Hello! I am so glad I found your page. I hope you are still taking requests.
I was thinking of one with Adam Sackler and a very level-headed significant other. Adam was always hot-headed and tended to erupt during times of argument or emotional distress. I always wondered what it would be like to have him paired with an emotionally mature girlfriend that only wants the best for him and tries to get him to open up to her and deal with his problems in a healthy manner.
I believe that the scenario can open up an opportunity for angst if during a moment when she's trying to talk him down, he throws something and she accidentally gets hurt.
The prompts that came to mind were 13. "Don't push me away." and 46. "Are we gonna talk or are you just gonna sit there and sulk?"
Thank you!
The Edge of Us
Adam Sackler x F!Reader.
Warnings: Verbal Aggression, Angst, Throwing things (Only one thing), Cursing.
Word Count: 1k
A/N: Hey! Thank you so much for your request, it's such a great idea and I just had to write it!
It's not much but I made sure to add in those prompts! I hope you like it.
The argument was over something entirely stupid. Or at least, that’s how it felt to me. Adam, on the other hand? Well, he was Adam.
He sat on the couch, legs spread wide, arms crossed tightly over his chest like a defiant child. His jaw was set, brows furrowed, the storm brewing behind his eyes as obvious as the tension suffocating the room. I mirrored his posture as I stood in front of him, the coffee table acting as a barrier between us.
"You do know I have a life outside of this apartment, right?" I said, my hands finding my hips as I met his glare head-on.
He scoffed, the sound bitter, his lips twisting in that condescending way that never failed to make my blood boil. "Of course I do, but you’ve been out every night with your friends. You act like you hate me when you get home, then you completely ignore me in the morning before work."
I let out a sharp sigh, rolling my eyes. "That's such an exaggeration, Adam. I’ve gone out twice this week. Twice. And once was with my sister. We even invited you—remember? You said no. I don’t hate you. I have no idea where you’re even getting that from. But every time I come home, you’re on this couch, either glued to a game or watching something mindless. After a while? Yeah, I stopped trying to get your attention."
His posture snapped forward, the muscles in his arms flexing under his crossed grip as he stared me down. "That’s not true. Yesterday? I hugged you the second I walked through the door, and you didn’t even acknowledge me."
My voice dropped, steady but laced with growing frustration. "Yeah? You wanna know why?"
He shrugged, and the silence felt heavier than the words hanging between us.
"Because," I bit out, "two days ago, I asked you to pick up milk and bread—literally two things, Adam. Two. And when I got home, I couldn’t make dinner because you forgot. So I had to go out and do it myself, after working all day. And you? You just sat there like it was nothing."
His face twisted, mouth opening in that silent oh as his gaze dropped to the floor. He looked caught for half a second—before the stubbornness returned.
"Yeah, well, I told you I was gonna be busy that day," he muttered, voice tight, defensive.
"The store is next door, Adam. Not across town. You’re just too caught up in whatever you’re doing to care about this relationship. You do realize I can’t do everything for you, right? I’m not your mom."
That hit the nerve. I saw the shift, the way his body went rigid, the tension snapping like a wire stretched too thin.
Adam shot to his feet, the coffee table between us feeling too small all of a sudden. His brown eyes, usually warm, were sharp—cutting.
"Don’t give me that look," I warned, heart pounding faster than I wanted to admit.
His voice dropped, low and dangerous, his words practically vibrating with suppressed anger.
"You certainly act like my fucking mother, Y/n."
And just like that, the dam broke.
He grabbed something from the coffee table—something fragile. His hand closed around it too tightly, and before I could react, it shattered, the shards scattering as it just barely missed my head.
The sound echoed, sharp and final.
I stared at him, my body tense but my eyes steady, unsurprised.
“Oh, so we’re throwing things now? That's how we get our point across? Real mature, Adam.”
My voice was calm, but I took a step back as he rounded the coffee table, the tension in his movements coiling tighter, heavier.
We stood chest to chest, his face inches from mine. He was taller, broader, glaring down at me with those wild, furious eyes, his breathing ragged like he was barely holding it together. But me? I didn’t flinch. I didn’t cower.
He was a storm trying to swallow the room whole, and I refused to get swept up in it.
“Screw you, Y/n.” The words came out in a low snarl, venom lacing every syllable. His face twisted with something ugly—hurt masked as anger, the kind he didn’t know how to express.
Then, like the child he was acting like, he tore his glare away, shoulder checking me just enough to prove his point before storming down the hall.
The bedroom door slammed hard enough to rattle the walls.
I exhaled, a long, slow breath as the silence pressed back in. My hand dragged over my face, fingertips pressing into my temples in irritation.
So much noise. So much anger.
And yet, nothing had actually been said.
I took a deep breath, rolling my shoulders back as I steadied myself. This had to be solved—now—or we’d just keep spiraling further apart.
The tension still clung to the air, thick and stifling, but I refused to let it settle.
With careful, measured steps, I approached the bedroom door. My knuckles rapped lightly against the wood, the sound hollow in the silence.
"Don't shut me out," I said softly, voice calm but firm as I reached for the handle.
It turned under my grip.
The door eased open with a quiet creak, revealing him hunched over on the edge of the bed. His elbows rested on his knees, his head bowed, hands tangled in his hair.
The anger that had fueled him minutes before seemed to have burned itself out, leaving only this—defeated. Raw.
"Get out," he grumbled, voice muffled and rough, like he was barely holding the cracks together.
I didn't move.
"Are we gonna talk," I asked, keeping my voice steady, "or are you just gonna sit there and sulk?"
His head snapped up.
There it was again—that flash of fire in his eyes, a spark reigniting. "Sulk? Really?" His voice dripped with sarcasm, but it was brittle, the edge dulled by whatever he was holding back.
"Yeah. Sulk." I crossed my arms, standing my ground even as his glare sharpened. "This—" I gestured to him, slouched and brooding, "—is sulking. You're mad? Fine. Be mad. But throwing things? Storming off? That's not solving anything, Adam."
His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking beneath his skin as his hands curled into fists.
"You don’t get it—"
"Then explain it to me!" I interrupted, voice rising just enough to cut through his. "Stop shutting me out and tell me what you're so pissed off about!"
Silence.
For a heartbeat, I thought he was going to lash out again. His breathing was harsh, his chest rising and falling as if he was physically holding back the words.
And then, his face crumpled.
His shoulders sagged, head dropping back into his hands, and when he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, cracked.
"You make it so damn easy to feel…invisible."
That stopped me cold.
The anger I'd been clinging to slipped through my fingers, replaced by something heavier.
"Adam…" I softened, taking a hesitant step closer.
But he shook his head, as if rejecting the comfort before I could even offer it.
"I see you going out, smiling, laughing. And I’m just—here. Stuck in my head. And I hate it. I hate feeling like I don’t matter to you anymore."
I felt my chest tighten, his words striking deeper than I expected.
"You do matter to me. But you can't just…explode every time you feel like you're being ignored. You have to talk to me, Adam. Not break things. Not shut me out."
His head lifted, eyes meeting mine. The anger was gone now, leaving only hurt and frustration in its place.
a/n: on an ADCU spree so I figured it’s the best time to write my own, courtesy of @safarigirlsp & @in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather for continuously feeding my obsession hehe! pls pls pls give their work some extra love!! and don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ
» check out my full m.list!
✧･ﾟ Jacques Le Gris
Le Gris' own presence exudes confidence, ferocity, and allure, and his lady is no different. What better way to show the men who envy him the same way the ladies do with you than by bringing you the best of the best? He will settle for nothing less, especially when it comes to your comfort and the like, and he will know if they're not up to par.
Old-timey Jacques will indirectly criticize the maiden in charge, knowing they probably did so to make you seem 'less appealing' to your very own lover, but many seem to forget that he was extremely smart just as he was your doting husband. Just a quick exile over here, a simple repeat of his demand for the best over there and boom, he's back to being happy ol' Le Gris. Modern Jacques is no different, for he would easily purchase the shades you'd swatch and hum to yourself, knowing if he heard how much you liked it, he'd buy the whole store for you. Do you want them personalised, too? Go right on ahead!
And that's not a threat, it's a promise.
“You should never settle for anything less, ma chérie. I shall not allow it.” He’d chime in as soon as he sees your eyes sparkle at the new case with both wonderment and guilt. If you offer to repay him for his endless gifts, he will ask for your kisses, complete with the new set he’s given you, but ever the lover boy that he is, you know good and well it won’t end with just kisses.
✧･ﾟ Flip Zimmerman
Ever heard of the saying "the fortune favours the bold"? He doesn't need to hear from Stallworth that Flip has in fact 'loosen up' upon being graced by your existence. He does, however, preen in the knowledge that since knowing you, he's become bold. Well, bolder than he already was. Where has uncertainty brought him in life? But as much as he'd like to deny till the end of time, he's nearly done it before.
Keyword: nearly.
The day you met, he wondered if he had died in a shootout and met hell's personal It girl—no angel could pull off the devil's shade with pride the way you do. Had he continued to mask his hesitancy by returning your undeterred gaze, he'd be the biggest fool for letting you go.
He'd clock in work with your lipstick stains if he could. Public indecency be damned! He'd fight everyone and anyone if he hears another person talk about it as a form of embarrassment.
"S'not my fault you don't have a pretty girl to come home to." He'd shrug, though the wolfish smile told the poor bastard everything that he felt. Was he wrong? No. Was he going to fight Flip for publicly embarrassing him with the truth? Absolutely not; your husband would probably knock him out before the guy could even land a hit.
✧･ﾟ Clyde Logan
To think there were more red lipstick shades than he could count with his good hand. In all honesty, he really doesn't have a favourite nor does it matter if it's even red or not. That's not to say he doesn't care because clearly, he does, but only in the sense that it makes you happy. You are the professional in this particular field, after all. But best believe the happiness that heightens in him whenever you'd ask for his opinion.
Still, the colour red does, however, as the current generation says, 'hits different'. Unsubtle glances from his patrons were a normal occurrence but they never got any easier by the day. But, on the other hand? He’s the lucky son of a gun who gets to call you ‘his’.
But the man loves his kisses, and kisses he will get! With your frequent visits to the bar, you'll never let this man work without at least a peck on the cheek. Seeing his signature pout lift to the bashful smile we know and love (the audacity) takes no effort.
“Y’know just how to make a man happy, sugar.” He’d murmured against your lips, his sudden boldness not surprising you but instead, his customers, who were only giving him shit but also openly ogling at you not too long ago.
✧･ﾟ Kylo Ren
Whether you think of our ol’ touch-starved leader, the vampire, the knight, or whatever suits your fancy, Kylo will want nothing more than the top-notch of things for his darling, and your preference for lipstick shouldn’t be any different! He, in a way, is an embodiment of red—his passion for both his belief, his interest, and especially, his devotion to you. So, to see the very same colour he associates closely with, other than black, be embraced as your very own as well? He shouldn’t be surprised that most, if not all of his elation are sourced from you in general.
He’s a busy man, but he will not miss the opportunity to watch you apply your colour of the day with great care. He’s unconsciously smiling, lost in your melodic hum as his vow to keep you out of harm’s way grows stronger. He’s been through hell and back to survive, and he’d have no problem doing the same it’s to ensure you leave the danger zone unscathed. So, if something as simple as red lipstick makes you happy, then don’t be surprised if you see a new one even before your current one runs out.
And although all kisses are good kisses, don’t think he won’t pull you in for a real one once the smooching fest starts. You’re worried about leaving a stain? Don’t be! His men/subordinates don’t have the balls to point them out, knowing by doing so is a game over for them.
✧･ﾟ Charlie Barber
The man eats, sleeps, and breathes art, so it's knowing his beloved has her very own is a major plus! One would think nothing impresses him anymore, or at least, not as much as his own work, but oh, were they dead wrong. There hasn't been a day where the lipstick holder on your vanity table never makes him puff out his chest with pride. From the simple matte ones he'd buy after a random day at work simply because it reminds him of you, to the high-end bold to burgundy ones personalised with your name engraved on the case. C’mon, what harm would it do to him for paying a couple of hundreds for makeup as one of his ways to say thank you to his wife—his muse!
