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DEBUTANTE!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: derived from the french language, meaning “a first performance or showing.” the original word debutante referred to a new actress making her first appearance on the stage. or, the one where dreams come true in bahrain.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: just a little bonus, but i picture jasper as kingsley ben-adir (secret invasion, barbie). if this is the first work of mine you're checking, reader is a driver for porsche and the daughter of rubens barrichello!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 5.5k

NO ONE ASKED HER A QUESTION IN FORTY-FIVE MINUTES.

Naturally, there were many questions about her. How did the drivers feel about a woman joining their ranks on the track? What were their thoughts on the growing number of female fans who were tuning in to watch Formula One, possibly due to the popularity of the documentary Drive to Survive or the historic moment of having the first female driver in decades?

She wasn't sure if this was better or worse than she anticipated. She vividly recalled her first press conference last year when she was still driving for ART Grand Prix. They asked her ridiculous questions like whether it was professional to wear skirts in the paddock (yes), who the most attractive driver was (herself, obviously), and even if her father was disappointed that she reached a milestone in motorsport before her older brother (Dudu, who raced with their father in Brazilian Stock Series. And no, he had already made it clear he was proud of both of them).

In the first few minutes, she assumed it was because she was a rookie. But then Oscar Piastri answered a fair share of questions while looking at her as if he didn't understand why people were treating her like an invisible presence. She would shrug her shoulders and the australian reluctantly answered reporters' inquiries.

She was sandwiched between Lewis, who seemed impatient as time dragged on without any questions directed towards her, and Max Verstappen, who quickly responded to his own questions and showed his eagerness to leave. Two rookies, two world champions, but only three drivers deemed important enough for interviews.

The world-renowned champion's frustration peaked when asked about his recent vacation activities.

"Is this a joke?" he asked. "Do you really want to know what I did on my vacation more than asking her interesting questions?" He gestured towards the girl beside him.

"It's alright, Lewis-"

"With all due respect, Hamilton," one of the reporters interjected with a sarcastic smirk on his face. "I can't imagine what kind of questions we could ask Miss Barrichello besides her makeup preferences or favorite clothing brands."

"How about the fact that I won four championships in a row as a rookie?" She responded with a fake sweet smile plastered on her face. She could accept to be ignored, but she refused to be underestimated. "Or maybe any questions about Porsche joining the grid this year?"

"I don't think winning a championship by such a small margin of points is anything to be praised." The reporter retorted. His expression implied that he wasn't expecting the young girl to comfort him, but he couldn't hold back.

"Really? So we should just say that the battle between Max and Lewis in 2021-" she indicated towards them "-was nothing worth celebrating? Such an uneventful year for this sport."

Verstappen leaned forward, observing the interaction between the girl and the reporter. This press conference just became much more interesting.

"Strong words from someone who has never stepped foot in a race car." He chimed in, agreeing with the youngest person in the room.

"That's not what I meant." The reporter stuttered, noticing the security chief slowly approaching him. The middle-aged man was one of many security guards in the paddock that had known the driver since she was a child, and she knew that one look in his direction and the man would be escorted out.

"Of course, of course," she replied sarcastically. "You mean it's not worth celebrating because a woman won, right? Please, if you're going to insult me, at least try to make it believable. Or better yet, don't speak if you have no idea what you're talking about"

The tension in the room was palpable as another reporter spoke up, "But Y/n, let's be real here. The races were mostly dominated by your teammate, Frederik Vesti or runner-up Felipe Drugovich. Your victories were purely tactical."

She leaned back in her chair with a smug smile playing on her lips. "Is that so? Yet somehow I managed to come out on top every time."

Verstappen nodded in agreement, "She's definitely got a point there."

The press room fell into an intense quiet, causing y/n to regret her decision to do this interview. She knew that this type of situation would become more common as her fame grew in the coming year. She also understood that Lewis would be praised for defending her while she would face criticism for simply standing up for herself against a man who was only doing his job.

The silence was broken by a female journalist in the back, hidden behind the larger, more muscular bodies of her male counterparts. But y/n could never mistake that blonde hair for anyone else. Mariana Becker was a veteran sports reporter, an icon in Brazilian journalism, and a role model for any woman breaking into a male-dominated field.

“I wish I had raised my hand earlier; I didn't realize it would take so long for someone to ask you a question,” she chuckled. "I don't think anyone will object to two questions, right?" The woman looked around the room, and the other interviewers avoided making eye contact with the veteran.

"So, y/n, you've been asked countless times about being a woman in a male-dominated world and the difficulties you face because of it. However, with such a successful junior career full of records, I honestly don't see the need to ask that question again. Instead, I'd like to focus on the positive aspects. What does it mean to you knowing that a new generation of girls can look up to you as an inspiration and be motivated to pursue their dreams?"

