oh nothing just stalker!bullseye and babydoll!reader ૮ę°ŕžŕ˝˛âŠÂ´ áľ `âŠęąŕžŕ˝˛á
stalker!bullseye who from the second his calculating gaze landed on you, in all your glittery, unsuspecting glory, was fixated. He just knew you had to be his. The thought of another man getting to experience that sweet, soft smile and those gentle hands, made violence stir in his chest.
stalker!bullseye who follows you around the entire city whenever he gets the chance. He knows your coffee order and what cafe you like. He knows the passcode to your apartment complex and when you get home. He knows your routine. He knows your relationships. He knows you. Better than anyone else, heâs sure.
stalker!bullseye who positions himself directly in your path as you leave the cafe like any regular morning. He bumps into you, making you spill your coffee all over the floor. And he swore he could feel his heart wretch at your sad pout from your coffee being all ruined!!! :(((
stalker!bullseye who insisted on buying you a new one, profusely apologising saying that he was an utter klutzâa lie, his reflexes are sublimeâas you walked back into the cafe. Together, this time. The thought made him so hard he jerked off in the cafe bathroom the second you left, picturing your pretty little face looking up at him.
stalker!dex who then worms into babydoll!readers life, playing the gentleman role like he hasnât left an impression on the fire escape from how long he stands there staring at you through the window. He takes his time âgetting to know youâ, as you put it. None the wiser to the fact he knew every little thing about you.
stalker!dex who jerks himself off on a rooftop after taking you on a date, watching you through your bedroom window as you touch yourself. He watches the way your hand moved, matching the pace you gave yourself. Imagining he was there, being the one to please you. He watches your brows knit, the way your jaw slackened. The way your lips twisted in a way that he swore resembled his name.
stalker!dex who when he finally got babydoll!reader alone, all to himself, looked like a caged animal. You were stripped to your lacies, the lace fabric doing nothing to obscure the pretty little pussy heâs watched you touch whilst thinking about him. His shoulders are squared and wide, fists clenched and jaw locked tight. âDex?â You whispered sweetly. âIâm gonna tear you apart.â He blurted out, pinpoint eyes staring at you with a mix of pure perversion and excitement. âwhat?â âDonât fucking talk.â
Gurlll your catch me if you can dex fanfic was simply one of the hottest thing I have ever read, I need you to give me a million more of just unhinged smutty dex fanfics. PLEASEEEE!
say less baby (read also: catch me if you can)
Angel
Benjamin 'Bullseye' Poindexter x fem!reader
âż you manage to lose dex in a game of cat-and-mouse, but he doesn't give up that easily.
âż 18+
âż wc: 4k
âż cw: fem!reader, DDBA!dex, established relationship, predator-prey, bullseye-typical violence (he kills someone), SMUT, straight porn hardly plot, prone-bone, outdoor sex, unprotected piv, knife play, improper use of a knife (hint: it goes inside youâand itâs not the blade), mentions of anal, praise!!, minor degradation, pet names (angel, baby, etc), pussy pronouns, dirty talk, possessive (obsessive) dex, strong language, british english author does her best with american english :(
inspired by the song 'angel' by massive attack
There is a physical pain deep in his chest. An ache, a festering bruise beneath the bone of his sternum as he stands in the middle of the street, his fists balled at his sides.
He doesnât know how youâve done it, but youâve managed to lose him. Youâve managed to slip into the shadows and disappear, and he canât find you.
It feels partly like a failure. When he turned onto the street he was sure youâd be running down, you werenât there, and it was like a punch to the chest. Youâre gone, and now his heart hammers wildly against his ribs as he sucks in a calming breath. His mind is running a million miles an hour, but he canât help the small smile that graces his lips beneath his mask. Youâve escaped him. Perhaps he should give himself credit, considering heâs the one who taught you these tactical evasion skills.
When the humming in his brain easesâyour face now at the forefront of his mindâhe stretches out his arms, pops the tension from his elbows and shoulders, then saunters up the street. Your apartment is up ahead, but he knows you wouldnât be dumb enough to hide from him there. Youâre a smart girl.
Dex pauses outside your building, eyes scanning the dark alleyway to the left, then the line of shrubbery to the right.
âWhatâs with the mask?â
Dex slowly turns his head, finding a man staggering out of the alley. He leans against the brickwork, face pale and almost ghostly in the overhead street light. He gestures to Dex with a dirty hand, fingers strangling the neck of a nondescript liquor bottle as he hiccups out his sentence. Dex cocks his head as the man flips the jagged cap from the bottle with his thumb, and Dex watches it hit the sidewalk and roll towards him. It settles by his feet as the man takes a noisy swig.
âOh, are you one of those vigilantes Fiskâs always jerking off over?â The man slurs, and Dex wouldâve smiled beneath the mask, humoured, if he didnât have more pressing matters. The man shakes his head, looking at Dex. âIf youâre looking for someone, I saw a pretty broad take the fire escape up this building.â
Now Dex smiles to himself. Smart girl.
He bends and plucks the bottle cap from the ground, running his thumb across the rugged edge of the tin-plated steel. He takes a step forward, rolling the cap between his fingers, his shoulders hulking as he moves, but he doesnât get far before the man is slurring out again, leaning against the brick wall for support.
âRunninâ âround in a tight fuckinâ skirt, too. Fuck,â the man says, and Dex freezes.Â
Heâs bathed in shadow now, the man a few paces behind him. The fire escape is just a few yards ahead of him and he could almost smell the lingering trail of your perfume. But he doesnât move. He canât move. The manâs words clatter around his skull like a ricocheting bullet, and a wasp-like humming returns to his brain. Slowly, he turns, and the man laughs all wet and sickly.
âI mean, if youâre not after her,â the man slurs, gesturing to the fire escape. âI sâpose I could followââ
Dex whips his arm back and forth so fast that the action is dissolved by shadow. He throws the bottle cap with such force it whistles through the air, then slices straight between the drunken manâs eyes in a spray of blood. The manâs head snaps back, head cracking against the brick wall, before he slumps and hits the ground. The bottle clatters to the ground and rolls from his lax fingers, spinning out onto the pavement with a trail of beer following.
Dex huffs, then turns and heads straight for the fire escape, leaving the man dead in the mouth of the alley, a bottle cap embedded so deep in the front of his skull Dex was sure it had disappeared into his brain. Heâd be disappointed if it hadnât.
He takes the stairs three at a time, careful to tread carefully. The metal doesnât creak despite his muscled weight, and he creeps towards the roof like a prowling cat. He passes dark windows, knowing you wouldnât take the chance. He knows youâll be hiding somewhere on the roof. His angel is smart, but she wonât have flown far.
Silently, he clambers onto the roof. City lights glitter around him, but the shadows are thick here. Boxy electrical units and crumbling chimneys make for some kinds of hiding spots, but he knows you better than that. Knows you wouldâve hidden yourself away in the furthest, darkest corner with a victorious smile on your face.
He stalks across the roof slowly, humming quietly to himself. He unsheaths one of his knives and twirls it through his fingers as he rounds a stack of electricity boxes and finds you hunkered in the corner, eyes scanning the city street below. You donât turn, and that makes Dex chuckleâthe sound you finally hear, whipping around to find your boyfriend staring right at you.
âDex!â You yelp, and you make a movement to the side as if you were going to take off running.
But Dex doesnât let you. He throws his knife and it slices through the air mere inches in front of your face, forcing you to throw yourself back as it lodges into the brickwork behind you. And thatâs when Dex lunges forward: wrapping his arms around your waist and forcing you down onto the cool floor, hands and knees finding dried leaves and crumbling mortar.
You wriggle desperately, trying to drag yourself out of his grasp. But he pins you to the ground, chest tight against your back, his pelvis heavy on the swell of your arse. Whining, you reach a hand back in a poor attempt to push him away. But he grabs your wrist and pins your arm to your side, making you squeal.
A muscled arm curls around your neck, a gloved hand pressing firm to your mouth and muffling your noise. You cry out again as he presses you deeper against the floor, masked face coming to rest right beside your ear.
âTrying to run, angel?â He coos, releasing your arm so he could anchor himself over you. He leans on his forearm, his bicep straining beneath the material of his navy suit. âYou were so close, werenât you?â
You whine against his hand, and he chuckles in your ear, knowing he was asking you questions you couldnât answer. You continue writhing beneath him, but that just morphs his chuckles into groans as he ruts his hips against your arse. The thick, muscled mass of his stomach and chest is warm against your back, and you find yourself growing hot beneath your clothes, your pussy fluttering tight under the cotton of your underwear.
âThought you had a chance, didnât you?â Dex utters, rubbing his face against the side of yours. You close your eyes and whimper, feeling him inhale beneath his mask, the heat of his mouth under the material like a burning brand at the curve of your jaw. He hums, fingers squeezing your cheek. âThatâs a bit dumb, baby. You couldâve made it to the Catskills and I still wouldâve found you.â
He grinds himself against your arse and you moan into his palm. You feel the hard lines of him rutting against you, cool air on the backs of your thighs as your skirt rides up, up, and over the curve of your backside. You moan again as he gives another heavy jerk against you, the tight fabric of your skirt rolling up even further, exposing the flimsy cotton of your underwear.
Dex groans in your ear, his entire body shuddering above you. âOh, my sweet girl, mâgonna fuckinâ ruin you.â
You blink lazily, looking around the roof. Itâs dark and empty, and you can hear the bustling streets of New York echoing in the air around you. The seclusion of it all has you moaning into his palm again, the print of his hard cock heavy against you.