Charlie embraces this as your form of art; the shades, the textures, the right amount of shine or shimmer—just anything that screams you. Artistry performed best by his one and only.
And how could he forget about the polaroids you both have? Yours which has him covered in your lipstick stains and face in absolute bliss? His which were you kissing the area close to his happy trail, leaving the same shade colour to his toned body?
Yes, your husband's in paradise, indeed.
✧･ﾟ Commander Mills
Another hunk who really just finds your confidence in whichever you find is best is more than enough, because what's better than his girl's own joy? Even so, if red really speaks to you, then don't be surprised he takes advantage of it. If the numerous times you've caught him staring at your lips and even shamelessly holding your gaze doesn't tell you anything, then the instance he wraps his arms around you for a little while longer before pressing his lips onto yours definitely should.
And if we're talking about the whole time-travelling shebang and somehow, you had to make your own lipstick? Wowie. This man will scour every nook and cranny for the ingredients if you asked him to. Best believe he will find what you need!
If it means getting the opportunity to see you do your thing in your colour and being able to wipe off the accidental smear just after you've applied it, that man is on a mission.
˚ · . f i n . · ˚
You can tell that I lost my roll towards the end HAHAHA but if you’re wondering what lipstick in particular inspired me to write this, it’s:
ETUDE Fixing Tint in Analog Rose/Vintage Red
Dior Rouge Dior Lipstick in 999
Stunna Lip Paint Longwear Fluid Lip Color in Uncensored
Would you possibly consider doing a sex pollen fic with Commander Mills and the ☁️ prompt 6? 💛💛💛 thank you
“𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭…”
pairing: Commander Mills x F!Reader
Warnings: 18+. Sex-Pollen, so Dub-Con by default. Oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, cumming in pants, lalala Jasmine’s a slutttt
mills masterlist | main masterlist | follower celebration | taglist
Dread drips from your pores, manifesting in sweat. It should have been obvious not to touch the bright red petals of the flowers blooming from the bush in the forest. Red equals danger, after all- but it had been so pretty.
Being childish, trying to bring a smile to Mills’ stern face, you’d pushed the flower into his ebony hair. He’d scowled at first, but kept it tucked behind his ear.
The sweats had started not long after, heat blooming through your body and roasting you from the inside. Then the arousal. It crawled across your body, ripping you up internally. Fuck, you’d never been so horny, and Mills looked so fucking good— the perspiration settled in his clavicle called to you, tongue desperate for a taste.
The aloof personality of the Commander had dropped away almost instantly, pushing you into the forest grass and undressing you with an animalistic force, seams of your cargo pants tearing.
Tongue buried in your dripping cunt, Mills groaned loudly as he pushed his erection into the forest floor, grinding his hips for purchase. Each delighted hum from his chest vibrated against your cunt, and you came with a shriek of his name. Again.
“Oh my god- ohmygodohmyghohhhhh-“ you ramble, falling into a pathetic wail of bliss as you push your hips up into his face, clit bumping his nose. He plunges his fingers deeper inside of you, tracing your g-spot with deft fingers.
“Fuck,” he pants heavily, looking up at you through his lashes with those eyes, dripping like honey. His mouth is soaked, glistening in the sunshine. “Your pussy tastes so sweet…”
“Ugh-Hah-Hah- Oh fuck,” you squeal, feeling everything pull up tight. “I’m gunna fucking cum again, oh my god, ImgonnafuckingcumaGAIN-“
“C’mo-“ He cuts himself off, wrapping his lips around your cunt and swallowing you down, flicking his tongue over your clit viciously. When you cum, it rattles your bones. Rips through you like liquid heat that makes you sob loudly, body trembling with the force of your tears.
“Hah- Oh shit-“ Mills’ shoulders stiffen beneath your palms, his hips rutting into the soil beneath him. He’s panting heavily, letting out pained groans and rambling to himself.
“Fuck, Baby’s pussy is so wet, isn’t it? So fucking sweet and tasty. Could fucking drown in it- ohfuck,” he spit out, his hand splayed over your abdomen. “Just another taste. Just one more tas-“
You try to escape it, pulling your hips away from the overstimulation, but Mills swipes his tongue through your folds once more, body seizing up as he cums with a devastated groan, his nails digging into the flesh of your stomach.
“Oh- Mills-“ you sob out, eyes rolling back into your skull as an orgasm rocks you again.
Flip Zimmerman x Reader
CW // free use, cunnilingus, some butt stuff, dirty talk, praise, light degradation, light choking, Daddy, p in v
2.4k words
Beams of soft light streaking through the gap in your curtains wake you. With your eyes open in the room’s rather dim glow, you can’t help but wonder how it wasn’t Flip’s snoring.
Must be used to it, you muse, as you swing your legs over the side of the bed and search for the flannel he’d worn the night before. The one you desperately stripped off of him while he still had you in his arms, your legs around his waist. Seconds before he’d thrown you to the bed and spread your thighs with his bare shoulders.
You shiver at the thought and look down at him as you fasten only the middle button, the too-big garment falling to mid-thigh. You have to roll the sleeves up to your elbows to use your hands. Worth it.
From your bedside drawer, you pluck a clean pair of cotton panties and slip them on beneath his shirt. It’s Flip’s day off, so you’re not sure how long they’ll last but at least the effort is there.
His scarred chest rises and falls with his even breaths, his naked lower half barely covered by the layers of blankets you need to stay warm on nights he works late.
Following the thin trail of dark hair south of his bellybutton, the sheets are tented by his proud morning wood, and had he not had a rough round of shifts leading up to this: his first day off in two weeks, you’d wake him up with your tongue swirling around the tip.
Your mouth waters at the thought. You know he’d love it. But he can use every minute of sleep he can get. So you pad into the kitchen and get the coffee pot going.
Besides, on Flip’s days off… you’re the sex toy.
It’s just as the maker is spewing its last drops of hot coffee that Flip emerges from your bedroom, a pair of plaid boxers riding low on his hips.
He runs a hand through his thick, lush hair, his fingers combing through and straightening out his middle part before his hand rubs lazily at his muscular chest and defined abs. You try not to gawk but when that hand drops and he scratches his happy trail, you clench.
“Morning, Love,” you say calmly as he approaches you, wraps his arms around your waist from behind, and rests his chin on your shoulder.
God, he feels so good like this. So big. So warm. You’ve never felt safer than you do in flip Zimmerman’s arms.
“Would you like some coffee?” you ask as his lips find your neck. His mouth explores like it doesn’t have every inch of you road-mapped and you sigh as he sucks gently at your pulse point. “C-coffee?” you try again shakily.
“After,” he says, though, his hands practically answer for him. His massive paws climb your thighs, reach beneath your (his) shirt and squeeze your ass so hard, he brings you up into your toes.
You whimper as you look back at him over your shoulder and he claims your lips with his own, his tongue wasting no time in finding yours and forcing dominance.
“Daddy,” you sigh as his fingers pinch the fabric of your panties and he drops to his knees as he tugs them down.
“Drives me crazy. You in my clothes.”
“Yeah?” you gasp as he spreads your legs from behind and presses a wide palm to your lower back. His thumb and forefingers nearly stretch to wrap around your hips, his hand is so big.
“Youre mine,” he says as he pushes you forward, your hands bracing yourself on the countertop as his tongue finds your sex.
“Flip!” you gasp, hands scrambling for purchase.
“The fuck did you just call me?” he asks, a finger dragging lightly up and down the inside of your sensitive thigh.
“Daddy,” you sigh.
“Good girl,” Flip murmurs and rewards you with his tongue between your folds.
He steadies you with a hand on your thigh, holds you against the kitchen cabinet, and licks through your labia, tasting every inch of you. Probably tasting himself from a few hours ago as well.
That thought drives you wild.
“Fuck, Daddy, I…”
“I know, Baby Girl,” he murmurs, lifting the finger from your thigh to your heat. He circles your clit and traces the circumference of your opening… but never quite touches you where you need him. “My little sex doll can’t even go the morning without getting fucked, hm?” And before you can even insinuate that he’d initiated this, Flip spreads your arousal up to your clit, circling it, never touching it directly. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, Baby Girl. I’ve barely touched you.”
He urges your legs further apart and spreads you open for him, gently pulling your lips apart with his thumb and forefinger.
“You just have the most perfect pussy,” Flip says. “Daddy likes to admire what’s his.”
You moan at that, your fingertips nearly puncturing the granite countertop as he circles, circles, circles your entrance with his finger.
“Daddy, please,” you beg.
“Only because my baby girl asked so nicely,” he says, pressing a finger into you and you sigh, but your relief quickly morphs into a gasp as his tongue finds your clit.
And the stretch you feel inside your cunt leads you to believe he’s slipped a second finger inside of you.
“Ohhh, god. Yes yes! Daddy, don’t stop,” you pant as his tongue applies the expert pressure only he can deliver. “Close… I’m close…”
Flip maintains his finger speed and wraps his lips around your clit. As he sucks at your sensitive nub, you suck in a breath of air, and hold it until your orgasm flips low in your belly.
And then you’re scrambling, you’re flying.
Pleasure bursts within you, causing you to cry out as sensations flood your body and ricochet off every inch of your insides as the storm crashes back down in waves.
Your scream goes silent as you rock back against his face, mouth open, desperately trying to keep from falling off the earth as your legs shake violently and your intimate walls clamp down on his fingers.
And before your climax can even begin to dwindle, the tip of Flip’s tongue is between your ass cheeks, prodding the tight ring of muscle and prolonging your orgasm as your asshole gets the attention it didn’t even know it craved.
“Fuck,” you breathe, once you’ve finally come down from your high. You’re still bent over the counter while Flip’s hand does god knows what to you between your legs as you recover.
“I’m gonna fuck you here later,” he says, using the arousal he’d collected from your pussy as lube and inserting his finger inside your ass to the first knuckle. “It’s been too long. My cock misses fucking this perfect ass.”
He grabs a cheek with his free hand for emphasis.
You look over your shoulder, your bottom lip between your teeth. “Why don’t you fuck me there now?”
“I’d be too rough.” He withdraws his finger and in one fluid motion, Flip grips your hips, turns you around to face him, and lifts you up onto the counter. Your ass hovers precariously on the edge but Flip’s strong hands keep you steady.
He’s got a hold on you but still manages to push his boxers down to his thighs, revealing his massive erection.
You often forget how big he actually is. Usually so lost in the throws of passion, you’re just begging for it in some capacity.
But this is one of those times your eyes bulge as he lines it up with your entrance and you wonder how it fits in your cunt at all, let alone your ass.
Flip smirks when he catches your expression and you’re whining as he feeds you the tip, already begging for more.
“I like to take my time when I fuck your ass,” he says, continuing his previous sentiment. “And Doll, I’m not gonna be able to hold back this morning.”
He thrusts into you then, wholly, roughly, quickly.
You cry out as your spine arches, pressing your chest toward him. With quick fingers, he rips the button of his flannel open, exposing your breasts as the fabric frames your curves.
Flip places a hand on your lower back and the other on the edge of the counter, using both for leverage to fuck into you hard, fast, wild, his eyes on your tits as they bounce and jiggle with his motions.
“Daddy!” you gasp, looking between you.
His huge cock is slick, shiny, covered in your arousal. The sheen matches that of his lips.
“You like watching Daddy fuck you?” he grunts, pumping his hips a little harder.
“Uh… uh huh,” you manage to say as you watch his cock go in and slip out.
“Yeah you do, Daddy’s perfect little slut, hm? Lets him tear down her panties whenever he wants like the good little doll she is.”
His words make you moan but before he can continue whispering filth, his mouth is on your breast, teasing your nipple. He’s licking, sucking, biting at the skin around the aching, rosy nub and he smirks when you shift, attempting to line it up with his lips.