The girl's face lit up with gratefulness for the refreshing question and relief that she wouldn't have to answer the same question she had already answered countless times before.

"It's incredibly inspiring for me as well. Growing up in this environment, surrounded by racing cars, I was also discouraged from pursuing this career. But I can only imagine how much more difficult it must have been for young girls who were ridiculed just for dreaming of driving a go-kart. To know that I can play a role in encouraging them to follow their dreams without fear of judgment is truly exciting."

Lewis subtly raised his thumb in a gesture of approval while she chuckled.

"Excellent," said the reporter with a smile. "One more question, how did your father react when you told him you were entering the world of Formula 1?"

"He cried," y/n answered quickly, eliciting laughter from those in the room. "He's quite the crybaby, so I waited until we were together to share the news of my contract with Porsche. At first, he cried tears of joy, then fear, and eventually a mixture of both. That's when he realized that all three of his children were following in his footsteps as race car drivers and that he'd have to pay for everything he put his own father through."

The reporter chuckled along with y/n. Mari had interviewed Rubens back when he was in Formula 1, and remembers clearly how emotional the man always was. The conference went on like this for another half an hour, with y/n answering everything from her expectations for the upcoming season to her favorite tracks and how she dealt with pressure.

The balaclava, damp with sweat, clung tightly to her face as she stood at attention. Her race engineer, a tall black man with a buzzcut and a calm expression, waited patiently beside her. She smoothed down the folds of her crisp, red-and-black uniform, adorned with her country's flag on the sleeve.

"How was the conference?" Jasper asked.

The girl muttered something that Jasper couldn't make out. "That bad? Did they bring up the issue with wearing skirts in the paddock again?"

"They didn't ask anything at first, but then one guy made a comment about me winning the championship by a narrow margin of points not being worthy of praise. Except it wasn't even a narrow margin; Felipe finished about sixty points behind me., and Fred was more than a hundred points behind, despite driving the same car as me" She complained.

Jasper winced. The relationship between the engineer and the driver had been amazing during pre-season tests with the man acting like a friend and a mentor, and they had found a groove to envy.

"You'll need to come up with a strategy for dealing with these reporters," Jasper advised.

"I already have one."

"Really?" He glanced at the clock on the track and realized that time was running out. He handed her the helmet with both hands. She grinned and smoothly put it on. The colors of her country's flag stood out against the black and red of the car, making it impossible to miss.

"Yes. WWJD."

"What does that stand for?"

"What Would Jenson Do. Originally, it was "What Would Kimi Do," but I quickly realized that Kimi would just tell everyone to go fuck themselves, and I can't exactly do that yet."

The garage was a whirlwind of activity, with mechanics frantically making last-minute adjustments and drivers strapping into their cars. The scent of gasoline and burning rubber wafted through the air, adding to the excitement and tension that crackled in the atmosphere.

Everywhere she looked, there were people moving with purpose, each one focused on their individual tasks to ensure a successful first qualifying session of the season. The roar of engines being revved and tools clanging against metal filled her ears, drowning out any other sound. It was a chaotic but exhilarating scene as the countdown to the race began.

"Why not "What Would Rubens Do"?" He asked.

She chuckled. "My dad is too nice. In his only fight in his entire Formula 1 career, he told the mechanic who wanted to fight him to get someone else because he was too small."

Jasper's phone buzzed insistently, jolting him out of his thoughts and reminding him that only five minutes remained until the start of Q1. After the last few adjustments from the mechanics, y/n managed to squeeze into her car and secure her seatbelt. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might leap out of her chest, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through her body as she prepared for the intense competition ahead.

Jasper rested his arms on the halo. "Don't forget what we discussed earlier," he reminded her. "In Q1, six cars will be eliminated, followed by six more in Q2. This means that the top ten fastest cars will battle for pole position. Based on our data, we are definitely faster than Alpha Tauri, Alfa Romeo, Haas, and Williams - a total of eight cars."

The girl nodded eagerly, her eyes glued to the man as he continued. "At the very least, you and Mick should be able to make it into Q2. We're not sure how Alpine and McLaren are doing, but they don't seem to be as quick as us." He gestured towards the track outside where the other teams were busy with their own preparations. "But we can't let our guard down. Anything can happen during quali." The tension was palpable as they both waited for their turn on the track.

"So, we're trying for Q3 then?" She inquired, her voice filled with a mix of curiosity and determination.

"Officially, I was instructed to tell you that Q2 is sufficient, but we can't know our full potential until we're on the track."

A sly grin appeared on her face, hidden behind her helmet. She pushed down her visor, ready to give it her all. "Well, I say let's aim for Q3 then. I want to see what this car can really do."