The palm on your mouth presses tighter and the backs of your lips press hard against your teeth. You whimper, heart leaping into your throat, as Dex grumbles low in your ear, âMâgonna take my hand away. Youâre gonna be a good girl, and youâre gonna be quiet, yeah?â
You nod desperately, clit aching as he gently grinds himself against you. The roof of your building is bitingly cold and way too hard against your chest and stomach, but you donât careâyou take it like he wants you to, laying still while he removes his hand from your mouth and gives you a firm pat on the cheek. You feel your entire body heat up, a sticky warmth quick to pool in your belly as his hand drags down your side and finds the clasp of his belt. You hear it clink, and the sound has you fighting off a moan, your teeth sinking into your lip to trap the sound in your throat.
Dex chuckles as he sits up a little, still pressing you into the ground, but enough for him to unbuckle the belt of his suit and undo the zip. âBet youâre fuckinâ soaked, huh, baby? Pussy makinâ a mess of these pretty panties?â
His hand leaves his belt as he speaks. With the mass of his thighs, he nudges your legs apart. You canât help the quiet mewl that leaves you as cool air hits the gusset of your underwear, and you know how wet you are based on the bite of the breeze against your puffy clit. You wriggle, but his other hand pins you down.
You hear another clinking sound, before you feel something firm against your covered folds. Itâs heavy and almost metallic in nature, and you suck in a gasp when you realise itâs the hilt of one of his knives. You freeze, body alight with heat, and Dex chuckles, pressing the base of his knife against you and parting your folds beneath the wet cotton.
âYâthink sheâll take this like she takes my cock?â He utters, dragging the base of his knifeâs handle up your folds before pressing it to your hole. Your pussy flutters, drooling out as you whimper, pressing your cheek to the cement to ground yourself. He chuckles again, before drawing the knifeâs grip up even more until it rests against your arsehole. âAnd what about her? I could stretch her out nice and good if you ask me nicely, angel.â
You squirm beneath him, a moan lifting from your throat before you could stop it. Itâs soft, not too loud, but it makes Dex tut anyway. Quickly, he sits back and takes your underwear between his fingers, pulling it away from your slick folds so he could slice through the material with the blade of his knife. The fabric snaps away from you, and you find yourself moaning again as the cool night air kisses up against your cunt.
Then, his knife is back on your pussyâwithout the barrier this time, spreading your folds and tracing a series of heavy lines up and down your slit. You whimper when the end nudges your clit, then circles it like he would with his finger, before pressing down with just enough pressure to make you arch against him. You whisper his name, and he groans in response, sliding the knife back down and tapping it against your hole.
âSo wet,â Dex marvels and he watches as he slowly brings his knife an inch or so away from your cunt. A string of slick webs between you, and it makes his cock twitch in his briefs. He grunts, pushing the handle back against your hole and this time, letting it sink in even further. It breaches inwards, and you suck him in so well that another groan rips from his chest. Itâs primal, his eyes flashing as he pants behind his mask. âYeah, fuckinâ hell, baby. Sheâs gonna take it like my cock.â
You breathe around a moan as he sinks the knife in deeper. Pressure forms deep in your pelvis, a heat festering in your belly as your pussy contracts around the intrusion but lets him in anyway. Something prickles down your spine as you realise youâre drooling around the hilt, slick dribbling as he pushes in, then brings it out by an inch or two, then pushes back in again.
âDex,â you whimper, body shaking. The knot in your pelvis tightens when he bottoms the knife out inside you, hole dangerously close to the blade. But you trust himâyou trust him with your life as his gloved hand clutches the blade, eyes watching your pussy take it. You whimper again when you realise he isnât moving. âDex, babyââ
âNo,â he hisses out simply, pulling the handle out.
It leaves you completely, and you mewl, arching in an attempt to chase it. Dex grunts, smacking the base of the handle against your cunt, making you sob out and collapse forward. He pushes back in then, eyes darting from where he splits your pussy open to where you whimper into the crook of your arm.
âYou thought you could get away from me. You thought you could hide,â Dex says, and theyâre more statements than rhetorical questions. He fucks the handle of his knife into you again and again, your cunt glistening wet and loud where he drags it in and out of you. He holds you against the ground as he continues. âI had to kill a man to get to you, baby. What if he had found you first, huh? What if you did lose me?â
Your entire body stiffens, eyes shooting open. You try to look over your shoulder at him, but Dex knows exactly where to aim, thrusting the base of the handle right up against that gummy spot inside you that has you collapsing back onto the ground.Â
You whimper around a poorly formed Dex!, before you finally manage to spit some of your sentence out: âWhat did youâ?â
âI took care of it,â Dex growls, his arm speeding up as he rucks the knife into you again and again. His cock is painfully hard in his briefs, but he holds off, watching the way your pussy drools around his knife, your entire body shaking as he hits that perfect spot every single time. He nods to himself, mind flitting briefly to the man slumped dead in the alley. âI took care of it, angel. I took care of you.â
A sick thrill runs through you. You should be scared, but you arenât. âDexâŚâ
âI did, I did,â Dex breathes out, slightly muffled behind his mask. âI did, baby. Iâll always take care of you.â
Your body is on fire. The pressure in your pelvis, the heat in your belly, swells inside you. You shake against the ground, the hard, metallic handle of his knife hitting your g-spot each time and itâs leaving you dizzy with your approaching orgasm. You can almost taste it building in the back of your throat, and all you can manage to squeak out is a meek oh, Dex! before the heat ignites and youâre coming around the knife.
Dex groans. âThere she goes, thatâs it, good girl.â
He fucks you through it with deep, rolling thrusts of his arm. The muscles contract beneath the tight sleeve as he moves, and his eyes never leave the way your cunt clenches around it, slick glistening against the handle. You shudder one last time, hips twitching, before you still as the fire of your orgasm reduces to smoke, and you lie pliant against the cool floor.
Slowly, Dex pulls the knife from you. You whimper, feeling your pussy flutter around nothing while Dex slides the knife back into his belt without even wiping it down. Eyelids fluttering, you lie in wait, listening to him shuck his pants down with a well restrained groan.
The hot press of his tip against your folds snaps your eyes open.
âShh, baby, easy,â he mutters when you cry out. He fists himself, dragging the head of his cock through your folds, smearing your slick. He quickly finds your hole and pushes against it, not quite driving in. He rests there, pre-cum beading from his slit and smearing across your hole. âGod, Iâve missed her.â
He thrusts in then. Itâs unceremonious and sudden and you donât even have the time to moan before heâs buried to the hilt. Your breath is stolen from you, and you gasp into the skin of your forearm as Dex moans, the sound loud in the silence around you. He falls back over you now, holding himself up, his chest and stomach melding to your back. You manage a little whimper as he nestles inside you, splitting your pussy apart around the thick of him.
He adjusts himself, grinding his hips against your arse. The movement means you can feel every little ridge sliding against your walls, the weight of his balls resting near your swollen clit. You whimper again, and he coos to match it, tutting you quietly as he slowly drags himself out of you.
âBet that feels good, doesnât it?â Dex whispers, masked face right beside your ear. He holds himself over you, shoulders hulking, suit stretched tight over his back as he rests the tip of his cock inside you. He pushes back in, the fabric of his pants bunched down around his thighs, rubbing against your legs. âIt always feels good.â
You moan. âDex, fuck.â
âUh-uh, what did I say?â Dex mutters at your ear, hovering over you now as he fucks you. His hips slap against your arse where youâre pinned to the ground, pronebone and completely crushed beneath his mass. âGotta be quiet. Wouldnât want anyone cominâ up here, would we? Iâd have to kill âem, baby.â
You whine. âDex, noââ
âYes,â he whines, mocking you with a smile split wide beneath his mask. âSo keep those noises just for me.â
The thick of his cock splits your pussy apart, the stretch always rendering you breathless. He ruts in quickly, desperately, and the tip slams against that perfect spot inside you every single time. Heâs on target every single time. You shouldnât expect anything less from Bullseye.
You gnaw at your lower lip as you bury your face into your forearm, holding back your sobs of pleasure as heat starts simmering inside you again. That familiar pressure treks down the column of your spine too, and you whimper when it settles low in your belly, fanning across your womb.
Not that you know it, but Dex is much the same. His heart knocks wildly against his ribs as if he were still chasing youâhe thinks, in some ways, he still isâand the buzzing in his brain is completely gone. All heâs thinking of is you, and all he wants is you. Youâre all he needs, and no one will ever keep you from him.
âYouâre mine, angel,â he whispers suddenly. One of his arms snakes around your throat again, pulling your face from your arm and pinning your head up. You gasp as he locks you into a chokehold, his grip gentle but firm. As he thrusts, one of his hands shifts to push part of his mask up, just revealing his mouth. He kisses your cheek. âYou canât run from me.â
He forces your head to the side so he can kiss you.
He kisses you, and you struggle to meet his intensity with the way he fucks you. Youâre pliant in his arms, little whimpers melding against his lips as his tongue licks across yours and he slides his mouth forward. You swap spit and pant into each otherâs space, and itâs barely even a kiss, but Dex loves it. He kisses the corner of your mouth as he groans, hips pumping, bicep tight on your throat.
âYou were made for me,â he whispers, dragging his mouth across your warm cheek. He licks the salt from your skin, skims his teeth across your cheekbone. He noses along your pulse next, head dipping to plant wet kisses below your ear and along the back of your jaw. âMy perfect girl.â
There will never be an I love you from Dex. What you have is not the love you see in movies, or in romance books. He is possessive and obsessive and so violently jealous that heâd rather rip the world apart before letting you goâand you know that. You know that, and you still canât help but love him right back.
âDex, please,â you whimper as he buries his face in your neck. The pressure in your lower belly is too much. Beneath your clothes, youâre tacky with sweat, and your thighs shake where he presses into you.
He knows youâre close. He probably knew before you even did.