“Daddyyyy,” you whine. Then, “DADDY!” when he sucks a bruise into your skin.
“Good girl,” he praises, staring at the reds and purples. Flip’s lips curl into a smile and then he descends onto your nipple.
His hot mouth sucks, laps, and nips at the bud. He sucks harder, eliciting tiny shards of pain that turn swiftly into pleasure on their way down to your center.
“Feel good, Baby Girl?”
“Yes yes yes!” Your hands fly to his hair and tug while simultaneously holding him in place.
“Need ya to come, Doll. ‘m close… fuck, baby. You- you close?”
You are but you’re also on another planet, so answering him doesn’t come as easily as it should.
And he’s getting frustrated.
Flip consumes your throat. A hand around your neck, squeezing the sides with his fingers, and you moan so loudly, it makes him chuckle.
“How the fuck am I supposed to punish you anymore? You get off on this now. Answer me.”
“I’m close,” you squeak out and Flip smirks.
“There’s my good girl, huh?”
His hand slides down the front of your body, roughly squeezing your tits and pinching your nipples as it continues over your stomach.
“See? You can listen,” he says, his thumb finding your sensitive clit immediately. “God, you’re so fuckin’ wet, Doll.”
Flip grunts before hooking his left elbow under your knee and hiking your leg up higher, spreading your legs even more for him.
“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he says as his thumb moves in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. He slows both motions to kiss your neck and whisper in your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “So fuckin’ gorgeous, Baby Girl. Can’t believe you let me do this to you. My perfect little slut doll…”
You gasp at his words, lips curling up into a smile as he hikes your leg up higher and finds an angle that makes you scream.
“Harder, Daddy! Faster, please…”
“Gotta teach my doll some patience, hm? Don’t forget, Baby Girl…” You cry out as he hits you with a particularly deep thrust, so deep, you swear he hits your lungs, forces the air from your body. Then, his eyes darken and he says, “you’re my fuck toy. For when I need to get off.”
He thrusts into you so hard, his thighs clash against the cupboard, the door slams over and over with each pump.
“Say it,” he whispers, eyes on his massive cock as it glides in and out of you, the base seemingly wetter each time he pulls out.
You’ve lost the ability to speak, think, form a coherent thought. All you know is…
“I’m Daddy’s fuck toy,” you sigh.
“Good girl.”
“Please, please can I come? Daddy… Daddy… I’m—“
The room smells like coffee and sex when you take in a deep breath and hold it. Between the friction of his huge cock, the perfect circles of his fingers on your clit, Flip’s dirty talk, and the asphyxiation, you're a goner.
“Come for me, Baby Girl. Let me feel this wet little pussy squeeze my cock. Fuckin’—“
You cry out as your second orgasm before 9am wreaks havoc over your system, stretching your spine tight like a bow.
Flip fucks you through it, your climax a catalyst for his, and suddenly, his thrusts lose their rhythm and he’s grunting and groaning as he paints your walls with his hot, white cum.
After your body collapses in pleasure, Flip uses the leverage of your leg to keep your body open for him, even after his hand has left your clit and grips the countertop, and you’re clinging to him, desperate for skin to skin contact.
He wraps an arm around you and buries his face in your sweaty neck as he gives you two last pumps of cum, his shaking lips sucking at the skin below your ear.
“There’s my good girl,” he says before gently pulling out. “Well done, Baby Girl. Stay right there.”
His cum drips down the underside of your ass cheeks while you wait for his return. He’s got a warm washcloth between your legs seconds later and you’re combing your fingers through his hair.
Flip turns his head as kisses your wrist.
“Come on, Doll, let’s go back to bed.” He bridal carries you while you cling to his neck, and sets you carefully on the mattress. “Turn over.”
You do as you’re told.
“Good doll,” he praises as a slippery hand grabs your ass cheek.
You gasp as the tip of a cold, stainless steel plug presses against your asshole.
“I know, Baby, I know,” he coos behind you as you whine. “Tried to warm the lube up a bit. Take a deep breath in… good, now breathe out. Relax.”
As you exhale, he presses the plug inside of you.
“For later,” he says with a smirk as he climbs into bed next to you and drapes your body over his.
You might just love his days off more than he does.
@gotham-city-uber-driver made me do it...sorry not sorry. also hey! I finally wrote something and actually finished it lol.
based on this original ask.
also, I think it’s so funny that adam has no idea 1) where to get the sweater or 2) if the sweater was even Gucci 😭 I love him. he has no idea what’s going on about 35% of the time and I just love that.
warnings.
SMUT, wearing mauri’s sweater, morning sex, P in V, creampie.
Maurizio is sound asleep and snoring peacefully when you’re woken up by the sun as it peeks over the mountaintops. Figuring you’ll let him sleep in a bit, you place a gentle kiss on his forehead before carefully crawling out from under the blankets.
Goosebumps instantly spread down your arms and legs, a shiver shooting down your spine as the cool morning air tickles your skin. Considering you’re almost completely nude as a result of last night’s fireside activities, only wearing your panties, you look around for one of your sweatshirts.
Your eyes suddenly land on Maurizio’s white knit sweater from yesterday’s slope outing, hanging over the side of the dirty laundry basket. It looks so warm and cozy, you just can’t help but walk over and slip it on. It swallows you up in its warmth and envelops you in his natural musk: cigarette smoke with hints of bergamot and cedarwood.
With a small smile, you slide your slippers on before heading downstairs to make some coffee. You put a few logs onto the fireplace and light it, then begin preparing the espresso maker.
Meanwhile, the smell of freshly burning firewood and roasting coffee beans travels up the stairs and into the bedroom, wandering its way into Maurizio’s subconscious.
Soon, his eyes flutter open and he grunts softly, sitting up in bed. He quickly notices that you’re not next to him, so after slipping on his previously-discarded pants laying by his bedside, he heads downstairs to greet you.
His breath catches in his throat when he sees you standing by the stove, clad only in his white cable-knit sweater. He pauses in the doorway, watching as you pull the espresso maker off the stovetop and pour some into a cup for yourself.
Early-morning skiers have already hit the slopes and you watch them through the large kitchen window as they push off from the top and glide down the mountain.
He smirks, already half-hard as he walks quietly into the kitchen and steps up behind you. His hands smooth down your sides, hands squeezing your hips.
“Buongiorno, tesoro.”
You hum, feeling his hardness pressing up against your lower back.
“Morning. Did you sleep well?”
Only a soft hum comes in response before he’s leaning down and beginning to kiss at your neck. His fingertips tease the hem of the sweater, pushing it up lazily before his hands slip under the chunky woven yarn, hands sliding across your bare skin.
“I did, but I am certainly glad to be awake for the views this morning. I would’ve hated to have missed them...”
He chuckles against your skin.
Smirking, you step back a bit, pressing yourself flush against his broad figure.
“Mhm, I know what you mean...watching skiers wipe out under the beautiful morning sky is quite a sight to behold.”
Maurizio lets out a soft laugh, shaking his head playfully while he delivers a quick smack to the side of your thigh.
“Tease.”
His chin rests on your shoulder as his hand slips down between your thighs. Then, his fingers press down on your clothed clit and start rubbing slow, teasing circles on the stiffened bud.
You let out a shaky breath, hips instinctively grinding down against his touch. He hums, nibbling and sucking at your skin while tugging your panties down, letting them pool around your ankles.
He’s quick to push his silk pajama pants down enough to expose his hardened cock, giving it a few strokes before lining up with your entrance. When he thrusts forward and sheathes himself in your tight wetness, a low groan escapes his plush lips, hot breath tickling your skin.
The small porcelain espresso cup nearly falls from your hand as you inhale sharply and you quickly set it back down on its matching saucer before he can start thrusting. His hand slithers from your pelvis up around your neck, holding your jaw firmly just in time with the first roll of his hips.
“Maurizio.”
You sigh, eyelids fluttering gently.
“Oh my--ohhh.”
His thrusts suddenly quicken and he moans quietly into your ear. The sound of skin smacking together bounces off the kitchen walls and your hands grip the edge of the marble countertop to keep yourself steady.
“Thaaat’s right...take it.”
He snarls softly.
Your eyes roll back as his thrusts progressively get faster and harder, whines uncontrollably slipping past your lips.
“M-Maurizio...fuuuck yes.”
A small smirk grazes his lips and he shoves your hips against the countertop, hand on the nape of your neck to hold your front down on the cool surface while the other holds one of your legs up.
You gasp at the deep angle this new position creates, allowing him to reach into your deepest caverns with the head of his member. Your walls clench around him and he groans at the sensation, only spurring on his already quick motions.
“Cristo.”
He breathes, fingers desperately grabbing at your hair.
“Are you...a-are you close?”
Nodding wordlessly, you reach down to begin rubbing your clit. As a result, your insides grip around him suddenly, which nearly sends him over the edge. A primal growl is ripped from his throat, hips beginning to stutter as his climax quickly builds.
You’re cumming with a moan of his name within a few minutes and he moans deeply, fucking you through it with quick, sloppy thrusts. His glasses are slipping down the bridge of his nose and he has to reach up and fix them before throwing his head back to keep them from slipping again.
“Cazzo!”
His hips come to an abrupt stop as the first rope of hot seed spills into your throbbing cunt. He groans, giving a few mock thrusts with each spurt before coming to a full stop, chest rising and falling rapidly as he comes down from his high.
Soon, he pulls away and pulls out, helping you stand up. When you turn around, he immediately pulls you in for a passionate kiss, then kisses all over your face, jaw, and neck before returning to your lips once again.
You smile against his lips.
“Well, that was quite the ‘good morning’, Signore Gucci.”
Maurizio laughs as he bends down to pull your panties back up over your hips.
“A proper ‘good morning’, if you ask me. Now, let me have a cigarette and some espresso, and then perhaps we could spend some time in the sauna. How does that sound, tesoro?”
With a bright smile, you nod.
“That sounds lovely.”
my masterlist | my ao3 | my taglist form | my current page happenings
Summary: Flip Zimmerman believed there to only be one God whose name was his own.
Word count: 7.4k
Warnings: Age gap (reader is of age), sexual harassment (maybe idk), PinV sex, unprotected sex, fingering, masturbation, swearing, dirty talk, religion, blasphemy.
A/N: Maaaaybe don't read this if you're religious. I was raised Lutheran so I mostly drew inspiration from that ☺️
It took him a while to get you as he wanted; squirming under him as his lips were hot on your neck and his fingers were deep in your pussy, caressing your walls until tears were leaking from your eyes from the pleasure.
Flip could remember the first time he had seen you as clear as day. You had come bounding into the police station with a basket of freshly baked goods and a sinfully sweet dress that swung by your knees. The preacher’s daughter. Your father had been a few steps behind you, but Flip had been so preoccupied with devouring every inch of you that he could see that he had completely overlooked him.
You were new in town and Flip knew that there would be more than a few dirty bastards at the precinct that probably wanted to sink their filthy claws into you. He didn’t even want to begin to think about all those boys at the community college and what they got up to whilst daydreaming of you. Honestly, sometimes Flip thought that the filth that was man should be completely eradicated from earth, and he’d thought of it even more since he’d met you.
Flip couldn’t allow that, of course. You were so pure, you deserved to be with somebody who could treat you right; somebody who could treat that pretty pussy you had between your legs like it deserved to be treated; somebody who was a God amongst men.
You needed to be licked at until your legs shook as you came gushing all over his face, and after that, to be fucked with your ass high up in the air as he drove into you from behind, the tip of him pounding into that soft, spongy part of you that would make your walls clench around his thick shaft as you milked him. He wanted you to moan into his ear as he made you cum with just his fingers and a few kisses on your neck.
Flip found himself to be more... charitable after that. The time he would usually spend tugging at his cock on a Thursday afternoon when he got off work early was spent volunteering at the church, right alongside you.