A gentle laugh escaped Jasper's lips, his eyes shining with admiration. "That's the spirit, echo. Show them what you're made of."

With one final nod, y/n shifted her focus, tuning out the noise and commotion of the pit lane. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, using all her senses to ground herself in the present moment. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline filled her nostrils as she visualized the track ahead. The deafening roar of the engine drowned out all other sounds, sending shivers down her spine.

Jasper's voice crackled through the radio in her ear, sounding like a distant robot. "Radio check," he said, his tone serious and business-like.

She adjusted gloves as she responded, "I hear you loud and clear." Her hands were tightly gripped on the steering wheel as she followed Logan Sargeant's Williams out of the pit lane. It was a tight squeeze with the Porsche garage being the newest addition to the grid. She bit her lip, hoping that their placement in the pit lane wouldn't cause any trouble in the future.

"Great. Warm up your tires and then do a flying lap. We want to get a better idea of our potential and avoid any possible disruptions from a Red Flag," Jasper instructed.

"Roger that," she replied, trying to keep her breathing steady as cars started to move around her. She prayed that the onboard camera wouldn't catch her trembling hands as she prepared for her first real lap on the track.

The engine roared to life as she pressed down on the accelerator, gripping the steering wheel with determination. The car surged forward, its tires screeching against the asphalt, leaving a trail of smoke behind. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, heightening her senses as she focused on the task at hand.

The wind whipped through, carrying with it a symphony of sounds—engines revving, tires squealing, and the distant cheers of the crowd. Her heart pounded in sync with the rhythm of the track, each beat pulsating through her chest.

As the cars whizzed by, she made a conscious effort to stay out of their way while completing her out lap. It was her first Grand Prix, and she wasn't about to receive an impeding penalty. She could feel the engine roaring to life and her car responding with precision, its tires getting ready to set a time that would hopefully secure her from elimination in the initial round.

Jasper's voice crackled through the radio once again. "Alright, you're good to go. Try your best," he encouraged, his voice filled with unwavering support.

"Copy." She smirked.

The pre-tests and free practice had prepared her for what was to come, but nothing could have truly prepared her for the exhilaration of sitting behind the wheel of a Formula 1 car. The engine purred like a fierce beast, ready to unleash its power at any moment. The sleek body of the car hugged the track, cutting through the air with precision and grace.

As she approached the first turn, she braked hard, shifting her weight to navigate the corner with precision. The G-forces pressed against her body, threatening to tear her away from reality. But she held firm, refusing to let anything distract her from the objective ahead.

She feathered the throttle, feeling the car respond to her slightest movements. The tires gripped the track, providing a sense of stability as she accelerated out of the turn, leaving her the other car trailing behind. Y/n's focus was unwavering, her eyes fixated on the next set of corners, mentally calculating her approach.

The flying lap was over in an instant, and the sound of the cheering crowd filled her ears as she crossed the finish line and set her initial time.

"Way to go, girl!" Jasper's voice crackled through the radio. "You've got P8, I repeat, P8. We're safely into Q2, but stay on track just in case. Prepare for another quick lap."

"How did Mick do?" she asked eagerly.

"P10, 0.78 seconds behind you," Jasper's voice was filled with pride as he responded. Despite his efforts to maintain professionalism, they were both rookies in the Formula 1 world, even if in different roles. "I got a great feeling about us, Barrichello. This could be the beginning of something legendary."

The minutes seemed to stretch into hours as she waited for the race to begin and she started to feel claustrophobic inside her cramped driver's room.

Finally, unable to bear the suffocating atmosphere any longer, she stepped outside into the bustling garage. The sight of her team, clad in matching uniforms and working tirelessly on their cars, brought a small smile to her face. As she made her way through the maze of mechanics and equipment, she was greeted with reassuring smiles and words of encouragement.

This was not just her first race, but also the team's inaugural race. In a way, they were all rookies, feeling the pressure and nerves just as she was.

Standing outside, it was clear that several eyes were on her. Some, like the veteran Ferrari mechanics who had known her since she was a little girl, flashed comforting smiles and gave her thumbs up, wishing her the best of luck. Others raised their eyebrows with skepticism, as if they believed her presence on the grid was some sort of elaborate prank that hadn't been revealed yet.

Amidst a sea of red and black uniforms, the bright green outfit of the two-time world champion stood out prominently. Fernando paid no mind to the curious glances from his mechanics as he made his way confidently towards the girl.

"You're not allowed in here, Alonso." She teased, playfully crossing her arms in a gesture that made her seem much older than she was.

