remains deep inside you.
summary. — for so long, he’s wanted to hold you down and tell you that he loves you.
pairing. — Dark!Stepdad!Andy Barber x innocent!fem!reader.
warnings. — DUBCON, stepcest, large age gap (andy is 51, reader is early 20s), coercion, lying, manipulation, gaslighting, grooming, taking advantage, perversion, possessiveness, obsession, isolation, loner reader, innocence kink, corruption kink, smoking, smut, Daddy kink, fingering, mentions of oral (both receiving), overstimulation, degradation, praise, blowing smoke in face, missionary, cowgirl, mentions of male masturbation, size kink (andy’s cock is huge), pet names (little girl, little one, baby, sweetie, sweet girl), creampie kink, reader is extremely innocent, inaccurate explanations of sex, virginity loss, spanking, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!
word count. — 9k
author’s note. — here’s the continuation of my step dad!andy concept that i posted in may. this is before, during, and after the concept. i copy and pasted some of the concept and inserted it here! everything is legal. andy married the reader’s mom when the reader was 18, and he formed feelings for the reader then. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY! @hansensfics
Andy sighs deeply as he sits in his room, bones aching immensely. He’s been standing by the window, behind the sheer white curtains for far too long. Fifty-one years of turmoil have caught up to him, but thankfully, it doesn’t show as much as it should.
He feels your discomfort as much as he does his stiffness. The awkward angle he’s been stuck in is a reflection of your personality. You never socialise like you should, and when you’re forced to, it’s all wrong.
Andy hates seeing you out of your element. The sight of you sitting on a white lounge chair in a dress you clearly don’t like is painful for him. He knows you prefer his company—that’s why he’s always offering it.
Today, he planned on showing you his notes from court on a case about a man assaulting his neighbour with a wrench.
It’s almost as if said wrench was thrown into his plans, because now he has to watch you try to keep up with the brain-rotting chatter of unruly college girls.
Your mother had organised the day with her fellow neighbours who incessantly brought up how lonely you are at the community barbecues. Andy remembers that day very well—he caught you crying out of frustration when you didn’t want to go.
Endlessly, he’s had to tell your mother to let up and leave you alone. Andy understands how you are all too well. Lonely, but content. You never connected with anyone growing up and stuck to your devices—books that are either overrated classics or underrated masterpieces.
It was no surprise that you were immediately drawn to the twice exiled, unlucky man. Like a moth to the flame, you looked at him with such wonder and stuck yourself to him, yet still remained far.
Your close connection was only formed when he found you in a pile of tissues and drowning in your own tears. Seconds away from hyperventilating, he pulled you back into the ocean everyone calls reality. To this day, however, he still isn’t sure why you were in such a state.
The laughter he hears is either fake or simply aggravating. He can’t find yours in that mess, though, and he tries to come up with a reason to take you away.
Andy is your stepfather—he can say anything he wants. Chores haven’t been done yet, your mom’s calling you, we have somewhere to be—I want you all to myself.
But it feels wrong—feels fake. He strives for authenticity after years of ingenuity. Before, he’d patched the cracks in the facade of his forced suburban life before anyone else could see them. Now, he embraces the breakage. In fact, there is none, because there is no farce.
From the low level of the bed, Andy unfortunately cannot see you. Even though your company is the sun, you remain in a white dress. It’s the face of ingenues all around the world. You shield yourself from the scorching sun, the brightness making your eyes ache.
The idea of making some lemonade (for you and only you) crosses your stepfather’s mind, and he decides to do it.
“Oh my gosh—So, basically, Elijah and I’s anniversary is coming up! Apparently, he wants us to go to Vegas, which I’m so down for. I’m not sure what to get him, though,” a woman in her early twenties, like you, nearly squeals. Her excitement makes you smile. “He’s not a fan of jewellery, so anything like that is out of the question…”
Her name is easy to remember, and very pretty as well. Gianna, and she’s an interior design major.
A snort is heard from the chair over—Kennedy, who finds humour in anything and is the nicest to you. “Sex, sex, sex! Dude, that’s the easiest thing ever. Just indulge in whatever fantasy he’s got. Maid, landlord, plumber—”
“—Ha! Let him do anal, GiGi. Get a sparkly plug, some decent lube, and spread those cheeks,” the other friend, Imogen, giggles. She claps at the end of her sentence, and the three women laugh for a few seconds.
“...We’ve already done anal. For his 25th…” The sheepish admission from Gianna makes her friends hoot and holler. You’re not sure what to say—you don’t understand.
“Is there anything you haven’t done?” Imogen questions in shock. “Listen, y’know that frat guy that keeps hitting on me? Well, I gave him a chance and we were, y’know, getting it on,” she eagerly spills.
“Getting it on? Just say you guys were raw-dogging and spitting in each other's mouths,” Kennedy interrupts, sipping on a fruity drink. Honestly, they’re all sweet. They keep trying to rope you into their conversations, but you’re not sure what to say, so you stick to little hums and gestures.
“Shush!—Anyway, we were fucking, and he started to talk a lot. And it was so hot, like he was saying the hottest shit ever. He checked every single kink-box!” Imogen brags, and the others are proud of her. “Like what?” Kennedy prompts, curious to the point where her eyebrows raise.
“Breeding, degrading, praising—even a Daddy thrown in every now and then,” she whisper-shouts. “And, get this, he made me squirt!”
The women continue trading stories about their debauched experiences, and you feel as if they’re speaking another language. You’re not sure what they mean or why the things happened. Questions fill your brain as you purse your lips, trying to give yourself the answers.
“—Uhm, I can take that in for you. I think I forgot to cancel this appointment and they keep you on hold for a while during the afternoon,” you lie, standing up and grabbing Gianna’s empty cup. “Oh, you’re so sweet. You’ll be back soon, right? We wanna get to know you better,” Kennedy says, and her girlfriends nod their heads.
You join them in their motions, before jogging to the sliding door and slipping past it. You place the cup in the sink, and then make a beeline for your room. It’s the space you spend too much time in, to the point that your stepdad has had to coax you out of it on numerous occasions.
The ceiling is at an angle due to the triangular roof of your home. The decorations might not match but they add a cosy feeling that is reminiscent of autumn. You wish the season could remain all year round.
There is even a window seat. Andy had it built and installed for you last year on Christmas. It was a dream come true—something you’d always wanted.
You plop yourself onto the space and pull your laptop over. You turn off SafeSearch and look up the things the women were talking about. Videos with dirty thumbnails pop up, along with articles and a warning about the setting you turned off. You’re too scared to click on the videos, so you stick to reading the articles.
But the words don’t translate well in your mind. You feel like you’re the last person in line in a long game of broken telephone. You’re left with more questions than answers, and so you snap your laptop shut.
Gnawing your lip, you let your curiosity eat away at you. It nags and it nags until you can’t take it anymore. So you wander down the hallway and stand outside the slightly ajar door to your stepdad’s room.
“D– Daddy? Are you busy?” you shyly question, standing with your hands clasped behind your back. At the sweet sound of your voice, Andy immediately rushes from his place in front of the sink. His hands smell of your lotion—a bottle he stole from you because he couldn't help it. “No, not at all, little one. What’s wrong?”
The older man opens the door even more for you, ushering you inside. You sit on the end of the bed, and he joins you. Your palms grow sweaty as nervousness takes you over. Bite the bullet, it won’t hurt you.
“Uhm…” you start, “I have some, uh, questions.”
“Hit me. I have some answers,” Andy jokes.
“Okay…” you unfold the sticky note of the things you wanted to know more about—the things your friends were talking about. “What’s a– anal? Like, the bad one,” you ask, whispering and worried.
Your innocence is like a drug that Andy has tasted for the first time and it has kicked in quickly. He swallows thickly and he wonders why you’re asking.
“Well… There’s numerous ways to have sex… With penetrative sex, you can penetrate any of your holes. And, you see, you have three holes. Your mouth, a– and your private parts. Anal sex is when someone penetrates your butt, essentially,” he explains, not sure what words to use.
He watches as your face twists in confusion. “What do you mean? They can do that to any of your holes? Like, they put something inside?” you press, voice incredulous and shocked. “Yeah, they put something in, and they move it back and forth. There are things meant to go there, though,” Andy tells you.
Clearly, you still don’t really get it. It’s neither your fault nor Andy’s.
“I– I have more.. S’that okay?” Andy immediately nods his head, looking down to try and look at your list.
“Squirting… Can you explain that one? Please? And why do people like calling other people mean things? And getting called those? I mean, I get why someone likes it when someone else says nice things—but the mean one, I don’t understand. And why do people like using the word Daddy? I thought that’s for certain people…” you ramble, pulling at the yellow paper until it slips.
“Shh… One at a time, baby. Squirting is something that happens during sex. It’s a kind of ejaculate. And with the mean names, it’s just what people like. It makes them all happy, y’know? All tingly on the inside—like when they get praised,” he says, cock fully hard and face flushed.
“Yeah, but, what’s sex? Oh! I get those tingles a lot… But not in my tummy…” you sheepishly admit, and it piques Andy’s interest. But then, he replays what you said. What’s sex? A question that normal people would laugh at—but Andy is anything but that. “...You don’t know what sex is, baby?”
You let out a whimper—something of frustration and fear and insecurity. It makes his cock throb within the confines of his pants. “...Nuh-uh,” you sigh, ready to dart and lock yourself in your room.
“Oh, that’s alright, baby. Don’t worry. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, okay? Daddy’ll explain it all to you—I’ll be your teacher,” he smiles, but then frowns when you shake your head. “B– But I don't understand any of it! Not when you explain it, and not when I read about it. It’s all so confusing and doesn’t make one bit of sense.”
Annoyance with yourself seeps from your words, and Andy detects the leak. He’s quick to patch it up, though.
“No, baby! Daddy’s gonna teach you it in an easy way! Remember how you didn’t know what acquittal meant? And I told you the definition? Now you tell other people what it means when they don’t know!”
Andy chooses to ignore the fact that it was only your mother who didn’t know what it meant.
“But that’s different! Even if you explain it simply, my brain just won’t grasp the concept,” you try to reason, so desperate to learn about the things that other women your age are so well-versed in. “Can you show me it, Daddy? Please?”
Your stepfather nearly asks you to repeat yourself. Your request is innocent and full of desperation—you want to be in on the joke that everyone seems to know. His cock has chubbed up inside his boxers, begging for a release and even crying tears of pre-cum.
“You want Daddy to show you those dirty little things, hm? C’mere, baby. Daddy’ll tell you all about it,” Andy encourages, motioning with his hands for you to move closer to him. You scoot your body until your right leg touches his left. “You’re gonna be a good girl and do whatever I say, right?”
When you nod your head, the older man wonders if he’s won the jackpot. Luck is on his side, clearly. After years of struggle, he’s finally got a good thing. And he’s going to take full advantage of it—he’s going to cherish the treasure he’s been bestowed with.
“Good girl—” Andy cuts himself off with a groan as you preen under the praise, “—so good for Daddy.”
Your stepdad slowly leans in and presses his mouth against yours. The kiss is searing and passionate, but it soon turns rough and possessive. You try to keep up with Andy as he claims your mouth—biting, licking, and sucking at your supple, wet skin.
He tastes of beer and cigarettes, and the smacking of lips grows wetter and sloppier. You let him take control and try to replicate some of his movements as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. Andy holds the sides of your head with two large, strong hands.
But his touch is gentle and encouraging. You let the older man do whatever he wants to do, sure that you can ask him for another tutorial later on. Eventually, he pulls away with swollen, red lips and blown out eyes.
The pale blue (with a tinge of green) has disappeared. Like black paint spilled, darkness is all you can see.
“You’ve got such a cute little mouth, baby. Think I can fit my cock in there, all nice and snug,” he murmurs, more to himself than you. You’re not sure what he means, but you go along with it and nod your head. Your eagerness is almost unreal—maybe because Andy has fantasised about it for so long.
Moments with his hand wrapped around his large, leaking cock after you said or did something his perverted mind twisted and misconstrued. Showers longer than they should be, and boxers gone in the wash sooner than they would.
“But don’t worry your pretty head with that just yet, little one,” Andy tells you, standing up and in front of you. He gently pushes you back on the bed, and you land with a small thump. Be brings your feet to rest against the edge of the mattress, caressing your skin with his rough, warm hands. “So soft…”
The lawyer brings your left leg up, and meets it halfway. He presses open-mouthed kisses on your moisturised skin, taking in your scent. Eventually the romantic feeling turns ticklish, and you giggle and try to writhe out of Andy’s grip.
Though, there’s a warm feeling that blooms in your cunt. You folds ache, but you’re not sure why. It’s like the tingles you seem to get every now and then, especially when you’re around the older man.
“Daddy… I feel funny,” you tell him, and Andy halts his movements.
“What do you mean, little girl? C’mon, tell Daddy,” he urges, genuinely curious. Is it fear? Excitement? Or something more physical?
“Tingly… And warm… And it kinda hurts—but not in a painful way…” you try to explain.
“Where, baby? Show me where,” your stepfather demands. His eyebrows are mildly knitted in a bit of concern—curiosity. “D– Down there,” you whisper, looking away from his intense gaze.
A broad hand that belongs to Andy makes a bold move. It moves to your mound, and pushes at your pussy. “Here, baby?” he nearly growls, feeling your warmth and folds through the two layers of fabric that protect you from this ravenous man.
His fingers dig into your skin and find the bump of your clit, pushing on the nub and watch as you moan softly from the unfamiliar yet pleasurable sensation. “Uh-huh, right there, Daddy,” you mewl, subconsciously bucking your hips upwards.
The feeling is reminiscent of the kind you feel when you press your thighs together—just amped up by a few hundred volts. “Well, Daddy’s gonna make you feel better, okay, little one? This happens sometimes, and from now on, you gotta tell me whenever you feel those tingles. Understood?” Andy orders, and you shyly nod.
“Words. Use your words, little girl. I need to hear it.”
“Y– Yes, Daddy. I– I’ll tell you when I feel tingly—P– Promise.”
“Good girl.” Andy’s hands move to the waistband of your white skirt, and he pulls it down. Your panties go along with it, strings of wetness pulling and breaking when he gets too far. Your pussy glistens in the cracks of sunlight, his white curtains a blessing for once. “Such a gorgeous fuckin’ cunt.”
You bring your hand up to your face and shy away behind it, making Andy coo at you. He throws your bottoms behind him and pulls you a bit closer by your legs. He then looks up at you, pink tongue slowly darting out just a peek.
Three of Andy’s digits move upwards. He gives them one long, slow lick, soaking them in spit. “Gotta open your legs wide, little girl. Can you do that for me, baby?” he requests, and you immediately nod your head.
