my-sweetheart-evans - Tumblr blog

my-sweetheart-evans · 2 years

Text

faint promises

pairing - dadsbestfriend!ari levinson x (f)reader

summary - you’ve been hooking up with your dads best friend for a while and when you see him at your family barbecue you shouldn’t be surprised that he wants to get you alone

warnings - (18+) smut, unprotected sex, fingering, breeding kink, daddy kink, exhibitionism/public sex, light anal play, unspecified age gap, feels, choking, dirty talk and petnames

word count - 2.4k

a's notes - this has been sat in my docs for over a month, pretty certain this is awful but imma post it anyway because why not

It was simple, chilled- even. Only a few neighbours milling around, your job has been refilling drinks so you’re taking another scan just as he walks in. It’s not as cliche as everyone stops, because conversations only lull slightly as people take notice of his demanding presence, but for you, it seems the world ceases to spin.

He doesn’t have to look to sense your eyes on him and you don’t need to be told that he’s going to find you.

Moving gracefully to your father, Ari welcomes him in a hug. Ari isn’t the usual built guy you see, he isn’t just tall and a bit muscly. The thing with him is that he makes those kinds of guys look small, your dad for instance who is not small by any means is engulfed in those bear-like arms. You swallow. Yeah, Ari doesn't even know the meaning of small, unless it's you; and in those cases he never even cares, gruff moans echo in your ears, “Tight little pussy, fuck, baby. But you’re gonna let me break her, ‘cause I know how bad you want all of me inside that sweet little hole.”

They're looking at you. Both pairs of male eyes honed in on you. Your dad looks proud, your gaze flicks to his best friend- proud isn’t the word you’d choose. Perhaps more, predatory, with a speck of awe, if you give yourself that credit. Either way, your dad extends an arm and you walk over, trying to convince yourself that you don’t feel like you’re treading towards the danger.

“Hey sweetheart, I was just telling Ari about your results,” his pride beaming through his teeth. You smile back, sweeping your gaze to him, who’s watching you intently and unnervingly. An awkward laugh clears your throat and you look between the two, unsure of what to say, speaking about yourself has never been a strong subject.

“Yeah, I hear congratulations are in order.” he leans down, “I ‘spose that means you deserve a big reward.” His words are clear for your dad to hear and laugh, not sensing the double meaning, the one which you can hardly breathe through.

You have to look away from those piercing blue eyes, knowing they’ll track your hands wringing the soft material of your dress, how they’ll absorb your cheeks that seem set alight, heated- burning. Fortunately, your dad picks up the conversation again and you feel free enough to make a weak excuse, a polite farewell to the beast. As you almost skipped into the house it was like you could hear it in the way his eyes followed you: you don’t think you’re getting away that easily, do you?

The sun has been relentless today, it’s nice to be outside but it’s impossible without a cold drink. The iced cocktails have been going down well, looking around the garden to see if there are any that need topping up. Seeing a few you head inside to get the pitcher. Cutting up some more fruit as you cool down in the shade.

You hadn’t seen Ari for a minute, not that you were searching. But it’s almost impossible to miss him so you’re confused how he’s escaped your gaze. Maybe his in the bathroom. Maybe he went home… he wouldn’t have gone home without saying goodbye, would he? It’s not like he owes it to you, you’re not together but surely you don’t mean nothing. Surely you warrant a goodbye, surely-

“Found you.” he rumbles.

You blink. Caught.

You turn slightly and see him in the doorway, his frame practically the same size as it. His hands are dug deep in his pockets and his eyes are raking over you, you wonder how long he’s been standing there. Shaking your head lightly you turn back to your task, trying as best as possible to ignore him. You and Ari might not be together but you know what he wants and if you play your cards right, you’re going to get what you want too.

Staring down at the lemon in your hand you begin to slice the steel through it, “Didn’t know you were looking for me.” it’s mechanic as you move, cut and slice then turn, cut and slice then put the fruit in the drink. It’s grounding. It’s humiliating that just a conversation with your dad’s best friend means you need to ground yourself in order to be normal.

He chuckles, “Princess, you know I’m always looking for you.”

He says it so casually, throws it in there as if it’s easy to hear. And it is, it’s so easy to hear but it’s slowing your brain, clogging something inside you like honey. The sound of his boots on the floor tells you he’s coming closer.

Like a brick wall up against your back, he stands behind you, large hands landing on your shoulders and running down your arms. He puts the knife down and leans his head down, long hair ticking your ear, “How about we find some place more…” a beat, “private.”

You should’ve remembered that Ari doesn’t really do private. The side of your house, during a family barbeque, is about as private as Ari gets.

“Ari slow down, I- oh fuck,” you fight against your eyes which are trying to roll back, “No, I- fucking, I’m gonna come, you, I can’t,” he never falters, abusing your sweet spot and smiling down at the cockdrunk look on your face.

There’s a smirk on his lips and sin dancing in his eyes, “What sweetheart? You can’t come in front of all these people?” his words shared in the tight space between your two melting bodies. At the start of this, you thought he was kidding; you should’ve never underestimated your dad’s best friend. “Last time I checked, you were my good girl and good girls come for their daddy.”

Oh god.

One of his fingers, from the hand, splayed over your ass, drifts until it finds that untouched puckered hole and its faint promise is enough to have you squirting all over both of you.

“There’s my girl, such a good girl for her daddy. That’s it, fuck.” His voice is gravelly and like molasses and it coats your shaking body. The orgasm pulls on the strings of your limbs, you tighten up and as the band snaps it's like you melt. You’re completely powerless as it rocks your body.

Ari watches you; he can’t take his eyes off of you.

Thick fingers pass through your open lips, stopping too much noise from escaping. “I know baby, gotta keep quiet for me.” he places a tender kiss on your damp forehead and slows his thrusts.

Blinking up at him, as the intense pleasure fades to the constant thrum of pleasure you find with him, you tug at his neck and he gets the message. When his lips meet yours it's softer. There's still that inescapable heat but you know from this kiss he’s thanking you, just as you are thanking him.

You smile as you break the kiss, leaning up to his ear you whisper, “Put a baby in me, daddy.”

You can feel his cock throb in your cunt as his eyes flutter shut as he rests his forehead on yours. As if he’s composing himself- he is. No one has ever turned him on, made him so quick to resort to his basic instincts, the way you do. And you do it so effortlessly.

It wasn’t on purpose and it wasn’t thought through but his fingers slip out of you mouth, glistening in your spit- he makes a show of holding them in front of your face, like it's the evidence of his power over you, it is- and his hand wraps delicately around your throat before tightening, leaving you with no air, no voice, just a clear view of him.

Then he starts to thrust.

Compared to now, the way he fucked you before seemed like a gentle pummelling. But after hearing your sweet little beg, he let loose and it might be the first time you’d had the divine pleasure of seeing him in all his unleashed glory.

He was selfish. There was nothing in his mind apart from hedonism. The very thing he has stayed away from, kept himself from, is in his greedy hands and for once he isn’t holding back. In a sick way the bruises you could feel puncturing your skin and the collar he drew around your throat would fuel your own need for power. They would become reminders of how you could reduce the intimidating, seemingly indifferent man into the animalistic one that is using you.

You don’t dare ask him to slow down, if you did you’re not certain he’d hear you.

Despite his self absorbed behaviour, it’s like your body draws the sensations from his own and you realise you’re already on the precipice again. Ari’s grunts into your hair are as unrelenting as his hips, the deep vibrations making you concerned that someone from the party might come and find you in this compromising position.

Voicing your concerns he replies with a chuckle, “Oh honey, you really think I’ll stop if someone sees us? God, I really have fucked you stupid haven’t I?”

You reach a hand up to tug on his hair and bring his lips down to your own, trying to conceal both your noises as much as possible. But it's entirely futile, the noise that your slick creates when Ari’s thighs slap against your own is enough of a sign as to what is going on.

His balls are slapping against you at every thrust and you’re almost certain you’re going to come and not be able to warn him. He alternates his movements, from faster and shallow to pulling all the way out and pushing in so deep you choke. There is so much control in the way his body moves and it has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

The smell of food from the party focuses you back on reality and humiliatingly brings you closer to coming. It’s like he can sense this, his eyes meeting your shut ones, whispering mockingly, “What would your dad say if he saw you like this, huh? His precious little daughter, creamin’ all over my cock. You proud of yourself, honey?” taunting and cruel your eyes well up with poorly concealed emotion.

Unknowingly your lips pout, staring up at him, craving his security. The sight pushes him closer to his own orgasm, which has been steadily wrapping a tight coil up his spine, no matter how hard he’s tried to stave it off. He pushes a thumb into your mouth, which you immediately welcome. The sensation of your tongue curving around the digit has his hips stuttering. “God you’re fuckin’ perfect.” he mumbles, resting his head in your neck.

His hips speed up, the tip of him meeting your cervix repeatedly. The spikes of pain just make you clench harder around him.

You grapple with his shirt, his hair, anything to ground yourself and pull you closer into him. “I want you to come, please Ari-” he slaps your ass, adding to his collection of signatures on your body, “Daddy, wan’ you to come, please-” your whiny, fucked out voice commands those mind-numbingly deep thrusts, the ones that make you want to dissolve into a puddle because the pleasure is too much.

And Ari, he’s too close this time, desperation clawing away at him, he knows that he’s not going to be able to stop this time- not when you feel like a vice melded around him. His thumb slips from your mouth, you don’t watch its descent, instead focusing your gaze on your dad’s best friend.

The brown strands of hair are messy and tangled, a result of your own digits winding their way through. His dark brows are furrowed, trying to contain himself and centre his attention on the feeling of you.

Before you can take in any more of him you feel the thick digit that you once held in your mouth, rubbing over your other hole, your own saliva helping it push its way through into you. Wide eyes stare up at Ari and he smiles, an expression which quickly drops into shock as he realises that he can feel himself, through you.

A full body shudder wracks your body, his thumb pumping in and out of you. Both of you can taste how close you are to coming, but when you clench around his thumb Ari lets go.

The fire pooling low in his abdomen releases and his teeth drop onto your shoulder. There was no other choice but to bite down into your skin, he needed to muffle his noises. The groans vibrate into you and you can feel the evidence of his orgasm leaking out around his cock, which is still plugged into your hole. His spend dripping and leaking, your cunt clenching around him to keep it in.

His hips still move, just barely, as his balls throb beneath him. You’re both shaking. Way too fucked out to do anything you remain in his arms as you both come down.

With a final curse, Ari lifts his head, meeting your droopy eyes. You both smile when you make eye contact, shaky laughs shared in secret at the way the both of you looked. Messy hair, raw lips and heavy eyelids, not to mention the fact that Ari is still inside you- in two places- and neither of you can string a sentence together. It’s hilarious to both of you, completely drunk on each other and overwhelmingly happy because there is nowhere you’d rather be.

Ari is gentle when he pulls out, first his thumb slinks out and then his cock, covered in your shared arousal. He kisses away your whines and praises you constantly. Drip feeding you compliments and movements fuelled by adoration. He takes good care of you and makes sure you can stand before he lets go. You can for a second and when you almost fall over his hands stick to your waist, smiling and whispering “‘ve got you, sweetheart.”

You know he has and you know he always will.

Ari takes you back inside and helps you get ready for a shower. Checking up on you and hardly leaving your side. It’s nice. It lets you forget that this is a less-than-normal situation.

You and he haven’t discussed where you both stand but when you step out of the shower and see him placing a plate of fruit and glass of water on your desk you feel relatively secure. Sure that could change but you know Ari and you know he doesn’t treat you the same as everyone else, and for the moment that’s enough.

a's notes - this is bad sorry. REBLOG PLEASE !

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my-sweetheart-evans · 2 years

Text

We’ll Get There

Pairing: dad’s best friend!Ari Levinson x fem!Reader

Summary: Ari has to confront you after finding his ✨toy drawer✨ disarranged.

Warnings: Age gap (Reader is over 21), inexperienced!Reader, dildos, vibrators, fingering, maybe a tiny bit of humiliation, 18+/minors dni

Word count: ~2,000

a/n: First full Ari fic alert 🫣

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“Come in!” His muffled voice comes from the other side of the door after only a few knocks. He was watching the time and knew you'd arrive early; you always do.

“Hi, Mr. Levinson,” you smile politely, kicking your shoes off and dropping your bag of clothes to the floor.

“Please,” he chuckles. “This has to be your fiftieth time house sitting for me. You can call me Ari.”

You laugh a little at that. It's really only been a few times, your dad volunteering you each time, knowing you could use the little bit of money he always pays when he gets back. But either way, you make a mental note to use his first name.