Of course, Flip wasn’t a religious or God-fearing man, far from it. He did not believe in any sort of higher power that so many people devoted their lives to. Yes, he was born Jewish, but hadn’t given much thought to religion past the time he’d become self-aware. Why was there a need for a god to dictate your life when he could make all the right decisions himself?
It started small. He took his time getting you, coming across as the nice guy — but, of course, he was a nice guy, so it wasn’t all completely an act.
Volunteering at Colorado Hills Church on Thursday’s consisted of cleaning up after the gardening group that you held every week at 3 P.M. It was just him, you, and another irrelevant man who would put away the heavy tables and gardening tools. You were always so grateful for his help, thanking him over and over again before disappearing and reappearing again with a steaming hot cup of coffee whenever he took a break to inhale a cigarette.
Flip would always make sure to come just a few minutes earlier than he needed to so that he could catch the last few moments of your class. He could admit that it was nice seeing you in your element, the way you flourished as you fluttered around the kids that were learning about some new vegetable every week. He couldn’t help watching your every move, every laugh that rang out of you and every smile that wove its way across your face.
It took a month before he got you alone for the first time. 4 weeks of spending his Thursday afternoons with you and fisting his cock until he came all over his stomach when he came home. You made him so, so incredibly hard. His cock would painfully throb in his jeans as he saw you bend over in those short dresses you would wear, always the picture-perfect image of a preacher’s daughter.
It was all an act. Flip knew it, you knew it, anyone who took their time to think about more than their head between your thighs would be able to see it. You had everyone fooled, everyone except for him. Flip noticed the way you would squirm anytime he looked at you, the way you would subconsciously rub your thighs together and bite your lip. It was the reason why Flip liked to tease you. He knew that sending you even half of a smile was enough to make your panties drenched and he thrived on that little tidbit of information.
“Just us today?” You jumped as you heard his voice from behind you and Flip couldn’t help but let out a chuckle of amusement as he saw the flustered look on your face.
“Yeah, just us.” You let out a nervous giggle as you stared up at him with wide eyes and Flip thought you reminded him of a doe-eyed deer, caught in the trap of the hunter.
“Good.”
“I- I...” You stuttered, words falling over a cliff into a pool of nothingness as you became tongue-tied. Flip liked the way he could reduce you to a complete mess with less than a handful of words.
The last few stragglers of kids had already left so you were all alone in the garden, in your own oasis, surrounded by high shrubs and cold concrete walls that separated the rest of the world from you. He had you all to himself, right where he wanted you.
“What do you want to do first?” He awarded you the pretence that you were the one who decided what to do, that you were the one that completely dictated the when, where, and how. It was cute.
“Ma- Maybe we could ehm... start with the- the tools.” It was the usual routine, starting with the tools, then the bags of soil, and then the large planter tables. But it made you feel like you had some sort of semblance of control when he let you point and order him around.
Flip got to it quickly. He lifted from his knees, hoisting the unopened bags over his shoulder with ease and then gathered all the scattered tools as you tried helping as much as you could. You were like a little mouse, scurrying around like a flustered mess as you made minimal small talk whilst stumbling over your words.
He took his opportunity when you dropped the overly large box of seeds of all kinds. He didn’t rush over to help you, taking his time to set down the boxes he had been carrying before meandering over to help you pick up the scattered bags.
“Clumsy, are we?” You smiled down at your hands as you shrugged your shoulders. Flip made you flustered, he unnerved you and made your heart race at such a pace that you found it impossible not to fumble with even the simplest of tasks. Walking in a straight line without stumbling became something that you barely knew how to do.
“Sorry…” You didn’t know exactly what you were apologising for but the urge to blurt it out came over you before you could stop yourself. Flip let out a chuckle before he put the last few bags back into the box and straightened out to his full height.
It was clear to Flip that you were completely mesmerized and spellbound as you looked up at him, his impressive physique entrancing you completely. He liked you like this, looking up at him as if he was your saviour, the one that would deliver salvation to you as you prayed at his feet.
Flip held out his hand, reaching down to help you up. He didn’t let your hand go immediately once you were on both feet, but you didn’t either. It was all very cliche, but Flip wasn’t one to complain. Life, once again, was working in his favour. You were becoming more and more entranced by him, adoration growing in your core like a flower in April whose petals furled out in an unperturbed instance, there in less than a moment.
“Thank you.” You whispered quietly as if you were afraid that the wind would overhear a secret only meant for his ears. Flip thought that your eyes looked beautiful in that moment, glittering in the sunshine that you bathed in. “For always being so kind and helping.”
Flip probably didn’t deserve a thank you. He was, after all, solely motivated for selfish reasons that involved less than supposedly true Christian values. But who cared about Christian values when they were sourced in the book of God that fueled such hatred in the world; when the Most High created evil that degraded the earth and defiled the innocent? He did not strike down the sinners as he promised; instead, warlords were beloved for the chaos and strife they caused the world, praised for ungodly acts as something akin to Lucifer whispered in their ears and blackened their hearts.
“You’re the one that should be thanked.” You looked surprised over his words; like it was the last thing you expected to come out of his mouth; like you had never been thanked before in your entire life.
“I just do what I am told.” You released his hand abruptly, twirling on your heels and walking off.
There was a shed behind the church that housed all the gardening tools you used for your classes. It was a quiet place, a private place that was perfect for any adventure you did not want anyone else to see.
Flip had to duck to get through the door without hitting his head. It was a surprisingly organised space; you were meticulous when it came to what went where. There was a small single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling that cast an ominous light over all that resided within the four walls.
“Do you enjoy doing all of this? All this volunteering?” Flip’s voice was gruff as his eyes flickered across the small hut, taking in all the details that he had already seen with a renewed interest.
“Of course.”
“I think you’re lying to yourself.” It was easy to hear your sharp inhale, there wasn’t exactly much that could drown it out except for Flip’s own breathing. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, unsure of what to say.
“You shouldn’t say such things.”
“What kind of things?”
“Such… Such blasphemous things.”
“What is blasphemous about that?”
You didn’t have an answer for him, and he didn’t expect you to. Besides, ‘blasphemous’ was practically synonymous with ‘human’, especially when it came to the disgrace of men. The disgrace that so many men fell victim to, and they then excused under the guise of religion and worshipping a holy man. In Flip’s eyes, letting the figment of a man dictate a life of discontent which was shrewd with greed seemed pointless. It was better to own up to whatever mistakes one made. Not that Flip made mistakes, but others did, and he pitied them for it.
“We are all blasphemous beings; don’t you think so?”
Your mouth fell open and your eyes widened over his words. He moved closer to you; a predator stalking prey.
“Even God must have blasphemous thoughts when he has to witness beauty such as yourself every day.”
“Mr Zimm-”
“Call me Flip.” He was so close to you now that he toed at your shoes.
“Flip, you shouldn’t say such things here.”
“Would it be better if I just thought them?” Flip didn’t need the excuse of being God to be able to read your thoughts, it was all clear as day, right there upon your pretty face.
“I think it would be, actually.”
“Do you ever think such things?” He asked with a crooked grin.
A pause in your resumed movements of nervous organisation. Your head turned slowly to look up at him with the hint of an unwilling smile on your lips. He returned it by a widening of his own, coaxing an answer out of you with the silent promise of something beyond mere friendship.
“Maybe sometimes.”
“Do you think we’ll go to hell? Just for some unclean thoughts?” Flip almost felt bad for the audible gulp you swallowed over his words.
“No?”
“No.” Flip didn’t believe that there even was a hell to begin with, but he didn’t need to tell you that right at that moment.
“Sometimes.” You squeaked out. Had you ever been this close to a man that wasn’t related to you before? Had you ever felt the heat of another rolling off them in waves so strong that it felt like it would pull you under, down into the deepest darkest pits, and never let you free?
“So, what do you do?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t?” Flip could see the amusement that danced in his eyes reflected in yours.
“I-“
“I like to watch you.” Flip said when it appeared that you weren’t going to come up with something.
“Me?”
Flip hummed and lifted his hand to stroke a single finger across your cheek. “Watching you brings me happiness.”
“Really?” Any other person would have been creeped out by his confession, but not you. You, subconsciously, chased the thrill that accompanied his admission. It was evident in the way you shifted your hips ever so slightly, angling them toward him in a desperate attempt to be delivered pleasure.
“I enjoy watching you, too.” You whispered. He wouldn’t have heard it if you had been anywhere else. Flip didn't even try to pretend to be bashful. A shit-eating grin grew on his face as satisfaction took over his entire being.
“Sometimes, I touch myself thinking about what’s hiding underneath that skirt.” Flip said. Did your walls clench as you heard those words? Did your thighs quiver as you thought about him between them? Flip wanted nothing more than to bury his face in you and lap at your clit as if he was a man starved and dying, the elixir of life dripping out of only you.
“You do?”
“Haven’t been able to get you out of my head.” You were backing away from him now, but it was only to lean against the wall, needing something steady to ground yourself for fear that your knees would give out as Flip continued. “I think about what you would taste like, the moans you would let out, what you’d look like as you cum.”
This. This was blasphemy. But you didn’t want Flip to stop. You wanted him to say every filthy thing he’d ever thought and then whisper them in your ear again as his hands explored every uncharted crevice of your body.
You hadn’t even noticed him move but, suddenly, there he was. He crowded around you, caging you in between his arms as you pressed even further into the wall behind you, heart racing in your chest from the excitement bubbling within you.
It felt like hellfire spread all over your skin as his paw of a hand came in contact with the outside of your thigh for the first time. You thought it would consume you and burn you to the crisp, leaving you right there in a pile of ash so that whoever was unlucky enough to find you would know you’d sinned. Stricken down by the Lord’s anger for succumbing to Lucifer’s lust.
He just held it there, enclosing your thigh in a soft but firm hold. He wanted to claw at you, to claim you as his and his alone but he didn’t let that come across in his movements that were almost lazily caressing you. Up and down. Up and down the outside of your thigh.
It travelled under the hem of your dress as you held your breath, watching it disappear as it moved closer and closer to your most unfathomable place. You wanted to shout all your sounds of pleasure from the highest building for all to hear, thanking the Lord for delivering this brazen man to you, but you didn’t say anything. Not a sound made its way past your lips. Was it for fear of scaring him away? From scaring yourself? Admitting that you wanted him to touch you would, in your mind, mean that you gave in, you gave in to the carnal pleasures of man that you had spent so long withstanding. But how could it be so bad to want a simple touch? Surely, anyone in your position would also give in to the temptation of this mortal man.
“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” Flip cooed. “You want me to touch you here?” One lonesome finger trailed over your cloth-covered pussy, causing you to squirm against the wooden wall.
“Or do you want something else?” He withdrew his hands from you, placing them on either side of your head. “You want me to kiss you?” He wouldn’t have to move much to press his lips against your own. Flip was so close to your face that he could feel every soft exhale on his lips, his nose brushing against your own with every heave of his chest.
Flip pressed a kiss to your cheek, so close to your lips that you could almost taste him already; the tendrils of smoke and coffee that would mix and infuse your senses. You hoped he would taste like he smelled, absolutely divine.
It was your own head that turned to connect your lips. His lips were soft, pillowy, and completely sublime. Teeth knocked against each other as your eagerness took over and Flip chuckled. Never would he have thought that you would be this greedy for him this early on. He had hoped, of course, but it did not go beyond that. Isn’t it funny how in a sinful kiss, your most vulnerable moment, you had never before felt as pure as you did at that moment? It is a promise of realness, evidence of the primal desire that ignited a need deep inside of you.
Your hands came up to pull at his flannel shirt, using it to pull yourself closer to him in desperation, clinging to him. His lips were sweeter than anything you had ever tasted before, like the nectar of the gods, something you would crave throughout the rest of this life and the next.
Flip couldn’t help but let his hands run wide, up along your waist, brushing along the side of your breasts, and coming to cradle your neck. Such a simple touch yet it held all the power as he squeezed just enough for you to become breathless. He drew back to look at you for a moment.