"Is that how it is now? You qualify in the Top 10 in your first race and all of a sudden I'm just Alonso, not Nando?" He responded with a chuckle. Clutching his heart dramatically, he leaned back as if struck by sudden agony. "What happened to all our pizza days? They meant nothing to you?"

The character she was playing no longer felt right to her, and the words she spoke didn't align with the expression on her face. She fought to suppress a smile as she continued, "That person you knew, Alonso? She is gone now."

As the man approached, she couldn't help but feel a sense of familiarity wash over her. His dark hair and intense brown eyes were etched into her memory, but it was his infectious smile that brought back a flood of childhood memories.

Fernando rested his hands on her shoulders and held onto his helmet, which puzzled her. With only a few minutes left before the race began, he could have easily stored it in his own garage rather than carrying it around. But she pushed those thoughts aside as his gaze softened and he spoke.

"You were the size of a flea when I met you," he said with a chuckle. She smiled at the memory of their first encounter. She had been just six years old at the time, tagging along with her father to one of his races. She remembered being mesmerized by the speed and energy of the cars on the track, but also feeling a little intimidated by the loud noises and bustling crowds.

But then she saw him – Alonso – standing tall and proud in his racesuit. He had noticed her watching him from behind the fence and had flashed her a tight smile. Somehow, from that one interaction, she had become a fan. From then on, whenever she visited the track with her father, she would always seek out Fernando.

Initially, the Spaniard couldn't comprehend why the young girl found him so intriguing. He knew he was talented and quick on the race track, but children were not his forte. Alonso would often try to distance himself from the girl, offering only friendly waves and smiles. However, when she presented him with a drawing of himself on the podium with a trophy (which he still keeps today), everything changed.

"You used to avoid me like the plague," she recalled.

"That's not entirely true," Fernando denied, but quickly changed his tune when the girl raised an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe I wasn't too fond of being followed around by a little girl. Can you blame me? If anything happened to you, I would have to deal with your father, Michael, Kimi, and all the mechanics that you had wrapped around your finger."

He became somewhat of figure between an older brother and a father figure to her, always ready with words of encouragement and advice.

Now here they were, both grown up and about to race against each other for the very first time.

"I can't believe we're finally racing against each other," she said with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

"It's about time," Fernando replied with a smirk. "I've been waiting for this moment since you beat me in go-karts."

A smile tugged at her lips as she recalled the moment. During one of his trips with her family to cheer her on during her junior career, they decided to have some fun and race go-karts. She had managed to beat him by mere thousandths of a second, and she made sure to remind him of it constantly afterwards.

"What's on the agenda for today, Mija?" He asked, looking around at the girl's garage.

"Hah, like I would share that with you. I love you, Nando, but now we're competitors." She narrowed her eyes playfully. "You're just trying to take advantage because we're close."

"You got me." He chuckled, knowing it wasn't entirely true.

She sighed and crossed her arms with a hesitant expression. "Rule number one is to not crash into Mick. Number two is to avoid crashing into anyone else. Our team isn't expecting a stellar performance, so if we can maintain our starting positions, both cars will score points. That's our main goal."

"Oh, come on. Don't you want to try overtaking someone?" he prodded.

Y/N laughed. "Why? You want to see me in your rearview mirror?"

"Of course I do," he admitted. "Competing for a win with you would be incredible."

He pushed his helmet towards the girl, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Confused, she tilted her head in question. “I appreciate the gift, but I think you’ll need it today.”

Fernando laughed, memories flooding back to him. “Remember when your dad retired and you started coming to races with me?”

The memories flooded back, of her father's days in the high-stakes world of Formula 1. Though he had since retired, Fernando still managed to convince Rubens to allow her to travel with him to races closer to her home, and sometimes even to the grand prix in his homeland.

She quickly caught on to his request and playfully darted away from him before snagging the helmet. It had become a tradition since she was ten years old, and Fernando had unofficially taken on the role of her godfather. She used to do this same routine with her own father, so it felt natural to continue with the spaniard. He stood there, slightly perplexed, wondering if he had said or done something wrong. But just moments later, the young girl returned with her own helmet in hand.

"Wouldn't it be fair for you to do the same for me this time?" she asked playfully.

The two exchanged helmets and planted a kiss on the part of the helmet that would soon cover each other's foreheads.

"Stay safe, Nando"

"You too. Give us hell"

"It's an easy overtake for Barrichello in the Porsche, and she takes the position from Lance Stroll in the Aston Martin!" David Croft's voice rings across the circuit, and the crowd roars, the flags from her country and Germany flying around.

"Great job!" The voice of her race engineer appears in her ear, breaking through her intense concentration. "Russell is 1.2 ahead, close the gap to be able to use DRS when it is enabled."