Watching as he goes back and forth to bring his luggage out of his bedroom, you'd be lying if you said you weren't staring at him – The large strides his long legs allow him to take, his biceps bulging against his tight t-shirt as he lifts the heavy bags, long strands of hair falling in front of his face. He's a vision, but certainly one you should be snapping yourself out of.

“I have a bit before I have to leave actually…” He does it for you, quickly getting your attention. “There's something I want to go over with you quickly, if that's okay.”

“Oh, yeah, okay,” you nod, finally moving away from his door.

You figure there must be something different with his locks, or maybe there's an appliance not working. He passes his kitchen and another door though, and you realize he's leading you toward his bedroom.

You're not an idiot – Memories from your past stay flash before your eyes, hoping, praying, he didn't notice anything off after you left.

“Now, I don't want to accuse you of anything,” he begins. You freeze in his doorway as he walks toward the side of his bed, but will yourself to look calm. “Because I'm very thankful you're able to help me out so much. But when I got back last time, it seemed like you had used my room…”

“I– yeah,” you blurt out, trying to come up with an explanation instead of flat out denying it. “The TV in here is better than the one in the guest room.”

“Gotcha,” he laughs. He drops his face forward before looking back up at you, looking relieved. “So I'm not crazy. I can always tell when something’s out of place. That's okay though, I think this bed is more comfortable too, to be honest.”

“It is.” You play along, glad he bought it. Or so you think.

“With that said…” You take in a breath as he goes on. “Imagine my surprise though when I opened up my nightstand drawer and noticed things out of place there as well.”

“N-no,” you stammer immediately, mouth turning dry as you struggle to come up with a quick lie this time. “I didn't use them, I just–” You go silent, realizing you basically admitted to it already by knowing what's even in the drawer.

“Aw, really?” His voice comes out a tone you've never heard from him before–almost mocking–as his eyes narrow on you, trying his best to bite back his smirk when you become restless under his gaze. “Because I've had the image of you fucking yourself with my toys on my bed stuck in my head since I noticed.”

Your eyes widen and you stand up straighter. But why does his confession have your legs feeling weak? “I, uh…”

As he steps closer to you, his voice softens again. “I've jerked off thinking about it.”

You don't have to cave and admit you weren’t in here because of the TV. He knows the truth when you can't contain yourself, being the one to take the last step closer to close the gap between your bodies, pressing your lips against his.

Your conscience doesn't catch up with you until you feel his hands hesitantly rest on your hips. Quickly pulling away, your eyes snap open realizing you've finally failed to repress your feelings for him. “Sorry–”

“No,” he shakes his head, pulling you back against him so he can kiss you again. “Don’t be.”

As his lips move desperately against yours, it becomes more heated in no time. Your arms leave your side to grasp onto his shirt as his hold on you tightens. He carefully walks backward with you toward the bed, turning so he can sit you down. Neither of you want to break away, a quiet sigh coming from you as he interrupts your make out to return to his toy drawer.

“If you're using these, I want to make sure you're at least using them right while I'm gone,” he breathes out, catching his breath the same way you are as you watch him shuffle through the contents of the drawer.

Your heart races seeing him grab the flesh-colored dildo and a bottle of lube in his hand.

He catches the look on your face when he turns back toward you, bending down to give you another soft kiss in an attempt to ease your nerves.

“Let’s start with something simple,” he offers, handing you the toy. “Show me what you've been up to when I'm not here.”

Feeling the weight of the toy in your hand, you slowly let out a breath and hand it back to him for just a second so you can shimmy out of your shorts and underwear.

He offers to help with the lube as you lay back and you nod your head, telling him to drip some on your bare pussy. The cold liquid sends a chill through you and he chuckles putting the bottle back in the drawer.

Reaching down, you use the tip of the silicone dick to rub the gel along your slit. You gulp pressing against your entrance, knowing it's not as simple as he says. You remember this one being too big.

Not wanting to admit that though, you push on the base of the toy, whimpering as it stretches you open.

“Attagirl.” He pats your knee, sitting beside you on the edge of the bed. “Keep going.”

After a couple moments of continuing to work yourself up with just the tip, you thrust it deeper. Your head falls back, a pleasurable sting pulling a moan from you. The toy continues to fill you up as you pull it out and thrust it back in a few times, but you're nowhere near taking it all.

“Don't be shy,” Ari teases, placing his hand over yours at the base. “You can do better than that.”

He situates himself so he can comfortably move his hand along with yours as you fuck yourself. Batting your eyelashes up at him though, you slowly pull your hand out from under his, silently asking him to take over. Maybe he can make it fit.

He gives you a warning look – You're supposed to be learning how to use them. He already knows.

“Please, Ari.”

He lets out a scoff of disbelief, toward himself for giving in. How can he say no when he has you sprawled out on his bed like this though? Something right out of the daydreams he's been having.

“Fuck, you're tight,” he says, watching you squirm as he’s met with resistance trying to thrust the toy deeper. “You use this one last time?”

“Tried to,” you whine, trying to close your legs together but his free hand stops them. “It’s too big.”

“Oh, pretty girl,” he chuckles. “Then you'd never be able to take me.”

“Y-you?” Your eyes go wide. He's bigger than this?

“Don't worry,” he winks, making one last effort to fuck you deeper, still gently though so as not to actually hurt you. “We’ll work up to that.”

Unsuccessful, he stills his hand, leaning down to give you a quick kiss. “I thought this would do, but maybe we need to start with something even smaller.”

You whine something incoherent and pathetically reach out for him as he pulls the dildo out of you and stands up.

He rummages through the drawer again, this time choosing a small bullet vibrator. You almost let out a sigh of relief before stopping yourself.

“Come here.” He waves you to sit up and scoot toward him as he sits at the head of the bed, spreading his legs to make room for you between them.

You easily obey, moving so your back is against his chest. The erection you've given him is hard to miss as he presses against your lower back and heat rushes to your cheeks. You're thankful he can't see your face right now.

His hands guide your legs apart, hooking them over his own. Keeping one hand on your thigh to rub soothing circles with his thumb, the other picks up the vibrator and sets it to the lowest setting.

As he holds it to your clit, you let out a breath, fully relaxing back against him, effectively melting under the pleasure.

“Gotta stretch you out a bit, okay?” He whispers, dropping his face to your neck to place soft kisses against your sensitive skin. “I'll start with one finger and go from there.”

“O-kay,” your voice breaks, feeling his middle finger plunge into your cunt. His fingers are a lot bigger than your own, having a hard time believing it's only one filling you up right now. “Fuck.”

“Is this better?”

“Yes,” you cry out, grasping onto his thighs to keep yourself in place. “So good.”

He can't help but laugh, his breath warm against your neck. “Take the vibrator then. It's your turn.”

You panic and grab onto his forearm, thinking that means he's going to stop touching you all together.

“Relax,” he whispers in your ear. “My fingers aren't going anywhere. You gotta use the toys yourself though.”

Replacing his hand with yours, you keep the vibrator pressed firmly against your clit as he adds another finger to the mix.

Feeling the second one stretch you open, you can't imagine taking anything more. “So big,” you murmur.

“My fingers?” He chuckles. “We have a lot of work to do, princess.”

He can tell you're close when your legs begin to tremble and your fingers begin desperately moving the vibrator around your clit. Your hips thrust forward trying to get Ari to fuck you harder, push you over the edge.

“Gonna cum already? From just two?” He tsks, wrapping his arm around you to still your hips. “They're not even knuckle deep, baby. This little cunt of yours wants more though, I can tell. We'll get there.”

Desperate for release, you take it upon yourself to increase the setting of the vibrator. Your head falls back against his shoulder as a moan gets caught in your throat.

His sped up movements fill the room with the obscene sounds of your arousal coating his fingers.

“For now, cum for me.” His voice right in your ear is almost lost on you, nearly drowned out by your quickened breaths and anticipation. “Cum all over my fingers and that little toy.”

You choke out his name as you cum, back arching off of him as you writhe against the strong arm he still has around you. You have to pull the vibrator away when his fingers don't stop, fucking you all the way through your high before he lets up.

His arm loosens, his hand moving underneath your sweatshirt to rub calmingly against your stomach as you work on steadying your breath.

“Did so well,” he cooes, pressing a few kisses to your shoulder, cheek, and temple. It's all meant to be a distraction while he gently pulls his fingers out of you, prompting a small whine from you anyway.

With his hand out of the way, you slowly bring your legs back together, a little sore from the position you were in, and turn to the side to wrap your arms around him and rest your head on his shoulder.

“You mastered the bullet,” he jokes, earning a small laugh from you. You nestle your face closer against him out of embarrassment. “You think by the time I get back in two weeks we'll be able to use the other one again?”

“I'll try,” you mumble against him. “I promise.”

“Good girl.” His hand rubbing your back pauses only so he can hug you tighter for a few more minutes before he really has to leave. “I want updates while I'm gone.”

“Yes, sir.”

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my-sweetheart-evans · 2 years

Text

Happy Father's Day - Nomad!Steve Rogers

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x female Reader

Warnings: fluff, a tiny little bit sad/angsty, he is a fugitive - having a kid as a wanted criminal isn't the easiest thing and not the best decision, reader knows that and is concerned and stressed out bcs of it

Wordcount: 1.117

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don't allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don't steal my work.

A/N: This is part of a 4 series and is a request from the amazing @nana1000night for my 200 Follower Celebration.

The divider is from the talented @firefly-graphics

Steve and Sam were out together on a supply run. Standing in a supermarket, wearing their disguises. It was the middle of the week, between late morning and early noon, yet there was a surprising amount of commotion.

“What’s going on?” Steve wondered a frown etched on his face as he felt surrounded by celebratory items. His cap was pulled down deep into his face, sunglasses obscuring his blue eyes, and the thick beard softened the edges of his jaw. Sam stepped up to him and pointed toward a big display.

“It’s Father’s Day,” he told him. Steve eyed the display with all kinds of cards and other junk advertised for the day. His heart painfully restricted, a heavy sigh sat in his chest. He felt a strange kind of longing in him. One he couldn’t help but feel whenever the topic of children and fatherhood was brought up.

A house, a wife, and kids. That’s all he ever wanted. The idea of it never felt so far away as it did now. He was a fugitive, a criminal. Hunted down by too many governments for the most stupid reason. Even with his dream so far away, he couldn’t help but desperately want it, grave it, to wish for a chance to get to experience it. It was especially cruel and taunting because one part of the equation he already had. Her. He had found his other half. The one he would want to settle down with, the potential mother to any child he would ever want to have. Thinking about it made him even sadder. It made it hurt even more to think about what he wanted desperately with her but wouldn’t get because the universe would never grant him his wishes.

Sam motioned for him to go. They were already there for too long and needed to finish this up, and get back to base. Shortly after they were back in the small hideout, stowing away their goods. Natasha was watching them - watching him - from the small kitchen table. The blatant staring ticked him off.

“What?” he barked, more annoyed than he liked to be at that moment.

“Just go to her. Go see her,” she told him. Steve froze. He was deep in thought before he shook his head. They were in the area and he wanted to go meet her, but he had only been there a couple of weeks ago. It was already a risk for them to come back to a base multiple times. Doing so in such short repeats was even riskier. He couldn’t pull her into the risk.

“Steve, just go.”

And so he found himself in front of her door. He hesitated just a moment longer, contemplating turning around before he knocked. It didn’t take long for her to open, but it was longer than usual. Upon opening the door she looked sluggish and exhausted. He was concerned immediately, quietly entering before he put a hand on her cheek.

“Hi,” she smiled at him, tired. He took her in, noticing how pale and sickly she looked.

“Are you sick?” She shook her at first, biting her lip before she hesitantly nodded. Steve clicked his tongue, taking her into his arms and pressing a kiss to her crown.

“There anything I can do to help you feel better?” He asked her softly, simply holding her in his arms. She drew in a shaky breath, shaking her head this time. It made him frown as she pulled back and turned around. She flitted through the hallway, busying her hands in a way she only ever did when she was nervous or stressed. Sensing that something was off, he stalked after her.

Her bursting into tears wasn’t something he anticipated.

“Steve I’m so sorry,” she sobbed and he had no clue what was going on.

“Baby, no, come here,” he cooed softly, making grabby hands for her. Yet she kept escaping his every attempt to draw her back into his embrace. They flitted around her kitchen island in a game of mouse and cat.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeated as her sobs continued. She was working herself up into a frenzy, he could tell, “I ruined everything.” Steve still couldn’t understand anything and kept shaking his head.