For your stepdad, you open your legs as wide as they can go without hurting. Anything he asks, you’ll do.
“Good girl,” he hums, and he brings his dominant, wet hand to your sopping cunt. Your stepdad tests the waters for a moment, swirling your slick around and caressing your swollen, achy folds. You gasp at the sensation as his large hand covers practically everything. From your clit down to your creamy fuckhole. “Feels good already, doesn’t it?”
You nod your head, and Andy smiles at you. “It’s gonna feel even better soon, little one. ‘M gonna get my cock in that little honeypot’a yours—fuck it nicely and ruin you for other men.” As he speaks, Andy maintains a trained gaze on you. “But you won’t have other men, will you?”
“You only want your stepdaddy, huh? Daddy’s girl—All mine,” Andy murmurs. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, gently biting down. “I gotta stretch you out first,” he tells you.
Andy pushes his pointer finger in first, and groans as your walls welcome it immediately. He lets the digit slip into you entirely, until it’s buried to the hilt. “You’re doin’ so good for me, little girl,” the older man smiles at you.
Slowly, he begins to thrust in and out of your channel. His finger glistens with your creamy slick, and Andy curses. Once he believes you’ve adjusted to the first digit well enough, he pulls it out and prods two.
“How was that, baby?” he questions, but you’re too breathless and at a loss for words to say anything. You give him a simple thumbs up, hoping it’ll suffice. “Use your words, little one,” Andy urges, and you whimper out a simple ‘was g– good’ for him.
“You’re soaking, y’know that? Makin’ a mess all over my hand,” he notes aloud. “So innocent but so needy… You make such a perfect whore for Daddy.”
Andy thrusts two digits into your drooling hole, and he fingers you with that same slow pace. Every now and then, he makes scissoring motions meant to open you up even more. “Daddy… ‘s so much now. Feels even more tingly,” you tell him, looking at your stepdad for reassurance.
“That’s how it’s supposed to be, baby. Feels good, doesn’t it?” he prompts, and you hesitantly nod your head. Andy is right—it feels so good. It’s like the fluttery feeling you tend to get, the one you felt just a few moments before, but it’s not nagging and it’s better in comparison. “Yeah, that’s it. Take Daddy’s fingers, slut.”
Your stepfather knows he shouldn’t be saying these demeaning things to you—shouldn’t be ruining you—but he can’t help it.
It’s almost hypnotising with the way your cunt sucks Andy’s fingers in as he penetrates your tightness again. And the way you cling onto him as he pulls them in and out of you is downright pornographic—just like the sounds you’re making.
“Bet you never even got this far, little one. All you ever did was rub this li’l cunny on whatever you could find, hm?” He wonders out loud. “Poor pussy’s been neglected. S’okay, Daddy’s here, baby,” Andy whispers, and he picks up the pace of his hand.
He finds that rough, spongy spot inside you. It makes you toss your head back and squeeze your eyes shut, limbs trembling. “D– Daddy!” you cry out, confused yet welcoming his touches. “Shh, it’s okay, baby,” Andy soothes, stroking your sweet spot with his fingers.
Purposefully, he neglects your clit. He knows it’s pulsating—aching to be touched by your stepfather. Your volume raises just a bit, and his cock throbs with every other noise. Your pretty face has formed a frown of pleasure, and Andy thinks to himself he can really get used to this.
“W– Wait. Feels like I needa go to the bathroom…” you shamefully admit, and this time, Andy really chuckles. “You’re so cute and innocent, little one. Gonna give Daddy a cavity with how sweet you are,” he says, picking up the pace of his fingers. He makes sure to keep stretching you out, though.
“Feels like it’s burning and building, huh? That’s normal, baby. Don’t worry. Just take one more finger for me, okay?” Andy skillfully brings you closer and closer to your release. The wet, lewd sounds of your cunt grow louder. “You’re fucking soaking. S’that all for me?” your stepfather asks.
You don’t really know what he means, but you chose to nod your head. At your answer, Andy decides to push a third digit into your cunt. The fit is strugglesome—tight, warm, and snug. You can barely handle his thick fingers, pussy struggling to adjust to them at first. He can’t wait to get his cock inside you.
“H– Hurts, Daddy,” you whine, the stretch uncomfortable. Andy shushes you gently, whispering praises until the pain dulls away and all you can feel is fullness and pleasure. “You’re drippin’ everywhere, little girl. I can’t wait to get a taste of that sweet pussy,” he murmurs, and he continues to attack your g-spot.
Your cries grow louder and more high-pitched, and Andy knows you’re close. The older man grunts, “That’s it, good girl. C’mon, give Daddy your cream, baby.” Your body goes from thrashing just a tiny bit to seizing when your orgasm hits.
It takes you by storm. Your eyes squeeze shut and you sob, cunt clamping down on his hand. “Atta girl. Goin’ all dumb for Daddy—that’s what I like to see, little one.” Andy fingerfucks you through your climax, admiring the creaminess that coats his skin. He’s sure some has dripped down to your rosebud, and that makes him so hard.
“Oh– Oh my gosh,” you pant, tears stinging your eyes from the stimulation. “See what I just did, baby?” Andy questions.
“Uh-huh.” He looks at you, carefully examining the fucked-out look you have on your pretty face.
“Only Daddy gets to do that to you, little girl. No one else. Understood? You belong to me.”
Obediently, you nod your head. “Uh-huh. All yours, Daddy.”
Your words have his cock twitching underneath the confines of his pants. Andy slowly pulls his fingers out of your wet channel, consoling you when you whine from the sudden emptiness. Your fuckhole gapes just a bit, and it makes your stepdad eager to get his cock out.
“Damn right, little one,” he grunts, unbuckling his belt and pulling his thick cock out. “See this, baby? It’s Daddy’s cock, and it’s the only one you’re ever gonna go near. Y’know, your pussy was made for it,” he hums, stroking himself from the thick base to the leaky, bulbous head.
Your mouth parts in interest. Whatever he says and does soaks right into that empty mind of yours.
Andy pulls you up to the bed with his other hand, strength coming in handy. He puts your head on his pillow and then crawls between your legs, making you part them wide once again. He hovers above you, and you involuntarily clutch the blue fabric of his sweater for comfort.
The older man slaps the fat tip of his engorged dick on your clit, making you flinch from the jolt of pleasure. He then slides the head down to your slightly-stretched hole, and he begins to push in.
When your face contorts in confusion and mild discomfort, Andy is quick to tell you everything is okay. “Shh… It’s alright, baby. You’re fine,” he says, speaking gently and pressing chaste kisses to your face.
He looks down to where his fat cock pushes into your tightness, stretching you wider than ever before and claiming your fuckhole as his. The sight is mesmerising, and Andy can’t help the groan he lets out from it.
“Taking my cock like such a good little fucktoy. Fuck—you okay, little one?” your stepfather questions, and it takes you a few moments to respond to him. Slowly, you nod your head. Though the breach is unfamiliar and a lot to handle, you’re determined to be Andy’s good girl and fight through it.
There’s a pain that burns—and you bite onto his sweater to keep quiet. Andy examines your face as he continues to sheath his length inside you. “That’s my good girl. Feelin’ shy, baby?” he coos. “Aw, how cute.”
Eventually, your stepfather bottoms out with his heavy balls against your ass. He hums your name and the pet names he’s given you, waiting for you to pull your pretty face away from his chest. “Show me those doe-eyes, little one,” Andy requests. Slowly, you peek up at him.
Your eyes are big and they still hold that innocence that Andy knows he can’t rip away from you. “Good girl. How do you feel, baby?” he asks.
“Uhm—weird? Feels different… Deep, too…” you process out loud, and the older man nods with your every word.
“Yeah, I’m so deep inside you, little girl. All the way in your belly.” The thought has him growling, and he begins to shallowly fuck you. You mewl with each of his half-hearted thrusts. The pain is soon replaced with pleasure, one that you immediately grow fond of. “There we go…”
“More tingles,” you note, punctuating your sentence with a gasp as Andy’s movements grow more vigorous. “So many, Daddy.” Your stepdad nods his head and smiles at you sweetly, “That’s right, little girl. That’s what happens when Daddy stuffs his fat cock inside your babycunt.”
When he calls you those two words—little girl—your body reacts. You shy away from him whilst your pussy clenches around his dick, and he bites back a loud groan. The veins at his throat bulge, while his jaw clenches.
“I’m gonna start fucking you now, little one. You just gotta sit there and take whatever I give you,” he forewarns, and you nod your head. “Okay, Daddy.” At your words, Andy begins to pummel in and out of your pussy. Obscene noises come from where you’re connected to him—wet sounds and skin slapping against skin.
Andy looks down and watches as his cock forcefully disappears and reappears, your tightness still not used to such a large intrusion. His heavy balls smack against your ass, where your slick stains. “Drippin’ everywhere, baby. You love this—I fucking knew it,” he grunts, his pounds the perfect speed and intensity.
His cock kisses your cervix each time, making you writhe in pain. But when he rubs against your sweet spot, that discomfort leaves almost immediately. “Look, little one, your cream is all over my cock. You’re leaking down to my balls—fuck,” Andy harshly pushes forward at the realisation.
You wail from the intensity. “Yeah, you like getting fucked by a dirty old man, slut? Hm? Like getting fucked by your stepdaddy?” Andy questions, and you hesitate before nodding your head. He swears once more, and then leans down.
Though he’s repeatedly knocked the breath out of you, he now stops it from moving at all as he kisses you. At first, it’s soft and what teenage dreams are made of. But then, like the way he takes away your virginity, it grows rough and desperate. He takes the lead, shoving his tongue into your mouth and doing all kinds of things you can’t keep up with.
Andy eventually pulls away, noticing that his thrusts have dulled down. He picks his pace back up, his pelvis slamming into yours. Your cream coats his cock, leaving a stain that even reaches his patch of hair. Your lips are raw and glistening from the passionate, bruising kiss he had you locked in.
Your stepfather rams into your fuckhole without relent, forcing more of your wetness out with his shaft. His length strokes your sensitive walls with skill and aggression, abusing your cunt like he’s always wanted to.
Your chest is pressed against Andy’s, and he uses one of the hands that holds him up to pull down the top of your shirt, exposing your hardened nipples. The cold air adds to the ache of them. “Stupid little girl making the biggest fucking mess on her Daddy’s cock. Y’gonna clean it up after, baby? You better—with that cute mouth of yours.”
Nodding your head, you make the older man inhale a sharp, controlled breath. In contrast, you pant like a bitch in heat as your chest rises and falls. There’s a feeling that grows at a fast pace. It’s like when you have to go to the bathroom so badly—except this time, it’s more intoxicating than intolerable.
“D– Daddy! Feels funny—like before, but way m– more?” You’re so unsure of yourself—of your body—that it’s utterly adorable to Andy.
“That’s called an orgasm, little girl. You just sit there and beg Daddy to let you come, okay?” he requests, and you nod your head.
It feels like something that needs to desperately continue and be alleviated—but you know only Andy can do that for you, so you do whatever your stepdad says.
“P– Please let me come, Daddy! Need to come so bad… Please, please please—!” you gasp loudly, Andy’s cock driving deeper and he grinds with each pump of his cock, rubbing against your clit. “Good girl—such a good little slut for Daddy,” Andy hums, sensing you’re even closer to coming.
“Soak Daddy’s fat cock, little girl. C’mon, wanna see you make a stupid mess on this dick,” he commands, landing some slaps on your ass and the side of your left thigh. Your cunt suddenly convulses around him, clit thrumming and back arching as you come around his cock for the very first time. “Atta girl.”
He growls as your eyes roll back into your head, lids squeezing shut as your face pinches. Your mouth drops open in shock from the heat that envelops you. The grip your pussy has on Andy’s dick grows tighter, squeezing him and begging for more.
Your stepfather fucks you through your orgasm, slowing down just a bit when you begin to twitch from the pleasure. Your walls spasm until he manages to get you through the high, and then he resumes fucking you harshly.
Your tits bounce with each slam of Andy’s hips, your body pushed upwards before he pulls you back onto his dick. “Ah—ah—ah,” you moan, going dumb on the older man’s cock. A mildly blank look is on your face, and you babble like a baby.
“Dumb little girl—talking about dirty things and behaving like a whore when you haven’t even had big girl sex yet,” Andy sneers, grabbing your jaw and puckering his lips up. He spits in your mouth, before telling you to swallow the wad of saliva.
Like a good girl, you do exactly as he says. You even smile at him afterwards, before your face pinches again from the sensations his cock brings. “Greedy girl—that hungry pussy is just swallowin’ up Daddy’s fat cock,” he grunts, forcing his thickness in and out of you.
Your toes curl and feet point as your stepfather pushes your legs against your torso. His strong, well-built arms flex, and so does his muscled-chest. Your hands clench his sweater and subconsciously grope his pecs, and you marvel at his figure.
Because Daddy has to do everything for his helpless baby, he takes your arm and uses it to hold up your left leg, while his left hand pushes on your right. At this new angle, your stepfather’s shaft is far deeper than it was at first.
It’s almost dizzying—the way he’s practically in your tummy. And his thrusts are now stronger, too. Andy’s got you pinned to the bed as he pounds into you, determined to bring you to another orgasm before he blows his load. And even after that, he won’t stop.
“‘S so deep, Daddy! C– Can feel it in my g– guts,” you whine, and your words make Andy’s cock throb within your tight, wet walls. Your cream drips all over his cock, leaving a thick sheen and ring coating his base. Even his balls are soaked. “Uh-huh—you’re just so tiny, baby. Daddy had to force it in—but now you’re takin’ it like a champ.”
You preen under his gaze and his praise, but your tears still leak. “Aw, poor little crybaby. Daddy’s just fuckin’ you too good, huh? S’okay, I got you,” Andy whispers, wet noises filling the air along with the smell of sex. Your sweet tang is amongst the scent, and Andy knows that later on, he’ll rub your cunt raw with his beard.
“My little fuckdoll… This is Daddy’s pussy now—all mine, just like the rest of you,” he grunts, and your second release hits you all of a sudden.
You writhe away from Andy as best as you can, but it doesn’t get you anywhere. Instead, your aching nipples end up rubbing against the stitched threads on your stepfather’s sweater, adding to your pleasure.
Andy’s thick length nearly splits you open, having a bit of a harder time to move with your increased tightness. “Good girl—that’s it, go dumb on Daddy’s cock. My good little slut,” he moans, peppering kisses at your jaw and nipping at the skin every now and then.
Heat spreads inside your body as the mattress gets wetter with each drop of your arousal. “You’re makin’ a mess everywhere, baby. But it’s okay. Daddy knows that little girls like you can’t help it—you need Daddy’s help with everything.”