âLet me feel you,â he says, thrusting, maintaining a deep, even rhythm. He listens to the way you moan and yowl beneath him, trying so hard to be quiet. He can feel the sounds vibrate in your throat where he sucks and bites at the skin. âI wanna feel you come, baby. You can do that for me, yeah? Just be a good girl and come all over my cock. Let me have it.â
Dex draws the line of your orgasm right in front of you, and your body practically flings you across it. Your entire body seizes up, trembling as the pressure in your belly fissures then shatters. You come hard around him, pussy clenching tight around the thick of his cock, and you moan his name loud enough that it echoes. He doesnât seem to mind, and neither do you, as he fucks you through it, panting into your neck as his hips move. Heat flushes through your body as you shake beneath him, and you canât help the whimpers that interrupt your moans when he starts rambling in your ear.
âThatâs a good girl, thatâs a good girl. Fuck, my best girl,â he utters, grunting and groaning in such a way that your clit aches with the heaviness of your heartbeat. He growls next, hips stuttering. âMâgonna fill this fuckinâ pussy, baby.â
He does. Groaning your name, quiet and bordering on a whine, Dex pushes his hips right up against your arse, cock knocking up against the plug of your cervix, and spills. He fills you, hips grinding, rolling, trying desperately to cling onto some kind of control, but heâs completely lost it. He pants around a pained whine as he comes, nosing your thrumming pulse. Thick and warm and so, so full.
When he finishes, his cock jerking and balls tightening with one last thrust, he eases down onto you. You whine as he smothers your body beneath his, trapping you beneath his mass. He shushes you, one of his hands pulling his mask off so his sweat-slick forehead can rest against your shoulder while he catches his breath.
His spine aches, but he ignores it. The muscles in his shoulders and back ripple when he rolls onto his side. He spins you then, his softening cock falling free of your pussy as he pulls you to him, one big hand immediately finding the fat of your arse to palm.
You both listen to the distant wail of sirens as you settle into the shadows.
You shiver, and Dex holds you tighter. So tight, you wonder if heâs afraid youâll try to run again.
âI like it when you catch me,â you whisper, lifting your head to press a small kiss to his jaw. âDonât like being without you.â
Dex smiles to himself, a deep rumbleâalmost a purrâvibrating through his chest as he shifts his head to catch your lips with his. He kisses you deeply as the sound of sirens get louder and louder and the world seems to light up blue around him.
âż dex chases you through the woods and despite your best efforts, he catches you. he always catches you.
âż 18+
âż wc: 3.7k
âż cw: fem!reader, DDBA!dex, established relationship, predator-prey, SMUT, outdoor sex, unprotected piv, the chase is foreplay, dry-humping, slight knife play?, pussy pronouns, one (1) pussy slap, pet names (baby, sweet girl), praise!!, dirty talk!!!, dex is obsessed with you, possessive!dex (duh), strong language, british english author tries her best with american english đ
a/n: needed to write for this man so bad. also, i'm a 'dex hits the right spot every single time' truther just as much as i'm a 'dex whimpers when he comes' truther soooo yeah i hope you enjoy :)
A myriad of noises surround you as you sprint through the woods, a cold wind biting at the warm skin of your face. Birds call high above with mournful laments that carry across the breeze as you dodge between trees. Leaves rustle where the wind whispers through them. Branches creak where they sway in dance-like movements above you.
The rapid beating of your heart is loud in your ears too, and you can barely hear yourself think over your own laboured breathing.
Just get to the lake, you think as you try your best not to stumble over an exposed tree root. Just get to the lake and youâll be safe.
Youâve traipsed through this thick expanse of woodland more times than you can count, and many summers gone you have spent splashing in the shallows of the lake. A secluded spot off the beaten track, away from prying eyes and the constant noise of the city.
So you know youâre not far.
You know that the glittering blue surface of the lake will present itself to you in less than a quarter of a mile. You know the invisible track youâre following will lead you right to its shingled shore and youâll be safe.
Your heart hammers wildly against your sternum, and you slow for just a second, arm reaching out to grip the trunk of a nearby tree. Your hand splays across it as cold air fills your lungs. Burning legs threaten to pull you to the ground, but you swallow down the lingering taste of defeat as you settle yourself.
You just need a second.
A sharp whistle fills the quiet woodlandâa projectile rocketing through the air. You yelp when a loud thunk follows, and your head whips around to find a sleek black knife embedded in the tree trunk, directly in the gap between your thumb and index finger. You jerk your hand away, eyes drawing wide as you realise you canât hear him. Over all the natural noisesâthe birds, the wind, the crinkling of leavesâyou canât hear him. Canât hear his footfall, or his breathing, or the leisurely unsheathing of his blades.
You take off running again, leaving the knife protruding from the tree.
Another high-pitched whistle overwhelms the peace of the woods. A blade flies past your ear so quickly you barely see it, so close you almost feel it. It lands in the trunk of another tree ahead of you, and you weave around it, your entire body thrumming with adrenaline.
Ahead, the surface of the lake glimmers between the trees.
Youâre so close you can smell the fresh water.
You canât help the smile that splits across your face. Youâre almost there.
You hear two more blades coming, but you donât see them and you donât know where they land.
Not until itâs too late.
Two blades, slightly larger than the first pair, ricochet perfectly from a thick-trunked tree nearby and rocket upwards several yards in front of you. They slice clean through a low-hanging branch and, with a splintering crack, the branch snaps and topples. Your smile drops, something sinking deep into the pit of your stomach, as you skid to a stop to avoid the branch that crashes to the ground in front of you.
Your steps falter, but you attempt to leap over the felled limb anyway.
You canât.
Mid-air, a hand seizes the back of your shirt and pulls you backwards. You curse loudly, body hot and heart threatening to break out past your ribs, as youâre pulled through the air and brought to the ground. You let out a shout, but a large hand clamps across your mouth as youâre flattened against the woodland floor, a strong body trapping you amongst dead leaves and spongey moss.
âAw, you were so close,â Dex whispers, his other hand pinning your hips down to prevent you from squirming. You narrow your eyes at him, and he laughs. âDonât look at me like that. I told you yâwouldnât make it.â
You say something against his palm, but itâs unintelligible. He removes his hand, resting it on your warm cheek instead.
âYou cheated,â you grumble, hands finding where his biceps contract beneath his compression shirt. âYou didnât count to a hundred.â
âBaby, I counted to three hundred,â Dex replies, leaning down. With a pleased hum, his hand finds your jaw and angles your head up so he can drag his nose down the column of your throat. You whine, acutely aware your skin is dewy with sweat, but Dex just inhales before his lips part and he sucks a kiss to where your neck joins your shoulder. âGod, you smell so fuckinâ good.â
âDex,â you whisper. His body is a hot press against yours, and you wriggle as that heat permeates your body. Where his hand rests on your hip, you feel his thumb hook into the waistband of your pants. âDex, please.â
A low rumble leaves his throat as he mouths down your neck, the mass of his thighs spreading your legs apart. He seems to ignore you though as he licks down your neck, his pelvis resting firmly against yours. Slowly, he ruts his hips and you feel the hard length of his cock beneath the layers. It makes your stomach swoop, and a pleasant sort of heat fills you like molasses.
âYou canât run from me,â he suddenly says, pulling his face out of your neck. His pupils are blown wide, eyes appearing near black as he peers down at you. You blink up at him, and your doe-like expression has his cock jumping where it presses to you. He groans. âOh, my sweet girl, just look at you.â
You bite your lip to temper your own groan as he pulls back, the cool woodland air suddenly biting against your skin. Dex kneels between your spread legs and pulls your pants from your body with such force youâre dragged through the leaves. A small noise of surprise leaves your mouth before Dex is surging forward again.
His mouth slams to yours and swallows the tail-end of your little exclamation, and your hands immediately find the strong expanse of his shoulders as he holds himself over you. The kiss is not gentle in the slightest: your teeth knock together as he pushes against you, his tongue a firm swipe across your lips before he breaches inside. Thick, warm, overwhelming as his tongue flicks across yours, over the points of your molars as well, like heâs committing the taste of you to memory.
Dex moans into your mouth as he ruts his clothed cock against the gusset of your underwear, your core burning hot beneath the flimsy cotton, arousal pooling wet where he slides against you. You wonder, as your tongues meet over and over, if he can feel it. You wonder if Dex can feel the way your underwear grows damp with your desire.
Leaves rustle around you as Dex pulls back, your mouths connected by a thin string of saliva. You breathe harshly into each otherâs space, just staring at one another as his hips rock and your legs twitch with each subtle rut against your covered clit.
The string of spit snaps when he speaks. âYouâre fucking soaked, arenât you?â
You burn at his words, trying to turn your head. He doesnât let youâshooting a hand down to grab your jaw and force your head back. With a firm roll of his hips, the thick silhouette of his cock presses down harshly on your clit, and this time, you canât hold back the mewl that tumbles from your lips.
âYou donât get to look away from me,â Dex utters, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, smothering another of your whimpers when the print of his cock slides over you again. When he pulls back, you watch him unsheath another knife from his belt.
He sits back on his heels, putting a bit of space between your bodies as he looks down. A vulpine smile creeps across his face when he sees how wet you are. The gusset of your underwear is dark with your arousal, and something primal in the back of his mind urges him to lean down and suck the fabric into his mouth.
He quashes the urge though, taking his knife and pressing the flat of the blade against you. The steel is cold and biting, and you yowl as he holds it firmly against you. You writhe in the leaves, and he grins at you all the while, gently sliding the flat of his knife up and down your clothed core.
âDex, wait, pleaseââ You whine, back arching when Dex pushes just a little bit firmer. Your sentence dies on your lips as you choke yourself on a moan, and Dex delights in the way your hips twitch and your legs attempt to close around him. But the mass of his body keeps them spread. You breathe out, âPlease.â
âYouâve ruined your pretty little panties,â he whispers, almost to himself, as he ignores your pleading and withdraws his knife. He takes the tip of itâdangerously sharpâand touches it ever-so-slightly to the little bump of your clit beneath the material. You suck in a breath, and Dexâs grin widens when he feels you stiffen. âMade such a mess, huh?â
He removes the knife, and you exhale.