"Copy" she nods, instinctively, her eyes never leaving the track ahead. She knows what she needs to do, and she pushes her car to its limits, weaving through the curves and straights with precision and skill.

As she closes the gap between her and the british driver, she can feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins. She's in her element, in the midst of the intense competition that she lives for.

"0.7. Go for it, elbows out" Jasper said again.

The cheers of the pit crew resounded in her ears as she used the extra boost to overtake the Mercedes. It was a challenge to defend against George's attempts at whiplash and reclaim her position, but once they were off the main straight, she managed to create a considerable gap between them.

The rest of the race flew by in a blur. The girl lost track of her position, constantly overtaking some cars only to be overtaken shortly after. However, Jasper's encouraging words kept her going.

Jasper's voice crackled through the radio as she approached the final stretch of the race. "Virtual safety car, slow down," he instructed.

She quickly checked her rearview mirror, looking for her teammate. "Is it ours?" she asked.

"No, it's Leclerc in the Ferrari," Jasper replied, "which puts us in fifth place."

She could see Hamilton was more than five seconds behind, and the yellow flag meant that Alonso was slowing down ahead of her.

"As soon as the VSC is lifted, you'll have a clear shot to overtake," Jasper added.

Who would have thought that she would be right on Fernando's heels after all?

After a few laps of caution due to the previous incident, the green flags were waved and she wasted no time in accelerating towards the Aston Martin driven by the Spaniard. She steadily closed the gap between them until she was right behind him. However, just as she was about to make a move to pass him, he outmaneuvered Carlos Sainz's Ferrari.

In a swift and calculated maneuver, she positioned her car on the inside of Sainz, who seemed too focused on reclaiming his position to check his mirrors. Taking advantage of his momentary lapse of attention, she quickly overtook him.

Jasper's voice was filled with excitement as he shouted, "That's it, echo! What a fantastic move!" She could almost hear the smile in his tone. "Alonso is already ten seconds ahead, so concentrate on defending now."

The final laps seemed like a blur, the girl steadily increasing the gap between her and the Ferrari with each lap.

"It's a flawless performance from Porsche, with both cars scoring points on this historic day. Mick Schumacher equals his best career finish with an incredible P6, and Y/N Barrichello takes fourth place, becoming the first woman to score in a Formula 1 race since Lella Lombardi and achieving the highest position for a woman in history!"

The sound of the bustling cheers from the Porsche garage fills her ears as she struggled to park the car with trembling hands. “Unbelievable! P4, y/n, P4! We scored 21 points and Mick got the fastest lap. What a start,” Jasper exclaims over the radio.

She stepped out of the car on shaky legs and is immediately greeted by Carlos, who had parked his car behind hers. “Where did you come from?” he asked with a chuckle. “I was trying to overtake Fernando, and suddenly you were right beside me.”

She took off her helmet and balaclava, her hair damp with sweat and sticking to her forehead and neck. She culdn't help but laugh. "Next time, check your mirrors," She teases her good-naturedly.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she was suddenly enveloped in a warm embrace. The sweat that coated both of them didn't matter, nor did the fact that she still needed to weigh herself. She squeezed Mick even tighter and they both seemed too overjoyed to let go.

He took a step back but kept his arms around her. "Fourth place in your first race! I told you not to worry," the German exclaimed proudly.

"And look who's talking with the fastest lap!" She laughed in agreement. "We did it, Mick. We fucking did it."

A bottle of water suddenly appeared in her line of sight, and she turned to thank the person who handed it to her. To her surprise, it was Lewis with a smile on his face.

"If you had just overtaken one more person, you would have joined the club," he joked, pointing to Kevin Magnussem, who appeared to be deep in conversation with his teammate. "It was quite a race for the two of you."

"Honestly, I wasn't expecting to end up anywhere higher than where I started, so P4 is already a great achievement," she replied with a laugh as she took the cold bottle from him. The girl then turned to Lewis again and asked about his own race.

"P7. Mick managed to pass me on the last lap," he responded, glancing over at the young driver who chuckled in response.

The adrenaline was still pumping through her veins as y/n made her way to the weighing machines. She couldn't believe it, a P4 finish on her debut race. It seemed like a dream come true.

She stepped onto the scales, trying to calm her racing heart. The number flashed on the screen, and she let out a sigh of relief. "Phew, just made it," she muttered to herself.

Grabbing a towel to wipe off the sweat from her face, she quickly discarded her race suit at her hips, and made her way to her garage in her white fireproofs.

To an outsider, it might have seemed like the team had just won a world championship, not a P6 and P4. People were clapping her on the back and embracing Mick, and she struggled to decipher the various voices exclaiming with joy.