Mindlessly, you nod your head. You gush around Andy, coating his cock while you have him in a vice-like grip. Your swollen folds get nudged by his dick, and the sight is pornographic—something he can never forget.
“Looks like this cunt is perfect for Daddy to fuck, baby,” your stepdad tells you. “Made for me to use however I want. Gonna turn you into my little whore.”
Andy’s words make your pussy constrict even more around his dick. You practically choke him, begging for his cum without even realising it. “Daddy…” you sob, limbs trembling from the amount of euphoria his actions bring. Your stepfather’s jaw clenches at your use of the title.
“That’s right, little girl. I’m your Daddy,” he grunts, now using your fuckhole like it’s his fist. He fucks into your with vigour, determined to fill you up with his cum before he switches positions. He loves the struggle of getting his dick to fit inside your pussy. “You’re making Daddy feel so good, baby. ‘M gonna give you a nice reward for being so sweet.”
At his statement, you perk up as best as you can. Though it’s difficult to think or say anything. “R– Really, Daddy?” you question, elated at the thought of a reward. “Really, little one. You’re such a good girl for Daddy—all the time, too. Never made me have to spank that ass ‘till you’re crying.”
He mumbles the last part, but you catch a bit of his sentence. You don’t understand him though—crying? No, Daddy would never hurt you. Andy’s said so numerous times—times where you’ve cried in his arms and clung to him like a kitten.
Now, your cunt does the same. It weeps and doesn’t let go of Andy’s dick, and the mounting pleasure inside him is as desperate and needy, too. “Gonna give you a belly full of my cum, baby. I’ll fill you up until you’re leaking with my seed for days,” the older man grunts, before cursing wildly.
“Fuck—fuck—fuck.”
Suddenly, the snapping of his hips stops, and he shoves his cock forward until he can’t move any further. The harshness makes you frown, wincing at the mild pain. Then, warmth fills you up, undoubtedly claiming your walls and coating them with white stickiness.
Andy pants above you, heart clamouring in his chest as he hit his release. He grinds into your pussy to prolong it, only stopping when his hard length grows sensitive. Already, his cum leaks from the sides of his cock.
“There we go—now you’re all mine, little girl. And I know you like being Daddy’s,” he smiles at you, coming down from his high. His face has a blush to it.
Andy takes one of his hands and puts it on your tummy, rubbing your skin slightly to get you to relax. It works—but not in the way he predicted.
“A– Again, Daddy? Please?” you start to beg, taking your stepdad by surprise. “W– What do you mean, baby?” he questions, moving his hand to grip your hip. “Do it again, please. F– Feels so good, made some of the tingles go away…” you explain, tightening your channel at the thought.
“You want Daddy to stretch this pretty pussy out again?” Andy asks. It takes you a few seconds and his index finger pointing to where he is penetrating you for you to answer. “Uh-huh!” you moan out, gyrating your hips to alleviate the newer, fluttery feeling at your core.
“Alright… Wanna play a fun game, little one?”
You nod your head, eager to spend more time with your stepfather.
“Good. It’s called horsey,” Andy says, slowly pulling out of your pussy. You whine loudly at the loss, cum leaking out of you and spilling onto the bed. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain it for your little baby brain to understand.”
Your stepdad grabs your and manhandles your body, sitting against the headboard and placing you in his lap.
Your dripping pussy is against his hard cock. “All you have to do is bounce on Daddy’s cock—feel it? Yeah—and make it go really deep inside of you. Think you can do that, little girl`?” he says, rubbing his dick against your swollen, wet petals.
Above him, you shudder. The pleasure is almost too much for your little-self to handle, but you push through its intensity. “O– Of course, Daddy! ‘M your good girl—gonna do anythin’ for you,” you mumble, and Andy’s hands pull at the cloth covering your torso.
It then rips, and he removes the shreds from your body. “That’s right, baby. You’re my good girl,” he coos, reaching down to grab the thick, wet base of his hard cock. He gives himself a few languid strokes, before lifting you up a bit.
The fat, sensitive tip of your stepfather’s cock prods at your hole that’s still mildly stretched-out from his brutal fucking. Andy pushes in, pulling you down a bit so you meet him halfway. He knows it’s going to be deeper than ever—and he can’t wait to see that dumb, empty look on your face when he bottoms out.
But then he looks at your mug, and he finds himself feeling something rotten. Something terrible, sinking in his chest until his lust takes over and turns him selfish once more. No—not selfish… Just complicated.
“Daddy, feels scary,” you admit, trying to fall forward and lay against his chest. Andy tuts, holding you up and giving you one of his charming, sweet smiles. “It’s okay, I got you. Daddy’s here, little one,” he assures you, tone saccharine in a stark contrast to his dirty actions.
As you slide down his length, it becomes more difficult to take him. You try to move away from the older man—run away from his intimidating cock. “Nuh-uh. I thought you wanted to play with Daddy, baby,” Andy pouts, and your heart breaks from his sadness.
“C– Can’t take it, Daddy,” you explain to him, half of his dick inside of you. “Yes, you can, sweetheart. Let Daddy help you, it’s okay.”
Andy’s hands hold your waist, and he looks down to where he’s connected to you, and suddenly thrust upwards. You fall forward with a cry, unprepared for the new angle. He lets you seek comfort in him and his sweater once more, rubbing his hands up and down the length of your back.
“Shhh… you’re okay, it’s okay. You’re lucky Daddy pumped your pussy full of cum, baby. It would’ve hurt way more,” your stepfather tells you, waiting for your whimpers to die down. “Daddy’s dick is so deep inside you, hm?”
You nod your head slowly, gripping his sweater and pushing your face into his chest. “I know, little one. But when you start to play, it’ll be fine. Try bouncing, baby. Just move up and down.”
Once again, you nod and try to sit up. Andy’s hands move down to your waist, and you splay yours on his clothed pecs. “Up and down—c’mon, you can do it. Daddy knows you can,” he urges, and you begin to lift your body up.
You stop when you feel it’s right—when half of Andy’s thickness is left inside you. Then, you slide back down. A growl rumbles in the older man’s chest, his cock throbbing as your walls stroke him. “W– Was that good, Daddy?” you question.
“So good, baby—have you played this game before?” he playfully asks, but then that humour turns to jealousy. The thought of you riding another man’s dick has Andy fuming—possessiveness boiling hot inside him and reaching the temperature of the sun. “Nuh-uh. Only you, Daddy. Nobody else.”
Like salve on a wound, you heal that vulnerability of his with your words. “Atta girl,” he praises. “How about we add a fun little rule, sweetie?” he offers as you continue to glide up and down on his cock. You whimper with each movement, muscles burning from the strain.
“O– Okay, Daddy. W– What’s the rule?” you innocently question, looking at him with your doe eyes. “Everytime Daddy slaps your ass, you have to move quicker, okay?” your stepfather tells you, moving his palms down to the globes of your ass. He caresses the skin gently.
Before you can worry about the pain, Andy lands a sharp smack to your butt, making you yelp. You pick up the pace of your movements, still careful, however. “Such a perfect pussy, little one. So tight and warm and wet… And made for my cock,” he whispers, punctuating his sentences with spanks.
Unfortunately, Andy’s cock doesn’t kiss those spots with expert aim. And you’re too scared to take his entire length. So, your poor legs give up, and you fall forward again. You cry out from the wasted euphoria—gone is the dull fire inside you. But not entirely.
“Aw, you can't do what Daddy does, hm? Poor baby. You need me so bad,” your stepdad coos, but it’s more like he rubs your failure in. “Dumb little girl—acting like a whore even though you can’t ride Daddy’s cock. How silly of you—don’t you feel stupid?”
You let out a whine that turns into a sob, and Andy quickly shushes you. Stupid Andrew, he chides himself, hurting this sweet thing… Don’t you love her? “Baby?” he calls out, trying to coax you out of the shell you’ve crawled back into.
His cock isn’t buried to the hilt like it was before, and the ache between your legs still needs to be taken care of—Andy’ll fix that after. He wedges his hand between your face and his body, pushing you off him roughing and holding your hand in his palm. You frown and cry out from the pain, face twisted in discomfort.
“‘M sorry, little one. Daddy's sorry. Fuck—can’t help it,” he slurs, hating himself for getting so rough with you. But it’s not his fault he’s this way. You just awaken something ferocious in him—something that needs to be held down with chains and locked away in a cage for eternities.
Something so terrible yet so addictive.
“I love playing with you so much—that’s why Daddy hurts you, little one. I love you, I just get excited sometimes,” he explains, cupping your cheek and smiling at you. Eventually, you come around. “S’okay, Daddy,” you whisper, looking downwards.
“It’s my turn to play horsey now, little girl. All you have to do is sit up straight, okay? Try not to lay on Daddy.”
Andy’s heels dig into the mattress and he bends his knees just a bit, still holding onto your hips. He looks down to where he breaches your tightness, and notices the tinge of pink that mixes with his spunk—the same cum that leaves out of your fuckhole.
At that moment, he ignores it. He stores that thought for later—for when he’s lonely and desperate to feel guilt. Andy bottoms out inside you slowly, enjoying the lewd squelching sounds that come with his action. “Oh, gosh,” you murmur, eyes rolling back into your head.
The hairy base of his cock touches your core, and his balls rest against your ass. Andy’s hands move to your butt, and he spreads your cheeks apart. One of his fingers prods at your other hole. The older man has half a mind to defile your little rosebud that’s sticky with wetness and his cum.
You can feel Andy’s cock so deep inside you; it’s dizzying. The breath is nearly knocked out of you, and you feel as though you’ve bared something to your stepfather that has left you utterly vulnerable. The feeling has you distraught, but Andy told you he’d take away all your thoughts, so it’ll be okay. Right?
“You're such a good girl for me. So good. My good girl,” Andy grunts, and he’s lifting you off his cock until just the tip remains inside you. His hips then return to the depths of your wet channel. He starts to fuck up into you, and the familiar sound of skin-on-skin reverberates throughout the room. This time, it’s louder.
Andy stares at your pretty face while he fucks you into oblivion, making sure to study each aspect. From the way your eyes roll into your skull when he shoves his thickness into you to how your jaw falls slack so quickly. It’s all for him.
“Daddy—Daddy—Daddy!” you squeal, toes curling and limbs stiff yet twitching. Is it possible to be hooked on the way someone says something? You’re not a ‘someone’ though—you’re so special and so different. The answer must be yes. It must be normal, too.
Your tits bounce with each of his upward-thrusts. This new angle is unlike anything you’ve ever felt—more profound and accurate. Your stepdad fucks into you with such roughness that it’s hard to keep upright. Especially with the building sensitivity in your lower abdomen.
“Fuck, yeah. Take Daddy’s fat cock in this tiny cunt, little one. Fucking take it, slut,” Andy grunts, getting meaner by the second. It’s a helpless habit, and thank heavens that you don’t understand half of the words he’s saying.
A blank smile spreads itself on your face, but your eyes are full of hope. Hope that you’re doing good for your Daddy.
“You’re my good girl. My good girl—my dumb little girl. No thoughts in that head, hm? You just wanna please your Daddy and get fucked until you can’t think anymore,” he spits, and the word that diminishes your intelligence has your bottom lip wobbling.
You want to please your Daddy, but you must be doing something wrong, no?
“Aw, don’t cry, little one. Daddy’s being nice to you, okay? It’s good like this!” Andy quickly tells you, slowing down his thrusts. He grinds into you in the meantime, and he doesn’t miss the way your cunt is gripping him even tighter. “O– Okay, Daddy. T– Thank you?” you apprehensively say, unsure of so many things.
“Daddy’ll teach you all about it after. Okay? You’re so cute and polite, little one. You’re doing so good for me,” Andy coos, rubbing a thumb on your face. You grin at him before squeezing your eyes shut, feeling that funny sensation inside of you.
It worsens as your stepfather continues to fuck your guts, stroking your walls with his thick member. In the midst of his actions, Andy craves a cigarette. He wonders if you’d let him blow smoke in your face since you said he can do whatever he wants to you. Of course, you would—you’re such a good girl.
“Wanna make Daddy even happier, sweetie?” he wonders, stretching one of his arms to reach the bedside table. He pulls the top drawer open and blindly sifts through it. “O– Of course, daddy. Please? Wanna make you happy,” you plead, absentmindedly gyrating your hips on your stepdad’s cock.
Andy finds the lighter grouped with the pack of Parliament cigarettes. He doesn’t bother closing the drawer, but he does bring you closer and forces you to catch yourself on your hands.
Your stepfather—who had promised your mom that he kicked the habit—plucks a smoke from the box and places it between his pink lips. “Daddy? What are you doing?” you question, halting your movements. Andy smiles at you, the cigarette wobbling a bit.
“Don’t worry your little baby brain about it, sweet girl,” he simply tells you, before lighting the cigarette. He takes a drag from it and puffs the smoke back out, satiating the craving he had a few moments ago. He then places it on the ashtray as you watch the grey smog swirl in the blue of his room.
Andy pulls you towards his chest and holds you, fucking up into your cunt. His cock drives in and out of you, balls slapping against your ass and his thick thighs jiggle each time.
“Uhm… Oh–! Uh, Daddy?” you murmur, finding it harder to breathe. “Shh… Don’t worry, little one. Just soak Daddy’s fat cock,” Andy shushes, and you mewl at his filthy words.
Your cunt aches immensely, but it’s the kind that is more resounding and pleasurable than anything. Andy abuses your cream-filled fuckhole like it’s all he can do—all he knows how to do. Make you feel good—that’s it.
He’s spewing grunts and curses, and each time he utters a filthy word, you take note of how gravelly his voice is, how it rumbles in his chest and you can quite literally feel it. It’s a harsh contrast to your high-pitched wails and choked-out moans.
“Come, little one. C’mon, fuckin’ make a mess for your Daddy,” he demands once more, punctuating his words with hard thrusts.
Your body comprehends his words, and it starts to have that reaction.
The one where your back arches yet your limbs flail and your head tries to pull away from the crook of his neck. It’s almost as if you’re trying to run away from your stepdad. He won’t let you go, though—he never will. Yet it makes him so hard when you try to escape.
Your mind soars high above the cotton candy clouds of your skies. You start convulsing around Andy’s member, creaming and soaking him. Your body freezes and you let out a wail that is music to his ears. He cheers you on with small ‘yeah’s that have you giggling slightly. “Good girl.”
Your tits jiggle, and your body jerks upwards as Andy roughly fucks you through your orgasm. “D– Daddy,” you mewl, and Andy simply begins to fuck you quicker. Eventually, those sparks he brought became too much. You’re not sure what to do, though, so you simply writhe on his lap.