“Nonsense. You didn’t, you could never. Baby, come here and let me hold you, let me calm you down, and then you can tell me what’s going on, yeah?” He was pleading with her, the table between them making him antsy and fidgety.

Still, she refused, instead of coming to him, she fumbled with a drawer, grabbing something from within.

His heart nearly stopped beating as he recognized the small picture in her hands. Square and black and white. He had gotten familiarized enough with modern times to know what it was. The ultrasound picture lay between them on the table. Steve kept staring at it blanky, his heart beating rapidly, every sound drowned out by the rush of his blood. As he looked up at her, she looked heartbroken. Truly and utterly distressed.

“Oh baby,” he mumbled softly, “C’mhere.”

Finally, he was able to draw her back into his embrace, strong arms around her still shaking form, one hand buried in her hair.

“This is good,” he told her. He didn’t know how they would do it, how he would keep them safe, but they could do it. Even if he wouldn’t be able to return to her. That’s exactly what was going to happen. Everything in him was breaking as the realization settled in. He would miss everything important. There was no way he could be by her side or visit regularly without putting them at risk.

“We’ll do it. We’ll manage,” he told her, even as his heart broke into a thousand pieces. She continued to sniffle as she leaned her head against his chest.

They stood there for some time, quiet and basking in the other’s comfort until his phone started to ring. The tone blared through their emotional moment, ripping them straight apart. Steve was frowning again, looking at the unknown number. It was a burner phone he had. Both Sam and Nat he had saved and none else besides them knew of this number. Nonetheless, he picked up, a feeling deep down telling him he needed to.

“Hey, Capsicle. Long time not heard. Happy Father’s Day. Just wanted to give my congratulations and tell you that everything is handled. They won’t find you there. Go have your chance at luck.”

Steve was the one getting choked up now. He would have never guessed to hear Tony’s voice again. No less as a friend and ally, granting him a chance to live out his biggest wish. Steve put the phone down beside the sonogram and pulled her back against his chest. Hiding his face in her hair, his shoulders shook now.

Turns out it wasn’t the universe that would grant him his biggest wish but his trusted friends and the love of his life.

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my-sweetheart-evans · 2 years

Text

Happy Father's Day - Skinny!Steve Rogers

Pairing: Skinny!Steve Rogers x female Reader

Warnings: fluff, talk of pregnancy & a baby, talk of steve's health problems and illnesses, talk of potentially passing down said health problems

Wordcount: 507

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don't allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don't steal my work.

A/N: Some of you might remember this pairing. When I saw this prompt I thought that there wasn't a better opportunity than to see what our Steve and his Doll from 'Affection' were doing. This is part of a 4 series and is a request from the amazing @nana1000night for my 200 Follower Celebration. The divider is from the talented @firefly-graphics

Steve opened the door, his key clanking and his feet dragging against the floor. He perked up hearing the quiet humming coming from the inside of the apartment. Closing the door as quietly as he could, he snaked further into the home. He stopped in the doorframe between the entrance and the living room. Standing there he was overcome with love and affection, watching the back of his Doll. She was quietly humming a tune, softly swaying from side to side as she stood in front of the small window. Steve tried to put his things away quietly, he didn’t want to disturb her. The view in front of him was so nice, he could have watched her forever. In fact, he wanted to watch her a little longer.

But she was too observant, hearing him and turning her head. The smile as she saw him was blinding and made his heartbeat rapidly increase. Never stopping her soft humming she turned around towards him. The breath was knocked out of him as he took in the sight before him. She was so beautiful. Her hair was down in soft waves and she was wearing a flowy maternity dress, which poorly concealed the rest of her bump as it was still slowly going back.

In her arms, she held a swaddled babe. The infant was mere days old and already the apple of its parent’s eyes. Steve couldn’t believe his luck, couldn’t believe they truly had been blessed with such a wonder. The memory was fresh in his mind, the doctors telling him he might never be able to have children. Them warning him to best not even try for if he could have children they surely would be riddled with his health problems. He wouldn’t want to pass that down.

Yet here they were with a perfectly healthy little one. He had been so scared when they found out his Doll was expecting. Scared for her but also for the babe to have any of his sicknesses. He would have never been able to forgive himself had he condemned his child like that.

He watched as she placed the baby in the little bassinet they had in there. She kept looking down at their sleeping infant as he crossed the room and took his place behind her. Snaking his arms around her from the back, he softly rested his hands along her middle. She leaned back against him the smallest bit, so they could both watch the peaceful slumbering child, with the dust of long lashes on chubby, rosy cheeks.

“Happy Father’s Day,” she turned her head, softly nuzzling her nose against his neck. “I don’t have a present for you,” her tone was regretful. When he looked at her, she was chewing her lips. Steve grunted and shook his head. “You already gave me the best present of all. It’s everything I could have asked for.” He told her, looking back down at the small form. “Thank you,” he told her, resting his head against hers.

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my-sweetheart-evans · 2 years

Text

The Best Part of Waking Up (18+)

PA! Steve Rogers x Dom!Boss! Reader

Summary: His boss may not be a morning person, but it’s up to Steve to get you to work on time. Things don’t exactly go the way he expects, though.

My Masterlist

Word Count: 4,153

Warnings: smut, slight dub-con/coercion, light dom/sub, mild use of restraints, power imbalance, oral - m & f receiving, petnames, dirty talk, body-inclusive reader, fem reader

A/N: First time dabbling w/ dom reader so I hope that element presents itself well. Personally, I think mcu Steve (especially in the earlier movies) screams sub😋 so I will probably experiment more with that aspect of his character in future fics too😍 Tho not always bc dom Steve is just…🤌🏻 Like, comment, reblog, I always appreciate feedback so plz let me know what u think!

This story should not be posted anywhere else without my express permission.

Thanks for reading!

-Ruby

“Steve, I need you to wake me up at exactly 5:30 tomorrow morning.”

Those were the words that kept rattling around in Steve’s head as he rode the elevator to the top floor of the lavish apartment building you resided in. When the elevator’s bell dinged and its doors slid open, he swallowed heavily as he stepped into the modern-looking hallway.

This was not going to be enjoyable.

Keep reading

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my-sweetheart-evans · 2 years

Note

I’m not saying I need to know what mommy is gonna do to Steve but…..I kinda do….

It is finally time 😌

Indulge with me

Warnings: Sub!Steve Rogers, Orgyverse AU, mentioned Stucky, background Aged Up!Justin Capshaw, Mommy!Reader, prostate massage, prostate milking, a bit of religion chat, cumming untouched, written on my phone and unedited

"Stevie, now I know you and Bucky have a certain way of doing punishment."

Mommy doesn't touch him as they walk into the well lit playroom. Justin stands quietly next to the door. Steve trembles, unsure of what he's to do while you stares at him, assessing him, sizing him up, trying to read his mind. He doesn't know, all he knows is that he fucked up and he's waiting for his penance.

Panic makes his chest rise and fall faster. What is Mommy going to do to him? Kneeling, whipping, denial? Bucky has made him do all three at the same time before while reciting rosary prayers. Every falter meant another lash, another time the machine would turn on again to fuck him until he was almost cumming.

"But that has never truly been my style. Justin knows this better than anyone. I like to indulge, spoil you boys when I'm here. It's what Mommy does. Do you want to be spoiled?"

"I want to be forgiven, please," he whispers, he can't seem to raise his voice any higher.

"That's not the question I asked." Your voice turns stern, still somehow soothing to his ears.

"By you, yes, ma'am," he confesses, a weight lifts off his shoulders. He's told the truth. That has to count for something. The sooner punishment is over the better. He always feels whole again after a punishment.

Steve feels a flicker of fear when Mommy smiles at him.

"Take your clothes off please," you request.

It should be simple, but he's self conscious suddenly. Everyone has seen him naked before. Steve was even prideful that first time because his cock is so much bigger. He could pleasure Mommy so much better than Justin if you just let him show you.

He is nervous now. Both of you watch his every move. The way he removes his shirt and trouser, carefully folding them before removing his undershirt and socks. He stands in his loose white boxers trying to decide if you also means these.

"You're very sweet, Stevie, innocent despite all this somehow." You coo at him. "But we are here to indulge, take off your boxers too."

He swallows around the nervous, giddy lump in his throat. Steve is half hard already just from the way you're looking at him. He doesn't even register that Justin is still in the room when you are walking up to him. You touch his tattoo covered chest, fingers feather light against his skin. You trace his muscles slowly until he squirms.

"Tell me how you feel, Stevie."

"Hot," he breathes, the words coming out before he can think. "Prideful, guilty, envious, lustful." He tries to cover up, list things that make actual sense for this situation.

Your fingers trail further down his stomach until you're tracing the tattoo above his cock. He feels like he's vibrating, anticipating when you will finally touch him.

"Prideful, yes I do believe that's how you looked your first night here. Guilt is boring Stevie. Lustful, how can you not be." Your smile is down right sinful. "But envious? What could you possibly be jealous of?"

He clears his throat to speak, but then your fingers wrap around his cock and he can't think. A choked sound leaves his mouth at the light touch, blush spreading across his cheeks.

"You're handsome, tall, muscular, got a cock made for fucking people stupid," you purr against his lips. "What or who are you envious of, Stevie?"

You pump him slowly, tightening your first around the wet head of his cock.

"Him," he finally whimpers, a blush spreading down to his chest. "Jealous of him."

A smile splits across your face, lips brushing against his cheek. It's not a kiss. He knows that. But he wishes it was. He did a good thing, he confessed.

"You hear that, Puppy? Doesn't that make you feel good, makes Mommy's praise all the more real."

"Just makes you the prettiest," the other boy pouts from behind Steve.

"Thank you, Puppy." You squeeze Steve's cock hard before letting him go. "Now for you, Stevie, why don't you get up on the table, lay on your back, and I'll spoil you just like you want."

Steve looks over his shoulder, and for a moment he swears Justin looks smug, but he can't linger on that. You grab his cock again and tug. He goes to the massage table without any more thought. You arrange his body gently, like he's precious and sacred. The table moves with him, shifts and lifts until he's knees are raised and spread apart.

His breaths come in quick pants, the position is exposing. His hard cock leaks against his stomach as you stand between him fully clothed.

"Are you warm enough? Comfy?" You ask, placing your hands on his knees. Your thumbs make slow circles against his skin and he flushes hotter.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Perfect, honey, just tell me if you want anything."

Your hands disappear for a moment underneath the table. They reappear with an open bottle. You coat your hands in oil and begin massaging his thighs, moving higher and higher. He sinks into the feeling, letting his eyes close and mouth open. When your fingers tease his perineum, he asks for more. He wants more.

"Please, inside me."

You praise him. He asked for what he wanted. "Bucky is so lucky to have such a good boy like you, Stevie. Sounding as sweet as you do, so polite."

Your finger slips into him easily, soft and slick against his ass. A second quickly follows. His hips buck on the table and his knees shake when you press your thumb down at the same time as curling your two fingers up.

Steve whimpers. You massage his prostate slowly, stroking his channel with practiced ease. A pressure builds at the base of his spine. Already he feels like he's going cum. His moans turn into whines as you keep pace. Never too fast, and not moving your other hand to his cock.

"Can-can I cum, please?" He pleads.

"Of course, Stevie, I am here to spoil you. You have all of my attention honey. Make a mess for me."

It starts in his toes, a rush of feeling that bursts through him until his eyes roll back in his head. He can't breathe, he can't see, he can't speak. He's never cum like. This feels endless and like his soul is spurting out his dick in great rushes.

"Well done, Stevie, just relax into it. Such a good job for me, so fast. Such an easy boy for me."

Your other hand finally wraps around his cum-smeared cock. Steve chokes on his saliva when you start stroking him. Your fingers still hold pressure against his prostate and he feels a burn in his spine. You're going to make him cum again, which makes no sense but his cock is trying. Tears slip down his cheek as his cock aches.

"I don't think-"

"Ssshhh, Stevie, indulge me with me, let go and let me pleasure you. This is what you wanted right?"

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my-sweetheart-evans · 2 years

Text

𝑺𝒆𝒙 𝒐𝒏 𝑳𝒆𝒈𝒔

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — boyfriends dad!andy barber x fem!reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — Andy and you fuck and almost get caught

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — SMUT, slight breeding kink, p in v, unprotected sex (well readers on the pill), you fucking use protection in real life

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 — please I hate this, I wanted to make a hot boyfriends dad!Andy fic where i cab make more parts and add characters and they have a gangbang and now look what came the fuck out. like, reblog and comment if you like!

A hand was clamped over your mouth to keep your moans from escaping as his hips thrusted inside you. Moving your body and causing that desk under you to shake.