But without warning, two thick fingers hook through the elastic that rests in the bend of your thigh. Rough knuckles press firmly to the wet split of your pussy before he gives your underwear a little tug, then slashes his knife through them.Â
You yelp as he cuts through the gusset. âDex!â
Dex sheaths the knife. âYou ruined them, baby.â
âBut you just cutâ!â
Youâre cut off when those same two fingers of his split open the folds of your pussy and the cool air of the forest braces against you. You watch him with fluttering eyelids as he leers down at where he spreads you, watching the slick drip from your hole. He canât help but chuckle to himself, shaking his head.
âSheâs drooling for me,â he whispers, almost bewildered. He brings his fingers down to run a tight circle over your hole, and his eyes snap to your face momentarily as your entire body shudders, a moan slipping from you.Â
Your eyes close, and thatâs when his fingers vanishâonly for four more to land against you in a firm smack. You rip your eyes open, a stuttered moan of his name filling the air, and you send a few birds flying from their roosts as it echoes.
âLook at me,â Dex tells you, a small dip in his brow. His breathing is laboured when his fingers find your core again, rubbing your hole in soothing circles as you tremble beneath him. When your eyes find his, he moans. âThere we go.â
His hand flies to shuck his pants and underwear down, his breathing becoming more and more ragged as his cock hangs free. You moan as he grasps himself at the base and fists himself, spreading your slick across the shaft. His hips pitch forward, and he slaps the ruddy tip against your swollen clit.
âFucking hell,â Dex hisses, dragging the tip through your wet folds. He does this a few times, rutting against you, splitting you open with the length of his cock. The vein on the underside rubs against you in just the right way that you arch off the ground, leaves crinkling. As you do this, Dex draws the head of his cock down until he can press it right against your hole. âHere we go, baby. Letâs make âem kiss a little.â
He bites his bottom lip, brows drawing together as he pushes the tip against your drooling hole. The moan that leaves your mouth has his balls twitching, with something drawing tight in the base of his stomach, and he repeats the movement: pushing the flushed tip of his cock against your slick hole, pushing in just enough to make your breath hitch, before pulling out.
He watches with swollen pupils as a small string of your slick pulls taut from your pussy to the head of his cock. It severs when he fists himself, and he watches instead as a pearl of pre-cum beads at his slit. He swipes it against you, running his cock back through your folds again, relishing in the dull electric current that passes down his spine.
He feels like a live wire.
âDex,â you call to him, your hands gripping the ground around you uselessly as you arch and writhe, attempting to chase his contact.
âIâm right here, baby,â Dex whimpers, mouth dropping open when he finally slides his cock back down to your hole. This time, he notches the head fully in one gentle rock of his hips, and he bends down to kiss you when you whine at the stretch. Your pussy flutters around him, and he swears he could have come right then and there. He pulls back, pecking the corner of your mouth. âHere we go, baby, here we go. Open up for me.â
Pressure builds tight in your belly as Dex pushes in. His cock splits you open, the heat of your cunt opening up for him as he moves in. His spine tinglesâif he was any more of a freak, it mightâve started glowingâas your walls part for him, slick and warm against the thick of his cock. You mould around him, clay-like in the way you take him. It makes him stutter around a moan as you flutter and tighten, sucking him in like you always did.
âThatâs it, thatâs a good girl,â he coos as you whimper, hips finally joining with yours. His balls rest heavy against the curve of your arse. They twitch when your fingers find his shoulders, your nails needling through the fabric that obscures them. He groans loudly, and it bounces from tree to tree. âYâalways take me so well.â
You mumble something, but itâs lost in the pleasure fogging your brain. Dex is still, resting so deep inside you that you swear you can feel him in your guts. Your heart hammers wildly against your sternum, skin dewy with sweat as your adrenaline rush continues to linger.
âYeah,â Dex continues after a beat, stretching back to watch as he pulls his cock from you. The head rests sheathed in the heat of your cunt, silken and soft and so incredibly warm around him. He smiles down at you. âYeah, she always takes me so well. Pussyâs a dream, isnât she, baby?â
You hum out a dizzied moan as he ruts back in. Even when you try to expect it, it always catches you off guard: the head of his cock slams directly into that spongy spot inside you that has you seeing stars. Thereâs no preamble, thereâs no search. He knows exactly where he needs to go, and he hits his target hard.
You clutch him tightly. âOh, fuck, Dex, baby, thatâsâuhââ
âOh I know, sweet girl, I know,â Dex rambles as he holds himself over you, legs caught around his hips as he sets his pace. Youâre dripping around him, and each of his thrusts elicit wet plap-plap-plapâs that seem loud over the blood pumping in your ears. Your cunt drools out with his movements, slick leaking down the curve of your arse. Dex breathes through a hoarse groan. âFucking Christ, baby, just listen to her. Sheâs a mouthy girl today, huh?â
The pressure in your belly builds, stretching tightly like a rubber band as you listen to the pornographically wet shlicks of your cunt.
You canât find the words to answer him. But you scarcely can in times like this. His pillowtalk always strikes you dumb, and all you can do is lie there and take his cock and enjoy the way he rambles.
You do give him a pathetic little whine in response though, and he replies with another vicious smile that deepens the lines around his eyes.
âYou know she is,â he tells you as he rocks you into the soft earth beneath you. âGot all worked up while I chased you through the woods, didnât you? Got your pussy drooling knowing I was hunting you, didnât it?â
You heat up with your embarrassment, and the moan that fights its way out of your chest doesnât feel like your own. âDex, Iââ
âYâthought you could outrun meâŚâ Dex ignores you. His cock nudges up near the plug of your womb, and your stomach clenches tightly as your legs begin to tremble. He continues, undeterred by the meek whimpers heâs pulling from you. âYâthought you couldârunâfromâme.â
He speaks as he thrusts. Theyâre heavy hitting, and he drills you into the leaves and moss as you yowl. The sound is fittingly animalistic for the setting, like the mangled bleating of a lamb as itâs pursued by a wolf: maw red, eyes hungry.
You feel him in your stomach. He fills you so much, so perfectly, you swear he knocks the air from your lungs. The grunts and groans that fall from his lips donât help either, and you find yourself gasping as your release looms, cresting like a wave.
Dex watches you, sweat beading high on his forehead as he takes what he needs. With something flashing in his eyes, he takes a hand and presses down on the softness of your lower belly. Your eyes roll, a splintered moan finding life in the cool air above you.
âYou feel me in your tummy, baby?â He asks, tone hinged across a whine. His big hand splays across your womb. âFuck, mâsoâmâso deep. You feel my cock in here?â
When you broached this predator-prey situation to him, you never imagined it would end up quite like this.
You moan. âFuck, y-yeah, babyâmâso full.â
Dex moans, much like yours. He sits back now, taking your hips in two hands. His thrusts build in speed and heâs hitting you deepâthe right spot every single time. He pulls you back onto him, panting like a dog as you tighten. He can feel the way your legs quiver either side of him too, and he watches as your entire body begins to shake.
Youâre teetering right on the edge of release. The rubber band in the pit of your stomach is pulling so tight itâs almost painful, and thereâs a solid sort of pleasure in your spine thatâs waiting to fissure. To crack, and splinter, and burst into a million pieces.
And Dex wants it too.
He wants to feel you come around his cock and squeeze him within an inch of his life. He wants to feel you pulse around him, thrum around him, milk him for all heâs worth.
âYou wanna come?â He asks you quietly, and itâs surprisingly soft in comparison to his thrusts. His cock doesnât relent and you begin to feel dizzy with your rising pleasure, your muscle fibres burning with it.
You nod hurriedly. âPlease, Dex. Mâso close, I just needââ
âI know what my sweet girl needs,â Dex mutters and, still using one hand to fuck you down onto his cock, his other hand winds down and finds the swollen pearl of your clit.Â
Two fingers find it straight away, and he draws a pattern of shapes across it as you sob his name. Youâre chanting his name and his ego soars, his balls pulling tight at the way you say it: âDex, Dex, oh fuck, Dex, pleaseâ!â
Youâre spiralling. The rubber band is pulling tight, tight, tight.
âLet me feel you,â he says. âCome for me, baby. Let me feel you.â
The band snaps.
You arch as you come, squeezing around his cock as your hands scrape down the taut muscles of his shoulders. You cry for him, his name the only intelligible word rolling off your tongue as your pussy spasms around him. Heat floods your entire body, the pressure in the base of your spine fragmenting as your legs seize around him, pulling him even tighter against you. Itâs a heavy pleasure that pulls you under, and you find yourself gasping as Dex fucks you through it, and youâre so dazed that you donât notice heâs writing his full name against your clit.
As your orgasm crests and fizzles, Dex takes two hands and plants them on your waist. With a deep growl, he holds you to him, forcing himself into the hilt as his own pleasure snaps like bone. He comes right against your cervix with a jerk of his hips.
âTake it, baby, take it, ah, fuck, fuckââ Dex rocks downward and buries his face into the crook of your neck, moaning your name as he spills, body flattening atop yours.Â
His cum fills you while his cock twitches, and he whimpers like heâs hurt as his balls tighten and his entire body flushes hot. You whine, scratching your nails down his back as his hips give a few feeble rolls before he stills, plugging his cum inside you. He kisses your neck lazily as you both settle into the natural silence of the woods.
âDexâŚâ You whisper, and he turns his head just as you do.
Your mouths slot together. The kiss is slower, more gentle. Itâs the gentle lapping of the lake against the shingled shore. Itâs the whisper of the cool autumn breeze and the chittering of dried leaves across the ground. Your tongues meet, wet and warm and slow, and he whines softly into it as you give his a playful suck before his head falls back.