“Tell me what you want.” He urged. It wasn’t enough for him to feel it through your actions, he wanted to hear you beg for his touch, for him.
“I don’t know.” So innocent.
“You do.” You stared up at him for a few beats of a moment, gnawing at that lip that he wished to pull at with his own teeth. You were hesitant as you grabbed a hold of his wrist, guiding it back to under the skirt of your dress and to the place that was aching for him.
Flip’s touch was electric as it travelled over the hem of your panties, fingering at it as you grew wetter and wetter from his teasing. He was watching your face for any sign of regret, but there was none, your eyebrows were already furrowed over the anticipation of more.
“You want me to touch you here, sweetheart?”
“Yes!” You said with a yelp and a startled hand came up to cover your mouth in surprise.
“You need to keep quiet if you want this.” Flip tutted with a shake of his head.
His hand slipped into your soaked panties, fingers easily finding your clit and circling it tightly a few times. The whines and moans that were released from you sounded heavenly, Flip thought ironically. His fingers left your clit, sliding them down just a bit further to feel your wetness.
“So wet for me already.” Flip groaned out. You were practically dripping for him as you writhed against his hand, craving a feeling you didn’t know. You felt like crying when his fingers left your sacred place, holding up his glistening finger to the light.
“Look at that.” Flip said, astonished.
Flip slipped the finger into your mouth, feeding it in and out as his thumb and middle finger pressed your cheeks together. You could taste yourself on your finger He couldn’t wait to get his cock in between those perfect lips, to watch you as you struggled to take him. Your tongue swirled around his index, coating it thoroughly before he withdrew it with a plop! It was glistening with wetness as he brought it back underneath your skirt to explore your folds for a short while longer before he slipped a finger inside of you.
“You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart.”
It was a foreign, unknown feeling that spread through you as he pushed in. You had never felt so full, and it was just a single finger. It was obvious from the hard bulge that was pressing against the side of your hip that his cock was much, much thicker.
Flip let you adjust for as long as he could, but the throbbing of your walls around his finger wasn’t good for his self-control. Eventually, he began pumping it in and out of you slowly. The moan that slipped out of you was low, erupting from the deepest, darkest parts of you.
“Yeah? You like that?” His hand hoisted your leg further up on his waist, spreading you open even more for him. “You want more? Think you can take it?”
You nodded your head desperately, words having forsaken you in the throes of pleasure.
Another finger joined the first as he pumped them in and out of you slowly enough so that he could feel every ridge of your walls but fast enough so that you were becoming completely breathless. You were so ready for him that the second finger stretched you easily.
You wanted to cry out as his thumb started rubbing over your clit, your walls clamped down hard around his finger at the new feeling, but he connected his mouth to yours just as it was about to drop open.
Flip kissed you like it was the last thing he was ever going to do. He was rough as he pressed his lips against yours, and you returned his hunger for you with your own for him. His tongue explored everything in its way as his hand continued pumping two fingers into you slowly.
A bubbling warmth was spreading through every nerve in your body. Your brain was in a haze, you were unable to focus on anything as the white-hot pleasure built inside of you.
Flip disconnected his lips from yours to watch you. You were a vision, and he couldn’t hold back anymore, the urgent need to see you cum taking over him. Flip started thrusting his fingers into you, causing you to squeal in surprise and claw at the wall behind you.
”Oh, God!”
”You shouldn’t utter God’s name in vain, sweetheart.” Flip chuckled teasingly. “Also, I thought I told you to be quiet.”
He was drilling into you so quickly you were sure you could see stars behind your eyes as he curled his fingers to hit just that right spot inside of you.
“Oh, Flip-” You moaned out breathily, slightly curling into yourself as waves of pleasure washed over you, your eyes falling shut. The loud sounds of the wet squelches of your pussy bounced around the small walls of the garden shed.
“Look at me!” He breathed out sharply. He needed to see your eyes and the emotions behind them as he thrust his fingers into you repeatedly. He needed to so you cum for him as you fell aperture completely for the first time.
It was hard to concentrate enough to open them, it took you a second to do it, right as you fell over the edge into rapture. Your legs shook uncontrollably as you came, and Flip had never seen a more angelic sight. He wanted to watch you like this for the rest of his life.
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit.
He was the one that tasted you this time, suckling the nectar of you from his fingers and groaning over the taste of it.
”Taste so good, completely divine.” He sent you a wink as you watched him with wide eyes.
He had never seen you look so rattled, it would be clear to anyone that you had just been thoroughly ravaged from the uncharacteristically unkempt look of wrinkly clothes and hazy eyes.
“You okay?”
“Yeah…” Were you? You were unsure, but it was only because you yearned for more.
“Good.” Flip pressed another kiss to your lips, this one much sweeter than all the others.
Flip reluctantly left the shed to tend to the last bits of the gardening things. He wanted to do more, for both you and himself, but he knew that he needed to take his time. His cock was rock hard in his jeans as he drove home, throbbing in desperation as he replayed the face you made as you came. He could worship that sight for ages.
Flip let you simmer in your feelings after that. He wanted you to come to terms with the lust you felt for him in your own time. He wanted you to be the one that would come to him. It was hard for him... not touching you. It was so hard that he thought he must’ve found himself in hell on earth. He wanted to knead your supple thighs, to flick at your clit with his tongue, to watch your face twist in ecstasy as he sank into you for the first time.
“Just us?” Déjà vu? You appeared even more timid and shy this time than last, something he had not thought possible. You were reluctant to meet his eyes, that shy smile that you usually wore was gone without a trace.
“Yep, just us.” Your voice sounded strained, and your eyes avoided looking at him as they flickered around the garden, trying to find something, anything to distract you from him.
Flip made you nervous, he made shivers run down your spine in both the best and worst way. He had completely disrupted your life with his presence. He had tainted your thoughts, made the devil whisper unclean things in your ear as you laid awake in your bed at night, hand subconsciously drifting down to your clit to rub at it, but it was never enough; it was never the same. You craved his touch, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his cock pressed against you. You needed to know what it looked like, what it felt like inside of you, and it was a need that scared you.
You tried keeping your distance as you worked, but it was impossible. You could feel him everywhere you went, even when Flip wasn’t looking at you, nor you him, you could still feel his presence, hyper-aware of him wherever he was.
You almost felt nauseous as you felt him follow you into the church when you were done. It wasn’t that you feared him, you could never fear Flip, it was another Him whose judgement petrified you. However, you were obviously not fearful enough as you — lacking all taught self-constraint – turned around a flung yourself at him, lips locking with his.
Flip let out a startled but delighted hum as he stumbled back half-a-step in surprise.
“Have you missed me?” He teased, only being allowed to disconnect his lips from yours for the fraction of a second. That carnal urge was there again, taking over your limbs and propelling you towards him.
“I’m taking that as a yes.”
You had missed him. Of course, you had. It was hard not to miss him. Flip was the kind of person that you would always remember, no matter who you were. He was unforgettable, a distinctive memory of a spectacular person that would always be there, somewhere in the back of your mind. Forever.
His hands roamed over your body, touching, and caressing you everywhere he could as you tugged on his hands, his belt, the button and zipper of his jeans before reason finally caught up with you again and you wrenched yourself away from him.
“What is it?”
“We can’t do this – shouldn’t be doing this – it’s not right. God says-”
“I am your God.”
“You’re a man.”
“What’s the difference?” Flip tilted his head, watching you with genuine curiosity and a raised eyebrow.
You didn’t know what to say; your mouth fell open, but no words came out as your mind raced to find an answer. Was there truly a difference?
Someone once said that the gods envy us, and Flip, wholeheartedly, believed it to be true. The one God envies us, his creation, feeble humans. We live life side by side with thrill, with unforeseeable possibilities and opportunities that could end within a fraction of an instance. Every moment could be our last and God doesn’t have that privilege. He lives every day knowing that the end will never come; the inevitable salvation of oblivion will never reach him. Eternal life is a futile promise that is whispered in the ears of delusional fools as they devote their lives to a false god. God was simply a man skilled with dreams and distorted fantasies who Flip saw as nothing more than an equal – if even that.
“You can devote your life to me, and I assure you that I will bring you more happiness than He ever could.” His fingers were trailing up the inside of your thigh as he whispered into your ear. A small whine left you in an exhale as you tried to clench your legs together, tried to banish those dirty thoughts from your mind but it was impossible. Flip Zimmerman had infiltrated all your defences, broken down your walls, and riddled your mind with sinful thoughts. He was so close to dominating your being in every sense of the word.
“My father-”
“The preacher doesn't have to know, sweetheart. In fact, I think it’d be better if we kept this just between you and me, don’t you agree?” A kiss was placed right underneath your ear and another moan slipped out of you. The scent of him was everywhere, travelling like a mist over your skin, caressing your cheeks, and poisoning your mind so that the only thing you could think about was him.
“Yes...” Flip had a way of making you hazy when you were around him, of making you question everything you’d ever known just so that he would deliver that heaven-sent pleasure again and again.
And now, here you were, all alone in the house of God, ready to devote yourself to this impious man.
Your hands came back up to cradle his neck, pulling him back down to you so that you could kiss on him, love on him.
Somehow, the two of you made your way between the pews, Flip firmly guiding you to lay down on one of them as he kissed down your body and finally found his home with his head buried between your thighs.
You squirmed as he kissed his way up and down the inside of your thighs, his beard tickling your skin as you whined and sighed. He was so close, yet he was so far away from where you wanted him. You combed your hands through his hair, tugging at it in frustration, pulling a laugh from Flip as he slid your panties down your thighs, agonisingly slow, before pocketing them.
“You need to learn to be patient, my sweet.” Flip loved seeing you like this; it was a welcomed change.
“Now, thank the Lord and give me a Hail Mary.” Flip didn’t know much about Christianity, but he knows enough to know about the love for redemption and forgiveness that plagued the servants of Christ.
“What?” You sat up just enough so that you could see him leering at you, half of his face hidden by your dress and mound.
“You heard me, sweetheart.” He was teasing you, wanting to see you flustered, hear how you stuttered over your words as he pleasured you. Flip would be the only one you would pray to at the end of it all, but he would allow this just to humour himself. He was slowly becoming your everything, your one true god.
“Hail Mary…” His lips connected with your clit for the first time, and you were sure in that moment that you had entered through the pearly gates.
“Oh, Flip!” Your hands tightened in his hair as he lapped at your swollen clit. “Full o- of grace-e,” You stuttered out, trailing off as Flip sucked you into his mouth before flattening his tongue, dragging it through your soaked lower lips.
“I can’t hear you.” He taunted. He spread your legs wider, forcing them to stay in one place as the rest of your body writhed. His tongue probed at your entrance, slipping into you with little resistance. That nose you loved so much brushed against your sensitive clit with every stroke of his tongue.
“The Lord is with thee! Blessed- blessed art thou-u am-amongst women and blessed is… is the fru-uit of thy womb, Jesus!” Your back arched off the pew as that blinding heat raced through your body once more. Steadily building in your stomach before erupting, spewing flames everywhere.
“Amen!” You practically shrieked it as you came, eyes rolling back in your head and legs shaking as they tried to clamp shut.
“Amen.” Flip hummed in agreement, withdrawing from you, and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Your chest was heaving from your frantic breathing. There was an exhausted smile growing on your face, completely saturated with satisfaction and you couldn’t help but giggle quietly to yourself.
Flip couldn’t stop himself from pressing a bruising kiss to your lips. You moaned happily, opening your mouth when you felt his tongue swipe against your lower lip. Your hand came up to grasp at his shoulder, steadying your weak body.
“I want more.” You said as his kisses grew lazier.
“Greedy.” Flip wasn’t complaining, he was going to give you more, of course. He would always give you more if you wanted it.