Light creaks could be heard from the maple wood. The sound made you feel anxious that your boyfriend could hear the sins you did with his father. As if Andy could feel what went through your body his hand let go of your mouth and grazed your cheek.

"shh darling, don't worry he won't hear a thing. He's too busy playing that video game," his words were meant to smooth you.

However, knowing how Jake played his video game. First it all went normal, then he shouted into the headset, then got angry and then threw the headset on the ground.

In one of the last moments he could hear you.

"Andy what if he's searching for me after ending the game? What if he lost, got angry, stopped and put the headset away?"

"Darling I'm balls deep in you and while I enjoy the thought of getting caught, I'd appreciate if you stop talking about my son." your cheeks heated up and you were about to apologise when Andy thrusted full force inside you.

A high pitched moan flied your mouth, but in the last second Andy stuffed his fingers into your mouth.

"Just can't keep quite can you little girl?" Andy murmured against your ear. He loved the noises you made but it was dangerous when his son was in the house.

His hand pressed sharp circles on your clit. You could burning pleasure flood the pit of your lower stomache.

Andy felt you tighten your walls around his cock, he retrieved his fingers from your mouth. "you're gonna cum baby? Cum for your daddy like he asked you."

The wave of pleasure consumed you, stars forming in front of your eyes. Andy always had a way with words.

"Now, baby...mouth or pussy?" Andy asked as he slowed his movements, "pussy please...." With a smirk Andy picked up his movements. Knowing it was wrong to get off on the thought of seeing your round and swollen with his baby he couldn't help himself.

With a held back grunt Andy released his white seed inside you. "going to look so beautiful round and swollen with my baby."

"Yes, please fuck a baby into me daddy." You were going to kill him someday with this filthy mouth.

Andy came to a stop, his hands rested on either side next to your head. Supporting his weight above you, his lips capturing yours in bruising kiss. Your hands cradled his face keeping him close. His tongue darted between your lips, your tongues fought over dominance. You knew Andy would always win, he made you weak in so many ways.

A knock interrupted the intimate moment followed by Jake's voice cutting through. "Dad? Have you seen y/n, she said she would go to the kitchen but I checked there and she wasn't in."

You let go of Andy, eyes growing wide. The feeling of pleasure left and was replaced with panic.

"She went out to buy a few grocery, should be back soon!" Jake accepted Andy’s answer and went back to his video game.

Andy turned his face to you, instantly he wrapped his arms around you to help you calm down. "He almost caught us! Oh my god, how can you be so calm Andy?" You went to get of the desk but realised Andy’s dick was still in your cunt.

Without hesitation he pulled out knowing it would be better and help calming your nerves.

"Hey, hey its okay. Jake thinks you're not here...we're gonna take a bath now and then I will make up a lie about going to a friend while we're actually getting groceries!"

You looked at him, asking yourself if he was serious. This could have all been avoided. Yes you shouldn't have gotten involved with your boyfriend's dad but that man was sex on legs.

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my-sweetheart-evans · 2 years

Text

date night

summary: "..I would love to see mafia!steve and reader have a date night and be so suave and flirtatious. Meanwhile Elysia is running rings around the babysitter, and when the couple come back she’s all cute and tucked up"

"a mafia Steve hc with the “wear whatever u want I can fight”

in the dad!mafia!steve universe

pairings: dad!mafia!steve rogers x wife!reader

warnings: none!

“Honey, are you gonna wear the emerald tie?” You shout to Steve from your closet, sitting at your vanity as you put on your necklace.

“Yeah, you asked me to,” Steve answers, the click of his shoes moving closer, as he adjusted his cufflinks.

You smile at his cuteness. Not many, if any, could say they had Steve Rogers following their every word.

When Steve stops at the entrance of your spacious, walk-in closet. He stops at the sight of you.

You hid what you would wear tonight, the only hint being his tie color. He knows no matter what you wear, you’ll always shine. But this was killer.

The emerald green dress falls over his wife gracefully. With a decent amount of her cleavage that makes him clench his jaw with need.

“Look at my gorgeous girl,” he whistles.

You smile up at him when he’s at your side, his hand out to raise you from your seat. He twirls you once, like a dainty fairy. Then stiffly brings you to him, your back to his chest.

He moves your hair to the side. Your neck bare to him as he kisses up and down the side of your neck. His plump lips suck and nip at your skin, basking in your shallow breaths and fastened pace.

“You’re gonna keep me strapped with a fucking hard on, with this little get up.”

Impatiently, his hands grope at your sides, bunching up the fabric. That is until you stop his hands, turning so you are facing him.

“You’ll wrinkle the dress,” you tell him, bringing your hands up to cup the sides of his neck.

His hands fall to the lowest point of your back, fingers grazing the top of your ass. “You expect me to keep my hands to myself while you’re in this?” He scoffs. “Send me the dry cleaning bill” he leans down to kiss you, grinning when he pulls away and you wipe the lip gloss from his lips.

“Are you sure this is alright?” Your hands run down your dress subconsciously. It was your first date night in a while. You didn’t want anything messing it up.

“Honey, are you kidding me? You look phenomenal. So ignore whatever contradictions those thoughts of yours are telling you,” he kisses your cheek.

“Thank you. You look really handsome.” your thumb runs over his bottom lip, gazing your eyes to his. “Your ass looks great too” you reach your other hand to slap it.

“Woah!” He jumps in jest, chuckling. “Save that for tonight, all right?” he says this with a satisfied smirk.

You giggle at his joke, bringing his face down for one more kiss. When you pull away, his stare seems intense.

“Fuck.” He sighs as he gives you a once over, palming your cheeks. “I’m gonna have to fight someone off tonight, aren’t I?

“Shut up,” You laugh, kissing him again and again. “Let’s go before we miss the reservation”

In reality, for a man of Steve’s status, the restaurant would hold the reservation for as long as needed. No matter what, they’d be prepared and ready to service the Rogers’. The hefty tip was an added bonus, always causing disarray between the employees.

Elysia sits next to Giana, the second oldest of the Gotti family. One of the few people you and Steve could trust to watch and protect Elysia if anything were to happen.

She’s sixteen, and the biggest book lover you’ll ever meet. Her t-shirt compliments her brown skin and she’s all dressed up to babysit, with her curls up and out of her face.

The two girls are sitting on the living room floor, completing a puzzle.

“Wow!!” Elysia cheers, running to hug your legs, then Steve’s who lifts her onto his hip.

“Thank you, honey” you lean to kiss her cheek.

“You guys look great!” Giana compliments with a smile on her face.

“Thank you so much, gigi,” you say at the same time Steve says thank you.

“G, we’ll be back by 11, the latest. The credit card is on the dining room table, if you’re hungry or need anything, feel free to use it. And make sure this bug,” Steve tickles a squirming Elysia’s stomach. “Is in bed by nine, if you can. God forbid anything happens, you know which bookcase right?”

“I do. All good,” Giana replies.

“Okay, we’ll see you guys soon. Thank you so much for watching her” You kiss Elysia’s cheek multiple times, before you and Steve are hugging Giana goodbye.

PER SE

The restaurant is dimly lit and the pleasant, soft sound of Louis Armstrong’s La vie en rose adds to the picturesque atmosphere.

Your hand in hand with Steve as you follow the host to your seat. It’s private, lit with a beautiful chandelier and candle sat in the middle of the table, and pale pink peonies scattered around the table top.

Your heart skips at the thought. The restaurant wouldn’t do this on their own, you know Steve had requested it. Peonies we’re your favorite.

Steve pulls out your seat then pushes it in, then he’s sat across from you. One hand rests on the table, asking to hold yours.

“Good evening, I’m Antonio. May I take your order for drinks, Mr and Mrs Rogers?”

“You’re best red wine and a Château d'Yquem for the Mrs.” The accent rolls off his tongue gracefully. You love the way his voice goes down a pitch when he speaks another language.

You pinch your eyes together at your husband.

“Please,” he adds gravely. You smile at him.

“Thank you,” you add, smiling up at the man.

AT HOME

“Can I have a cookie, please?” Elysia pops up from her hunched figure over the puzzle.

“Your mom said no sweets after eight,” Giana replies.

“Please!” She pleads once again, holding onto Giana’s arm.

“I’m sorry, Lys, but your ma said no.”

“Fine.” Elysia huffs. Then she screams. She screams to her highest pitch relentlessly, hands in fists at her side.

“Shh,” Giana tries, but to no avail. “Okay! Okay! Just one!”

“Thank you!” Elysia smiles sweetly, lifting herself off the floor as she skips to the kitchen, awaiting Giana.

Oh frick. Giana thinks to herself.

PER SE

“Do you remember when we went roller skating on our third date?” You ask, taking a bite of your mussels.

“Yeah, but only because you asked to, I would never embarrass myself for a girl that wasn’t you.” Steve answers. “Try this,” he stretches his arms to bring his spoon to your lips.

You smile at what he said. This man loved you so much and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Roller skating was your idea, only because you wanted to try something a bit more active. You knew Steve probably wasn’t up for it, but you would never know with how quickly he replied with “Whatever you wanna do, sweetheart, I’m all yours.”

The both of you busted your asses all night, but you did it together, alone. Steve rented out the place for a few hours, and got the DJ to play your playlist.

“I really appreciate that, you know,”

“What?” Steve wonders.

“How sweet you are to me. You’re always willing to do whatever I wanna do and you’re always there. It's just nice. So thank you”

His eyes soften at your admission, “Honey, it’s my job. You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” He smiles, before reaching over to kiss you.

AT HOME

“Do you wanna play hide n seek?”

“Okay, but this is the last thing we do before bedtime. And it has to be on this floor”

Elysia is already dressed down in her cream, silk pajama set. All Giana has to do is set her in her bed, read her a bedtime story, and play one of her lullabies.

“Okay! You count, G. I hide” Elysia orders, tapping her foot as she waits for Giana to turn around and count.

Once she starts, Elysia goes to the kitchen and quickly ducks into her special hiding spot.

Giana turns around and quickly realizes how bad of an idea this is. Their house is expansive. There’s an unlimited variety of crooks and crannies that Elysia’s small body could fit through.

Giana walks through the living room, “Lys? Maybe we should just go to bed.” She couldn’t lie, but she was getting freaked out with eerie silence.

“AHh OMG!”

When Giana finally walks through the kitchen, she feels something warm touch her ankle.

A familiar giggle bounces off the walls as Elysia’s head pops out a cupboard, “You scream like mommy!”

“Bedtime, Elysia” Giana huffs.

PER SE

Steve sits in his chair with a huff. You squint at the noticeable wrinkle in his shirt, the light perspiration over his hair line, and the redness over his knuckles.

“What were you doing just now?” your eyebrow raises at the way he gulps down the rest of his cool drink.

“Some asshole owes me money. Two birds one stone,” he answers.

“Steve,” you chastise.

“I promise this was not a factor in our date spot, the prick just so happened to be here.” Steve shrugs innocently. “I didn’t even hit him, just knocked him around a little.”

“C’mon don’t pout, baby” he leans over, running his thumb over the bottom of your lip. But to no avail.

“Maybe this will lift your mood,” he smiles, placing a small, red bag in front of you.

You begin to remove the tissue paper, “What would lift my mood is if my husband wouldn’t-- oh my gosh!” you gasp.

Steve sits in his seat smugly, watching your mood lift.

“How did you even get this?” you question Steve, running your palm over the smooth, black, leather purse. “This isn’t released for another year.”

“C’mon, baby, do you know who I am?”

Steve doesn’t even attempt to hide the cockiness in his features and in the tone of his voice. Flourishing in the glowing smile on his other half’s face.

You launch from your seat into Steve’s lap. Your hands thrown over his neck as place kiss after kiss to his scruffy cheek. “I love you, so much,” you kiss Steve again.

“I love you,” Steve replies, an arm wrapped around your waist as his hand gropes your ass. “Let’s hurry home.”

AT HOME

You and Steve are welcomed to a quiet house, except for the low sound of the television in the living room.

“Hey, G” you greet Giana, “Did everything go well?”

Giana, seated on the couch, looks up from her phone. “Everything was wonderful,” she cheers, standing up.

“I’m glad everything was okay, thank you so much for watching her for us,” you hug her before turning to Steve, “I’m gonna go check on Lis.”

As you walk past him, you brush your hand down his arm. Steve can’t help but stare at your retreating figure. When you're no longer there to keep him entranced, he turns to Giana with a smile on his face.

“Thank you so much, G. Me and Y/n really needed a night out, I appreciate you and your parents for letting you watch her for a bit.”