Jasper appeared in front of her with a bottle of champagne in hand. "Congratulations y/n, you did amazing out there!" he exclaimed before popping open the bottle and spraying champagne everywhere.

She laughed as some of the bubbly liquid hit her skin. "Thanks Jasper! I couldn't have done it without your perfect strategy. Great call with the tyres"

He grinned at her before turning serious. "But seriously y/n, you did a great job out there. We're all so proud of you." The rest of the team joined them in cheers and congratulations.

Before they could continue their conversation, Adrian, the team principle, arrived at their garage looking ecstatic. "Great job everyone! A double-points finish for our debut race, this is just the beginning." He raised his glass of champagne before taking a sip.

Y/n looked around and couldn't help but feel proud of her team. They had come a long way since their first tests together. And now here they were, competing in one of the most prestigious racing championships in the world.

Adrian turned to her with a smile. "Y/n, I must say you exceeded all expectations today. You have proven yourself as a valuable addition to our team." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Keep up the good work."

She couldn't help but blush at his words and nod gratefully. This was everything she had ever dreamed of - to be part of a successful racing team and make her mark in the sport.

As the celebrations continued, y/n couldn't help but think about how far she had come. From fighting for sponsorships to competing against some of the best drivers in the world, it felt like a dream come true.

But amidst all the excitement and joy, there was still one thing weighing on her mind - her family. She missed them terribly and wished they could be here to witness her success.

Just then, her phone buzzed.

"Muito orgulhoso de você filhota. Eu sabia que você ia arrasar! Me liga quando acabar tudo aí" — PAPAI. (so so proud of you, baby. i knew you would rock it! call me once you're done with everything there.)

Soon after, her older brother's name appeard on her phone as well. A quick congrats was followed by a video. Tapping on it, she couldn't contain the tears as she watched her father by the TV, holding tightly their flag and exploding in joy as the checkered flag was waved and his daughter finished in fourth.

He erupted with happiness, leaping and embracing her siblings and close friends who had gathered to witness her debut. He would excitedly point towards the television, shouting with pride, "There she is! My little girl!"

A big smile crept onto her face as she quickly replied back with an update on how things were, and a promise to video call her family as soon as she was cleared from the media.

"Time for the boring stuff now. Ready for the interviews?" Mick pulled her out of her thoughts. He had his phone on his hand, and she imagined he was also communicating with his family. "I can go first, if you want."

She took a deep breath, and smiled. "It's okay, i'll go. There's nothing they can say that could ruin my day. Not anymore."

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed <3) :: @studioreader, @fanficweasley, @stinkyjax, @namgification, @judespoision, @cha-hot, @disneyprincemuke, @itsjustkhaos, @trouble-sistar, @ihateyougunthersteiner, @treehouse-mouse, @cherry-piee, @fangirl125reader, @cassie0sstuff

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frankcastleonlyfans · 3 months

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Hey, querida! Estava relendo todo seu dad! Daemon au e mano, que saudade! Então só tô mando mensagem pra saber se vc pretende continuar algum dia ou vc parou msm?

oieee!! mds eu preciso voltar a interagir aqui pq so agora eu vejo que tô com asks acumuladas 😭😭

mas sim!! eu com certeza pretendo voltar com as serie dad!daemon x mom!reader, mas somente quando sair promo e a gente estiver em esquenta pra a s2 de hotd. tô aguardando esse tempo pq sei que o engajamento vai ser melhor e eu terei mais pique pra escrever :) <3

#frankcastleonlyfans asks

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frankcastleonlyfans · 3 months

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✨ manifesting ✨

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frankcastleonlyfans · 4 months

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SOMETHING FULFILLED !!! MARK W. X FEM!READER X FERNANDO A. (18+)

summary: after struggling to figure out what to get, mark and fernando decided that they should just simply fulfill their daughter's wish with the help of their wife, y/n.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), holiday special, dilf!fernando and dilf!mark (and milf!reader), threesome (mfm), unprotected sex, fingering, breeding/impregnation kink, mentions of pregnancy, double penetration (i'll let you use ur imaginations), established poly relationship, i did not edit this.

note: what if i fell into a writer's block but god said "you've written a jenson and seb threeway smut but not webbonso smut yet?" (on my grid sluts shit) enjoy and happy holidays xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

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mark and fernando would go through the lengths of fulfilling their kid’s christmas wishes. they would always do anything for their little girl.

it was cute, really but oftentimes, even y/n found that they had spoiled her a little too much.

the parents had been wondering what to get their little daughter, ava alonso-webber, as she continued to grow as her independent self. her mother had decided that she was big enough to decide what she would like for holidays.

meanwhile, the fathers had decided that ava was not old enough to not be spoiled. after all, mark and fernando only had one child with their wife and little ava was only six.