He guided you, moving you from the narrow, wooden pew down to the cool stone floor. You were laying on display for him, right beneath the podium where your father would preach his sermon to the congregation, just as he did, every Sunday.
The sound of his belt coming completely undone bounced through the room. You were anxious for what was to come, not because of God or what he would think, but because this was your first time, just like any ordinary person would be.
Flip pushed down his pants just enough so that he could pull himself free from the confines, and you marvelled at the sight of his rock-hard cock. Your mouth salivated as you saw it pulse, the tip angrily red. He was weeping for you, pre-cum leaking out of the tip as he pulsed painfully. He fisted himself a couple of times with a groan.
Flip’s dick was so thick from head to base that he himself almost had a hard time wrapping his hand around it. It had just the right amount of curve that he knew he would be able to coax out a myriad of orgasms out of you.
“You look so pretty like this.” You really did. You were a sight that Flip himself could worship for the rest of his life; your legs having eagerly fallen open for him, pussy glistening in the light from how wet you were, and your sinfully innocent skirt pulled up around your waist as you clasped your hands in the fabric as if you were trying to steady your racing heart.
“Please, Flip, I need you.” You whimpered.
He stood on his knees before you. He felt powerful as he watched you on your back before him, leaking in desperation for his cock.
“Tell me how much you want it.” He tilted his head.
“More than anything, God, please, Flip!” Who was he to keep you from this? A man who was more than God would be merciful and
“You need to stop pleading to God, sweetheart, He’s not gonna help you.” Flip spread your legs just a bit wider before wrapping his hand around the base of his cock lining himself up with your entrance. He made sure to coat himself thoroughly in your wetness, dragging the head of him through your soaked folds.
You gasped at the first feeling of him as he prodded at your entrance. You rutted your hips upward, hoping that he would just finally slide in. The angels and all of Colorado Springs surely had to hear your cries of pleasure as he finally pushed in, all the way to the base of him, bottoming out as the tip of him nestled against your cervix ever so lightly.
This is what you were created for, only this and nothing else.
You adjusted to him quickly, hands coming to grasp at his hips, urging him to move. Small traces of pain tainted the incomprehensible pleasure that washed over you, but you couldn’t stop now. You didn’t want to stop now.
Flip didn’t keep a slow pace for long, replacing the long and languid pumps he had started off with for harsher thrusts into you.
“You like that, sweetheart?”
“Yes, oh fuck, harder!” Your head lulled to one side, hands clawing at his back as if you wanted to be even closer to him than you already were.
Flip had you right where he wanted you. The preacher’s daughter getting stuffed to the brim with his thick cock on the floor in the Lord’s house, safely under the watchful eyes of the man on the cross and your father in heaven.
“Look up at your God as you sin, see how he watches over you while I’m fucking you, while you're begging me to fuck you.” He pushed your head to the side, his hand pressing your cheeks together so that you would focus on the deity before you; the man who had sacrificed his own life for yours.
A particularly rough thrust into you made you cry out even louder causing Flip to stop abruptly.
“Sweetheart, as much as I love every single fucking sound that comes out of you, you need to keep quiet.” Despite there not being anything scheduled, anybody could come in at any moment, it was an open church, after all, free for the public to come and pray as they wanted.
Those hands of God ran down your body, sliding over your sweetest places and rubbing against your most sensitive areas as Flip pounded into you. He was so deep inside of you that you barely knew what to do with yourself.
You couldn’t keep quiet, no matter how hard you tried moans still slipped past your lips and Flip was eventually forced to quiet you with his hand over your mouth.
Your walls were clenched so tightly around him, drawing him deeper and deeper inside.
“Fuck” You groaned. “Feels so- fucking good.” You shakily breathe out.
“Yeah? Do you love it when I pump my cock into you?” Flip cooed as he asked, slowing down just slightly, but each thrust was still sharp, still precise, and hard, and calculated, rotating his hips just enough to hit that special spot inside of you.
A breathy yes! left your lips.
“More.” You demanded.
He pulled out so just his tip was left in you, waiting there for just a second before slamming back into you again, buried to the hilt. The groan Flip let out sent tingles down your spine and caused you to clench even tighter around him, triggering another moan from him.
“If only you knew how fucking good you feel, sweetheart.” Flip praised, followed by another harsh rut into you.
He continued pumping into your sweet cunt, drawing moans from you that were filthy, thoroughly fucking you into the cold stone floor. The sound of his balls slapping against you every time he thrust into you was driving you insane.
His thrusts had picked up in pace once again, ruthless and reckless as he fucked deeper and deeper into you. You were trembling against him, breath hitching and getting caught in your chest as you almost forgot how to breathe. You could feel your release mounting quickly once again, shockwaves gripping your body and rolling through you with every buck into you.
“Say my name.”
“What?” You weren’t lucid enough to possibly begin to understand what he meant at that moment.
“Say my name.” He repeated, making sure to punctuate every single word with a small thrust upward to meet you as you came down on him. “And make sure He hears you.” Caution had left Flip, abandoned him in the heat of the moment. He thought that the congregation needed to hear the beauty that was his name falling from your lips.
His name spilt out of your mouth just a few seconds later in the form of a half-strangled moan.
“Louder.”
“Flip!” You shouted his name as you finally came, tumbling over the edge as stars were painted behind your eyelids. Your legs were shaking, spasming, through the waves, words of gibberish leaving your mouth as he made you babble like a brook. Legs shaking, blood rushing in your ears, and your heart thumping painfully in your chest as it contracted. Flip hadn’t even faltered in his movements, fucking you through your orgasm, continuing to pump into you as he chased his own climax. You could just barely make out his own groans in your ear as he bounded and leapt closer to the edge.
It did not matter to Flip what anyone else could – or possibly would – say about the two of you. He was meant to spend the rest of his earthside life between your thighs.
You hadn’t felt this way before, you didn’t even know you could feel this way; the overwhelming stimulation that was rushing through your blood, lighting your nerves on fire, making you want to stay right there, until kingdom come.
Flip delivered a sweet pleasure that sent you oscillating between heaven and earth, torn between life and something other.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Flip grunted as he watched himself disappear inside of your body over and over again.
“Want you to come inside of me.” Flip had successfully turned you into a wanton whore, desperate for his seed to taint you, and he did. He came deep inside of you, hips continuing to pump into you as he made sure that you got received every single last drop of him. He would now and for always be with you in every step you took, dripping out of you in your memories.
In Flip’s mind, God is beneath him; he is inferior because he forbids the very thing that makes you human – the harmless pleasure that hides underneath swinging skirts and in between loins.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit; as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever.
Note: Happy New Year everyone! I wanted to write this up real quick, it's not much, but I was really feeling Maurizio on this tonight. I typed it up really quickly, just wanted to get something out TONIGHT before it turned midnight on the west coast (where I'm at!)
Phrases to know: *Guarda quanto sei bella - Look how gorgeous you are
*Amore mio - my love
Contents/Warnings: Fluff, kissing, pretty SFW, some sexual language
You and Maurizio had just landed in New York City. He claimed he was here strictly on business, but it was a holiday and you knew it.
While he did have business meetings to attend, you stayed in the luxurious hotel room he had booked for the two of you. However, he promised you two would explore the city after the meeting today. After all, it was New Year's Eve.
You were applying your lipstick when you heard the door open and click shut.
“Love?” Maurizio quietly called, peeking around the corner to see you in the bathroom. He stood behind you in the bathroom, completely taking in your appearance while you finished up your makeup.
“Guarda quanto sei bella.”
You turned around, eyebrows raised at your husband. He was never light about compliments, showering you with them constantly. You smiled up at him, his hands finding your waist. Maurizio pulled you in, pecking at your lips a few times.
You pulled back slightly, humming.
“Thank you,” you whispered, fluttering your eyelashes.
“Any time, Bellissimo.”
You both exited the bathroom, pulling on the boots you intended to wear out today. Pulling on your stunning white coat to pull your outfit together, Maurizio barely changed his clothes and was ready.
“Men, absolutely no effort, and they can still look good,” you hummed over at him, listening to the chuckle in response.
“I know, doll, just call me flawless.”
You rolled your eyes, smiling as he stood in front of you once more.
“Let’s get going before we can’t move at all out there,” he suggested, holding his hand out, dragging you out of the hotel room.
Maurizio let you pick any stores to go into, any sights to see, and generally whatever you wanted to do for the rest of the day.
By the time the sun was setting, you were both walking back into the hotel, not avoiding any crowds. Setting everything you had bought from the day, which wasn’t much, onto the chair in the room, Maurizio looked at you with a slight smirk.
You looked up from sorting through the new belongings, tilting your head at him. He got that look in his eyes typically when he was in the mood. You shook your head, setting your things down.
You aimed a finger at him, shaking your head once more.
“Not right now, we were just out all day.”
Maurizio looked puzzled, giving you a smile.
“I meant champagne, amore mio. Let’s ring in the new year with some champagne and we can people-watch.”
You giggled as he picked up the hotel phone to dial for room service. Within no time the bottle showed up in the room, and your husband tipped room service generously.
You both stood on the balcony, both enthralled with the crowd of people down below. You had no idea how much time had passed, but the crowd grew louder with every passing moment. In a way, it was really fun to see everyone crowd around, pushing and shoving in an attempt to try to get out, or get farther in.
“People really come here to do this every year?” You questioned, turning your head to him.
The dark haired male turned his head back to you, looking you in the eyes.
“It’s a party, why wouldn’t you?”
You shrugged, a smile creeping onto your face.
“I don’t think standing in that crowd would be my thing.”
“Love, we are pretty much here for the party as well,” Maurizio mentioned, shrugging, a hand running through his hair. He straightened out from leaning over the balcony, checking his watch.
“11:30. So close.”
Maurizio kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. You both shared a sweet moment, though anyone who looked up could probably see you two.
He leaned down close to your ear, gently placing a kiss on your earlobe.
“I am going to give you such a treat after midnight.”
His words made you shiver in anticipation, eliciting a soft noise from you. When your husband stood up straight one more time, you half closed your eyes in a seductive glance, lips slightly parted up at him.
“You’ll get one too.”
Maurizio shuddered, chuckling down at you, giving you one more kiss before turning back and leaning over the balcony again. You dragged your fingernails along his back, leaning gently against him.
As the time drew closer to midnight, Maurizio pulled out the champagne from inside the hotel room. He was going to pop it over the balcony, and not the safe way, either.
Soon enough, the crowd began the ten-second countdown. You and your husband looked at each other, bright smiles on your faces.
When it hit one, Maurizio used the hand that wasn’t holding the alcohol to pull you in, planting a long, loving kiss on your lips. You both grinned into the kiss, pulling away so he could pop the bottle.
You were both sure that it hit someone in the sea of people down below, worrying you for a second before laughing along with your husband.
He poured the champagne into the glasses, handing you yours first. You clinked your glasses together, Maurizio planting one more kiss on your lips before you took sips of the alcohol.
Summary: You are a History major at The-College-On-The-Hill and must take a Hitler studies class as part of the curriculum. You get distracted during the two-hour lecture and can't pay attention which Professor Jack Gladney takes notice of, forcing you to stay after class to have a word.
Warnings: age gap, blowjobs, literally face fucking, cum swallowing, hairy pussy (it's the 80s, what can I say), power imbalance, mentions of WW2 and Nazis, teacher-student relationship, dubcon, you are a super girly queen who likes to take pictures, Jack wears his glasses as he rails you from behind, cock the size of a soda can, degradation.
Author's Note: Welcome to the 80s! It's totally tubular, yo! Anyways, welcome to another Jack Gladney fic. This story has no plot, just some good ol' hanky panky. I wanted to create a raunchy, corny, 80s porno-esque, sheet gripping story with horny old man Jack. A song called Rapture by Blondie was playing over and over in my head while writing this and I was defiantly inspired by it. I want to say that since we're in the 80s, you have hair long enough to be in a ponytail and permed. If you have trouble picturing that, just look up "80s side pony," and you'll see what I mean. Well, I hope you guys like it and don't get turned off by some of the things I wrote.