“Of course, Mr. Rogers”

There was a beat of silence, “..Now be honest, she was a little demon wasn't she?”

“The worst!” Giana groans, hands rubbing down her face. “But it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle, She was just in a mischievous mood tonight. But she’s an angel, don't worry.”

Steve laughs at Giana’s response and story of the mis happenings of tonight. Steve wasn’t in this profession for nothing. The strained yet genuine smile in Giana’s face gave her away automatically.

“For tonight, thank you again.” Steve holds a decent amount of money in his hand towards Giana. A decent amount, but way too much for a kid her age.

“Oh no Mr Rogers. This a lot”

“It’s nothing. Your father would kill me if I let you come back with a measly $100,” Steve jokes.

Giana grabs it a bit reluctantly, “Thank you so much,” she smiles.

“It’s nothing, I’ll walk you out.”

When Steve hits the top of the stairs, he watches you lean against the doorframe of Elysia's bedroom. He looms over you, cocooning his body into yours as his arms wrap your waist.

Your hands lay over his, and you giggle when the scruff of his beard can be felt against the hinge of your jaw as he places light kisses there. A sigh of content falls from your lips.

“You have a great night tonight?” Steve asks, voice low.

You angle your face until you’re looking at him, “The most perfect night.” you respond, placing an easy peck to his lips.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Steve brings a hand, his palm cups your face as his thumb sits right under your chin.

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback <3

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my-sweetheart-evans · 2 years

Text

｡･*･ soft sinner. ･*･ﾟ

[disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here.]

.・。.・゜ ✫ ・.・✫・゜・。.

summary | there's only one thing lloyd would ever turn soft for in this cruel world: you.

pairing | soft!daddy!lloyd hansen x little!reader

warnings | lloyd's an asshole at the beginning (so basically canon), lloyd shoots/kills someone (not reader, also canon lol), plenty of cussing, eventual soft!sweet!lloyd like so sweet it's unbearably ooc, hurt/comfort, all these petnames he uses got me :'-( <3

.・。.・゜ ✫ ・.・✫・゜・。.

an | okay okay i know everyone wants smut with this guy but??? i wanted to do something different with my first fic with him, and honestly even though soft!lloyd is hard to imagine, i think when done right, he's just so perfect, i want him all for myself please :'-)

.・。.・゜ ✫ ・.・✫・゜・。.

"Where the fuck is she?"

The harsh booming of his voice as he entered the room had Lloyd's men scrambling to attention in record time. Standing in the doorway with a ruthless expression sprawled across his face, the dark-haired man brought a hand up to run over his mouth as he tapped his foot impatiently, unimpressed at how many moments went by with no verbal answer. "I see," he growled, eyeing the four men who all stood around him anxiously, exchanging glances with one another as they struggled to form words. "Someone better start talking, or I'll start fucking shooting," the boss snapped, placing his other hand on the handgun secured tightly in his belt.

"She's upstairs, recovering," the bravest of the bunch finally offered up, trying to hide the tremble in his voice. "Her wounds have been tended to. I can bring you to her now if you'd like, sir."

Hand falling down from his mouth to his hip, Lloyd nodded, his exasperation clear on his face as he continued to berate, "Okay, and would you like to tell me, Dean- since none of the other idiots in this room decided to bring their fucking voices to work today- what the hell exactly happened during her transport here? And why the absolute fuck I wasn't alerted- immediately?"

Swallowing hard, Dean wrang his hands out behind his back, replying meekly, "I-I... there was an ambush, sir. We lost two men-"

"Well obviously!" Lloyd blurted over him, anger raging in his pale blue eyes as he looked around at the faces before him. "At this rate, I wish they would've killed more of you! Useless fucking- fuck," he cursed, kicking at the leg of a nearby chair. Holding their breaths as they watched him, his men didn't dare respond; by now, they were used to his constant outbursts, knowing the safest thing to do was to just stay silent and still.

Sweat beading on his forehead, Lloyd muttered a few more choice words beneath his breath before smoothing back his hair, regaining his composure slightly as he began speaking again. "Bring me to her. And as soon as I shut those doors in your face, you come straight back here and call in more men. I don't care who you have to call. I don't want a single square foot of uncovered territory within a fucking mile of this building. Do you understand?"

"Yes boss," Dean agreed quickly, beginning to lead Lloyd out of the room before he stopped, turning back to face the remaining three.

"And who exactly was it that left my princess uncovered?" he questioned carefully, his glare powerful enough to burn holes through the agents as they looked at each other nervously. "Surely someone was closest to her, someone should've taken the hit."

"I-It was Mark, sir. Mark was sitting next to her," Dean spoke up from behind the group.

Turning his attention to the shorter redhead, Lloyd smiled with a light sigh, almost a chuckle as he addressed the young man. "Mike. Oh Mike, that's such a shame. You were the least obnoxious of you group of fools." Drawing his gun with a shake of his head, Lloyd showed no hesitation as he planted a bullet in the agent's head, clicking his tongue in satisfaction as the body hit the floor.

Turning back to Dean, he tossed his gun on a nearby couch. "You know the rules, no munitions around my angel," he reminded the men. Every head in the room offered a nod at the boss's words. It was known amongst the entirety of the team that Lloyd's girl didn't like to see him holding any weapons; they were much too scary for her little mind to handle. It was one of many strange features of the couple's relationship that any outsider would probably fail to understand or even believe, but of course, no one on the inside ever questioned it. They knew better.

"Of course, sir," Dean dared to acknowledge, motioning a hand towards the door. "If you'll follow me, she's right this way."

.・。.・゜ ✫ ・.・✫・゜・。.

"She's just down this hallway, sir- last door on the left."

"Good," Lloyd muttered, sticking his hand out in front of the man beside him to stop him as he continued his determined steps forward. "Now get back to work. And try not to fuck it up this time."

Dean didn't need to be told twice, promptly turning around to head back the way they had come. And as Lloyd finished making his way down the hall, from the front view, all physical signs of his aggression disappeared as he prepared himself to step into his other role, his favorite and most important role- a role that only one other person on the planet got to witness firsthand. Stopping at the grand set of doors leading to the bedroom, he ran his hands over his belt and pockets once more, double-checking that he had no traces of his work left on his person. After a final glance back down the hallway to ensure that no one but his intended audience would hear, he reached out and knocked gently against the thick barrier, the simple action the most delicate thing he'd done in weeks.

"Y/n?" he called in, his voice like that of an entirely different man from the monster who just shot an agent minutes earlier downstairs. "My love, are you in there?"

Not hearing any response, Lloyd carefully twisted the door handle, stepping into the room slowly in case you were sleeping. Looking around at the lavish golden decor, he found your little body curled up amongst the fluffy blankets and pillows covering the bed, the large king-sized mattress seeming to swallow you up as you drifted in its center.

Raising your head slightly, you peered warily over at the door. Normally, the sight of your daddy returning to you after weeks of being apart would send you running straight into his arms. But after the traumatic afternoon you endured, all you could manage was a soft whimper in the man's direction, causing his brow to furrow in concern as he closed the door behind him, making his way over to you as he let out a sympathetic hum, "Oh sweetheart. My poor angel, come here. Come to Daddy." Resting on the edge of the bed, Lloyd's heart broke in his chest as he watched you cower back slightly from his invitation; yes, he did have a heart. But only for you, only ever for you. "My sweet little girl, it's okay. Daddy won't hurt you, I left all my things downstairs. Know those are too scary for you, too dangerous. Never scary for my baby- right, angel?"

Lifting your head a bit again at the man's soothing words, your wide eyes ventured up to meet his, warmth spreading through your tummy as he gazed at you lovingly. "There's my pretty girl. Come here, sweetheart. Daddy wants to hold you. Missed you so much- and someone told me you got an owwy today."

Nodding gingerly, you forced your sore body up to a sitting position. At the sight of the large bandage wrapped around your arm, Lloyd began to coo softly again, "Oh, my sweet baby. Come here, come on," he coaxed again as he opened his arms for you, his touch brutally soft against your skin as he eased you onto his lap. "There she is," the man smiled, cradling you with an arm behind your back to allow you to rest your full weight against his safe embrace. "I got you, princess. Daddy's here now; you're safe."

Turning your head inward, you buried your face in the soft fabric of his shirt, tears prickling at your eyes as silent sobs begin to wrack through your little body. "Shhh, shhh," he soothed, running a tender hand over your back as you cried. "I know, I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Daddy's so sorry, so sorry he didn't protect you." Rocking you gently in hopes of calming you down, Lloyd struggled to fight back tears of his own as he was faced with the reality he had just spoken aloud: he had failed you. Unintentionally, yes, but it was all the same to him. It was his job to protect you, to do everything in his power to keep you safe and cared for. That was the one thing that mattered to him in life, and he had fucked it up.

"Baby, baby, baby," he murmured, leaning down to press his lips into your hair. Breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo, the man couldn't help it; silent tears began trailing down his cheeks as he tried to keep his voice from wobbling while he spoke to you. "Listen to me, please. Never again. Never again will I leave you, my love. No more time apart, no more endless weeks without me. It's done, angel. It's all done; I'm not leaving you again. Daddy's gonna keep you safe. I mean it, I'll gonna do it myself. I'll never fail you again. Never fail you again."

Lifting your head up to look into his eyes, you're met with pools of watery blue, full of grief and regret; as gently as you can, you plant a kiss to the man's wet cheek, earning a soft smile as he reaches up to cup your chin in his large hand. "Thank you, Daddy," you whisper sweetly, the sound of your precious voice causing Lloyd's heart to swell.

"Anything for you, my love." Rubbing his thumb against your soft cheek, all he could manage to do was look at you, wondering to himself what he ever did to deserve something as pure and wonderful as the miracle sitting in his arms. "My little angel, my perfect girl. Daddy would do anything for you."

.・。.・゜ ✫ ・.・✫・゜・。.

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my-sweetheart-evans · 2 years

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Steve: I hate it when people ask me if I'm still in love with Y/N or not

Steve: like what the hell do they expect me to say?

Steve: "No, not anymore. My 'I'm still very much in love with Y/N card expired last week and I forgot to replace it"?

Bucky: dude, it's 3 am. go to sleep

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my-sweetheart-evans · 2 years

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Y/N, under their breath: Future girlfriend say what.

Wanda and Natasha: What.

Y/N: *chokes*

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my-sweetheart-evans · 2 years

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Chris Evans filming 'Pain Hustlers' in Savannah, Georgia on August 25th, 2022.

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my-sweetheart-evans · 2 years

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Absolute Sin

Warnings: smut, 18+, dirty talk? praise? Honestly no plot just smut so be advised

You shudder as Steve’s fingers dig into your ass.

“Fuck, darling, you’re making a mess.” He groaned, his fingers flexing as he guided you forward then back. You couldn’t respond, only whining as your wet folds slid across his dick, the tip of his cock brushing over your sensitive clit.

Keep reading

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my-sweetheart-evans · 2 years

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the couch

pairings: chris evans x wife!reader

warnings: none! fluff

You're cuddled up to your husband in the dimly lit room entertaining yourself in another episode of Modern Family. Your cheek is pressed against Chris’ chest and his arm wraps around you as his palm rubs up and down your arm . You look up at his perfect face and kiss him.

“Goodnight, I’m gonna go sleep on the couch.” You say as you untangle yourself.

He sits up urgently watching as you pick up your pillow. You stifle your laugh at the way his eyes widen, and his mouth makes a cute o.

“What? Why? Did I do something?” He rapidly fires the questions.

“No, I just want to sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Well why do you want to sleep on the couch?”

“I don’t know, I wanna be alone.”

His eyebrows knit together, “What did I do? Is it because of my snoring?” He shuffles over taking a hand in his.

“No, honey.”

“Well I’ve clearly done something? We’ve never willingly slept apart. You can be honest with me.” He speaks the last sentence so gently, taking your face within his palm.

“Nothing!” You laugh, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Well,” he sighs. “You should at least take the bed; I’ll sleep on the couch. Dodger will stay here too. No rebuttals.” He stands to gather his things for the night.

He’d hate spending a night apart when you both were within distance, but if it's what you’d wanted, he couldn’t not give in.

You can’t help but laugh at the solemn, yet cute expression on his face as he all but drags himself to get his things.

He looks at you concerned, but you ignore it as you grab his face and kiss him.

“You are so adorable, baby. You’d really let me have the bed.” You can’t help but squish his cheeks a little bit.

“Well, yeah,” he grumbles. “Does that mean we’re both sleeping in here tonight?”

“Yes, it was a prank I saw on tiktok.”

He groans and throws his head back, so your hands fall to his shoulder as he runs a hand down his face. “Thank fuck, you scared the shit out of me. Don’t do that again. Ever.”