y/n merely hissed at them when they gave ava a go ahead on her request and said, “don’t go overboard with her gift this year. no puppies anymore.”

both mark and fernando shrugged before ava exclaimed, “i want a baby sibling, papì and daddy!”

now, their wife wasn’t a miracle worker— but to try and change ava’s mind about her gift for christmas was something she shouldn’t have done.

mark and fernando were quick to frown at this before their wife continued to avoid that conversation for the next month all while attempting to convince ava into getting something more… manageable.

ava had eventually decided that dolls and more karting time with her dads were enough. ava’s mother was more than relieved that the little girl had relented and moved on.

the dads, the brooding fathers, were a different story. in fact, when y/n arrived from work a week before christmas, she was surprised to find the house quiet. the only thing she could hear was soft music playing in the background. she was really worried she had to sneak the toys into the bedroom without ava noticing.

but the little girl wasn’t there. instead, both mark and fernando were sitting in the living room with the recorded premier league game on.

y/n’s eyes narrowed at the sight of her husbands and asked, “uh, did we just magically lose a child before we’ve spent hours and money on her gifts or…?”

mark and fernando looked at her. then the australian spoke, “oh, hey babe. ava’s staying overnight with her cousins.”

“and we agreed on this when…?” she raised a brow in return, walking over the two nonetheless to press kisses on their lips. fernando pulled her into his lap as mark moved closer.

“now,” fernando murmured, his lips opting to attack her neck as she let out a soft sigh.

mark tipped her head towards his direction before kissing her, his tongue allowing itself to tangle with hers as he hummed in satisfaction. he nearly smirked at the feeling of her breath running out as she moaned.

“we’ve been trying to get you to talk to us about something,” fernando started, his breath fanning her ear as goosebumps broke out her skin in both nervousness and excitement.

“about…” she murmured, eventually pouting when mark tugged her hair back as she got eager to make out with him. mark gave her a stern look.

fernando then nipped at her ear as she let out a gasp before he answered with, “what our little princess wanted.”

it was as if the floodgates were opened, her arousal making her squirm in their hold as mark crooned, “you were so adamant about not giving her what she really wanted, baby. why’s that?”

“i- i,” she gulped. she really wasn’t able to answer especially now that she was being tossed back and forth between the two.

she could feel their hands roaming and touching her, gasping at the feeling of fernando’s fingers as they slowly snaked their way down into her lace panties. fernando then cooed mockingly, “you’re so fucking wet, cariño. you know what we think?”

“h- ngh,” she whimpered, unable to utter any more words as her husbands chuckled darkly.

“we think,” fernando’s tongue glided down her throat and sucked her skin, leaving a mark on her neck as he continued, “that you want to give us a baby too. a baby sibling for our little girl.”

“and you don’t want to tell us,” mark added, smirking at the sight of their wife writhing. y/n was already long gone, feeling extremely aroused just by having her husbands work her up like this.

y/n gasped aloud, hearing her cunt making squelching noises as fernando slid his fingers in and curled up against her sensitive spot.

“how about we give you more babies to grow, hm?” mark murmured, kissing her hard as he slid her shirt off and tossed it someplace else. “we’re gonna fuck more babies into you until you’re full of them.”

she nodded eagerly, writhing against the two of them as she begged wordlessly.

fernando and mark smirked and looked at each other, as if they had every intention to fulfill their goal with the help of their perfect pretty wife.

their cocks had been doing their back and forths in her cunt, her walls stretched out due to its familiarity with their lengths as she whined loudly, sinking repeatedly as she kept her hands resting on fernando’s chest.

the two men groaned aloud, mark grabbing a handful of her hair and tugging it lightly as his hips snapped behind her. “oh fuck,” he uttered, fucking his cock into her as she babbled incoherently.

“te ves tan bonita como siempre, cariño,” you look so pretty as always, darling. fernando cursed out as he thrusted his hips up. he muttered, “tan guapa, tan jodida así.” so pretty looking so fucked out like this.

“mm— fuck, please,” y/n flinched at the feeling of mark’s fingers pinching on her nipple and fernando’s thumb rubbing her clit simultaneously. she yelped in pleasure, her eyes tearing up as she wailed, “want you two to cum in me— fuck, nando- mark!”

“want us to cum inside you, yeah?” mark spoke breathlessly, the two men increasing their pace and intensity as she nodded against his chest. “can’t wait to see you full of me and fernando again, sweetheart.”

“and these tits, fuck, hermosa,” fernando groaned, “can’t wait to see it full of milk again. you’re gonna look so fucking hot when you’re pregnant.”