“‘M gonna fill you up again. Gonna pump this cunt full of cum until you’re leaking for days. Turn you into my messy little girl,” your stepfather says through grunts and growls as he sloppily uses your pussy. You nod your head and grin, wincing every now and then.
The older man’s sloppy, selfish pumps grow erratic. Andy then stills deep inside your cunt, burying himself to the hilt. A guttural moan leaves him, one that is louder than intended. He holds your body tightly, not wanting to let go of you.
His white ropes paint your inner walls until the sides of his cock are dripping, and there’s a ring at the base. Spilling inside you, Andy turns you into his cumdump once more. “Fuck,” he groans, your tight pussy tempting him to go again and again.
Maybe he will. His cock remains locked inside you, and both of your chests rise and fall with exhaustion. “Daddy…” you whimper, cunt sensitive and stretched out from his engorged dick.
“Shh… Daddy’ll take care of this greedy pussy again, little girl. Don’t you worry,” Andy tells you.
Your hands are on his body, and you brace yourself up using his waist. It’s hard to stay upright with the weakness of your body and the wobble of your arms.
Andy reaches for the ashtray and plucks the cigarette back up. He dusts the ash off, and puts it back between his lips. He inhales the smog, and then pulls the smoke away to puff out the grey fumes.
“That’s dirty, Daddy. Don’t do it, please,” you bemoan, curling in on yourself at the sight of your stepfather harming his health. “Well, I guess that makes Daddy a dirty old man, no?” he half-quips.
Your stepfather takes another drag, and then he pulls you close to his face. Andy exhales, smoke directed in your face and he catches you at the right time. You take a breath in, unexpectedly drawing in the fumes of his cigarette.
You giggle apprehensively—still worried and it’s written all over your face, even if you don’t mean it to. You’ve got that look you always have when you’re trying to fight back your sweet tears, trying not to burst into sobs. Eventually, the smoke goes away. But the revolting smell of it remains, lingering in his room.
In Andy’s mind, it only makes sense a dirty old man like him would have an equally as nasty habit.
And to balance it out, an innocent little girl like you on his cock.
Summary: Y/N has always spoken up for the workers, of her department in particular, but one meeting is watched by the company’s owner. Seeing something in her that both angers him and arouses him, the decision as to whether or not she keeps her job depends on how well she can follow instructions.
Word count: 5.3k. This is loooong. So grab a snack, a drink and sit your cute ass down, make yourself comfortable and enjoy.
Warnings: AU CEO!Henry, abuse of power, dirty talk, spanking, fingering, unprotected sex, oral (male) and orgasm denial.
A/N: I’m nervous as hell now to post this after seeing the reaction to teaser. I can only hope this satisfies the curiosity that the snippet brought. I’ll be hitting post and hiding my face immediately after so I hope you enjoy it, please let me know!
Forever tag list: @luclittlepond | @fcgrizi | @henrythickcavill | @mitzwinchester | @mary-ann84 | @hell1129-blog | @pensieve-foryour-thoughts | @agniavateira | @dancingwendigo | @living-in-the-darkness | @trippedmetaldetector
if you’d like to be added/removed, please let me know.
Henry stands watching the meeting room with his arms crossed his chest, his jaw clenched and his temper flaring.
It was a point that he made to not get close to his employees. Of course, he was there if needed to offer help but on the other hand, that’s why he employed managers; to do the shit he didn’t want to. He was never present at the meetings with his standard employees but would be in meetings with his CEO and department managers. He liked the stares when he walked past the cubicles, the way people diverted their eyes and quickly began working. He didn’t want his staff to fear him, but he wanted them to work and know that he wasn’t the type who was to be taken lightly.
After submitting your final. Jonathan’s more than intrigued as to where the inspiration comes from.
Jonathan Levy x reader smut.
Word count: 8k
Viewers beware you’re in for a scare with the: fluff, smut, rough smut, VERY EXPLICIT, age gap, fingering, blow jobs, eating out, unprotected sex, gagging, anal play, ass eating, overstimulation, coercion, consenting adults, power control, breeding kink, recorded masturbation, explicit language & themes, dark themes, drinking, smoking, rough smut, hair pulling, scratching, Jonathan is not as innocent as he seems, teasing, porn? Porn, teacher x student, somnophilia, implied face sitting, sensory deprivation kinda.
A/n: I literally took the idea of him being a professor and fucking ran full throttle with it. Can be an au! I guess. Head empty just him. Just a disclaimer that I’m not in college and nor have any idea what consists there. I apologize for any misconstrued ideologies! Most is written in the 3rd pov.
“A passionate encounter, one that has never been replicated since. That is what I want you to write about.”
He rolls the sleeves of his cardigan up to his elbows. The few students scattered throughout the small auditorium. He knows they’re not listening, but he continues nonetheless.
“It can be with a spouse, a stranger, anything really. I’m giving you the freedom to express a feeling only you have felt so incomparable to anyone else.”
The electronic bell he’s grown to despise rattles. His students billow out into the side door, to their next seminar. He plops into the wheely chair with a long elongated sigh. He hopes it came across well, the prompt of their final. A feeling twists in his gut, not even half listening to him. He wants to help them prosper. He’s a lenient professor, one of the most laid back on the board. But there’s only so much he can brush past. Late work that’s a month overdue, students pleading for him to turn an F into a B- is exhausting. He takes his glasses off, hanging his head into his palms. He’s trying desperately to wipe away the misery that's clinging to his features. The soft sounds of shoes patting the ground. The loud chit-chat of the pupils communicating through the corridor. He fails to hear you sneak up on him.
“Professor?”
His head whips upwards to the chirp of your elegant voice. Your hands tied around your school bag. A gentle smile creasing your cheeks. Hair flowing like a drape of a veil. Easy going on his aging eyes. His brain inputs into hyper drive, admiring you. You’re the only student who cares about their work. Who asked questions, who listened intently to the subject he taught. He’s taken a kindness to you that he has given no one else. Rounding up those fives into one hundred.
Giving you that plus you didn’t need, but makes your transcript look more polished. You never spoke to him about subjects outside of education. But you always came to him to broaden your knowledge to keep your work proficient. You’re smart and charming. Pulchritudinous even. (A word that he came across in your work that means beautiful.) He feels immense guilt. Pushing his blurred gaze to the side of his desk. More suitable for the atmosphere. He shouldn’t think of you in such a way. He can’t help it now matter how hard he tries.
“Yes? What is it?”
His voice is short and snappy. Cutting the rope that he’s tethered to. He punches himself for how your smile drops to a vacant expression.
“I was wondering how uhm,”
You pause. Brows knitted on your smooth forehead. You look for the words that aren’t immature in the phrasing.
“How much vulgar use you would allow.”
There's that sheepish smile again. He chokes on his saliva, blind eyes widening. The long curve of his nose is where he pushes his glasses back. He sees your unmasked beauty, and he’s sputtering. An unknown speech impediment develops as he racks his dumbfound skull for an answer. He loses the suaveness of a preceptor and the eager man he truly is comes to play.
“I-, as long as it’s a salient contribution to the plot. As much as you’re comfortable with, I suppose.”
He applauds himself for coming off the slightest bit as composed. What do you mean by vulgar? Maybe you wanted to include paraphernalia or explicit language. But what if- you wouldn't, you are too put together to even indulge. But what if? You nod swiftly. Brightness swims in your eyes.
“Thank you, pedagogue.”
Your idyllic body pivots walking through the big twin doors. He lets out a heavy heave exit his lungs, one that he didn’t realize he was holding. He leans down, pressing his febrile forehead onto his desk. He’s stupefied by the title. Pedagogue, really? He praised himself for being benevolent and you thought that he was austere? A new, fresh hoard of scholars enter his domain. He groans, wanting to bash his cranium into the wood. He doesn’t know how to feel. But the only thing he can think about while teaching his course is feeding you grapes in a lavish room in Israel.
~~~
A week and a half later, Jonathan is sprawled out on his couch. A wine glass in hand, shitty cable on demand playing some nonsense. A pair of grey joggers low on his hips, a dark earthy tone sweater on shoulders. All wrapped together with a thin white chain with the Star of David draped on his sternum. He doesn’t really know why he wears it anymore. He doesn’t feel like he treasures his faith, cast from the religion. He doesn’t hold the practice to his heart. Especially not after the occurrences with Mira. The exact reason he sits alone in this big empty house.
Longing for Daughter’s presence. A distant glow of his laptop on the coffee table in front of him, pleading for him to do something, anything. His heart torn from the absent wishes of wanting his life to be different. Filled with artificial happiness. Loneliness puts him in a corner with no escape. He’s grown accustomed to the feeling, throughout his failed marriage, he knows it all too well. Ridden by the pain of it, something unfamiliar takes its place. Something stronger than isolation. Desolation. He’s felt like this for so long that he’d forgotten that there are other emotions. Like jouissance, similar to having a penchant for something. To have it for you. He knows deep down that it’s wrong.
Fuck he knows, he does and it will kill him. Shouldn't think of his student in such a desirous manner. But he can’t stop. Ever since you walked yourself into his class, he hadn’t gotten you out of his head. Daydreams he's living in with you. Different past lives he could’ve had with you. Every waking moment you’ve plagued him. Every off hand hungry exchange with Mira, he imagines you. He can’t get away from you. A deep breath emits from him. He scratches his forehead, lost in the thought of you. His laptop pings with a buzz. It seems that the universe has answered his prayers. He straightens his posture, setting the glass on the table before pulling the computer on his lap.
He adjusts his glasses; the glow glares off the glass spheres. His house is pitch black other than the distant television and the radiance in front of his face. He sets it flat on his lap, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater. He uses the track pad and finds his notifications. You. You’ve sent him something, your email in his inbox. A pdf. Your semester final. You work his schedule like clockwork. It wasn’t due for another week and yet you’ve already finished. He’s already gotten a few messages from other disciples needing the date pushed back, but you’ve completed it. His heart soars, resembling something along the lines of being proud? No, appreciative. He remembers the words you spoke to him the day he gave the prompt. Vulgar.
How lovely you looked that day, but in his opinion you always looked like that. Somehow you looked even better that day. Chipper and gleaming like a morning dew. The cursor hovers over the link. He clicks, opening the document. The black words on a white sheet were gifted to him. Your introduction and citations at the top corner. The title in the middle. Lover’s exchange. He scrolls to the first paragraph, with a heavy heart and high hopes he begins.
Act I
It’s midnight when they meet. A dark sky with twinkling stars. A lamppost with a spotlight they run through. An older man and a younger woman trailing after him. It’s forbidden among the laws of society because of the taboo. The way they dance through the night to his house. The two disregard the dirty looks. They only existed with each other in their world. They lied to one another, saying that the energy shared is just an exchange. An exchange of passionate encounters.
The feel of his salt and peppered beard on her skin, the marks he gives her after the exchange. In the end, it’s what they both wanted- needed. His prolonged fingers tied around her wrist, tugging. She sees his house. White picket fence almost as much as her tuition. In a diverse neighborhood with economic growth. The older man modeled an image of what an established man should be. Bittersweet. Reminds her of a family of four with a dog. Stability isn’t what this was. Unbridled lust is all it was. They go against the formal casualties of dinner. They run up the stone onto his porch. He fumbles with his keys to unlock his door. He’s nervous, twitching with excitement. He inserts the key, then he’s tugging her again. Into his home. The smell of spring and hominy hits her.
He shrugs off his jacket, tossing it into the distant living room. Turning to throw keys into a bowel. He pivots, his glasses glimmer with the faint light of the dark night. Concealing his dark eyes from her. He smiles, big and toothy. Imperfect teeth rewarded her. He curls a finger under her chin. His other resting on her shoulder. He tilts his head to the side, slotting his lips into hers. Rhythmic and precise. Walking her up into a wall, hands slithering under the jacket and peeling it off. He moves his head back, the coat that dwarfs her in hand. Long feathered lashes fan across his crimson cheeks. He puffs. His hands leave to discard her jacket. Only for one of them to wrap around her wrist to pull. Long strides bound her up his stairs, to the landing. She’s amazed how he didn’t trip and fall face-first into one of the steps.
He’s running up them and she’s trying her hardest to keep up. He barely opens his door before he pushes her inside. There’s no time for delicacies. He’s pulling at a ravenous pace at her clothes, her the same. They scatter like leaves throughout his bedroom. It wasn’t the first time this has happened and sure to be the last. But the way he looks at her is like a groom looking at a bride. Dopey eyed and filled with emotion. His fingers run up her arms, the hair standing up as he goes. The skin is as soft as velvet. She reaches, fingers touching his temples before removing his specs. He hates himself for gazing at her breasts. Watching the flesh, crease and undulate. The color of her nipples easily begins to fight for his favorite. She leans up on her knees, the bed pulling inwards by his thigh. She kisses the space between his brows.
His heart picks up at a speed a horse would gallop, and he begins to question everything. Such a pure girl is with him to do unspeakable things. She’s his first after the split. So why is he starting to develop feelings if all of it is just raw fucking and emotionless? But what if it wasn’t, what if he wanted something a little dangerous? Something he can’t bring up at those shitty dinner parties Mira dragged him to. The conferences among the board asking his marital status, he can’t and he won’t. His dirty secret in the hands of a younger untouched girl. In all honesty how can he not get attached? He remembers reading something years ago. An article about how the chemicals match and sync with the counterparts.
How it’s simply science to get attached. He shakes his head, dark curls painted grey moving on his head. He rids himself of his thoughts. One night a month, he has to make it good. The moon shines through the big window in the middle of the room. He lays her down, peppering kisses on her neck. Finding the places he knows she likes. She was so easy to him, he knew her like the back of his hand. Yet, he always seems to find something that he never knew. There were never fights or grudges between the two. They fuck like they actually like each other. His large hands grope at her sides. Making her squirm in his grasp. His knees pinch at the bottom of her thighs. Her legs wrapped around his long waist. His semi hard erection laid in the crevice between her thigh and mound. Her hands tied in his curls. Twisting and pulling at the follicles. She didn’t have to tell him what felt good, he can tell by the pulls. His nose skims across her skin, tasting and lapping at the saltiness.
Worshipping each inch with the utmost delicacy. He kisses down her sternum. Purposely avoiding her peaks. Down her stomach and there. He parts her thighs, crawling down her body. Wedging his broad shoulders between her thighs. His beard burning caresses into the inside. His curls are a soft contrast. His plush lips press a kiss on the few scars he can find. His hands go to the sides of her hips, under her thighs. He wiggles on his chest to grow closer to her wet heat.
She’s glistening, poor thing. He flattens his tongue from where her entrance is to her clit. Over her slit, not entering her folds. Oh. So he’s going to be a tease tonight. She can’t complain from the whimpers he’s getting from her. The jut of her hips grinding on his face. The soft shake of her thighs on the sides of his face. His hands come back to her cunt. His thick thumbs, coming to either side of her lips. Pulling them apart. He’s enamored, watching her contract then dampen. His breath fans over the expanse and she’s shivering.