You laugh some more, throwing your arms over his neck. “Promise I won’t”

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my-sweetheart-evans · 2 years

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𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮, 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲

NAVIGATION | M.LIST

synopsis彡 Your panties are going missing, and you suspect your new stepdad is the culprit.

pairing 彡 stepdad!Steve Rogers x stepdaughter!little!reader

warnings 彡 This story will contain the following content: EXPLICIT/SEXUAL SCENES, DARK THEMES, DUBCON/NONCON, DD/LG ELEMENTS, stepcest, age gap, p in v sex, spanking, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, Steve is super pervy in this, size difference (beefy!Steve Rogers, yes please), coercion, power imbalance, forced orgasm, infidelity, hints of breeding kink, overall dark and potentially triggering content

word count 彡 ~4.4k

author’s note 彡 Please, please, PLEASE read the warnings before you proceed. Do not read if these subjects could be upsetting or triggering to you.

DISCLAIMER ───THIS BLOG IS NOT SUITABLE FOR AUDIENCES UNDER THE AGE OF 18. MDNI.

Steve Rogers, your stepdad, was exactly your mother’s type—conventionally handsome, burly in frame, imposing in height, seductively charismatic, uncannily brilliant, and appreciably rich. Really, Steve Rogers was everyone’s type, he ticked all the boxes, and your mother was smug for months after the wedding, priding herself in her self-proclaimed allure that she declares is responsible for bagging such a fine specimen of a man. He was more of a shiny trophy that she loved to show off on display than a husband, reveling in family and her girlfriends’ astonishment when she introduced Steve as her mate. But you weren’t exactly moved by your mother’s new beau and could only distinctly wonder how long their marriage would last before she tired of him. Granted, she doesn’t exactly have a history of long, successful relationships—Steve was her fourth husband, and your third stepdad. Despite this, you hoped in vain that this time around was different, that this marriage would succeed, because your mother was so enamored by Steve, or at least, she seemed it.

You moved to college in July, three months after the wedding. You met Steve once before the service and you can’t say it was instant adoration—he barely acknowledged you as his attention was monopolized by your mother, save for a brief side-hug out of diplomacy and you fetching him another water bottle out of deference. You were present out of obligation, otherwise you would’ve gone out with your friends to the movie theater, or the shopping mall, or anywhere but your house with your mother and her sightly lover, who looked exactly like the young men you see on the front-page of the tabloids under the headline: Sexiest Man Alive. Even after the marriage ceremony, you rarely saw him. You seldomly crossed Steve's path, for he was frequently at his job, married to his work more than he was married to your mother, and you were frequently in your bedroom or out.

But when you returned from college the following summer to visit, something was unmistakably off. It wasn’t your mother, who was still as smitten with Steve as the day of their union, therefore you deduced that it was Steve. He was… friendlier to you. He bought you a homecoming gift—silver jewelry and a new outfit—and began to call you excessively sweet pet names, like “honey” and “sweetheart” and “princess”, which didn’t strike your mother as odd but you weren’t exactly sure if it was appropriate. He redecorated your room while you were away—your walls were painted a horrendously vivid pink and your white duvet was swapped for a polka-dotted pink-and-purple patterned cover that looked like it belonged to a little girl, not a college student. In fact, everything was pink, and you hated it. But you managed to cheese your way out of giving your honest take on your newly-decorated room, because your stepdad was visibly proud of his work and you didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

It doesn’t stop there. He was bent on weekly family nights, where he puts on a flick in the living room and the three of you cuddle up on the couch. Insistent on claiming the seat in the middle between you and your mother, you were smothered by his big, tanned arm circling around your body to tug you closer each time you tried to evade him and his scent—his expensive Dolce and Gabbana cologne. Under the blanket, he rests his hand on your knee-cap and traces geometric patterns on your supple skin with his thumb, and a few times his hand climbs up your leg and settles on your mid-thigh. You pretend not to notice, glimpsing at your mother to see if she was seeing all this, but of course she was completely unaware, focused on the film. Then, you would peek up at Steve and he’s already staring at you with a lopsided smirk quirking his perfect, plump, pink lips. Quickly you look away and curl your lip in faux nonchalance, but the blush reddening your cheeks betrays you. Whenever Steve leans down to kiss your mother on the lips, his leathery hand squeezes your thigh under the blanket and you squeak in surprise, batting his hand away. You play it off with strained laughter and stammer out an apology.

Every opportunity he had to touch you, he took it. He brushes up against you when he passes you in the hall, and requests a hug or kiss each time you announce you’re going out or stumble through the front door when you return. And you oblige because he was your dad—or stepdad—therefore you, his daughter—or stepdaughter—were inclined to obey him. Albeit you found his actions odd, you told yourself that this was his way of showing you affection, even if his way was… different than what you were used to.

You begin to have your suspicions about his demeanor around you, though, after you notice a couple of your panties disappearing from your drawers, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was stealing them and… using them for his own sick reasons. Although you never caught him in the act, you wouldn’t put it past him. You blanch at the thought that your stepdad was perving on you, and vainly hope that you’re overanalyzing the situation because he treats your mother so well and claims she is his whole world—why would he jeopardize his picture-perfect relationship with her by pursuing her college-aged daughter?

That’s what you ask yourself when Steve shuffles in your room to collect your pile of laundry, and he casually begins to sift through the bundle of clothes. You’re sprawled out on your very pink bed, spying him thumbing your underwear from your peripheral as you scroll on your phone. As if that only validated your suspicions, you were quick to rise to your feet and confront him.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” you hissed, pointing an accusatory finger at him, “You’re stealing all my underwear.”

Steve looks at you unflinchingly, withdrawing his hand from the pile. And everytime he looks at you, he has to drop his eyes and drink in your body, and albeit he isn’t touching you, you feel violated every time. Especially right now, as you are only wearing a cropped, pastel blue camisole and gym shorts.

Finally, a ghost of a smirk lifts the corners of his lips, “Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re sick!” you practically spit at him. You can’t stand how unbothered he looks, staring at you with a glint of amusement in his eyes, all smug and domineering and offensively good-looking. It only makes you angrier.

“Well?” you throw your hands up, “Are you going to admit to it?”

“Admit to stealing your underwear?” his simper widens, visibly amused by your perturbation, “I wouldn’t do that, sweetheart.”

He flicks the silky article with his finger, “I’m not a fan of the type of underwear you wear, if I’m being honest. It doesn’t suit you at all. Little girls like you shouldn’t wear things like this.”

He says it so casually that it’s off-putting, that it silences you and you don’t even know how to respond or even react. Steve cocks his brow, waiting for your response that doesn’t come. In the meantime, it is awkwardly quiet, until Steve senses your loss for words and decides to quell the silence with his gruff voice.

“Don’t you want to know what I would prefer you to wear?” he asks, shifting to face you more and turning away from your laundry. He stands and approaches you slowly, and despite your uneasiness, despite the alarm going off in your head as he nears you, the way he’s looking at you kindles a fire within you, warmth rising to your flushed cheeks.

He doesn’t wait for your answer, stopping dangerously close that you have to crane your neck to look up at him due to the significant height difference, “You should be wearing cute, pastel, little girl panties. Bows and lace and the likes. No lingerie or silky get-ups, little babies have no business wearing that shit.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” you grit, glaring defiantly at his solid chest, or the wall behind him, or your bed, or anywhere but his bearded face because you refused to look into his bewitching, blue eyes, “I’m not a fucking baby.”

“But you are, princess,” he raises his hand and combs his long, thick fingers through your hair, and you shudder. Sighing blissfully against your will, your eyelids flutter as your stiff muscles start to loosen and you begin to relax, until Steve grabs a handful of your hair and yanks your head back.

“Ouch,” you yelp, your scalp pricking in pain and your neck bending at an unnatural angle that it hurts, “What the fuck is wrong with—”

“Watch your mouth,” Steve seethes through gritted teeth, the bite in his tone effectively shutting you up almost instantly, “Babies don’t swear either. You know what happens to little girls who cuss?”

“S-Steve,” you stammer, your fear polluting your voice. You weren’t used to him acting like this—in the past, he always preyed on you from afar, he didn’t dare touch you. Fuck, he should know better. Trembling, you swallowed hard, “Steve, you’re scaring me. This isn’t right at all.”

“They get punished,” he completely ignores you, his bearded jaw clenched and his velvety voice dropping an octave, “Is that what you want? You want Daddy to punish you, baby? Spank your little ass until you're crying on my lap, begging for me to stop? Huh? Answer me.”

Your head is spinning while his words sink in, but you can’t bring yourself to respond, whimpering and struggling to withhold your sobs. Daddy? What the fuck? He’s out of his mind if he thinks he can treat you like a child, threaten to spank you, and the icing on the fucking cake: call himself ‘daddy’. He was not your daddy, and he never will be. You make sure he knows it:

“You’re crazy!” you try to push him away, but he doesn’t budge, not even an inch, “You’re not my daddy, and do not dare put your hands on me. Get the fuck out of my room.”

Steve doesn’t waste a single second of time before dragging you to your bed by your hair and draping you over his big lap, the heel of his hand pressing down on the base of your back to prevent you from running away. Squealing, you reach back to slap his hand away but he grabs—no, crushes—your hand and pins it above your head. Low, maniacal laughter resounds from the depths of his chest.

“Steve!”

“Daddy,” he corrects automatically, “You break my heart, baby, rejecting me as your daddy. I spoil you with nice presents and treat you like a fucking princess and you continue to offend me. You’re just an ungrateful, little brat, aren’t you? You understand why I have to do this, don’t you, honey?”

He tugs down your shorts and panties and you wriggle and writhe uselessly, powerlessly, in his lap, thrashing your limbs with all your might but he refuses to relent. Shivers sliver up your spine as the pad of his thumb skims the spongy skin of your bare ass. Your heart throbs, much like your undeniably wet pussy.

“If it was up to me, I would throw away all your panties in the garbage—because that’s where they belong, not on your ass—and buy you new underwear. Cutesy, pastel shit with pretty patterns and bows. Fuck… you would like that,” Steve adds decidedly, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the sight of your black, lacy panties.

“Steve,” you hiccup, breathless and beside yourself with fear, “You can’t do this. If you hit me, I’ll… I’ll tell my mom. I’ll tell my mom how you’re cruel and sick and—”

A loud smack lands squarely on your ass and you scream, jerking at the abrupt, painful contact and burying your face in your blankets. Tears prick your eyelids as your ass begins to burn where his handprint was surely ingrained in your skin.

“How many times do I have to say it?” he scolds, “It’s ‘Daddy.’ Say it. Call me Daddy.”

“Please… daddy.”

“Count,” Steve instructs, rubbing your bruised ass with his fingertips to soothe the aching pain, “Good girls count their spankings, or we start over.”

“O-one,” you blubber between hiccups, “Steve, I mean, d-daddy,” you wince at the taste of the word of your tongue, “... p-please don’t do this. Look, if you stop, I won’t tell on you, okay? Please let me—“

Three slaps, each firmer than the last, rain down on your sore ass and another blood-curdling scream climbs out your throat, reverberating off the pink walls of your bedroom. He follows with more kneading to relieve the burning, but it’s ineffective. The contact makes you jolt, restlessly anticipating another spank that could come at any given moment with bated breath.

“I can’t hear you,” Steve quips, reminding you to count.

“T-two, three, four,” you sob in resignation, falling limp in his lap, “Softer, p-please. It hurts!”

“Good little girl,” he coos, massaging your searing ass, “You should thank your daddy for your punishment. Go on, from now on, say ‘Thank you, Daddy’ as you count. I promise I’ll reward you later for taking your punishment so well for me, baby. You make Daddy so proud.”

Before you could voice your protest, he slaps your ass again and automatically, you splutter, “F-Five! Thank you, Daddy.”

You cannot believe how readily you submit to him, but Steve doesn’t share your surprise, like he just knows that you’ll obey him like the good little girl you are, that you’ll succumb to his sick will. “That’s my girl,” he praises in his low, gruff voice that has you squeezing your thighs together. Your flushing cheeks are damp like your sopping wet pussy, and there is no denying your sticky arousal was dripping on Steve’s clothed thighs. And there is no denying his massive bulge poking your lower belly, throbbing and hardening underneath you.

Steve spanks you five more times until he is finished, and you obediently count, following with a timid, “Thank you, Daddy” every time. He gathers your trembling body in his buff arms, showering kisses all over your flushed, wet face and mopping up your tears with his thumb.