âWe should do this more often,â you tell him, and he huffs, pressing his mouth back to yours. His teeth skim over your lip. Not quite a bite, but itâs enough to realise heâs a mutt with a bone that heâs willing and ready to sink his teeth into. You pull away again as one of your hands finds the back of his head, threading through his soft hair. You give it a gentle tug and he offers you a small, desperate whimper. âNext time, youâre not going to catch me.â
Dexâs eyes scan your face, and you feel his cock jerk inside of you. He smiles, and your stomach comes alive with nervous butterflies.
âIâll catch you every time,â he whispers, and he allows you to plant a kiss to the scar on his cheek. He hums, pleased as his cock gives another pathetic jolt inside you. âYou canât run from me, baby. Iâll always catch you.â
this was the best fucking thing iâve read in damn long time and i am a fanfic VETERAN. like im actually dizzy and im sweating and had to remove a few layers
âletâs make em kiss a littleâ đľâđŤđľâđŤđľâđŤđľâđŤ dizzy asfffff
âsheâs a mouthy girl today huh?â im literally hot
stalker!dex watching you on a date with a different man, white hot rage burning in his chest that he can barely restrain. His fingers tap on the telescope, jaw clenched and eyes twitching. The guy was staring at your tits way too much, he thinks itâs extremely inappropriate behaviour. Despite the fact heâs outside your window every night.
Cut to half an hour later, youâre calling dex sobbing saying your date stood you up mid date and you really needed a ride home!!! :(((( If you werenât so tipsy and sad, you wouldâve noticed how abnormally quick he got here.
But you were just so relieved to see him!!! heâd ask what happened so soft and gentle, tucking your hair behind your ear. He went to the bathroom and never came back, you said in a flurry of sobs and pouting.
Dex had to bite back a grin, knowing your dates body was only a few meters away in a dark alley.
oh nothing just stalker!bullseye and babydoll!reader ૮ę°ŕžŕ˝˛âŠÂ´ áľ `âŠęąŕžŕ˝˛á
stalker!bullseye who from the second his calculating gaze landed on you, in all your glittery, unsuspecting glory, was fixated. He just knew you had to be his. The thought of another man getting to experience that sweet, soft smile and those gentle hands, made violence stir in his chest.
stalker!bullseye who follows you around the entire city whenever he gets the chance. He knows your coffee order and what cafe you like. He knows the passcode to your apartment complex and when you get home. He knows your routine. He knows your relationships. He knows you. Better than anyone else, heâs sure.
stalker!bullseye who positions himself directly in your path as you leave the cafe like any regular morning. He bumps into you, making you spill your coffee all over the floor. And he swore he could feel his heart wretch at your sad pout from your coffee being all ruined!!! :(((
stalker!bullseye who insisted on buying you a new one, profusely apologising saying that he was an utter klutzâa lie, his reflexes are sublimeâas you walked back into the cafe. Together, this time. The thought made him so hard he jerked off in the cafe bathroom the second you left, picturing your pretty little face looking up at him.
stalker!dex who then worms into babydoll!readers life, playing the gentleman role like he hasnât left an impression on the fire escape from how long he stands there staring at you through the window. He takes his time âgetting to know youâ, as you put it. None the wiser to the fact he knew every little thing about you.
stalker!dex who jerks himself off on a rooftop after taking you on a date, watching you through your bedroom window as you touch yourself. He watches the way your hand moved, matching the pace you gave yourself. Imagining he was there, being the one to please you. He watches your brows knit, the way your jaw slackened. The way your lips twisted in a way that he swore resembled his name.
stalker!dex who when he finally got babydoll!reader alone, all to himself, looked like a caged animal. You were stripped to your lacies, the lace fabric doing nothing to obscure the pretty little pussy heâs watched you touch whilst thinking about him. His shoulders are squared and wide, fists clenched and jaw locked tight. âDex?â You whispered sweetly. âIâm gonna tear you apart.â He blurted out, pinpoint eyes staring at you with a mix of pure perversion and excitement. âwhat?â âDonât fucking talk.â
synopsis: being out of the industry since his golden years has its benefits, but heâs more than willing to help out its latest starlet in the making.
â tags: fauxcest, porn with some plot, pornstar!reader & retired pornstar!leon, age difference (readerâs in her 20âs, leonâs in his 50âs), filmed sex, facesitting, p in v, oral sex (male receiving), mutual masturbation, manhandling, slight voyeurism.
â note: kinda fucked myself over with trying to think of a coherent plot but couldnât let this idea go so i did my best ⌠made leon a pervert cause #onceapervertalwaysapervert. feedback & reblogs always appreciated <3
To start things off: Leon isnât particularly new to the concept of sex. Heâs seen inâand lived through itâtoo many times to count. It was a certain point in his life he wasnât⌠exactly proud of, per se. However, neither was it escapable in the aftermath.
The circumstances itself are already comical and clichĂŠ to an extent. Bright-eyed, pampered little Kennedy graduating top of his class, sent away on a bumpy expedition to waste years away at some prestigious police academy (thank god for familial connections), just for his optimistic hopes and dreams to be crushed under the boot of misfortune. Years of experience down the drain. So, whatâs a boy his age to do? So, so stereotypically blonde, an average height, an little above average dick, threaded brows, majority of his innocence intactâ
Lands him right into the talons of the porn industry, thatâs what. Point blank. Taken right off the bat. Heâs their ideal source of income, an ideal poster boy to project through grainy camera lenses and capture on the front of vintage erotica magazines. It was the nineties and men like him were all the rage.
Blonde bombshells usually come with the whole package. Big tits, helium-brimming heads, curves bending and folding in the right places, glistening thighs thatâd rightfully shine under the studio lights. That was Leon for the public eye. Young, somewhat naĂŻve Leon, who got himself caught in the sticky threads of an artificial sex life. By twenty-two, heâd done anal more times he could count, fucked enough pussies to drain his balls into lifetime prescription of Viagra, ingrained an entire catalogue of sex positions that heâd be doing for another decade.
He fucked his way up to the top. Sucked and took a few dicks here and thereâlimp, heavy, skinny, bentâtook enough girls on their backs and their fronts. A complete nineties heartthrob that youâd cut out of vintage Playboys and plaster across your bedroom walls, stash a contraband of his dedicated VHS tapes under your bed for safekeeping. And for a very long unfortunate while, he became the icon of all things pornographic.
Aging is a terrible thing to some. It breaks your body down piece by piece, restrains vigorous limbs in an inescapable bondage of old age, melts muscles down into depressing fat. However, luck once again treads carefully and takes the reins in his regards. With age came better benefits, better opportunities, an improved array of feedback spewed from the general public. Leon only saw age as an advantage. Another decade-worthy paycheck.
Like, itâs not like it was a necessarily difficult transition to make.
Going fromâBuxom Blonde Stud Destroys Slutty Brunette and Tender Bombshell Blonde Gets Pounded by Military SergeantâtoâBombshell Italian Stallion Fucks Barely Legal Whore and Heartthrob Kennedy Dicks Down Young Nympho.
By then, heâs had stubbles and pornstaches made apart of his trademark. Not as much as that side-part, though. The one that used to be a bustling, sunshine yellow. Signature flaxen locks thatâve been slowly growing in bristles of silver. Women tend to have a fetish for that type of thing, anyway. They did back then, and they most certainly do now. Itâs the type of thing thatâs passed down generation to generation; a tendency to gravitate towards silver foxes and crowâs feet around the eyes rather than cherubic, baby-faced idiots who couldnât tell resistance from a womanâs genuine pleasure.
Leon is an expert on those sorts of things, heâs studied and learned and experienced that stuffâsensual stuff. As in, womenâs pleasure stuff, the female orgasm stuff, prioritizing a ladyâs orgasm over his own stuff. He made himself a name amongst dwelling, loser perverse women. Their savior, he likes to think. A fantasy far fetch from the reality of man. Fucked pretty, young creatures with tits bigger than their heads and lips bigger than life for the sake of the ones who couldnât bear teeth and sink their tongues into each crevice of him.
Now that was all in the past. Some distant memory barely out of an armâs reach.
He was a good man, a reformed man. He had a place in society and worked under the knots. Semi-early retirement did wonders for him since he can bask in the positive repercussions of his successfully-ended porn career, no guilt, no shame, thatâs just how the industry worked for men, you know?
(Theyâre off the hookâas easy as a snapâand itâs almost like they were never involved in such illicit affairs. Lucky assholes.)
What they donât tell you is that men are men at the end of the day. Unless heâs got permanent erectile dysfunctionâtechnically he doesnât, but years of sticking your cock in any hole you could get paid for does thing, Viagraâs known him better than any two-bit costarâhe could still get it up, through and through. Basic motor skills are forever intertwined in his nerves, up his limbs, stamped on his brain. May he eternally know how to grab a girl by her hips, fuck into her just at the right pace, bend her in ways that heâs been handled.
To him, his pornstar title is something that he doesnât abandon, but lives up to. Heâs made a total legacy for himselfâa legacy rooted in a gaggle of wanting girls, soft skin, feline curves and a subconscious need to make a proper introduction out of them.
âShouldnât weâoh, I dunnoâbe filming this in a more professional setting?â there goes your snarky voices reverberating in his ears, body splayed like a blow-up doll across his expensive sheets, head staring hung off the edge rigor-mortis-stiff, contrastingly lively and bright eyes burning brands across his form while he preps the camera a few inches away from where you laid, unmoving and oh-so aroused.
âBeen doing this my whole life, Iâve got an idea on how things run.â He tells you with crinkling eyes, amusement pulling on his crowâs feet. âOkay⌠yeah, this is good. Stay there.â Leon likes this part of the job, heâs not going to lie about thatâhaving the opportunity to test the waters, dipping his toes in the bustling world of these newly-hires starting off at ground zero. Same process, different girls. Thatâs what made it so exhilarating, he practically fed off of that shit like a means for energy.