Her grip on his hair tightening. His tongue snakes out from behind his lips. His nose brushed along the hood of her clit. He pushes the tip of his tongue onto her bundle of nerves. Kitten licking the bud. It’s so meticulous and thought out for no error that she knows he's planned this for a while now. This encounter was planned to a t with no spontaneity. His tongue pulls back and she whines. But his mouth doesn’t move, he shakes his head to plunge his head into her. He sucks through his teeth, pulling her clit up. The sharp pain makes her yelp, her back arching off his mattress. His chin digging into the lower half of her cunt. The wiry hair of his beard tearing into her sensitive folds. The hair most definitely being soaked with her arousal.
Her stomach churns and hot pleasure pools into her lower back. Her knuckles turning white, she’s only half sure that she’s pulling clumps of curls from his scalp. It’s just so thick and full of hair that she doubts anyone will notice. She’s close, too close. Been waiting for this moment since the last time she had seen him. Those tight khakis and the fucking cardigan she knows that are hiding stretched muscles. Toes curling into his sheets. One of his hands leaves, shifting his body to accommodate. Two fingers enter her rigid hole. She’s moaning high in her throat. Jerking her hips up into his stupidly sculpted face. Trying to leave his face only results in him lapping more feverishly. He just moves with such elegance that she’s hurting. Just from his mouth.
She’s bruised from his teeth never leaving her clit alone. He curls those protracted fingers in her cunt and she’s seeing stars as he pumps them. Her legs are tightening around his head. The thickness, the stretch of it all has her crumbling. Spasming on the coarse hair of his face, he coaxes her through it. Even if his jaw is cramping she doesn’t know, he just continues to drink from her. Spreading her open to devour farther. His fingers leave only to be replaced with his mouth. His tongue intruding her hole. Plugging her up with the muscle. He stays there until it seems she has calmed and she’s not scalping him. He shifts to pull up on his knees. His hands leave soothing circles on her hips.
Her eyes are closed and she almost looks like she’s sleeping but her panting chest he knows she’s in the sky right now. Like an angel, his angel. He lifts her, flipping her on her stomach. He lowers on his stomach. Pushing her legs apart. His fully hardened cock pushed into the mattress. He spreads the globes of her ass. Listening to that keen gasp. His lips part and a string of drool falls on her puckered hole. When his saliva meets the ring, she clenches and he’s groaning. His face meets between her cheeks to lick at the flesh. His nose went into the divot. His beard scraped her. The smell of her heavenly.
The feeling of being suffocated by her has him thrusting into the plush mattress. She fists her hands into the pillow by her head. Enthralled by the foreign feeling of his tongue digging into the forbidden part of her. He moves his face down to lick at her slit to bring it up to the dry hole. His tongue moistions his lips. He huffs before delving in once more. One of his hands is coming to knead her cheek. His thumb slowly pushed into the hole carefully. Drool runs down her face. She’s too tired to even move. The intrusion has her thighs slicked. He feels his cock pulsing when he has her take the first knuckle. He doesn’t care if she cums again, he's just eating to devour. Eating from the purest of fruits. His sac tightens up. A couple of shallow thrusts and he’s done. The stickiness caught between the sheets and his paunchy stomach.
He moans, his mouth leaving her. During his onslaught he didn’t realize that his thumb was fully inside her. His palm pressed flushed to the curvature. He’s amazed at the sight. Saddened when he pulls the digit out of her. He lays on his back by her, on his side of his bed. Skin damp with sweat. Dark skin filled with precipitation. He knows that he just committed a crime. That if someone finds out he’d be in a penitentiary. That he couldn’t go back to whatever the fuck normal was in his life. He couldn’t go back into the comfortable life of not sleeping with his student. So he ponders the question as to why it feels so good if it was such an incriminating thing. He comes to the conclusion that being a saint only lasts so long. And he has to admit that this feeling of being a sinner provides so much more exuberance.
Interlude I
Jonathan has to take a step away. He can feel his lungs closing in. He’s wheezing, his face buzzing under his glasses as he grows light-headed. Fuck. Why is his mouth so dry? He pushes his laptop to the cushion beside him. Lifting with the crack of gas between his bones. He walks into his kitchen, standing tall to grab a clear glass. He returns to his fridge, pushing the lip into the fridge’s mouth. The dispenser spews cold water. His chest heaves as he can’t breathe. Not now, please, not now.
His head hurts, his temples tingling. His vision waved in and out. He placed the glass on the island. Hastily pulling open drawers. Panic brews in his stomach. A stone dropping his heart to the ground. Fuck, where is it?! He curses himself for never leaving it in the same spot. His ego was too inflated to believe he needed to know where it was. That he didn’t need it to live. His hands blindly pulled junk out, throwing it onto the tile. In the very back of the sinks cabinet he finds it. He pulls the inhaler between his lips. Pushing the top down for ten seconds, inhaling. Keeping it in for fifteen, then exhaling. His frame deflates with the small thing in hand.
He smiles with sharp pearls up at his ceiling. Trying to push the feeling of a hysteric laugh boiling up his throat. Down to his belly. How fucking absurd this was! He almost went into an asthma attack because of some erotica. Reading erotica that you wrote. His eyes fall to the open drawer that pushes into the bone in his hip. He cranes his neck, finding the pack of cigarettes. Now it makes sense. The inhaler and smokes shoved into the back so an eager eye couldn’t easily find them. Even himself. He trades the inhaler for the pack. It hits the back with a thud. He flips the tab open, only finding two white sticks and his lighter shoved into the side. Thank fucking god. Taking one of the cigarettes between his fingers, he slots it onto the top of his ear.
His curls are trying to push it free, so he pushes it down. Throwing the pack that he’d go back to later on the marble. He’s so warm. Almost burning with sweat. His fingers tie around the bottom of his sweater. Lifting it over his head and tugging off the sleeves. He hisses at the cold air hitting his bare skin. His chain hitting his chest. He tosses his sweater onto the island. He takes the cigarette back behind his ear to his parted lips. Grabbing the lighter, he cups the flame; the embers alighting. He shoves the lighter in his pocket. Inhaling for ten seconds, holding it for fifteen, exhaling. The taste and the scent makes him wonder why he’d ever try to stop. Mira and his kid, but now that they’re both gone.
Leaves him with no excuses. He doesn’t have to half step out the door because of the pungent smell. Doesn’t have to hide his habits. His stomach contracts with each breath. His mind slowly easing into standby. He’s thinking about emailing you back. Asking how you came up with this explicit idea. Did you experience it first hand? Did you want to? He smiles, he thinks of himself as more than a willing candidate. He wanted to say that he absolutely seethed the fluids that you explained so beautifully. But he couldn’t. The way you painted the actions wasn’t humanly, it was mystical.
He’s impaired with his way of thinking. He’ll never think of such acts as he used to. The cigarette burns the pads of his fingers. He takes one last breath in before flicking it into the garbage disposal. The flame dies instantly. He sighs out a gust of smoke. Grabbing the glass of now lukewarm water and sitting on his couch. Almost groaning as he spreads out. The tv plays some superhero movie that he’s never seen. One of the Wolverine ones. He watches the claws swipe through what only he can presume is a villain. Taking a swig of the water his chest erupts into shivers. He places it by the wine. Rubbing his palm on his sweats, he attempts to regain his consciousness. With a deep sigh he grabs his computer by his thigh and reads.
Act II
The call rings on his computer. A loud pinging noise with an incessant buzz fills the room of his study. He nearly jumps out of his skin. He’s going to get caught by her invitation. Soon he accepts. It’s in the middle of the night and Mira is up in his room, his Daughter fast asleep. She was a mess that one, not willing to sleep if he didn’t act out her stories. He was a knight in tonight’s redemption. His heart hurts. Fuck, he’s going to have to be careful. Since Mira came back from her trip, he has been paranoid. He honestly didn’t give a shit about her relations.
He was too invested in talking to his inamorata. Because of Mira’s arrival, he hadn’t gotten to in half a month. Missing their encounters. Yearning for them. It’s driving him insane, losing contact. She smiles up at him through the viewfinder. It’s pitch black and he can only make out her face. The light from her screen is the only one emitting luminosity. She’s under a surface. A blanket? He smiles. How perfect. Such a rellrounded girl hiding like a child. Although, he pouts solemnly, craving to see her beauty forthright.
“You’re like Batman brooding in his cave.”
He stifles a laugh, biting his lip. Smiling wide he nods.
“Maybe I am. You can’t debunk it.”
She smirks, eyes lighting up at the playful banter. He’s missed this, missed the poking at each other to receive a reaction. He’s always surrounded by chaos and fighting. Being around her, it seems that such things don’t exist. Their world is a utopia, and he’s happy if it’s only them who survive there.
“Pretty sure that Batman isn’t a professor.”
He nods. She’s as quick as ever, keeping him on his toes. It’s a battle to make her not quirk a response. There’s always a reply. She’s just so responsive. He licks his lips, throwing in the bait to see her riposte.
“Pretty sure that Batman’s cock isn’t as big as mine.”
Ah, yes. He brings out the grotesque themes of their relationship. The meaningless fucking that has blossomed into a desire to see her. Kiss her lips and cheeks. Cradle her head into his chest, wondering if she can hear his heart soar. He needs to remind himself that he can’t mingle with her. Be treated like he's twenty years younger. Maybe his response is ludicrous and she will be turned off from the bluntness. She’s so detached from it all that she doesn’t even blink an eye.
She barks out an electronic laugh before clamping a palm over her mouth, eyes wide. Now he wants to know why his cock is growing at the sight. A fetish he didn’t know he had, most likely. He wonders if her roommate is there. The idea has him hardening instantly. Trying to keep quiet for him, like he is for her. He sees her shift, leaning over the camera to retrieve some earbuds she’s used in his class. Her breasts were hidden under a baggy shirt. He can see the outline however and he’s filled with out righteous lust to find that she’s not wearing a bra. She sits back on her thighs, inputting the wire into her laptop. Two white wires lead into one connected source.
“So dirty, old man.”
He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. Forearms broadening. His white tee hugging his muscles. The Star of David necklace wrapped around that thick neck. He quirks up a thick eyebrow on his forehead. Questioning her status. He takes quick notice of the way her eyes flick downwards on her screen. She’s never had a problem with his age before, and now she has something to say about it? He’s taken aback. He remembers her saying something that him being older was alluring. That she values the intellect he holds. He turns it onto her.
“Should be worried about what this old man is going to do to you, little girl.”
He says, voice dipping an octave lower. His arms uncross and a hand goes to cup himself over his clothed cock. Teasing himself. His hair pushed back carelessly. Not in his pristine style. It’s nice seeing him in such a way. Laid back and careless. Only wanting to talk to the girl he’s interested in. She bets he smells so divine. Like honey and milk. Her thighs seared with ripples of pleasure forming. The domestic life he's letting her glimpse into. It’s been too long since she’s last had him. She hasn’t even looked in any other male presence since him. She needs him to let her release the pent up frustration. But she can’t, not without his help.
“Such as?”
She pries. Sitting cross-legged on her twin bed. She moves the monitor up her body to her face. His mouth waters. One of her hands plays with the loose shirt she has on. She’s toying with him and he’s not stupid. He knows how the younger woman plays but he bites, anyway.
“I had this dream about you.”
She tilts her head to the side, hands skimming flat up to her breasts.
“Oh?”
She whispers and he wettens his lips. The hand that was cupping his length runs up his torso. Under the loose waistband of his sweats. Toying with the ribbon like ties.
“Yeah, thinkin’ about it a lot, actually. We were in Israel,”
“Israel?”
She asks, shocked. Eyebrows rocketing across her forehead. His hand follows downwards to the expanse of his plush thigh. Close to where he needs, but sweeps the thumb by the side of his sac. He refrains himself from rolling his eyes in the back of his head.
“Mhm. In Israel, in a mansion.”
“A mansion?”
She questioned again. And there’s that quick thinking he loved. Her lips perk into a smile as she rolls a bud in her fingers. A frown deepens on his face. His fingers scratched at the base of his cock.
“Yes, now shut up so I can finish.”
He spits out sternly. Not an ounce of jest in his words. Her mouth closes immediately, hips bucking at the tone. Similar to the one he uses at work when a student did something wrong. Fuck, she should do something bad that would make him use it more. He cups his balls, and he’s stretching the elasticity of his joggers. The head of his cock pushing up at the side, begging to be let free. He doesn’t reprimand himself.
“In Israel in a mansion. I and you, on the silk sheets of a bed. However, I was on my back and you were,”
His lips part as he pants. His hand wraps around the base, holding himself. His head leans back, and he sighs. He builds up suspension with his little groans. He knows that she’s hanging on every single breathy moan. On every word he’s ridding her of.
“You were dripping on my lips.”
His hips thrust up into his hand. Her eyes widen and she pulls at her nipples. Breathing fastening to where she’s gasping for breath. Oh. Then a thought runs through her pretty head. What if he was sleeping next to his spouse. Dreaming of her while he rests. Shivers run up her spine.
“I could smell and taste you, your thighs around my head. And pretty girl, fuck-“
As he starts to fist himself, finally jerking himself off at a rapid pace. He’s lost for words, utterly and completely. His thumb traces over his head and he’s almost crying. God, he misses her. Not just her cunt that’s too tight, but the smell of her. The softness and linen smell of her. The taste he can’t have. He lifts his hips up, pushing his sweats down his broad legs. Encompassing her a view, he knows she’ll be appreciative of. She always praises his cock. Always wants to have it in her, near her. He didn’t know if he corrupted her to be such a filthy girl or if she already was. He doesn’t know, but he mumbled praises about how good she looks.
“I miss you.”
He moans heavily, almost where his scrupulous voice lives. One of her hands travels under her panties. Quickly rubbing short little circles on her clit. Her head hits her wall with a soft thunk. He wants to know why he wants to kiss it, to say that she’s okay. Treat her like a child. The muscles in his thighs draw up and he’s whining.
“I miss you most. Making me stay in this hell.”
She gripes. He should’ve known she would say something like that. The college was below par, to say the least. The people were insane. People desecrate in the halls, let alone fornicate. She was close to finishing, about a semester off. So she shut her mouth and lived through it. He made it less horrible, worthwhile. But without him there, it hurts more so than she wished to admit. He was her saving grace, and he wasn’t here, so who was going to save her?