The autumn air was sharp as you walked the concrete pathway to your Hitler Studies Class, cutting your cheeks raw as you huddled in your bright windbreaker. Crispy orange oak leaves crunched under your white sneakers, accenting each step as you huffed up the hill, skinny jeans clinging tight to your body.
You paused for a moment, shrugging your backpack off and taking out a compact black case, unzipping it to reveal your Polaroid camera and snap a picture. You smiled as the beautiful autumn landscape was printed on the paper and the photo slowly appeared.
Fall was always your favorite time of year. The short space between summer and winter filled your bones with the excitement for new beginnings. You never understood why people used spring as the figurehead for growth and rebirth when autumn made more sense. People were starting school, returning from vacations, and thinking about the holidays. Things were dying, melting into the ground and decaying, creating room for new life to grow. Wouldn't that be the first step in the cycle?
You opened the heavy metal door to the historic building, grunting and using all your weight to fling it so you could run inside before it slammed behind you.
The halls were always quiet and bare, as it was mainly used for only the history majors. The smell of cigarettes lingered in the wooden floorboards and carpets of the lecture halls, even with the "no smoking" signs plastered everywhere. It was the 80s. For Christ's sake, people should know better by now. You were confident it was mainly just the teachers anyways. Old habits die hard.
You entered the lecture hall. Rows and rows of wooden desks and old, creaky chairs with small lamps lined the entire room. A few students had already taken their seats, dotting the space. Your Professor, Mr. Gladney, looked up from his podium in the front of the class, noticing the noise. You smiled and gave a little wave in greeting, but he didn't respond. Only staring at you blankly with his deep brown eyes and slightly aged face until you made it to your respective seat in the second row. His eyes snapped back to whatever he was doing, clearing his throat and scratching the top of his receding Chesnut hair once you did.
You shrugged the awkward exchange off, ignoring the butterflies that formed from his attention.
He was always like this, quirky, almost with his obsession for his job. You would never be able to understand why or how someone could devote their entire life to learning about a literal genocidal maniac, but in a way, it fits him. He was so focused on his studies and teaching he never really made time to develop the ability to have actual conversations with students. It was almost endearing. You supposed he didn't need to, anyways. He didn't need to befriend his students; he had his own family and problems to deal with. All he was required to do in that aspect was be able to answer any questions they had and, on occasion, discuss an assignment.
More students began to file in, taking up the empty spaces and filling the room with the smell of the outdoors. You rummaged through your backpack, pulled out the spiral notebook dedicated to your Hitler Studies Class, and settled in for the two-hour-long lecture.
You were an hour and a half into the class when you felt your stomach begin to ache, empty. You silently cursed the feeling, realizing you should have eaten before arriving. Taking gulps of your water was not enough to satiate your hunger, and you became irritable, bouncing your leg impatiently while glancing at the clock. You only had to endure another twenty minutes of gut-wrenching agony. You draped your arm over your abdomen, trying to comfort yourself inconspicuously.
Professor Gladney caught your hunched-over form as he descended the stairs leading to the chalkboard in long strides. His eyes traveled up and down your figure with a slight scowl, his pink lips pouting. You blush, embarrassed that he saw you looking weak like a child. You scrunched your face in disappointment. You began rummaging through your bag, looking for anything, a granola bar, an opened package of Fig Newtons, anything that could satiate your hunger, but finding nothing besides a pack of bubblegum. This would have to do.
You looked around as you pried the sealed bag, trying not to make a sound and draw attention. It mostly worked, except for the fact that the direction of the sound waves went straight to your Professor, sighing with his hand on his hips. He glared at you before going back to talking about the tactics the Nazis used to dehumanize the groups Hitler deemed the cause for Germany's hardships.
You should have been paying attention, especially since this was a required course for you to graduate, but the constant gnawing in your stomach wouldn't let you. Trying to distract yourself, you twisted your hair around your index finger, pulling on it, inflicting a different pain on your body as you popped the baby pink gum. You glanced at the black and white clock again, the constant ticking antagonizing you, knowing how much discomfort you were in. You couldn't help it when a groan of annoyance bubbled up, seeing there were still ten minutes left.
"Miss..." Professor Gladney said your last name sharply, face sour. "Is this not interesting enough for you?" Your face burned as you sunk into the creaky chair, anxiety growing from being the center of everyone's attention.
"Uh, no, Mr. Gladney. I-I mean yes, Mr. Gladney." You couldn't form a coherent sentence with his eyes staring intensely into you, your thighs squeezing shut. He paused on your squirming form, expression being overshadowed by something... different.
Professor Gladney huffed, shaking his head and running a hand through his wavy light brown hair before continuing his lecture, flipping the projector on for the documentary he was ending the class with. You were thankful Professor Gladney turned the lights off. It made it easier to hide the shame heating your skin, the ache in your gut.
You felt like an idiot for being so careless with your thoughts and actions, finding the plastic-coated pack and shoving another piece to distract you.
Finally, the clock struck the hour, and Mr. Gladney flipped the lights on and switched the film off.
You bunched your things together, not caring to organize them as you shoved them in your bright pink backpack, practically sprinting down the stairs until you heard your name called. Dread filled your bones, weighing you down in your spot.
"Yes, Mr. Gladney," you responded with gritted teeth, plastering on a fake smile as you turned to face him. He pushed his blue-tinted glasses up as he scowled.
"I need you to stay after class." His request was simple enough and wouldn't have bothered you any other day, but you really needed to leave this time.
"Can I do that another time, please? I'm starving," you whined. You were becoming nauseous from the lack of food. You sighed, shrugging your bag closer.
"No, Miss," he said, your last name, annoyed with your antics and crossing his arms, "I need to speak with you in private."
You were starting to get angry now. All you wanted was a little snack. You smacked the gum in your mouth, purposefully trying to be loud as an act of defiance when the last few students filed out. You groaned and walked to an extra desk by his podium, dropping your book bag with more force than usual.
Professor Gladney sat at the complex plastic table next to you, puffing hair through his mouth as he bent his knees. His age was catching up to him. You rolled your eyes, irked with every second not spent shoving your face full of food. He placed his hands on the rectangular table, lacing his fingers together as his eyebrows scrunched in thought, lips pursing. You blew a bubble, crossing your legs.
"Do you know why I asked you to stay behind today?" He interrogated, finally initiating the conversation, making you one step closer to leaving.
You sucked the expanded gum back in, tilting your head. It cracked and popped as you went back to chewing it abhorrently.
"No. I don't think I do, sir. Could you please tell me?" Your voice was snippy as Mr. Gladney whipped his gaze up, as you blew another bubble, popping even louder.
"I asked you to stay because you didn't retain a single piece of information the entire lecture," he answered.
You scoffed, throwing your head back as you sneered. "Did not." You continued gnawing on the pink bubblegum. His sigh came out as a growl as he slammed his fists on the table.
"Will you stop chewing that god-damned gum!"
You jumped in your seat, the rubber candy nearly falling out of your mouth at his sudden outburst. The surprise wore off quickly as your belly made a grumble, anger finally coming to the surface.
"Oh, yeah? What are you gonna do about it, huh? Make me spit it out?" You hugged your abdomen tightly as another wave of hunger struck you.
Professor Gladney didn't reply, only giving you a heated stare. You stood up, pushing your seat back with a screech. "Yeah. That's what I thought."
You picked up your backpack, not bothering to put it on as you stormed out. You were halfway to the door as you felt a sharp yank nearly make you fall backward. You spun around, ready to fight your teacher that stopped your escape.
"What the fu-"
A kiss caught your words as Mr. Gladney's mouth crashed onto yours, forcing you to backpedal and slam into the classroom door, shutting it.
His tongue was skilled, the soft sensation of it eliciting a moan from you as his hand went to your throat.
"You're such a fucking nuisance. Distracting me with those juicy lips, stuffing that gum in your mouth. I'll give you something to stuff it," he rambled against your lips.
Your eyes were wide as he continued kissing you, shocked but not upset by the intrusion, gradually gaining the confidence to run your fingers through his short wavy brown hair. He wouldn't leave your mouth even when he locked the door and pulled the small curtain covering the small porthole. You struggled to breathe with his face smashed against yours, and you attempted to pull back, only getting enough as your foreheads pressed together.
"You said you were fucking hungry," he hummed through his nose. "I'll give you something to eat."
He brought his wide fingers into your hair, tangling them. You squinted in confusion, unsure of what he meant as he brought you to your knees, face level with his crotch, a prominent bulge poking through the tan fabric. Your eyes darted up to his as you realized what he meant but were still uncertain about moving.
"Go on. Suck my cock." He motioned with his head.
You wet your lips, unzipping his kakis with two fingers as you found purchase on his sturdy thighs. As you brought them down, you palmed the bulge, glancing at him for reassurance. His eyes were closed, brows pinched in pleasure, glasses sliding down his aquiline nose, lost in your touch. Taking that as a sign to continue, you hooked your fingers into the hem of his white underwear, spotting the tuft of black hair, a few greys strands hiding here and there. You brought them down, revealing his full, unobscured length. Your mouth hung open at the sight. You couldn't help the quiet gasp that slipped.
Mr. Gladney looked down at you, chuckling at your reaction, proud to have won it. He nudged you forward with his hand.
"Take it. Use those pretty lips you were so keen on annoying me with earlier." His voice was low and thick, directed down to you, laced with desire.
You went to feel the gum in your mouth, wanting to spit it out to make room for him but couldn't find it. Mr. Gladney noticed your bewildered expression and laughed again, jaw moving as he rolled the missing piece, showing it to you. You shook your head slightly as you opened your mouth, wrapping your hand around his thick cock, fingers barely touching.
You licked a stripe up the side, exploring the ridges and veins as he hissed from above, pulling your hair tighter and tasting the salty precum dripping out. You worked him with your wrist as you slowly wrapped your lips around the tip, having to open your jaw as far as possible to take even a little as you felt his knees buckle. You pulled your head back with a pop, gasping for air as your hand moved faster. You smiled inwardly, proud to have nearly crippled your stone-cold Professor.
You could hear Mr. Gladney cursing under his breath, losing control as he felt the tension in his gut tighten. He was in a constant state of arousal around you, it was a continuous hum underneath his skin, but his mind was more vigorous. He had held back for quite some time, and even though he knew he could handle this forever, as long as he got off at the end of the day, seeing you in that bright windbreaker, your hair permed and pulled up to the side made him furious. How could you sit there, twirling your ponytail and smacking your lips, oblivious to how he yearned for your soft flesh, and not be punished for it somehow?
He gripped the back of your hair tighter at the thought, pushing your head further down his fat cock until you were a gagging mess below him.
Your lips twitched as you struggled to adjust to his side; you couldn't take all of him. He was too broad. You tried pulling back for air, dry heaving and squirming against him as he ignored you, pushing you down until it bulged in your throat.
"Fuck, yes." He sighed, tipping his head back in ecstasy. "Choke on my fucking cock, you disgusting little slut. You're gonna take my fucking load down your throat. You're gonna eat it when I'm done."
Mr. Gladney finally pulled your head back, not wanting you to retch on him before slamming your face repeatedly, nose smooshing against his pelvis with each thrust.
"You're a fucking nymph. Waltzing in here every day with those stupid fucking clothes that make you look twelve and then ignoring my lecture like a brat. You're disgusting." He degraded you as if you repulsed him, but you knew better. He loved it.
Jack Gladney was a dirty, perverted old man, but only for you. He loved how you acted like a schoolgirl, bright-eyed and ignorant but still mature for someone your age. It drove him wild, the iniquity of it all—only his little nymphet of a student.
You could tell he was close to the edge. His legs shook beside you as his thrusts became sloppy. Bringing your free hand up, you began playing with his balls, the skin delicate and smooth underneath his curly hair as you felt him jolt, the pleasure too intense to hold back from as he shoved your face into him, grunting and spraying load after load down you throat, filling your empty stomach. Your breathing was ragged as you waited for Professor Gladney to pull out, your nails digging into his hairy thighs.