âGet my good angles, Kennedy.â you furrow your brows, lips jutting out in perfect pinkish pillows.
He rolls his eyes. âYou wanted the first couple of shots to be solo, Iâve got it right,â his words come out to match your impudence, âsay, what you got squeezed out right now?â
âLike?â
âVideos, I mean. Magazines, if youâve gotten into thatâcontentâs a hell of a lot easier to get around nowadays.â
âIâve only got a couple,â you respond gingerly, fingertips tracing up-and-down lines across one lacy bra strap, âyouâve gotta cut me some slack, though, Iâm new here.â
He splays wide palms across either sides of the camera, tilting it at just the right angleâon your orders, of course, heâs the gentleman type outside of the ruthless sex and the black market aphrodisiacs and the persona heâs built walls around himself for years on endâbefore curving the corner and stepping into frame. Grand entrance. An easy tick-up on views.
When you peak around his domineering stature, thereâs a brief capture in slow motion, black and white, cinematic like the real films. Thereâs him in all of his blonde, professional glory, preying eyes taking in what thereâs left to work with, and thereâs you. Bending at his will, the contrast is quite humorous in its own nature. Youâre beady eyes and timid as a newborn doe, girlish panties snapped around your hips, nerves running head to toe left unresting.
As embarrassing as you found it, you figured heâs deal with this a hundred times over. Leonâs got his count of naked womenâlingering in the range of naĂŻve to matureâracked up on a relentless body count, like, serial killer levels of numbers. The thought sends a quiver down your bones. What were you getting yourself into? you wonder internally, Howâd you get yourself caught up in the binding webs on this sort-of predicament?
God, maybe you really shouldâve listened to your parents, or that nice college advisor. You had the brains and daddyâs money, you had the capability to be sent off to a nice college. Most certainly not someplace Ivy League, but something that could have you set for life. Get your bachelorâs in a career you could waste years on, find a nice man to settle with, lose yourself in the spiral of a nuclear family.
Oh.
That takes you back to the first stage. A pursuing education definitely did sound nice, thereâs no doubting yourself in that area, but youâre young and free and youâre prone to making stupid choices that will inevitably assist you to metamorphosise into a better version of the woman youâve only just started building the foundation of. Your frontal lobeâs a long ways to go, and indulging yourself in adolescent stupidity is fun. Having just turned the legal age of drinking, youâve already made it so far.
Besides, sucking up (off) in college couldâve taken you as far as a porn career. No differences here.
âYou kids have it so easy now,â he starts, fatherly almost, reaching a spanning hand down and fiddling with the steel buckle of his belt. âback in my day, girls had to work for their part, this homemade shit wasnât all that popular yet,â next came the rustling of denim and then youâre face-to-face with a protruding bulge, confined to black briefs for now, âwe had auditions and looks requirements and shit like thatâthose days are lost.â
You sigh, not caring much for his lectures, reaching back to slither shaky fingers under the clasp of your bra which keeps you modest in the meantime. With a silent click, youâre instantly perverted. Dirtied and bare to the world, vulnerability seeps into your veins, blemishes your skin and sends a hot shock up the column of your spine. âGod, whatever, old man, I get it,â you scoff, raising one stocking-clad leg and tracing your foot across his chest, âyou gonna fuck me or keep actinâ like my dad?â
âHold on, little lady, you said you were new to this shit,â A feverish palm pats your lower leg, kneading at your loose foot.
âYeah, what about it?â giving him those beady eyes, you gaze through the dark, tar-covered curtains of your lashes, the type of look youâve seen time and time again projected onto the faces of the girls heâs built up and pounded under his domineering persona.
âI dunno, I just figured that you deserve the spotlight, at least for the few first minutes.â Leon suggests, one side of his mouth twitching up into a rugged leer. âGet the gears running or something.â
For a second, you stay quiet in consideration before biting on your tongue and swallowing your humiliation. âSo, what, you just want me to go solo?â
âThatâs right,â he nods, wispy, peppering strands bouncing against his creasing forehead.
âAwe, but I thought you were all action,â your legs part slowly from one another in preparation, the exterior of your gusset becoming the centerpiece of the shot. âguess age is taking a toll on you.â
Leon doesnât reply immediately and moves back around the camera, watching, preying, making a voyeur out of himself. You notice the way a half-fist rests at the outline of his obtrusive size, swallowing your spit and trying not to let it get the best of you. I mean, you werenât exactly new to laying eyes on a dick, his dick, specifically. Heâs been a site of interest since you were⌠what? Maybe eighteen, nineteen years old.
Itâs a run-through, flaccid, malleable thing.
Countless evenings of late-night masturbation to whatever Kennedy tabloids or unforeseen explicit tapes your greedy paws could sink into brought you here, and it was custom to thank whatever god brought your fates to a fork in the road. Only one way from here. A route that youâd approach steadily alongside him. He influenced you, coercing an impressionable young girl to debauch herself, staple a price of purity on her flesh.
At that, something internally clicks like two pieces of a seatbelt.
Heâs here, youâre here, and his dingy apartment room where there seems to be no exit passageways or fire escapes closes in on you andâ
Youâre finally getting what youâve wanted. Leonâs making you into a star, a professional harlot in the league of whoring. A father figure who guides you one-by-one, smoothing coarse hands along your thighs, drags his thumb across the portly pink of your lower lip, gets you fitted to the conditions of living like nothing more than a sex kitten.
While you hook your fingers into the sides of your thong and drag the flimsy fabric down to your ankles, you give him a virtuous look, âYou know, Iâm nearly young enough to be your daughter.â
âOh,â He blinks, standing in place, catatonic, fishing his cock out to rest against his lower stomach and having his hand move around it in a cupped gesture, âI⌠yeah, I already had that figured out.â
âWouldnât that be nice?â
âWhat?â
âYouâd be my dad,â this is good, youâre getting adjusted to the whole artificial facadeâbatting your lashes sweet, reaching a hand down between the inner sanctum of your thighs, pussy soaked to the point that your fingers slip as you spread your labia and have him feast on the exposing sight. âI could be your daughter.â
D-a-d. Not the stereotypical âDaddyâ, five letters, two syllables, rolls off a curved nymphoâs tongue without an ounce of bashful modesty. That was fucked, like, super fuckedâLeon knows it, you know it, but, really, did that make any difference? Men get off to anything, and heâs not going to bullshit himself with morals when thereâs enough blood rushing to his dick at the thought till it ached, harsher than the repercussions of those blue blue pills popped on the flat of his tongue.
And Leon wasnât exactly one to dictate ethics in your little deviant-lead fantasies. Heâs been the culprit time and time again; the pseudo-dad to his air-headed daughter, the hot uncle youâd see once in five blue moons on an abnormal interval, and if he wanted to go way back, the slutty stepbrother and his own daddy (heâd never forget that, or rather, him, Krauser was a good fuck on set and on down-low).
âYouâre fucked in the head,â He says, despite the fist sliding up, down, up in a mindless repetition, paled blue eyes that have seen years of experience openly gawking at how you take pleasure in drawing messy figure eightâs into your throbbing nub.
Sighing shakily, you lean back agains the abundance of pillows, half-lidded eyes staring back at him shamelessly, âYou like it, though, I can see it.â
(On his cock, on his face, in his hand motions.)
âIs that what you really want?â His tone is low and breathy, success seems to rush back to you in no time.
âSo bad, daddy,â you confess in a blatant truth, keeping yourself spread on display and working two fingers into the warm clutch of your cunt, âused to get off to you anyway I could.â
âFuckinâ groupie,â he tsks, âyou lot are unbelievable.â
The atmosphere lingering in the room grows stagnant and overwhelmingly fragrant with the stench of arousal. A feverish sheen settles on your skinâs surface and you canât help but incline back, a heavy head resting on his linen pillows. With shut eyes and parted lips molded to an O, some persisting remnants of his presence engulf you through the mattressâmusky cologne, remaining perspiration, and itâs so, so stimulating.
He floods your veins and your thoughts and takes you as you are. A faint silhouette in the dark abyss of your emptied vision. Man-shaped and looming, he spikes your feeble libido in no way any porno has done for you. Youâre almost certain it was the pseudo dad-daughter shtick youâve got going on with him. Positive. Even itâs taking quite a toll on Leonâyou watch his chest rise and fall with the weighted breaths he takes, the drop of his mouth the longer he ogles at your prone from, the consistent jerk of his cock which gets it worked to a mass.
For now your fingers suffice, sliding over and over again, in and out, breaching your hole and making your heart accelerate twice its normal rate. Slick drools down from your dewy folds, getting your inner thighs messy until thereâs a visible puddle bleeding into the pristine sheets below. Your tits pop out over the cups of your bra, nipples pebbling against the warm airâputting on a real show for the camera like a natural. This is gonna take you far, if you thought about it. A young, up and coming, primadonna with aspirations intact to be a star.
Entrance cue. The spotlight in your mind shifts and here he came circling back to where you were, a side attraction in support of the leading role. In this light, his gruffy, resolute face is put into full perspectiveâspecks of gray spotting his cheeks and mouth, dark ovals dragging on his under-eyes, that sweeping side-part shadowing the evidence of creasing against across his forehead. And you think to yourself how lucky you were to have taken him as your daddy (off: dad).
âCome here, baby, think you can help daddy out here?â he sighs, the fist caging his cock in instead holding it out to you like bait, prompting you to crawl and keep up this act.
Like the most spoiled of pooches, you expel your fingers and find the strength to sit up, but not until you slump on your knees; flat palms baking indents into the spoiled mattress, knees arranged in the same manner. Youâre completely losing it. Your shame and dignity dissolved into residues of what used to be. Though, the tingling degradation simmers into the usual crude nature of your scenario, and you take nothing but pleasure in it, crawling to where he stood at the end of the bed and finding solace in nuzzling against his erect cock, kittenish and reserved.