“Oh, you did so good, honey. So, so good, Daddy is very proud of you. I know, shh, I know,” he coos condescendingly at you like you’re a baby, snaking a hand under your camisole and gliding his calloused fingertips up and down your bare back. You sniffle and subconsciously relax against him as he cradles you, seeking all the comforting and consoling you could get after the brutal punishment you braved. Steve deposits a kiss on your temple and promises, “You deserve a reward, my sweet, little princess. Give Daddy a couple days and he’ll reward you nicely. Okay?”

“Okay,” you mumbled submissively, because he somehow manages to tap into a side of you that you didn’t know existed, that luxuriated in his praise, his babying, even his callousness. It frightened you and equally excited you to wonder, distinctly, how your stepdad plans to reward you.

“Baby? I’ve got a present for you.”

Steve knocks softly on your door and opens it just enough to peek his head in. A quirk of a slanted smirk ghosts his pink lips at the sight of you in a white nightie, nestled in your pink bed that he prepared for you, in your pink room that he spent countless hours decorating before your arrival. All for you, his little angel.

You grin weakly at your stepdad, who slips inside your bedroom holding a small box—your present, true to his promise. It’s been two days since he spanked you and you avoided him at all cost, completely forgetting about the reward he pledged to give you.

“This is your reward,” he tells you, sitting down on your bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, “Go on, you can open it.”

Eagerly, you take the box and unravel the ribbon, chewing your lip. You lift the top and peek curiously inside the box.

In an array of muted colors, Steve bought you panties, little girl panties, with bows and tulle and duchesse lace and polka-dotted, striped, and flowery patterns. You glance up at him in disbelief.

“Well, have you forgotten your manners?” he cheeses, “Say ‘thank you, Daddy.’”

“I…” your gaze retreats to the box of panties and you swallow hard, “T-thank you Daddy.”

“You’re welcome, baby,” he beams like a true, proud dad, “Go on, why don’t you try them on for Daddy. I can’t wait to see you in them.”

You hesitate, “I… I don’t want to.”

“Of course you want to,” he furrows his brow and chuckles deeply, “Come on, don’t you want to make Daddy happy? I spend all this money on you, honey, the least you could do is let me see you. Remember, I don’t like ungrateful brats, and you aren’t an ungrateful brat, are you, my sweet girl?”

“No, Daddy, ” your reply was automatic, like a reflex. Swallowing tears, you slowly stand up and pull down your underwear, stepping out of them one leg at a time. You pluck a pair of rosy-pink panties from the box and move to put them on, but your father shifts over to help you, batting your hands away, “Here, let Daddy do it for you.”

Grimacing, you allow Steve to slide the dainty article up your legs, lifting your nightie to get a better look at you in the delicate material. He smiles appreciatively, groaning at the sight.

“Oh, baby… fuck, you’re so pretty, you know that? Don’t you think this is so much prettier than that skanky shit you insist on wearing?” he breathes, both hands grabbing your hips, squeezing your ass. You bite your tongue to stifle a yelp.

“Daddy…”

“Come here, sweetheart,” he hauls you in his lap against your will, and you wrestle with him, mustering all your body weight to pry his death-grip off your body, but he overpowers you effortlessly that it’s almost laughable that you even try, “Don’t fight me, I just want to hold you.”

You try to relax, but it’s next to impossible when Steve was practically groping you. Whimpering, you wriggle in his solid lap, shying away from his touch, but he’s determined, eager, his handsome features twisted in deranged concentration. Your resolve yields, realizing you are no match to him and his herculean strength—you should’ve known by simply looking at those big, buff arms, but you try your hardest not to look or you’d gawk.

“Don’t fight me,” he repeats, enunciating each word with emphasis to convey his impatience for your defiance, “Won’t you let Daddy touch you a little? I can’t help it, baby, you just look so adorable in your new undies.”

“No… no…” you cry softly, cringing as Steve’s fingertips slither under your nightie and swirl around your firm nipples. His cock stiffens underneath you, nudging your ass, begging for attention. Pangs of desire shoot through your body, despite the fact his devilish touch was unwelcome and unwanted. And he knows that you like it—or your body likes it—because you are no longer writhing in fear of his touch, but in need of it.

“Shh, shh. Relax, sweetheart. Daddy’s got you,” Steve cajoles, pinching and twisting your stinging nipples. He’s repeatedly lifting his hips, meeting that tempting spot between your thighs, full-on rutting his hips against you with carnal determination. Subconsciously, you begin to roll your hips, heat building in your lower gut and slowly spreading throughout your trembling body.

“Please don’t,” your voice is frantic, desperate, your horror renewed but this time, it isn’t entirely Steve who is scaring you, but the foreign sparks raking through your spine, “Please, you can’t. Oh god…”

He stands and flips around, unceremoniously tossing you on the bed like you weighed nothing. One second later, he’s hovering over you, impatiently tugging your nightie over your head.

His hungry gaze devours your breasts before his mouth does, licking and nipping and lapping at your peaked nipples. You couldn’t help but moan, attempting to scoot away from him but he grabs you and yanks you back by your ankles, prying your legs apart.

“Don’t break my heart,” his thumb skims over the band of your underwear, “I’ll take good care of you, baby. Let Daddy take care of you.”

He doesn’t bother to remove your panties, purposefully, because he absolutely adores you in them, more than anything in this wretched world. Steve withdraws his hands only to yank down and kick off his jeans. He fishes his big cock out of his briefs, pre-cum dripping from the angry, red cockhead. The mere sight of his massive dick and the thought of it inside you makes you cry even harder, and Steve loves it.

“O-oh, fuck… fuck, don’t stop crying, baby. Goddamn it! You make me so fucking hard—beg me to stop again. Just like how you did before.”

“D-daddy, please!”

One second, you’re pleading for mercy, and the next he’s sliding the crotch of your panties to the side and the bulbous tip of his cock is gliding over your slippery clit, effectively rendering you speechless. Steve grabs the base and guides it to your slick hole, his forbearance slipping out of his grasp as his burning gaze zeroes in on your glistening pussy.

“Please what? Tell Daddy, use your words, sweetheart.”

“Please… please stop. Don’t do this, p-please.”

With a grunt, Steve sheaths you with his thick cock, and you cry out in pain, your back curling off the bed and every muscle of your being tensing at the intrusion. Despite the slickness between your legs, your wet walls struggle to accommodate his girth.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” he moans, grabbing your hips for purchase and bottoming out inside your cunt, “Fuck, and you’re so goddamn tight, baby. Just like how I imagined you’d be.”

“Help!” you’re screaming at the top of your lungs, albeit there is no one else in the house to help you, “Help! Help!”

Steve laughs at you in his condescending way, skimming his fingertips over your belly before dragging his hand down to your swollen clit and expertly rubbing the engorged bud with his thumb, “There’s no one to help you, doll. Just me.”

He starts to thrust, slow and fast, shallow and deep, gentle and hard. His thrusts are fueled by primal need, tearing you apart and piecing you together, over and over and over again. Any thoughts left in your head are wiped out, obliterated, until all you could do was cry and scream and whimper—not that it helped your case because Steve gets off on your tears, the sight of the salty droplets rolling down your blushing cheeks prompting him to fuck you faster, harder.

Stabs of pain and jolts of pleasure mix in a mind-boggling, toe-curling combination that has you moaning between sobs, grounding your hips to his unrelenting rhythm. You’re grabbing at his shoulders, his biceps, the mattress, anything to hang onto and brace yourself.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” you croon, the word spilling out your parted lips oozing with desperation. You chant it like it’s the only word that you can remember, the only word you know.

Your dripping cunt squelches noisily with each powerful thrust, a reminder of your undesired arousal, fire licking in the depths of your lower gut. It’s embarrassing and shameful, you can’t believe you were responding to him and his violations like this. Defeat bubbles in the pit of your belly, your senses numbing and your cries quieting because you had no strength left to fight this losing battle.

His experienced hands are all over you, slithering and crawling across your fiery skin as if he was committing the feel of you to his memory, every bump and crevice in his path. His hooded gaze isn’t too far behind, drifting over you, your faint scars, your stretch marks, your breasts, in total, unwavering desire. You’re squirming and squirming but it doesn’t make a difference, he’s not affected by it even a little.

“Oh, god… I’m almost there,” Steve warns you, his hips stammering, “I’m going to fill you up, baby, until your little pussy is drowning in my seed and your belly is bloated with my fucking babies. You want that? Answer me.”

Alarm bells are blaring in your head but your slippery walls are clamping down on his fat dick, and explosions of euphoria spreading like wildfire up your writhing body. Your lips part to respond but a high-pitched cry crawls out from the depths of your chest before words can, your orgasm hitting you out of nowhere like a truck. Millions of stars scatter in your vision while Steve fucks you through your release, his pace unfaltering.

Your exhausted body falls limp while Steve continues to use you like a ragdoll for his own personal use, chasing his own release. It takes about a minute or two until Steve lets out a loud groan and spills inside you, ropes of his searing cum filling you up to the brim. You lay motionless, distinctly wondering how much longer this will last, and praying that it was soon.

His cock stays lodged inside your flooded pussy even after he is finished, his chest rising and falling while he recovers from the best orgasm of his life, and you could say the same, but you wouldn’t admit it.

“Fuck, thank you, sweetheart. I needed that. You make Daddy so happy, don’t you see?” he bends over and pushes his clothed body flush against your sticky one, damp and glistening with sweat, running his calloused hands up and down your sides. He hooks his chin on your shoulder and kisses the helix of your ear.

“What do you say, baby? What do you say when Daddy fucks you so good?” he murmurs, his hot pants fanning against your glistening skin. He leans back to look down at your puffy cunt, his cock, still, buried to the hilt inside your slick canal, and ruined rosy-pink panties around your narrow hips, groaning and wetting his plump lips as his fiery gaze takes you in.

And your reply is automatic, like a reflex:

“Thank you, Daddy.”

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my-sweetheart-evans · 2 years

Text

𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐤.part two

NAVIGATION | M.LIST | SERIES M.LIST

synopsis 彡 It was a complete surprise when you were hired as an intern at Evans Enterprises. The owner and your new boss, Chris Evans, was an enigma—he was rarely seen out in public. You hoped you would be one of the few people who had the chance to meet him.

pairing 彡 CEO!boss!Chris Evans x timid!intern!reader

warnings 彡 This story will contain the following content: EXPLICIT/SEXUAL SCENES, DARK THEMES. DUBCON, DD/LG ELEMENTS, large age gap (reader is 18, Chris is mid-30s), size kink, overstimulation, p in v sex, oral (m receiving), power imbalance, rough sex, anal sex, squirting, cream pie, exhibitionism (kind of?)

word count 彡 2.9k+

author’s note 彡 This is the final part of this series. Thank you for reading!

DISCLAIMER───THIS BLOG IS NOT SUITABLE FOR AUDIENCES UNDER THE AGE OF 18. MDNI.

You didn’t see him again after your first encounter one and a half months ago, and this disappointed you more than you were willing to admit. But, of course, you went about your tasks dutifully and dismissed your disappointment—the thing about luck is that it is unpredictable and unreliable. To depend on luck to lead you to Mr. Evans again is to entertain a fantasy. The thing about luck is it is finite, it runs out. And your luck was thinning very quickly.

Your name was uttered in a sing-song tone directly behind you and you rotated in your chair to be greeted by one of the less-tolerable employees: Kate. She wiggled her fingers and smiled, feigning friendliness but you thought it resembled more of a snarl.

“Would you mind grabbing me a coffee?” the woman pouted and batted her lashes, and before you could respond, she waved her hand in your face and said, “Of course you would! You know how I like it.”

The word “No” was at the tip of your tongue, but your protest did not manifest verbally. Forcing a tight-lipped smile, you stood up and hummed, “Mm-hm. I’ll fetch that for you now.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” she squinted her eyes at you, another unsuccessful attempt to smile or display friendliness. She moved away from your desk, sashaying her wide hips and… it’s entirely unfair that pencil skirts suited her so well.

The coffee machine was in the recreation room. There, you find a small kitchen, refrigerator, an island, and a U-shaped couch and flat-screen television. Thankfully, you were the only person. You cursed at your lack of assertiveness, powering on the appliance and preparing the coffee quickly so you can return to your tasks. When you were finished, you carefully lifted the cup and swiveled around, bound to the exit but suddenly crashing into a body. In the process, your coffee spilled over, staining your white blouse.

“Shit,” you hissed, the hot liquid burning your skin. Tears filled your eyes and you wailed again, this time out of pure frustration. Leaping away from the person responsible, you rushed to the sink.