As much as she hid the yearning feeling, he knew and felt similar, if not intensified. If he could do it without being expelled from the system of education, he would take her away. Move out of this godforsaken place and start fresh, with her by his side. But the world wasn’t promising. His eyes soften from the cold black coffee to a warm, hot chocolate. Swimming in remorse behind the clouds of glass. His throat tightens up as he yanks languidly at himself. He feels like shit and it was hard to tiptoe around Mira. He wants better for the young girl in front of the screen. She deserves better than him. He swallows the boil down his throat.
“I’m sorry. I really am, sweetheart. I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”
He sees the way her body grows stiff. The way she usually does when she is close to her orgasm. The calm before her thrashing chaos. His hips buck instantly at the sight. He can feel his cum rolling down his fingers, getting caught in the webs of his fingers.
“Oh, yeah? How’re you going to do that, old man?”
He sighs, shaking his head. Hiding a smile. She tears him up through and through. Done to the bone. That sharp mouth of hers makes his skin crawl. Every time he lives in fear of her response. He thinks of his answer. How was he going to make it up to her? Before he knows it, he’s babbling.
“Next weekend, the paperwork will be served. You can ngh-“
A specific tug has him on the verge of flying head first off into his peak. The fantasy of her in his house parading around in one of his sweaters that is no doubt too big for her has him rolling. He pants furiously, in need of his inhaler.
“Y-you can stay with me until graduation.”
Time freezes as his voice gravels out those precious words. Her heart picks up and the world swirls around her. Such a funny thing, this occurrence. Her huddled under a blanket, laptop sat on a tiny bed that barely fit her. Earbuds tangled, and her voice was barely audible trying to keep quiet to not awaken her roommate. But she’s fingering herself, hand grabbing at her tit. Her shirt rose on her waist. And him. Hiding from his not so secret family. In his den, half curled over, biting his fist as he cums so hard it’s spurting onto his white tee. Her saving grace has offered her salvation. Out of this horrid place. For a limited time. She can’t think straight, but she’s jumping on the promise.
“Deal.”
His heart grows too big for his chest. His tawny cheeks burned red. He only half thought she would agree. The haven he's going to reside in with her has his cock twitching. A few pearls leaving his tip. He watches her face turn into a masterpiece. Eyes closed, mouth open, fingers curling. Legs parted wide. He tugs off his shirt. Careful to not let his face touch the dampness on the surface. Brown skin with defined lining, tufts of dark hair across makes her cross-eyed. Legs spasming closed and a harsh bite onto her bottom lip to stifle the too obscene whimper. He wipes himself off with his once white shirt, tugging up his sweats. He smiles, a crooked grin. His index points at her half-lidded eyes. Her fingers pulling out as a pool forms under her hips. He pushes an eyebrow on his forehead. Pointing a finger at the screen. In his authoritative panty dropping voice he says.
“Under one exception: you can’t call me old man unless it’s under adulation.”
Act III
The first night was torture. He didn’t even cum, just toyed with her body into the multiple she’s given him. She’s a rag doll at this point. Her body is limp to where she can’t even lift a finger without her pussy fluttering. After she physically could not give him anymore of the high. With eyes dumb and cunt sore, she laid there.
He kissed her forehead, whispered sweet words, and left. Leaving to grab a washcloth, made sure the water was warm, not hot. Pressed it between her thighs that had dark sores where his beard had been. Carefully swiping up and down to capture the essence of her. He threw it into the hamper beside his bed, opening a drawer to grab a fluffy blanket. The soft material made his palm tickle. He guided her to lift her hips up so she wouldn’t have to lay in a puddle. He didn’t have the heart to make her stand on wobbly legs. If she could stand. By the way, she’s wincing at his touch. He’s not so sure. She turns on her side, reaching up to press a soft kiss to his lips. Whining when he leaves but shortly falling asleep after. Her face to the side of the bed.
Mouth parted, eyebrows pinched as she dreams. He raises the duvet onto her scorching hot skin, tucking the hem under her chin. There’s nothing sexual about it but his heart bursts. He smiles to himself before walking into the bathroom. Shutting the door the quietest he possibly can. He opens the shower door, turning the faucet on. The pellets hit the tile with a heavy splatter. He takes his glasses off; the steam fogging them up, anyway. Putting them by the sink before stepping inside. He closes his eyes, basking in the warmth. The dampness on his skin exudes now being cleansed. He doesn’t know why he feels like it’s necessary, why he’s obligated to bathe after. He just feels the need to. He can’t have her lingering on him; it'll drive him crazy. Even the aftershocks he gets after eating her cunt stay in his beard for weeks after. It’s almost haunting him. Taunting him with her absence. But if he could, he would live between her thighs. The cloth in his hands starts to soak up the grime off his chest. The suds of his soap coats him, making him glimmer with bubbles.
After he’s imagined what he’d do if she was occupying the small rectangle with him, he turns the faucet off. Stopping to grab a towel, dabbing over the falling droplets. Running the fabric over his crevices. He wraps it around his long torso. One hand holds it in place, while the other grabs his glasses. He pushes his wet hair off his forehead, a few straggling curls stay sticken to his face. He looks fucked, to say the least. Streaks of red run down his chest, to his lower stomach. Just a few inches away from his cock. He knows it’s worse on his back. He can feel the welts as he moves. His beard glistens with the water that’s still captured there. He’s enamored by how lean he’s gotten. The muscles in his body are growing taut. He’s astonished since he hasn’t done anything out of his regimen. The only thing he has change was the amount he’s been fucking her. With his now ex spouse out of his house he can do whatever he pleases whenever he wants.
The only thing stopping him is himself, the salt in his hair isn’t just for the looks. His libido is high but his body can’t keep up with him. With one more quick glance he strides out of his bathroom. Seeing the soft inhale and heating her snore does something to him that’s inexplicable. That thing makes his cock harden. A tent forms in the towel and he rolls his eyes. Maybe his body was intact with his drive. His grip on the towel grows. The fucking things this girl makes him do will be the death of him. He walks to the side she’s sleeping on. Cherishing her beauty to mind. A strange idea comes to his head during this viewing. He slips his glasses off his face, precipitation stains the glass. He pauses, thinking momentarily before slotting them onto her face.
In his opinion the thin wired frame with the hazy specs suits her better. They’re awkward with how they’re perched since she’s asleep but he likes the look of it. She shifts and her mouth falls open wider. He’s a bad man, he tells himself as he drops the towel to the floor. His cock in hand, he works himself. His eyes blurry without his prescription, nonetheless he focuses on her face. He runs his thumb over the tip and he’s groaning. He leans forward slightly. Positioning himself over her lips. He rubs the ruddy head over them. Smearing his pre-cum on the bow. He bites his lips, brows furrowed as he pushes in. He’s only sitting in her mouth, unmoving. So much for that shower.
He ruts his hips so half of his length is laid out on her tongue. She’s asleep, he reminds himself. But with the way her lips are curling around him makes him think that he’s wrong. His hand remains wrapped around the hilt. Trying to restrain himself. He pushes small thrusts into her mouth, half in, half out. His other hand pushes her hair from her face. He loses himself and finally pushes his length fully into her mouth, and down the back of her throat. She gags around him and pulls back startled. But surely she’s awake by now. She’s sputtering around him and pulls his sloppy wet self out of her mouth. Her eyes blink dreamily up at him under his glasses, her eyes magnified. He smiles, only one of the sides of his mouth peaking up.
“Mornin’ pretty girl.”
She looks at him, still disoriented. Her head whips to the window. Dark as ever.
“It’s not?”
His head tilts downwards as a nod. Agreeing with her.
“I know. Just go with it, yeah?”
She bows her head. Smiling up at him. He walks over to his side of the bed, laying down by her. He scoots until his chest is pressed against her back. She can feel how hard he is on her ass. His arms wrap around her waist, under her breasts. Hands flat and fingers spread. She pulls a hand up to his hair, scratching her nails lightly on his scalp. Her fingers damp from how saturated his curls are. She wonders if he’s making a wet spot on his bed, similar to hers. He nuzzles his face into her neck, his beard brushing her. He kisses along her shoulder, craning his neck.
“I honestly don’t know how you can see.”
He snorts a laugh. He can’t really. Without them, he can barely make out distant shapes.
“With practice makes perfect.”
She scoffs as one of his hands travels down her stomach. Playing with the short hair on her mound.
“Do you honestly believe that?”
He thought about his answer for a moment. Before nodding into her shoulder. His fingers cupped her thigh to lift it over his hip.
“Can I kiss you?”
He asks softly, almost a whisper. She grants him his wish. He lays flat on his back, pulling her to his chest. Her legs were on either side of his waist. Her face to his. Noses brushing.
“Hi.”
She smiles widely. His hands cup the side of her face before kissing her. Long and slow. Full of insecure thoughts and emotions. He still hasn’t come to terms with how he feels about her, but all he knows is that he cares deeply about her well-being. And if he makes her happy, then he’s glad to be of use. He doesn’t want to say he loves her, because the word doesn’t match with how strongly he adores her. What he thought was love with Mira was the complete opposite of his flower. Every breath, every beat of his heart, belongs to her. He’s not a sap, but if it were to ever come to it, he’d die for her. His beard scratches against her face.
He simply lives for her. He feels her fingers in the wefts of his hair, massaging the thickness. He pouts everything he feels about her into the kiss. He hopes that she’ll understand, and the grinding of her hips. His work is being taught. As her tongue touches his, she can taste him. Marlboro cigarettes and coffee that he probably brews himself. The scent floods into her. Cinnamon and lavender, she wonders if that’s from his soap or his cologne. His hands flatten over her back, pushing her down to him. Her breasts are full against his chest. He’s kicked into a part of his brain that’s primal. Eyes locked on her nipples that barely peek out from beneath her. She pulls away, both parties huffing for air. The glasses slipping off her face.
“How do you do anything with these?”
She pulls herself up on his chest to slide them up the bridge of her nose. He tilts his head to the side, admiring her. She’s just so alluring. The way she holds herself to the divots in her skin. He loves all of it. She lifts an eyebrow, confused.
“What?”
She asks, and he shakes his head. Wet curls swaying.
“Nothin’, you just look beguiling.”
She rolls her eyes, scrunching up her nose. She slaps his chest, laughing. He smiles.
“You think I’m deceptive?”
He blinks cluelessly. Her face snapping into a pout.
“That’s mean, ya know, calling someone a liar.”
His lips twitch up into a ghost of a smile. He tries to hide it but she’s so adorable when he gets under her skin.
“Remind me to never compliment you.”
He mumbles, he pokes fun at her, and she groans. Exaggerating an eye roll.
“Could've said gorgeous or something.”
He shakes his head. In an instant, she’s on her back, and he’s hovering above her. His cock seated over her core. It quivers by the touch. She’s more stunned at how hard he is. It seems that he’s never soft.
“Those don’t suit you, little cherub.”
His nose nudges into her jaw as he kisses her neck. Sucking the marks he wanted for the past half year so she can’t hide it. What spurs him on is the thought that when the questions arise as to how she got them. She can’t say the older professor who fucks her until she can’t walk. He wonders what her answer will be. He kisses down her neck.
“I enjoy beguiling. Bewitching even.”
He kisses her collarbone, nipping. Before licking the skin.
“Body and soul.”
He grins when she hits him on his shoulder.
“What a fraud! Stealing from Austen.”
He sighs, laying his head between her breasts. He wraps his arms around her. She massages his back. His breath fanning on her chest.
“I can’t win, can I?”
He sighs, kissing the side of her tit.
“Afraid not, poet.”
He leans up, his forearms on either side of her head. She pulls her legs up and over his hips.
“If I’m a poet, then you shall be my muse.”
She nods, agreeing.”
“So it shall.”
The end of her sentence turns into a breathy whine as he enters her. The ruddy head splitting her open. His length is halfway before he moves out, then pushes more. His face pushed into the side of her neck, continuing to mark her, then soothe her wounds. She’s crying, loud yelps and pleas for him to fuck her. To use her. He rolls his hips subtly, long languid strokes. Never pushing into that spot deep inside her. He doesn’t need to with the way she’s contracting around him. Her cunt gulped him up with the loudest squelch. The hair around the base of him scratches along her folds.
“So noisy, neighbors are going to hear.”
She cries louder, and he smirks. Slotting himself fully into her, all the way down his shaft. His balls up against her ass, her legs crushing him. And then he moves. His hips lifting back, the only thing in her pussy the tip. He rams his hips back into her. Pushing her up the bed. She yelps, clawing at the bruises on his back. It was hot and electric, bounding the two. Emitting a currency shared. Pulling and taking. He lifts himself on his hands, flat by her head. Pulling his knees under her thighs. He pulls her ankle to his shoulder. Holding it between his shoulder and neck.
His hair hides his eyes, but she’s sure that they’re wild with lust. His hand wraps around the bones in her ankle. He thrusts deeper and shallow into her. He can feel her walls convulse around him, signaling that she’s close. The cacophony of the clap and shared moans has him nearing, too. His mouth was hot and soaking on her ankle. When she cums, her already abused cunt pushes his cock out. He stills, sitting back on his calves, waiting for a reaction. He lets her leg fall. He watches her cum pour onto the blanket and between her thighs. She pushes a hand to his abdomen, telling him to wait. Her pussy fluttered.
“You want me to stop?”
He asks, running the crown of his cock over her folds.
“No.”
She whimpers, and he growls. His glasses on her face a-skewed.
“What do you want, pretty girl?”
“For you to cum.”
He pistons his hips into her in one fluid thrust. Buried himself in and out of her rapidly. He bends her leg to her chest. He kisses her as he floods her pussy. His lips leave as he pants for air. He mouths at her jaw, his eyes closed. He fixes the position of his glasses on her nose. Letting your leg to fall to his side. He doesn’t pull out; he lets the fluids sit in her. Marinating in her womb. He lays his feverish forehead on hers. Breathing her in, basking in the feeling of her. Afraid that if he moves, he won’t have her anymore. So he stays, cock inside her. Body collapsed like a weighted blanket on her. She plays with the hair at the nape of his neck. As he kisses the bruises on her neck. He knows he is a sick man, hoping that her reproductive system takes.
Interlude II
Jonathan takes his glasses from his eyes. Staring blankly at the last sentence. Trying to wrap his head around. What exactly did he just fucking read? There’s an italic at the end at the bottom. His stomach churns and twists disturbingly. There’s no way you didn’t write this about him. Most of it was unnervingly accurate, things he hadn’t told a single soul about. But you did. You knew everything. Was he really that easy to read? Before he can even recoup, his fingers are typing in a three digits of one hundred. In the suggestions, he writes:
“Meet me at the coffee place on Broadway at ten am. I’d like to discuss your afflatus.”