He couldn't support his weight and leaned into the classroom door as you looked up at him. You maintained eye contact as he slowly slid out of your mouth, jaw aching and gasping for air once free. You took a moment to collect yourself, wiping the drool and smeared mascara on your face, glancing at him nervously a few times. He pushed himself off the door and kicked his pants from his ankles, crouching down quickly to drag you to the nearest desk.
Confusion struck as he guided you. How could he be ready for round two? Most boys around your age would cum and need to fall asleep afterward, but here he was, dragging you across the room to fuck you.
You were too stunned to speak as he bent you over it, breasts resting on the cool top, ass in the air. You heard Mr. Gladney mumble something behind you, and you turned your head to see as a crack echoed in the lecture hall. You squealed, back arching and shifting forward at the unexpected impact.
"Don't chew gum in my class again," he said, your last name, scolding you and smacking your ass again, "unless you want to experience something worse than a spanking."
Your mind was mush as he hit your other cheek, bringing his hand to soothe the hot skin.
"Mr. Gladney!" You cried out, clenching your fingers, nails biting crescents into your palms.
"Say that again," you heard him groan behind you. You yelped it again as he smacked you before reaching his hand around and unbuttoning your jeans.
He rolled them down your supple thighs along with your panties and revealed the sore skin from his punishments. He bent down, knees cracking as he mouthed at the sensitive area, licking and sucking comfort marks. You reached your arm behind you, moaning and pushing his face closer into you. You sighed his name again as he groped your other cheek.
He ran his meaty fingers along your cunt, moaning as he felt the unshaven area. Just the way he liked it.
His thumb brushed over your clit, making you gasp as he pulled away to look at you, eyes rolling back at the beautiful sight of your hairy pussy. He didn't think this day could get any better. He pressed his thumb further and drew circles, making your eyes roll back in rapture as he glided two digits through your wet folds.
"Look at that. Look at how wet you are for your Professor." Mr. Gladney's voice was thick, the warmth of it fanning on your skin, sending goosebumps throughout your body.
You craned your neck back, attempting to get a view of his fingers, and sure enough, they were soaked. His digits shined with your juices, coating the tips as he licked his lips, shoving them into his mouth with a moan. You dropped your head and closed your eyes, feeling another wave of heat swell your cunt as you rubbed your thighs together, wanting to have your neglected hole filled.
Threads of pleasure began to disperse from your clit as Professor Gladney continued to rub circles. You clenched around nothing and began to whine, wanting to be filled with anything. His fingers, his cock, hell, even the film roll from the projector would be fine so long as you were stuffed.
Mr. Gladney's fingers left his mouth with a pop, satisfied with your taste as he saw you becoming impatient.
"Please," you whimpered, "I need you inside me."
You didn't have to look to see his smirk, arrogance, and cockiness replacing his usual indifference.
"Aww, look at you, so needy. Begging for your Professor's cock to fill you up." He crooned, his face inches away from your cunt, his breath tickling the wire hair.
"Please. I-I can't take it anymore." Your eyes started to water, the desire too much to keep inside.
He ignored you again, shoving his face between your legs and slurping your flesh. The relief was mild as he lapped at your clit, nose buried deep inside your cunt. You were almost on edge, teetering over the cliff side just needing the final push he refused to give. You knew he was punishing you for being such a brat earlier, ignoring his lecture and popping the gum loudly in disrespect. Part of you felt it was deserved and that you needed to endure it, but the other one, the selfish part, wanted to cum so badly.
"Please, Mr. Gladney." He ignored you and continued to lap your clit. "Please, Jack."
He stopped his movements, exposing your cunt to the cold air of the classroom.
You knew that would get his attention and began apologizing for the informal title, but you needed him to listen or else you would die.
"I can't take it anymore," you said with tears. "I need your cock, Jack. I need you-"
Your words were cut short with the slam of your head onto the wooden table as Mr. Gladney positioned himself behind you. You gasped in pain as he leaned over your body, his hanging stomach brushing over your windbreaker, swishing.
"Don't call me that," his voice growled in your ear. "I'm your professor, and you will address me as such when you're in this classroom."
Your lip quivered as you nodded. He pulled away, only sliding his hand down to the base of your neck, not squeezing but reminding you who was in charge.
You could feel him moving behind you, shuffling closer as he guided his cock through your folds, wetting it. He slowly put the tip in, having to push harder than average from how tight you were. You cried out, fingers gripping the table as you felt him splitting you open. He hesitated for a moment, worried about hurting you. You weren't sure if you could take him inside after never having anyone as girthy before, but the relief of having your Professor an inch inside you was overwhelming.
"No, don't stop. I need you deeper," you begged. He obliged, the thin skin around your hole breaking as he went in further.
Mr. Gladney groaned as he felt the end of his cock brush your cervix, providing a pleasurable pain. You could feel him stretching your insides to their maximum as he seated inside wholly. You were a panting and blubbering mess under him, feeling so impossibly complete with only half of his cock inside you, sweat collecting on your forehead.
"I'm all the way in," he mumbled, releasing a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
Your walls strangled his cock, sending gratifying thumps with the blood flowing through the shaft. It was difficult for him to begin thrusting, your pussy creating a vacuum and sucking him back in like when you attempted to shove your foot into a shoe that was too small.
It felt amazing.
Professor Gladney hadn't had sex this great in a long time since his college years, actually, and he couldn't get enough. He squished your face further into the table, the flesh inside your mouth pinching between your teeth while he used his other hand to grip your hips for leverage. Your loud cries mixed with the erotic scent in the air had him acting berserk, fucking you from behind like an ape, grunting with every smack of his hips and speeding up.
You were sure students straggling from other classes could hear you from the halls as he landed an arduous thrust into your cervix. He slapped the hand that was pushing you down across your mouth to prevent arousing any more attention.
"Don't make a fucking sound," he seethed into your ear, "unless you want everyone to know what a disgusting whore you are. Fucking your forty-year-old Professor." Your eyes rolled back into your head, silently screaming as his fingers found your clit.
The pain mixing with the pleasure was immaculate as you drooled against his palm, breathing heavily through your nose. Mr. Gladney's grunts were strained through his lips as he pursed them tightly; you wished you could hear them in their entirety. Hear how he would suck air in when you clenched around his cock; listen to how he would growl dirty words into your ear as he fucked you from behind.
The pads of his fingers rubbing your overworked bud sent you tumbling down into ecstasy, spasming around him as you gripped the hand covering your mouth, thighs shaking. Your movements nearly caused the same for him, but he held back, stalling his thrusts to a slower rhythm, just as powerful.
"Where do you want me?" He asked breathlessly, trying to hold back his impending orgasm as he removed his hand, gripping your shoulder. "Fuck." He smacked your ass when you didn't answer, still coming down from the high.
"I-I don't care. Anywhere."
He made no moves to stop his torture, stubbornly waiting for your answer as he began to overstimulate you.
"Mr. Gladney," you drew out, whining.
"Where the fuck do you want me to cum? You want my jizz inside of you then? You want your Professor's load dripping out of that hairy cunt? You wanna walk to your next class like that?" He antagonized you, shaming your state of being without saying so.
You shook your head. He refused to let up the force on your clit as you tried to move away, shoving you into the creaky wooden table and forcing your mind to focus on his question.
"My ass," you finally whimpered. "I want you to cum on my ass."
Mr. Gladney didn't hesitate to pull himself out, pumping his cock as he did, his spend shooting on your skin. You jumped slightly as the warm liquid splattered over and over, never seeming to stop as he drew out long moans of satisfaction. You couldn't believe he had so much left in him after cuming already. It was crazy how much he still had left.
You slumped down onto the desk, resting your tired body as he got the remnants of his orgasm out, exhausted. You felt him move, his body heat gone as he went get the box of tissues hidden on a shelf inside his podium, wiping his cum away. He let you rest there for a moment as he went to find his discarded pants and underwear by the door, putting them on.
You sighed as you slid into a sitting position, not caring how your bare skin was reclining on the dirty floor. You didn't have the energy to move, tired from the thorough fucking. Your stomach growled, reminding you of the other reason you were tired, and you pulled up the scrunched clothes at your ankles, struggling to steady yourself as you gripped the edge of the table next to you, knocking over a lamp. You turned around, hoping that Professor Gladney didn't see the embarrassing bag of bones you were as you put it back, but he seemed too preoccupied with looking through the uncovered window, checking for people outside.
You took a deep breath as you walked to where your bookbag was, ignoring the burn in between your legs. He turned, happy that no one was around, at least for the time being, and watched you.
It was comical how such a quiet, seemingly innocent student could be such a heathen when alone. Mr. Gladney never thought much of you other than a pretty face that sat in his class, but there was more to you. You had character, different sides to your personality as a student and a woman that he wanted to see and explore more in class or out. You were like a worksheet he passed out to his students, one where they only looked at the front, blissfully unaware that there was more on the back.
His eyes were concentrated as you walked towards him, stopping only a few feet away, silent. Professor Gladney looked at you curiously, wondering why you didn't use a snarky remark like before.
"You're blocking the door." You motioned behind him as he stepped out of the way, apologizing.
You turned the knob and went to pull away, but Mr. Gladney's hand placed itself upon yours, stopping you once again from leaving. You weren't upset this time as he asked you to wait.
"You're going to get something to eat after this, yeah?" You nodded, unsure of where he was going. "Let me take you out? It'll be my treat for keeping you so long." His words were just like anything else he had said, but you could see the anxiety behind his eyes.
Was he afraid you were going to tell someone?
You removed his hand from yours, placing it by your side as you looked up at him, noticing his glasses sliding down too far on his nose. You pushed them up.
"Professor, you don't have to worry about me telling anyone. Everything was consensual." You tried to reassure him. "Besides, I liked it," you joked, nudging him with your side.
Mr. Gladney hadn't even thought of the possibility that you could tell someone; that thought hadn't even crossed his mind. He felt foolish; typically, it was so sharp, priding himself on his strong intellect. Perhaps he wasn't as bright as he thought.
He continued to stare, rolling his lips in thought before he spoke.
"It's not that. I trust you."
Trust you? Did he trust you? He barely knew you. Honestly, you did keep to yourself during his lectures, and you didn't seem like the type of person to gossip, but he still wasn't sure. He regretted not taking the time to know his students now.
"I want to be polite for pulling you from your plans. It's the least I can do," he confessed, anxiously putting his hand into his pockets.
You mulled over the offer, wondering what it could mean to other people seeing the middle-aged Professor hanging out with a student on campus grounds. Your stomach decided for you as it let out a growl loud enough that even Mr. Gladney could hear.
You looked down, cursing the stupid thing that was the source of all your problems today as he laughed. You had never heard him actually laugh before. It was adorable. It was booming, filling the room and echoing in your chest.
"Yeah." You nodded. "Yeah, I think I would like to have a bite with you." You nodded more enthusiastically now as he opened the door, gesturing for you to leave first. "As long as you're paying," you jested, glancing back to him with a cheeky smile.
Of course, Mr. Gladney would pay. You didn't even have to specify that. He slightly shook his head, eyes crinkling at your humor. There were those snarky remarks. He was wondering where they went.
You skipped down the hall excitedly, him trailing behind as a thought came to you. Sliding your pink backpack down your shoulder, you unzipped it and found the familiar black camera case.
"Smile!" You shouted as the camera flashed before he could react. The picture printed as he questioned you.
"What was that for?"
You shrugged, brushing it off as you got a black sharpie, writing a little blurb for a title and putting the date.
"No reason. I just wanted to take a picture," you grinned.
Mr. Gladney looked you up and down, confusion etched on his freckled features, trying to suppress a smile as you put everything away and continued walking to lunch. You exited the building as the sun blinded you, the photo flapping in the autumn wind as it formed.