“I’m sorry,” you failed to hide the tremble in your voice, indicating that you were on the verge of sobbing. You couldn’t be more unluckier. Why do I keep colliding into people?

You found the paper towels in one of the cabinets and tried to clean your skirt and blouse, to no avail.

“No, I apologize,” you recognized that voice instantly. Silk over gravel. You spun around to identify the owner, having to see them to believe it. Your jaw slacked.

“Mr. Evans,” surprise polluted your tone, “I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

He approached you, his eyes averting from your face to your soiled blouse.

“Do you have an extra blouse?” He asked, and you shook your head. He looked at you so intently, it made you nervous. Glancing down, you realized the reason why.

Your damp shirt was now transparent, providing an excellent view of your white bra with little pink heart patterns and a cute bow. Instinctively, you lowered your head and swiveled around to prevent him from seeing you like this, a broken sob escaping your lips. You couldn’t be more unluckier.

Mr. Evans muttered your name, going to place a hand consolingly on your shoulder but deciding against it. “Don’t cry, sweet girl. I might have an extra shirt in my office that you could borrow for the remainder of the day.”

Wiping away your tears with the palms of your hands, you considered his offer. “Really?”

“Yes, come along. I won’t look.”

And he didn’t look the entire journey to the elevator, to the hundredth floor, and to his office. Fortunately for you, the two of you were alone and none of your coworkers had to witness this disaster. They didn’t need another reason to bully you.

He ushered you inside the room and closed the door, before striding over to his desk and opening a drawer to retrieve a crisp, white button-down. Finally, he looked you in the eyes.

“Here,” he tossed you the article and you caught it—it was visibly too big for your small frame.

You muttered a “thanks” and moved to the door to leave, but he called, “Wait.”

Glimpsing at him over your shoulder, you hummed.

“There are no bathrooms on this floor, and I don’t want you to have to walk back to your floor and risk someone seeing you. You can change here.”

The offer was preposterous, you didn’t even know what to think or how to think. Change… in here? As in, in front of him?

“No.” It was at the tip of your tongue. Come on, say it. But it was impossible for you to refuse.

“Okay,” your voice was a weak whisper, but you did not move. He watched you expectantly, a simper playing his lips, cuing his ill-intentions but you were too naive to notice it.

“Go on, then, dear,” he said, dominance oozing from his tone. And like the obedient little girl you were, you slowly began to unbutton your blouse before the man.

“Can you… can you turn around?” you requested, and he cocked a brow.

“But I have already seen everything,” he reasoned, his dark eyes dropping to your chest. Swallowing, you nodded your head and continued your task.

Your blouse slipped off your shoulders and pooled on the marble floor at your feet. The handsome CEO smiled reassuringly at you, but there was nothing reassuring about the way he looked at you—like he was starved and you were his nourishment. Like he was a predator and you were his prey he desired to decimate.

“Cute bra,” he commented and you were taken aback by his impropriety… and excited at the same time. By no means were you exactly a virgin, no–you had sex one time with your seventeen-year old boyfriend when you were sixteen. But his voice, his eyes on you, even his inappropriateness was far more gratifying than your sole sexual experience. You wouldn’t admit it, though.

“Thank you,” you didn’t know what to say, but you were taught to thank people when they complimented you, and it was a compliment. One limb at a time, you slipped your arms into the clean shirt and began to button it.

The article swallowed you up, flowing past your knees like a dress. But it’ll do, it was better than your dirtied clothing.

Mr. Evans circled his desk and approached you slowly, his simper unfaltering. Blood rushed to his cock with a single glance at you, at your small body in his clothes. Normally, he didn’t agree with discounting his professionalism by fucking one of his staff, and a number of his female personnel tried and failed to seduce him—he refused to reciprocate. But there was something different about you. Your childlike innocence, your quickness to obey, your adorable features. And you were too naive for your own good, without a clue about what he wanted to do to you, how he wanted to ruin you, taint you, hurt you.

“Mr. Evans?” you squeaked, unwarranted fear beginning to flourish in your chest. The gorgeous businessman hummed, “Yes, dear.”

“Can I go now?” if you stayed for a second longer, you were sure you would detonate. Chuckling darkly, he circled around you, his fingers tangling in your tresses. He brushed your hair away from your face, off your shoulders, to expose your neck.

“Are you in a hurry?” he questioned, and you could practically hear his simper, “Don’t you want to admire the view? You quite liked it the last time.”

Which view? Mr. Evans or the city?

His large hand pressed the small of your back, ushering you to the window. He stood behind you, thus you could not see him, but you could feel him, his stare, his hands. It was impossible to appreciate the scenic backdrop or even conceive a single rational thought when he was touching you like this.

It was quiet for a minute as you waited for him to speak. You pretended to admire the urban scenery but truly you feared what he was going to do next. He sensed your fear and reveled in it—you were visibly trembling.

“What’s wrong, doll?” he feigned worry, tracing geometric patterns on your shoulder blade, “Why are you afraid?”

“I don’t know what’s happening,” you whispered honestly, focusing on his touch. Fuck, it made him so goddamn hard how intimidated by him you were. He was losing control, how badly he wanted to pounce and claim you already.

“I’ll tell you what’s happening,” he said, his smile widening but you wouldn’t know because your back was facing him. He suddenly pinned you to the window, your cheek pressed against the cold surface, and hiked up your shirt—or rather, his shirt—to your waist in a matter of seconds. A troubled sigh was knocked out of you.

“Listen carefully,” he whispered into your ear, depositing a kiss on your helix, “Or this is going to hurt more than it should.”

You whimpered, cuing that you were listening.

The businessman nudged his solid erection against you, causing another sigh to pass your parted lips. He rolled his hips and you moaned against your will, unable to process how quickly the situation was unfolding.

“You feel that?” he growled, “I’ve been thinking about you, about this pussy, since you first stumbled in here, wide-eyed and dumb like a little fucking baby. You feel how fucking hard I am for you, doll?”

Your poor heart tripped over a beat, but whether it was due to fear or lust you did not know. He ground his clothed cock against you again and your sopping wet pussy throbbed in response, suggesting it was the latter. But you were trembling in fear, suggesting it was the former, too.

“Answer me,” he demanded, and you spluttered, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes… Mr. Evans.”

The slap on your ass happened so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that you didn’t even react at first. The pain registered a full second later and an involuntary wail spills out your gaping mouth.

“Daddy,” he corrected with a groan, “Shit, call me Daddy.”

“Daddy,” you echoed submissively to avoid another spanking.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he said directly, with conviction, “And you’re going to take it like a good little girl, aren’t you, baby.”

You whimpered once more, balling your fists and squeezing your eyes shut. You could not see him, but you could hear him. Panting in your ear, unbuckling his belt, muttering profanities and filthy promises to ruin you, taint you, hurt you, unzipping and removing his pants.

Your shirt was pulled over your head and discarded to the side, exposing your bra and cotton underwear. Fuck, your underwear was cuter than your bra, pastel pink with a little bow above your cunt and lace stitched to the hem. The handsome CEO groaned, unable to help himself—another smack targeted your left buttcheek and you cried out.

“Please!” You sobbed, but were you begging for him to stop or continue? I shouldn’t want this, you repeated a countless number of times in your head, but your pussy wasn’t convinced.

Mr. Evans is an impatient man, and he couldn’t wait any longer to finally have you exactly how he wanted from the very moment he first laid his eyes on you. Unclasping your bra and yanking down your panties in one, fluid motion, you were left completely bare before him, his gaze feasting on your body that he has fantasized about for one and a half months. You were pushed against the window, the coolness of the surface stinging your nipples. Oh, shit, tears stung your eyes, Can the people below see me? You’ve never been this humiliated in your life.

A gasp was forced out of you when Mr. Evans tapped the fat cockhead on your pulsing clit. He hasn’t even entered you yet and your cunt was drooling, your wet walls clenching in anticipation for his dick.

“You’re soaking, baby,” he moaned, “You want my dick, hm?”

“D-daddy,” you whined, beginning to cry, “I… I…”

“Aw, you’re dumb for cock,” he cooed, “Don’t worry, little girl, no more thinking, okay? Let Daddy ruin your little wet pussy. He will do all the thinking for you.”

The cockhead slid past your clit to your opening, now, coated with your slick. Slowly, he pushed into you, cursing at how fucking tight you were, he could barely comprehend it. “A-ah!” he squeezed your squirming hips to still you, and you cried even harder, struggling to breathe. The pain was almost unbearable.

He didn’t move for a minute or two, appreciating how your warm, wet walls hugged his girth so wonderfully. Perfect, you were so goddamn perfect. Your pussy was so goddamn perfect.

“You’re so-ah… so fucking tight,” he breathed, shifting impossibly closer to you until his clothed front was flush against your naked back. A hand trailed between your legs and he tweaked your hard little clit between two fingers–you couldn’t contain the loud moan that left you.

“You feel so good,” he continued, petting your little clit with the pad of his finger, alternating between tight circles and side-to-side strokes, “Choking my cock so… ah-so fucking good, baby. You like it, don’t you?”

You shook your head, but the sloppy noises your pussy was making begged to differ. Stroking your swollen button a little faster, he finally began to thrust.

Both of you panted as your boss fucked you without remorse. He pulled almost all the way out, until only the crown of his big cock was buried in your sweet cunt, before thrusting all the way back in to the hilt, the tip kissing your cervix. He was so big and you were so tight, you could feel every single vein on his thick shaft.

The tempo of his thrust steadily increased, the businessman pounding into you harder and faster. He cursed between grunts, angling his dick to hit your g-spot each time he filled you. Your cunt could barely handle the brutal pounding it was receiving, clenching around him against your will each time he entered you, sucking him back into your wet canal each time he retreated. Three fingers skillfully worked your clit, sending you over the edge before you knew it. You couldn’t hold back no matter how hard you tried, screaming and milking his dick.

“That’s it,” he praised, “That’s a good girl. Cum all over my cock.”

Whimpering, recovering from your sudden orgasm, you struggled to stand upright. Mr. Evans wrapped an arm around you for support, slowing his thrusts. But he wasn’t done with you yet.

“Come on, baby, I know you got one more for me, don’t you,” he cooed in your ear, “One more, doll.”

“No,” you pleaded with a weak voice, the pressure too much to bear, “Please, stop.”

He slipped out of you and relief overcame you for a second, a second. The second that followed, his cockhead was probing your asshole, causing you to jump in fear.

“Wait,” ah, so you weren’t so naive after all, were you. You knew exactly what he planned to do.

The CEO did not take orders, especially orders from you—he only gave them. He was less gracious with your poor asshole, rutting into you in one, quick go.

Your lips parted to scream but nothing came out—the pain was incomprehensible, seizing your voice. Each time he retreated he pulled you back with him, your asshole was so tight. He was having a harder time fucking it, but the pleasure was indescribable, he didn’t dare stop.

“Jesus,” he groaned, appreciating the little noises you were making. He fucked you slowly but hard and deep, grunting and moaning and cussing. Pinching your overstimulated clit between two digits, he wanted you to feel good too.

“One… more,” he gritted his teeth, his huge balls tightening, cuing his approaching orgasm. But he was desperate for you to cum before he did, lifting the hood of your clit and caressing the little bud directly. The pressure in your stomach heightened astronomically and you cried as you orgasmed for the second time, squirting all over his twitching cock. Your orgasm spurred his own release and his hot seed spilled into your ass, painting your insides white. He groaned loudly, gliding his hands up your body and cupping both of your boobs, pinching your pebbled nipples. A third, smaller orgasm struck you as he came inside you.

“Fuck!” he roared, slowing his fucking, stilling deep inside you to prevent his cum from escaping. Then, silence, besides your pants, “...fuck…”

A full minute later, he slipped out of you, and a glob of cum followed, dribbling down to your pussy, your clit, and down your shaking legs.

It’s over, you silently cried, Please, let it be over.

Mr. Evans deposited a kiss on your neck, before declaring, “Your cunt belongs to me.”

He released you and you sank to the floor, bowing your head in shame. He cupped your jaw and forced your chin up to look at him, his thick cock a centimeter away from your lips.

“Suck,” he demanded. You sucked in a breath, looking up at him sorrowfully, hoping he would spare you a little pity.

“Go on,” he panted, grabbing his wet shaft covered in cum and slick and tapping your lips, “Clean up your mess.”

Obediently, you opened your mouth, licking the cockhead. You sniffled as you inexpertly sucked his cock, wondering how you wound up in this position. Wondering how you could’ve liked Mr. Evans, how it was possible that you were so unlucky.

The thing about luck is it is finite, it runs out. And you couldn’t be more unluckier, more out of luck.

→ Part I

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