And with that, he shuts the brim of his computer. His head tilted to the ceiling. Dreaming of what he was going to talk to you about in the morning.
warnings: 18 + innocence kink + age gap (readers in her 20’s, he’s in his mid 40’s!!) + breeding kink + daddy kink + house wife kink + jewelry fetish + cum play + slight degradation + overstimulation
summary : its always three
a/n : it’s probably one of the filthiest things i’ve written so be ware!!! my guilty pleasure without a doubt so why not write my version of him. i couldn’t be more proud of myself so i hope you enjoy <3
It was an innocent crush. School girl as some call it, without a doubt, harmless. You admired him in passing, when he was perched on your countertop in a conversation with your dad. You take in his appearance each time he was around you. He aged like wine and to say it was frustrating was an understatement. His laugh contagious, his smile vibrant and his existence was demanding. Fantasizing about him late at night in the comfort of your safe space. Imagining him between your thighs, his tongue tracing forbidden words, his hands wandering your body and the angelic melody that would leave his lips that would be on yours.
You were trouble.
He swore it wouldn’t happen again, but yet here you were once again under him as he rammed into you with no mercy insight. Meant to be a one time thing. A very drunk one time thing — that was over four months ago. It had been all the cabernet you two had consumed at his family's vineyard. The night filled with stolen glances, lingered hand grazes and a whole lot sexual tension filled that breezy night. He knew it was wrong. It was forbidden, you were forbidden.
His best friend’s daughter.
Every bit was passionate, hungry, and horrible all at once. He was in love with you and you well, were head over heels for him. Carved straight out of your diary from middle school. It was an all consuming, mind boggling, head spinning romance. Messy hands after his featherlike graze brushed against your back — an innocent gesture. Haunting kisses that lived on repeat in his mind late at night, on your balcony with a glass of wine. You were a breath of fresh air. When his lips met yours for the first time he never wanted to leave them. That night was everything he never knew he needed.
He never understood why you were interested in someone older, let alone all six foot something of him until he asked you one night.
It’s not older men, it’s you.
“Where can I touch you, bambi?” His words rushed through your veins. Close enough to feel the thump, thump thump as he pressed up against your chest. His lips exploring every crevice of his new found home. Holding you close, afraid you’d disappear from him. The warmth provides a sense of protection, comfort.
“Everywhere.” Hooded lids with glazed eyes, swollen lips and a golden halo. Far too gone under his spell to say anything else. You needed him like air.
His hands came to cup your cheeks, noses touching and mirrored expressions. “Are you sure?” He looked at you searching for a protest heart pounding louder than the first time he touched you.
“Yes.”
His lips left a path of destruction everywhere he touched. The burning sensation trailed from your lips to your pussy. His tongue swirling your nipples and your fingers pinching the other. His teeth marking your impossibly hard nipples as he continued his trail.
“Fuck bambi, she’s pretty today. Is this mess all for me?” His eyes searching yours for the answer he so desperately needed to hear.
“Yes.” The whine hungry for his lips and desperate for his cock.
“Such a good girl, my pretty good girl.” His cold fingers roll your pebbled nipples, he bit his bottom lip and watched your hips buck in response.
“Do something, please.” You whimpered as you attempted to squeeze your legs together only to have his hands keep them open. He knew you needed him. He needed you more though.
“I’m right here, baby, i’m gonna take care of you. Promise” He swears as the top of his tongue meets your clit. Beg me.
His lips pressed against your clit tasting the honey that seeped out of you. He could watch you fall apart all day long. He ached for it. Each time you came he swore he met his creator. Angelic and sinful all in one. He swirled and nipped at your clit, two fingers sliding in and out of you as his arm held your hips down. The vibrations of the words mine, my pretty girl, need more permanently marked on your clit.
Your fingers running through his tousled hair demanding him to keep going, the faint taste of iron from your teeth biting into your bottom lip, and the angelic melodies of yours gracing his red tinted ears. He sucked harder and wrist worked faster to bring you to your orgasm, the one he knew you needed but in reality he needed more. It was his pride talking. His tongue carving Barnes on your clit in the promise of making you his. His kisses stamped on your inner thighs marking what was his. You were his.
His tongue slipping into your silk filled hole and his fingers now tracing Bambi and Barnes. You were sweeter than honey. The best thing he ever tasted. The second and close first was the mixture of him and you. His tongue swirling your hole needing you to cum. His efforts double in speed and strength pushing you over the edge and seeing stars.
“You’re such a good girl for me.” He crawls over you brushing the hair from your face and placing his lips on you. The taste of you now engulfing your taste buds and you needed more.
You fingers brush the tip of his cock before slowly wrapping your hand around him and squeezing him, “I need you.” Your voice is weak and vulnerable. His lips placing a gentle kiss on your forehead in response.
You needed to feel him. Feel him brushing against your g’spot. Feel him stretching you out. Hear him pleading for you to cum. You needed him all of the time. He was your addiction.
Bucky never got tired of kissing you while he filled you completely. You were under his spell. His cock grazed your throbbing clit, teasing your pussy slightly before he pushed himself into you.
“I wish you could see how pretty you are when you cum, Bambi.” He grunted, cock sliding in and out your warm neck as you continued to beg for mercy, brand his back and fill you up two more times. “Truly a sight, so be my good girl and cum for me just like daddy asked you when I tell you too.”
The filth leaving his mouth only made you wetter. The sounds bouncing around the room. The sounds of his cock meeting your pussy, the wetness from your last orgasm, the heavy breathing from him and your melody gracing his ears.
“Cum for me, Bambi, just liked daddy asked you.”
Your back arching off the bed and pressing impossibly closer to him as you came all over his cock. His pace never faltering as fucked you through your second orgasm of the night. He needed one more out of you before he could leave some of him in you.
“One more. Need’ya to cum one more before I can, baby.” His pace sloppy and hard. Desperate for one more release out of you. “Reach down and rub that pretty pussy for daddy. Can you do that for me? Or are you too fucked out to do that?” His eyes dark and hungry. The only answer was yes.
Bucky liked control. Having the power, he was dominant by nature. He liked it rough with sweet words and hungry kisses. His sole interest being you. Three words. Three different emotions for those three different orgasms.
“Look at me bambi when I talk to you. Open those pretty eyes so you can look at me fucking you, cumming for me.” His hand wrapping around your neck and applying the perfect amount of pressure.
“Wanna buy a house with you. Need to fuck you in every room, every surface as you scream for more. Beg for me, pretty girl. Gonna put a baby in you — fuck do that again, bambi.” He grunted out, as you clenched around him as repeated his movements and ran his vibranium up and down your thigh. Your fingers working fast and needy for him.
“Would you like that?” You whined in response, grabbing his face and kissing him fiercely with every ounce of passion.
“I bet you would, fuck I know I would. I’ll fuck every chance I get.” He slams his hips harder, “Wake you up by eating your pretty pussy, you’d be such a good girl for me whenever, wherever right?”
“Yeah need that, daddy.” You moaned into his parted mouth, grasping to feel something in his mouth. Each others moans being passed to one another.
“I’ll fuck you to sleep every night beautiful. I promise.”
“Gonna cum, Can I?”
“Go ahead, Bambi, mark me.” The husky voice spoke as you came again and watching you cum made him lose it. His pace never stopping as he fucked you through both of your orgasms. His movements slowing down, his forehead pressed against yours and a forbidden kiss.
He slowly pulled out of you which made you whimper, “I know beautiful. Just need to clean you up.” His eyes dilated. He could feel you dripping. He trailed down your body kissing every where he possibly could right before meeting the most inviting sight.
His lips trail along your thighs soothing the bruised marks he left behind earlier. His fingers scoop up the combination of you and him and press the cum back into you. Kissing you once more.
It was something beyond wildest dreams. Silk sheets, feathered pillows in your oasis. And this love was glowing in the dark, leaving a permanent mark.
“This is for you.” He leaned over and handed you a black box and an inquisitive look appearing on your face, “Just open it.” He spoke up from next to you as his fingers messed with your long legs.
It was gold and long. That held a B on it. His fingers removing it from your grip and place it on you.
“Now everytime your legs are over my shoulder you have something pretty to look at.”
Context: After work, you were supposed to visit a friend's house, but instead, you ended up helping Steven with his sex drive problem.
Warnings: Sexual Content, Descriptive Sex, Needy Steven, Vulgar Words, Mentions of Drugs
"Steven, love, we're going to be late," you called from the living room, slipping your small purse strap over your right shoulder and tucking excess hair behind your ears. You squinted your eyes at yourself, turning sideways to see if you were presentable enough.
You smiled as you ran your hands down your defined curves, satisfied with how you looked. You were wearing the dress Steven had secretly purchased for you; he figured you'd look good in a raven corset bodycon dress, so he bought you one.
You adored how it fit you and that he knew your size. You twirled around again, a little giddy, to see yourself in the full length mirror. But when you remembered that time was running out, you looked towards the bedroom, where Steven should have already emerged.
"Steven!" you yelled, but there was no response. What could possibly be taking him so long to prepare? It wasn't as if he was applying makeup or layering clothing; you remembered that he was simply wearing a suit that he felt comfortable in. You called him again, irritated that he was ignoring you. After a few seconds, you marched towards the slightly open bedroom door and pushed it open.
"Steven."
Your anger was replaced with worry as you were about to scold him for not responding when you noticed him leaning on his desk, head low and visibly panting. He was already dressed and all he needed was his coat, but something seemed off about him, so you quickly set your bag down and approached him. "Love, are you okay?" When you were about to touch him, he flinched and slightly backed away. Your brows knitted together in concern as you noticed how sweaty he was and how his previously combed hair had become disheveled and was hanging on his brow.
"Steven, what's wrong, baby?" you asked softly, alarmed by how he looked right now. Now that you mention it, you recall him acting strangely since he got home from work. When you tried to grab his shoulder, he avoided and shook his head rapidly, his breathing became even more ragged. "I-I can't." You raised your eyebrows slightly in surprise when you heard him suddenly whimper, not just any whimper, but a very needy one.
Steven's big puppy dog eyes were drawn to what you were wearing, and his breathing became visibly labored. He turned around, gripping his hair in frustration, and lowered his head, his heavy breathing becoming more audible. "You can leave without me...I'm not feeling well," he muttered. You were perplexed as to what was happening to him, until you noticed how his body shuddered in response to you softly calling his name. That's when you realized you might know what's wrong with him.
You'd known Steven for years and had memorized his body language, which is now telling—screaming for you. Your eyes scrutinized his body from head to toe, and with his back to you, you began to approach him quietly. "Steven, baby," you said, wanting to know if what you were thinking was correct, so you wrapped your arms around his waist, tenderly caressing his stomach with your hands, eliciting a small moan from him.
As you were right in your thoughts, a small smile crept up your face. Steven is desperate right now, perhaps too desperate to moan to such a single caress. When you pressed harder against him, he leaned back and rested his head on yours, his mouth slightly parted, causing his breathing to reverberate throughout the room. "There's something...wrong with me, love," he whined, softly holding both of your hands and resisting the urge to ask you to touch him.
You placed a small wet kiss on his neck, causing his grip to tighten and his lip to bite roughly. There's been a change of plans because there's no way in hell you're going to let Steven suffer through this. But you wanted to know why he's so desperate right now, and why he didn't ask for help hours ago. "What happened?" you whispered in his ear, smoothly dragging your hands from his chest to unbuckle his belt.
"I...uh...there was this..." He struggled to speak every time his belt moved, and you could see his bulge begging for attention. You hummed, requesting Steven to continue. "My coworkers, they were doing something...and I asked to know what it was," he said, his voice husky and strained, and just looking at him like this aroused you.
"Then what?" you wondered, tilting your head to see Steven's reaction when you finally slipped your hand into his boxers. He gasped when he felt your hand delicately massage and stroke him, and he couldn't answer your question because his mind was fogged up. His one hand darted to your touching wrist, begging for more. "Oh bloody hell, that feels so good," he groaned, closing his eyes and leaning back. You took advantage of the situation by biting and nibbling on his neck. "Then what, Steven?" you asked between bites.
If Steven became this way as a result of his coworkers, you'd want to know how, because they didn't have the authority to do so.
"Oh—God, your hand feels so..." Steven's breath became shaky, and his grip on your hand tightened, causing you to harshly bite your lip.
"Steven."
"Then there was this powder, and they forced me...God...they forced me to inhale it," Steven explained, moaning in between words. You could feel yourself becoming more enraged by what he said; if he hadn't been begging for you right now, you would've gone to the museum and made them pay for what they did to your helpless Steven. Your other free hand was now caressing his body beneath his slightly unbuttoned polo. "Please, love...I need you—so badly," he whimpered, closing his eyes tight before beginning to squirm, indicating that he was nearing his release.
"It's okay, I'm here," you cooed, slightly gasping as his slowly rocking hips began to move faster. Steven made a noise with every pump of your hand that you could never get used to. You've both done it countless times before, but it always feels like the first time. Steven's body was becoming increasingly hot, with perspiration streaming down his face and onto his neck. His hair is now tousled and dangling from his head, and his eyes are filled with nothing but desire.
You decided to ignore the aching and pooling entrance between your legs and focus on Steven and getting him the pleasure he requires so he won't suffer any longer. You asked him if he wanted you to stop because he isn't himself, but all he responded with was a loud moan, telling you that he needs this, he needs you.
"Go on, come on my hand, darling," you breathed into his ear, steadying your pace just enough to make his knees buckle. Steven pressed his back against you even more, and you ground on him in response. That was all he needed until he threw his head back, closing his eyes in bliss and letting out a guttural groan that lingered in your ear. "That's a good boy, my Steven," your hand that was inside his shirt, yanked his pants and boxers down completely, while the other continued to stroke him even though he had already came.
"Shit, love....I wanna be inside you—if that's okay..." His hand let go of your wrist and gently held your head on his shoulder. Even though he was under the influence of a drug, Steven wanted to make sure you were doing this willingly. You placed a soft kiss on a mark you had made on him and whispered, "Sure love, go sit on the bed..." He shuddered in response as you grinned against his neck.
Steven let out a small whine when you finally let go of his still hard cock; obeying your command, he stepped out of his pants and struggled to unbutton his polo. His breathing was still labored, and it felt as if his heart was about to escape from his chest. You stood there silently watching him unfasten the last button on his shirt before tossing it elsewhere. Although he may feel like the messiest bloke on the planet, in your opinion, he is the most perfect human being to ever exist, and it saddens you that he had to go through this because of his shitty coworkers.
After failing to notice that you were staring too long at Steven, who is now sitting on the mattress, he became anxious and attempted to cover up, but was stopped when you approached and slammed your lips against his. Steven's kisses were desperate, therapeutic, and feral. It was a little sloppy at first, but once you could straddle him, it was perfect. You moaned as you felt his hands gripping your waist, fingers digging into your still-clothed flesh.