âLike this?â your voice breaks off into a tone thatâs strangely girlish and muffled once you suckle over his beading tip.
âMhm, just like that,â Leon breathes and you canât help but wonder how this all sounded and looked on camera, âlook at you, my girlâs all grown up nowâsheâll be on the big screens just like her daddy in no time.â
âI only get it from the best,â you say, grinning sweetly.
Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, taking his cock in to the hilt was a much bigger struggle than you had intended. Like, yeah, you knew this was a veteran in the industry you were dealing with, but this was suffocating. The profuse musk once you sink down onto your nose squishes up against his pelvis stings your nostrils. His hand tangled at the back of your head acts as guidance, a guardian angel of some sortsâa parental figure, in a realistic sense.
Leon teaches you the professional techniques on how to suck cock like him, how to slide your tongue in knots, how to use your hands, how to use your mouth to its full potential. Itâs only the right thing to do. Heâs your so-called daddy, after all, and what kind of father would he be if he never taught his daughter to embrace their decades-long legacy?
You stand your ground as the daughter of a pornstar, you get treated like one.
To his luck you waste no time in proving yourself as a fast learner. Years of self-indulgence in porn does that for you. Swallowing him down, your head bobs in a somewhat satisfactory fashion. He smells tangier here, like the rag he uses to wipe himself down after a good fuck, like the lavish cologne he wastes a few bucks on after a good paycheck. Wet and sticky, your shining lips are quick to be ruined with strings of milky white. Spit bubbles at the corners of your mouth, stomach-churning gargles erupting through a mouthful of cock that was bound to leave a burn in your throat in the calm after the storm.
âThere you go, honey, see? I knew I was doinâ something right in raising you,â He admires his handiwork, petting your hair over while keeping you firm against his taut pelvis.
Compliant and unmoving, you sit at feet like a number one trophy pooch at the local shelter. Grabbing onto his heavy, muscled thighs for support, you feel the rigid limbs ripple each time the throbbing head of his cock knocks the back of your poor, constrained throat. Through pre-stained lashes, you watch his head slope back, hearty yet smothered grunts reverberating from behind clenched teeth.
One of your hands trace a line up the interior of his left thigh and cups what you canât fit in, massaging his unattended balls, feeling them draw up in an immediate reaction. He slips a curse into the air and tightens his hold on the back of your head, not caring much for that warm welcome hospitality anymore and taking the reignsâstilling your head to his lower half and working his aging hips to fuck into the gloryhole of your mouth. Gives you a taste of that real treatment youâd be subjected to for about a majority of your career.
Your eyes squint in an attempt to focus as you keep a hold on his firm ass, doing the best to stabilize yourself when he makes a mess out of your throat. Charcoal tears stain your flushed cheeks when youâre reduced to nothing but a living, breathing sex doll for him; the bonafide pornstar experience. When youâve got a decent pair of tits and a tight pussy he could work with, then, yeah, youâre more than qualified here.
He does this cute thing where he shudders and lets out an audible groan thatâs way louder than the other half-assed sounds heâs been letting out, fingers piercing your scalp while his hips come to a standstill. One major finale in his eyes. Globs of warm, potent cum spill onto your tongue and the taste becomes gradually palpable when youâre forced to swallow it down, some of it seeping out the corners of your lips.
A bridging line of spit connects your glistening lips to his cock when he releases his grip on your head, giving way to a temporary sanctum of relief. You turn your head to spit, but heâs quicker, grabbing at the hinges of your jaw and coercing you to face the camera. Itâs a stark contrast from the girl you used to beâkissed-bruised lips, evidence of his ejaculation painted in streaks forehead to cheek, half-lidded eyes.
Being the considerate upper hand, he clicks his tongue against the roof of his tongue and grins in a charming demeanor, âGive them a big, olâ smile, baby,â he tells you in a coo, brushing away the loose strands of hair sticking to the sides of your face, âGot that from her daddy, and theseââ his words linger in the air and his free hand gropes your tits, squeezing till the fat spills through the gaps of his fingers, âespecially got these from her old man.â
âYou gonna fuck me now?â your face spasms when you speak up, lips stuttering in a mimicking collage of the pornstars that have come before you. The ones youâve stumbled across by accident, with their pretty smiles and cum-stained gums that are nothing more than reminiscent of your circumstances when you think back to them.
âDepends on what they wanna see.â he responds, nodding his chin over to where he holds you towards.
You pout. âThatâs not fair,â you declare rightfully so, blinking at him through your peripherals, âdads are supposed to give their daughters everythingâitâs just the way things go.â
âBut they also donât fuck âem either, so thereâs really no logic there,â Leon chuckles and liberates your face, and you want to scowl, to claw his eyes out and ruin that handsome, aquiline face of his thatâs gotten him a comfortable life in the nicer parts of his city, but thatâs not so easy when heâs got you in a trance, âYou gotta earn what you want, well, at least just this once.â
How dare he frame your relationship as something so perverse when he himself is a hypocrite, here he is as the perfect father, having his daughter moan unashamedly while he maneuvers her above his face. Your lips, once meeting in slow, loving gestures, mutate into a scene of depravity. Father and daughter. Leon is past the puppy love phase and revels in the fascination of your perfect cunt, miles better than repetitive kisses. His eyes are lidded just as yours and his plump lips are parted and his tongue finds solace in lapping across your folds like a starved mongrel.
Such shameless behavior. Then again, being shameless has become his brand. Surname Kennedy has its turn of being historically scandalous, dirty, a blemish on Americaâs good nation. Heâs apart of a family tree thatâs been fucked-up for more than decades. It was in his blood (and yours) this whole time. American tradition, laying five foot ten across the performance mattress, he dirties his name for the hundredth time and lets whatever remains of your arousal to stain his stubble.
His ten knuckles fold and curve inward like the teeth of a metallic contraption. Your thighs cage his head in, and by a first impression, someone might pity his lack of air supply. But Leonâs is right where he wants to be, in the jaws of a praying mantis, playing subservient for the sake of your inexperience. You crush down on his face and he responds accordingly, lashes fluttering down his crowâs feet, putting his tongue and lips to good use, licking, sucking, lapping the deepest he could get.
Female anatomy had to be his concern. Emphasis on had. Thatâs being a regular hunk in the industry, for you. High demand calls for learning the best pleasuresâwhere to put your hands on a woman, how to work around a pussy, how to grope at a pair of tits the right way, because half-ass effort could take you nowhere but the plummeting slums of lesser paychecks and, ultimately, an easy lay off.
Lost in a warming pool of ecstasy, you throw your head back and into frame, hips making whatever effort they could to grind down against his mouth, bumping your clit into the bridge of his nose. You think youâve got this routine down to a T. Making a display out of your naked body, exaggerating your moans to a higher-up pitch, losing yourself in the act. Easy stuff for an easy job. Girls have the tendency to rely on their fathers the most, anyways, and when it came to porn and the female orgasm and everything in the books of Freud, youâre a model example.
âGod, fuck, daddyâI canât,â you whine, shivering and tangling a fist in his blonde locks like youâre taming a wild horse, his horse face.
You feel him swipe his tongue top to bottom again, then the secondary gesture of sliding it across his lips, âDonât say that, you can and you will,â he tells you simply, muffled, but still loud enough to make an understanding of.
âIâm beinâ honest, itâs too much!â your mouth opens and closes as if youâre bending under the pressure, back bowing under the force of gravity.
He slides you down a few inches, shining blues peeking out from where your flesh previously encompassed. âTell me something,â Leon clears his throat, squeezing one of your thighs in a means to discipline, âWhat will the people think when they find out I raised my girl a quitter?â
âHuh?â you say absentmindedly, pupils dilated and not much caring of his antics.
âYouâre a young, passionate, talented girl,â he continues and with one, last swipe to your pussy, his arms slither serpentine-like and the brawn of his biceps lock around your thighs. Itâs in no time when youâre suddenly back-flat to the mattress and donât have your back to camera anymore. The frame captures something completely different, the brooding father above his harlot daughter, naked flesh to naked flesh, intimacy blown out of proportion. âI know that, you know that, youâre a lot capable than you think.â
His tufts of hanging hair serve as a curtain of privacy away from the audience, from the camera, to whatever tapped-wire device was placed around his apartment and sending this shit to some covert third-party organization that could blackmail a poor, innocent young girl trying to make in the world. Though, the thought is almost immediately shoved to the back of your head when heâs got you immobilized. Rapidly beating hearts and an unsalvageable hunger, you admire every corner and crater to his face.
Heâs as old as your actual father. Literally. Maybe this is what this wasâa confrontation against your poorly resolved daddy issues, cycling back into something amid an Electra Complex and a resolute nymphomania. Becoming a pornstar meant your issues coming back to haunt what hasnât been fathomed, taking it, and building something fun, exhilarating, distracting. You needed this. You always did. The affection, the attentiveness, you needed⌠well, your dad, a boyfriend, a hook-up. Leon, however he managed to do so, manifested himself as all three. It was divine intervention to find out about him on the most godless places.
âIâm only trying to make a living.â you breathe, making the first move this time and hooking two quivering legs around the span of his waist.
âThat ainât much of an excuse, I was too,â he bites back, placing a hand under your leg and lifting it an inch or two higher, âShit doesnât come for free, honey, sorry to be the one to tell you.â
Parting your lips, you opt to send another hurdling response back his way, but by then, heâs already handled your legs halfway up his torso. The swampy, sex-polluted air materializes into a dense, weighted blanket of crushing weight which gives out all over your body. His horse cockâgod bless genetics, his have really been in your favor hereâhot and heavy, slides between your folds, nestling there comfortably and borderline penetrative.
âDonât be like that.â you frown, brows furrowing in addition.