You gasped as you began grinding on him, feeling him already hard beneath you. Steven took advantage of the situation by slipping his tongue inside you, competing with yours as he made sure to go through every part of your mouth. "Shit, love, this dress—you look beautiful in it—but please—I don't think I can last another second with you still clothed," he groaned in your mouth, causing your fingers to harshly tug at his hair.
You drew away, causing him to whine, but it was to undress. When Steven noticed your struggle, he assisted you in pulling it over your head, and once it was above your chest, he wasted no time and buried his face between your breasts. "Oh Steven," you moaned loudly, interlocking your fingers with his wild curly hair once more before rolling your hips on him again.
Steven's hungry mouth brushed up against one of your nipples while massaging the other with one hand. Your hips sped up as his tongue swirled, fiddled, and nibbled on it. You know you should be concentrating on Steven first, but when his other hand began rubbing small circles on your still-clothed clit, you knew your brain was melting. The sensation of him beneath you, his mouth on one of your breasts, his hands on the other and your clit, caused heat to build up on your lower belly.
Steven returned to your open mouth and his hands to your waist, making you wine at the loss of contact. Even just grinding on him, you could feel your release approaching, but you didn't want to finish yet; you wanted to be filled up by him. Steven trailed kisses from your swollen lips to your jaw and then to your neck, sucking on them until your hot skin gets bruised.
"Steven shit...," you exclaimed, feeling him thrust upwards even more faster.
"Fuck, can you please get rid of this?" he groaned, harshly sinking his teeth into your neck and hooking his hands around your waistband. You nodded at him, briefly closing your eyes before lifting yourself up to remove the only piece of clothing that stood between you and Steven. But just as you were about to pull it down, yours and Steven's heads whipped towards the ground, where your purse was laying, there was an incoming call.
You returned your gaze to Steven, who whimpered, shaking his head at you with pleading eyes, begging you to just ignore it, but you were curious as to who it was. You smiled at him and softly kissed his frowning, swollen lips before getting off him and walking towards your purse. Steven gripped your waist tightly, protesting, but you eventually got away, causing him to groan and collapse on the mattress.
The loss of contact dampened your pleasure, but it only aggravated your aching entrance. You dashed towards your purse and took out your phone, slightly gasping when you saw who it was. You returned your attention to Steven, who was desperately waiting for you to hurry up, and answered the phone. "L-Layla!" you greeted, trying to keep your panting under control and from laughing when you saw Steven's shocked expression. Layla's dinner party slipped your mind, and she seemed to call to see where you both were.
[Hey! Where are you guys?]
You tightly closed your eyes before mouthing "shit." You couldn't possibly leave now because Steven is still in heat. You started chewing on your nails, trying to come up with an excuse. "Uh, sorry I forgot to inform you, but there was a problem and I had to assist Steven with it." You let out a nervous chuckle before turning to Steven, who appeared to be struggling to keep from touching himself. You smirked and started walking back to him, phone still in your hand. Steven pleaded with you to hurry up with his big doe eyes. You just bit your lower lip at him before returning your attention to Layla.
[Oh is that so? That's unfortunate, but it's okay! I hope you can resolve your problem soon.]
"Thank you, Layla. We'll make amends soon," you chuckled, relieved that Layla understood your predicament. You returned your gaze to Steven, who was lying, and began to hover over him. Before saying goodbye to Layla, you raise your brows teasingly. When Steven heard the end call button, he instantly grabbed it and threw it away, exhaling, "That was too long," before pulling you in for a deep kiss. You smiled at how desperate he was, but your smile faded as you felt him throb against you. "So needy, my Steven" You moaned, licking his bottom lip before dragging your tongue down his neck to his collarbones.
You began to align yourself with his throbbing cock without wasting any more time and with Steven's small but desperate pleases. Taking a deep breath before finally settling down on him. Your eyes widened as you felt him enter you so forcefully that tears welled up in your eyes. Steven helped you by gently holding your waist and panting against your heaving chest. You rested your head on his shoulder for a few moments to gather your thoughts. Despite your inaction, Steven moaned, "So tight, my love." You prepared by gripping his shoulders, your heart racing so fast that it hurt your chest.
Steven arched his brow in concern and gently cupped your flushed cheek, lifting it up so you could see him. "I'm sorry, love, but you know you don't have to—"
"Shut up, Steven, I want this...Godyou'resofuckinghard." You flutter your eyes open, blinking to get the tears out. Steven chuckled before planting a sloppy kiss on your parted lips. You were telling the truth, and you also want this for reasons other than pleasing Steven, so you have no reason to stop.
After hearing Steven moan in your mouth, begging you to move, you began to rock your hips, slowly at first, before riding Steven into oblivion. "Oh fuck—" Steven's hand darted around your waist, his mouth biting into your flesh as you closed your eyes and yelled his name in pleasure. The sensation of Steven throbbing inside you caused you to clench even tighter around him, eliciting a lewd cry from him.
You hissed as you felt every roll of your hips and Steven's relentless thrusts numb your legs, but it was quickly replaced by overwhelming pleasure. Pleasure that you're certain you can feel in every vein, muscle, and bone in your body, it's a sensation you'll never forget.
The heat that formed in your lower belly was a sign that you were getting close. You moaned as you felt yourself tighten and that faint heat that was now being exacerbated by your and Steven's arousal.
"Steven!" you cried out, repeating his name as if it were the only word you knew, and it echoed loudly throughout the whole house. Steven harshly sucked on your jaw, groaning and his breath catching as he felt him approaching his second orgasm.
Steven brought you closer to your release by thrusting deeper and hitting the areas that needed attention. You shivered as he made certain he hit every single sweet and spongy spot, not missing one. Your grip on his shoulders tightened until you finally let go with a mind-shattering orgasm that left you seeing thousands of stars. "Steven, please—" Everything was becoming overwhelming, and your muscle begged for a break, but Steven persisted and prolonged your pleasure.
"Oh God—" Steven threw back his head in bliss, your come dripping down on him being the thing that had pushed him over the edge. You two let out a loud, breathless moan as Steven released inside of you, allowing his seed to freely flow through and leak out of you.
The sweet aroma of sex and the sound of both of your labored breathing filled the room. You collapsed against Steven, and he cupped the back of your head gently, securing you against him as he slowly lied back down. It was a good thing he finished sooner rather than later because you thought you'd pass out if he didn't.
Steven lovingly stroked your back, tracing his index finger between your shoulder blades before kissing you on the crown of your head. "Thank you, my love," he mumbled in husky, croaky tones. You couldn't form words because he literally fucked them out of you, so you just hummed and nodded.
You nuzzled Steven's neck, still steadying your breathing, when what he said next made you open your eyes in disbelief. "Those coworkers I've mentioned, I overheard them challenging themselves that they can sleep with everyone in the museum, and I must've been their next target," Steven felt how you became still, and he almost regretted telling you that because he knew you wouldn't let any of it go.
You raised your head slowly and gave him an expression that only confirmed his thoughts. "Who are they?" you asked softly, reaching up to gently wipe Steven's stray hairs from his brow. He swallowed nervously, touched that you'd come to avenge him but also terrified of what you'd do, given that you were an avatar of a powerful deity.
Steven pursed his lips, hesitant to name the culprits before nervously chuckling and averting his gaze from time to time. "Don't worry, love, it'll just be a friendly talk," you teased, hoping Steven would reveal the names. He wanted to because they intended to take advantage of him despite knowing he was already in a relationship, but a part of him felt sorry for them.
You smirked at Steven as he turned away slightly. Your dear Steven, still thinking about the other despite the fact that they've done something horrible to him. You cocked your head and smeared soft, passionate kisses on his already bruised neck. "It's okay...I'll figure it out myself," you whispered between kisses, making Steven moan softly.
When you heard Steven say the names, your mouth shut and hatred welled up inside of you, but you remained calm so as not to alert Steven too much. You locked your gaze on him, searching his face and marveling at how stunning he was. "You know I'd do anything for you, right?" you declared solemnly.
"I'd do the same for you, love," Steven followed as you leaned in and made your longing lips connect once more. When it comes to Steven Grant, you always keep your words and act on them with pure intentions.
That's why, after this, you're going to pay those coworkers of his a visit.
Summary || How you and Marc spend your nights and mornings together.
Word Count || 1335
Warnings || NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, explicit content/language, pet names (sugar, sweetheart, baby), unprotected vaginal sex, oral (female receiving), daddy kink, breeding kink, hair pulling, spanking, rough fucking, multiple orgasm, overstimulation, creampie, mention of bodily fluids. (With some sprinkle of fluff in there)
Authors Note || First writing for Marc! Ignore the double Nights at the beginning. The readmore function just keeps fucking up.
Steven Grant/Marc Spector Masterlist
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Nights:
Nights:
It’s been hours now—almost three full hours of vicious and hardcore sex. When you had started, the sun was still shining outside. The streets below were abundant with life, but now as your hooded eyes stared out the window, it was pitch black. The apartment was dark, with only the street lamps below creating some form of illumination in the room.
Your body was aching and sensitive, while Marc was still hard and going strong. Your body was almost limp as you were on your knees and elbows on the bed—ass sore and abused with Marc’s hips thrusting into your behind repeatedly. Your face was pressed into the mattress as tears ran down your cheeks.
How he had the energy for it, you didn’t know, but he never stopped. He never stopped fucking you.
You’d lost count of how many times you’d orgasm, but it was more than you ever had in one night, and it didn’t seem like he was stopping anytime soon.
“M-Marc, I-I can’t a-anymore.”
He fisted his hand in your hair and pulled your head up from the sheets until your neck strained entirely.
“Yes, you can. One more, and then I promise I’m done.” His voice was hoarse as he uttered the sinful words in your ear.
He pushed your head back down, pressing your face into the soft surface. His length penetrated your walls—tip brushing your sweet spot with each stroke of him. His hand found the place where you and he were connected—calloused fingers toying with your aching bundle of nerves.
The combination of all the sensations had your body shudder in bliss. A sob fell from you as the stimulation became too much.
“Fuck!”
You screamed into the sheets as you exploded around his cock—the pressure in your stomach finding its release once more. Your hands fisted the cotton sheets, tears spilling from you, wetting the material. The pleasure travelled through the nerve endings lining your spine, making you convulse on the bed.
Your pulsating walls enticed Marc as grunts, moans, and groans fell from his lips as he chased his release. A few more hard thrusts into your tightness, and he finally came deep inside you, coating your walls with his warm seed. He stilled inside for a few moments, letting his cum fill you up before he sloppily fucked you both through the earth-shattering orgasm.
Once you had both calmed down and caught your breath back, Marc left a harsh smack on your sore ass. The stinging sensation made you yelp out.
“Good girl.”
He left a series of gentle kisses up your spine as his hands caressed your sides. You hummed a quiet sound at him being so soft with you compared with the animal he had been just a few moments ago.
Once done, Marc collapsed on his side of the bed, pulling your trembling form with him. He held you close to his warm body, and you practically melted into him. His hand petting your hair softly and lovingly lulled you to sleep. You let out a content sigh—eyes fluttering close as sleep consumed you.
“Sleep, sugar,” his lips lingered on the crown of your head, “I’ve got you.”
Mornings:
The strip of sunlight coming through the window woke you up from the deep slumber as the light hit your eyes. The soft bed sheets consuming you were a comfort as you stirred awake.
You stretched—body sore from the night before, but it felt good to relieve the ache in your muscles. The stretching made a content sigh leave you when you felt the relief of the stretch.
You patted the space beside you, expecting to find a warm body next to you, but it was cold and empty. Your upper body rose from the bed as you scanned around with hooded eyes. You almost had a heart attack when you found him standing beside the bed—not having seen him until now.
“Oh, shit, you scared me.”
His arms crossed over his broad and naked chest as you looked up at him. He had a stern look on his face—no pleasant emotions as he looked down on your form.
You knew it was Marc fronting, but you still said his name to make sure.
“M-Marc?”
He shook his head no. “That’s not my name, sweetheart.” Yeah, it was him, but he wanted to play. He wanted you to call him something different.
“D-daddy?”
He nodded his head—pupils widened with desire as you called him by his rightful name.
“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up. Daddy needs his breakfast.”
In a flash, he pulled the covers off you, revealing your naked body underneath. His tongue poked out from between his lips, wetting the bottom one as he scanned you with his hungry eyes. A single finger traced your thigh as he took in your appetising form.
He was quick to find his place between your thighs. Your legs were pulled apart—held open and pushed back by his abusive grip. A predatory growl sounded from him as his face was inches from your core— having a glorious view of your glistening pussy.
“Look at you. You look so tasty.”
Marc drags his tongue through your folds, moaning out as he finally has his taste of you. You gasped out, still so sore and sensitive from the night before.
“Oh,” your fingers tangled in his messy curls as he wraps his lips around your raw clit, sucking the nerve till it becomes swollen. There’s an internal battle happening in your head, whether or not you should push him away due to your sensitivity, or pull him in closer, as your body craves pleasure and release. The decision came quickly—you wanted him to devour you.
“Daddy, that feels so good,” your hips thrust into his mouth as you yearn for more, “don’t stop.”
Marc creates a beautiful dance with his skilful mouth—altering between sucking and licking your clit, and fucking your warm tightness with his tongue.
After a while, you pull on his locks, desperate for him to pay attention to your clit as you want to cum.
“Suck my clit, daddy. Please, make me cum… please, please, please….” The begs came smoothly from your lips as you were so needy for him to finish you off.
His palms rested underneath your ass to keep a steady hold on you as he engulfed your clit one last time, sucking and licking till it became fulfilled and satisfied.
You trap his head between your thighs, toes curling, as you come hard, hips thrusting into his vicious mouth, back arching in a beautiful curve as you fall apart on the bed. Soft mewls and whimpers fall from your lips as Marc doesn’t let go of your clit until you’ve come down from the intense orgasm.
“Fuck, babe,” you comb your fingers through his hair as you watch him lap up your juices, moaning out at your taste. Each lick to your abused core had you spasm and whine at the overwhelming sensitivity. You try to push him away, but his hold on you is too strong. He will not let go until he’s gotten all of you.
Once he’s satisfied with his serving, he looks up at you, mouth glistening with your wetness as a cocky smirk was plastered on his face.
“You taste delicious, sugar.”
He helps to bring you to his side so he can cuddle up with you. You curl yourself into a ball as his warm chest rests against your back. His hand caresses your waist lovingly as his face nuzzles in the back of your neck—leaving kisses on your soft skin.
“Rest up for a minute. I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart. We still have to shower.”
You clench your thighs as a defeated sob escapes when you realise he wasn't done with you.
This man will never be done with you…
he will never stop…
no matter how much you beg for mercy…
he will always want more…
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