âLike what?â
âMean, daddyâyouâre being rude.â
Leonâs eyes, once so charming and full of undying carnality, appear empty. Not, like, totally vacant, but somethingâs lacking in them. The life in his eyes have been drained away from him years ago, but this time itâs that same look a proper, reconciling father gives his daughter. One that transpires when he realizes his wrongdoings, or one when he truly, utterly admires how far his girl has come. Love. Artificial love, maybe, this was a porn set after all; you liked to believe it was real, nonetheless. Itâs a pleasant feeling that you couldnât quite ace while in your early prepubescent years.
He pets your hair back, like a puppy, like something important to him, and presses an uncharacteristic kiss to your cheek. Fleeting and branding. âIâm sorry, sweetheart, I⌠you know that I just want the best for you.â
âI could prove myself to you.â you say, eagerly leaning and taking in the warmth of his stroking palm.
âYeah? how do you think you could manage to do that?â he teases.
Right. This was business, and getting back on track was your number one priority right now. In an exuberant display, you spread your legs the farthest they can go, glistening folds parting like the petals of a perverted bloom. Thatâs one way to approach a question, he supposes. A feisty grin finds its way back to your lips and you take your lower lip in a biting hold, hair splaying across the mattress that you could be mistaken for an angel about now (or a two-cent prostitute walking the streets with how your makeupâs stained).
He sucks a breath between his teeth and exhales. âYou know, maybe I was wrong about you,â the opportunity lies there in the flesh for him and he wastes no time in slotting his hips in the given space, âYouâve actually got guts.â
Itâs torture watching him pump his cock across the field of your stomach, fingertips sliding over each and every vein, thumbing the dewy slit. Then again, you canât help feel grateful on the precipiceâfor once in your life, things are going your way. Your mind lingers to the upcoming morning, how youâd wake up at his side, in his arms, smelling of him, living like you own his place (correction: heart).
By now, he probably has your name jotted down in his will somewhere, sayingâOh her? Yeah, sheâs something special. Gets half of my estate, my savings, my accountsâsheâs my daughter, for fuckâs sakes, most certainly not some amateur little college girl pornstar hook-up I screwed and grew my heart four times its size to fit her in.
You could be his on-screen wife, some poor sniffling kitten he finds in some dark alleyway, a waitress at his local cafe, his sister, his coworkerâheâd still fuck you all the same. Same girl, same piece of his heart thatâs shaped in the figure of you, the same pussy he feeds his cock into inch by inch. The stretch is burning, dragging yet not nearly painful as you had anticipated it to be; coming fully equipped with an easy-to-soak pussy took you so far in life.
Natural instinct kicks in and you swathe him in a cocoon of hopelessness, fingers prodding at the shorter hairs near the back of his head before your nails go the full way, hacking away and leaving scarlet slashes on his pallid-kissed back with the moles and flexing flesh over searing bones. Dad hook-up fucks you into the mattress. Dad coworker slash boyfriend slash husband slash parent with benefits leaves a print on your malleable guts.
God, what were you doing anymore?
Porn does things to the brain, like a chemical override on neuron networks and that region of the brain that sets your nerve endings ablaze. Itâs⌠different when youâre actively indulging in it, you can say. Way different than eyeing it up and nudging a hand down the front of your panties and getting off to the scenario of two intimate bodies playing the taboo fantasies you would much rather keep to yourself. Youâre starting to believe that daddyâLeon, you have to keep reminding yourselfâis truly real. The title loses its value of falsity quickly, crossing the threshold of whatâs moral and what isnât.
And real it was. His hips work as a singular, moving piston, driving in and out of you mercilessly. Bottoms out inside without much work and rewards himself self-satisfied grunt rumbling in his throat. Your poor, poor pussy; sheâs been treated to hell and back for hours and the proof lays in the ongoing tape thatâs got a length worthy of serving as tangible evidence in court. First degree daughter-slaughter, no possibility of parole, all the evidence compact to one scandalous sextape. Yeah. Heâs made his bed and was most definitely pleading guilty to such misconduct.
âOh, dadâŚâ you whine, rolling your hips to his and sinking your head into the sea of sheets beneath you, the indent swallowing you whole. You look pretty like this. A sheen face and parted lips, tits bouncing with each thrust that kisses your cervix, body wrapped and clinging to him like a baby animal to its mother. âTell me how I can be good for youâif youâre going to have me like this, tell me how I can be good.â
Eyes flit down from where you two are meeting in a violent, delicate act of penetration, and when your gaze meets his again, he can tell youâre going to go far. Performance-wise, sex-wise. All the same. How your pupils peek out the fans of your ruined lashes, how your cheeks flush the perfect cherry-red, how your compliance is spread out below him. Youâre a picture of perverse beauty in his eyes.
âA daughter must succeed her mother, doesnât she?â you insist softly, bringing a hand up to cup his clammy in to which he nuzzles against like an eager mutt, opened-mouth and half-eyed.
In response, he says to you: âMy lovely girl, you couldnât do anything better,â the words find themselves in empty intervals in the midst of his onslaught of grunts reverberating off the walls, dick stretching your cunt open to a degree of soreness, âyouâre already so good, consider this is to be⌠something of a thanks.â
âFor me?â you inquire, gasping when he suddenly quickens his pace to add emphasis on his words.
For a moment heâs left rather speechless. Lost to the reverie of fucking, wallowing in the pleasure of fucking a girl twice younger his age. Leonâs become a full-blown pervert, heâs more than convinced. The girls he fucks stay young, while he has the chance to bloom into old age. His face is horizontal to the wall while he straightens his aching posture the best he can, hands planting at either side of your head while he braces himself and goes to town on your tender pussy.
You burrow your face into the slot of his neck, taking in the stench cologne and permeating sweat and letting the fumes to get your head like a gas leak. A pressure in your lower stomach begins to seep in, bubbling up every time the head of his cock kisses your cervix. Just as youâre about to protest and try to kick him off, he pulls out, squeezes both hips and maneuvers you to lay on your stomach.
âAll I doâeverything I do is for you, baby,â Leon says, laying his heavy cock on your ass cheeks and when you think of whining to him about the abrupt loss, he forces himself back inside without warning. He feeds into his bad posture and hunches over your prone form, collaring your throat in one, bulging bicep of fat. His thighs spread out on either side of you and everything feels ten times more feverish.
The aftershocks send an electrifying jolt up your spine, numbing your brain and making you go cockdrunk. Leonâs hips move in a lack of restraint and heâs lost in the sensation of your pussy⌠tight, warm, welcoming. You understand. Itâs a cute little thingâbuilt in with silken pussy lips and a nub hidden in the array. And luckily, itâs attached to an even cuter face.
âDaddy!â you yelp, burying your face in his muscle, letting out the sweetest ah, ah, ahâs that penetrates the air.
âBaby,â he sighs, âmy sweet girl, my everythingââ
Leonâs not going to be biased and say your pussyâs the best thing heâs sunken into in years. However, it comes real close. Heâs an addict breaking a streak of sobriety for this. It makes the sweetest sounds as he fucks in and out of you, squelching and mewling in a wet cacophony. You almost donât process the returning pang in your jaw when he makes a grab at it again, lifting your face up from the pillow of his muscle and tugging it to the side. Dad meets you halfway, hovering over and mashing your lips to his. Explicit and improper.
âLove you lots,â if a director were hereâwith a registered license and a business card and a pinch of professionalism on the surfaceâyouâd both be fired on the spot, full repercussions, âam I doinâ this right?â
âYeah, yeah, I can feel you,â He mutters on your tongue, licking your teeth, tracing the bands of guns, âCâmon, honey, make your big break.â
That alone was enough to make you squeeze up around himâwho were you kidding? Given the momentum his balls build up plapping against your ass, the way his hand falls to your folds, spreading them open and thumbing at the nub in messy circles, your body tenses up and speckles of black explode across your vision. Itâs impossible to miss the warm, bursting surge of cum he loads into your cunt, spilling in ropes. You take it like a champ. Beautiful form, just like your daddy in the end.
âOh my god, Leon,â Quivering afterwards, you lift your head full of rocks and have wet his pelvis and solidified your presence in his bed (in his heart, permanently, most likely). Leonâs softening cock slips out of you and rests flaccid on his thigh, leaving you hollow yet satisfied and filled. You curl against his chest like a content cat, yawning big, nuzzling into his side affectionately as he strokes your hair back in an equal fashion.
âShit, baby, with a fuck like that youâll put me back on the front covers,â He muses with a hum.
Maybe this was where your rightful place stood; maybe you were, without a doubt, starved for fatherly affection and couldnât help but allow the perversity of your needs to swallow you whole. Maybe you really did belong here, attached to his hip, loving him despite his disparities and mellowing of age. You wholeheartedly believed you love him, and loved him, and you wouldnât if you werenât here basking in his warmth as a kittenâas a daughter, as his one and only.
âI love you,â you say to him more earnestly, more assertive, and you honestly canât tell what was real and what was fake spewing from your mouth anymore, a perfect performance piece.
Lovingly, he nestles around you like legitimate kin, going as far as to cradle your head and kiss your hairline, âLove you moreâdadâs gonna make you the biggest star.â
The vision at the moment was clear, crystal, transparent. Anything which distinguished the fact that there wasnât much left for you to grasp onto as a means of escape and to save yourself from the inevitable, unhealthy spiral into⌠whatever you had going on with him. Itâs only natural, he thinks. Years from now, heâd be one foot in the graveâor rather the whole massâwhen you reach the milestone of a fully-developed frontal lobe, and most likely, a plated name in the industry by then.
Right now, Leon doesnât care much for milestones or major developments or the dozens other of âdaddiesâ you could have after him. He prefers to live in the moment and savor the weight of his actions, his decisions, of you. Like separated, binding fates somehow intertwining and eventually meeting at the halfway point. Like father and daughter, like how it was always meant to be.