“like she did before when she had our little girl,” mark added with a chuckle, eventually groaning as he said, “you’re gonna make us so happy- you’re gonna make our little girl happy, baby.”

“m- i want your cum, please,” she pleaded, her walls clenching as the men both groaned in pleasure. “fuck me harder! shit~ fill me up-“

“you want us to fuck you full, hm?” fernando moaned, now fucking her harder from the bottom as he continued, “fuck- i’m cumming, hermosa. hah~ fuck!”

“oh~ hah,” mark groaned in her ear as he shot his load inside her. fernando did too, slowly thrusting and coating her cunt white like mark did.

y/n whimpered, her body limping against fernando as the three of them eased off their orgasms. her body shook violently between the two of them before she took a deep breath and wiped her sweat off her forehead.

she then looked at fernando and chuckled, pressing a kiss on his lips once more before moving to his side. mark had returned from the bathroom to clean her off.

she pursed her lips as she said, “would it be too late if i say that we didn’t need fuck like rabbits to get pregnant?”

mark nearly dropped the damp towel and looked at fernando with widened eyes. fernando returned the surprised look as y/n laughed quietly.

“oh you are horny, baby,” mark laughed with her, pressing a kiss on her lips, his hands hovering on her stomach before he pressed a kiss on it.

fernando shared a kiss with her too before asking, “are you really?”

“i am,” she grinned. “i was going to show you two when i got home but you got excited. i couldn’t tell you two i was pregnant because you two were all over me.”

“oh fuck! finally,” mark exclaimed, grinning at fernando and their wife.

“that’s one christmas gift ticked off the list for ava,” fernando laughed. “someone’s gonna be happy that her christmas is fulfilled.”

oh, the lengths that they’d go through just to spoil their kid.

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015

♡ moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129

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frankcastleonlyfans · 7 months

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I used to pray for times like this 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽 kinktober is such a blessing. milky is doing the lord's work 🙏🏽🫶🏽

Knock Knock, I'm Still Home

Kinktober 06 2023 - Dubious Consent

Day 05 || Kinktober Day 06 || Day 07

᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥

Summary: Old Man Lang is out of town and you decide to take a peak and maybe take a handful of his jewels...so what happens when he's actually home and gives you a choice you have to accept...

Pairing: Stephen Lang X f!Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, dubcon, rape, Non-Con, no condom, bondage, forced orgasm, BDSM, Older man/Younger woman, implied pregnancy.

Author Notes: This is inspired by Stephen Lang's character in Don't Breathe except he isn't blind.

᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥

Old man Lang...you had grown up your whole life fearing the man.

He lived in one of the oldest houses in town. And only god knows how old he really was. You grew up being told by other kids that he was over a hundred years old.

As a kid when you walked home from school you’d pass the fence to his unkept yard and shuddered as if some ungodly being was watching you and about to eat you up.

It didn’t help watching the movie ‘monster house.’ And being gullible enough to believe Old Man Lang’s home was the same house.

And it was obvious the man himself hated Halloween. He had a metal sign he would picket on his lawn every October, “Trespassers will be shot, no trick or treating!!” in red ugly paint. Your friend spread the rumour it wasn’t red paint but the blood of children that stupidly couldn’t read or ignored the sign.

He had a sneer that could curdle milk... and his eyes...those cold steel eyes could make you freeze even in the hottest of summers.

And his voice was like hiss that turned into an angry bark.

He used to yell at you and your friends when you would draw butterflies in chalk on the sidewalk. He would call you “no good brats.” When he’d come back running with a house to destroy your beautiful public walking murals.

Your parents and other adults used to laugh at you and the other children’s fear. They said he was actually a kind sweet old man...why couldn’t they see what you saw?

He was evil on earth. He was mean and grouchy. He was a Grinch without redemption.

You had come back from college in time for the Halloween festivities and parties. You visited your parents your neighbours and even your old friends.

You sat with your old highschool friends around a campfire in the middle of the woods. A pre-halloween party. On the distant hill you could see the tips of the old man Lang house roof.

“He hasn’t been in town for a while...his lights don’t show up inside at night...where do you think he’s gone?” Sebastian murmured into his beer bottle.

Across from you Henry cackled, “You think he could’ve died? Old bastard had a heart attack and no one has found his body yet?”

“Nah he went on holiday,” you heard Zoe snicker with disbelief. She through her braids over her shoulder and pointed at the hill, “See, his car isn’t out front.”

You narrowed your eyes and squinted at the house...you smirked and wondered aloud, “I wonder what his house looks like inside?”

Everyone paused and stopped laughing to glance at you.

“Why?”

You chewed your lip and shrugged, “I bet he’s hiding something...like a million dollar stuffed mattress or a rare sculpture.”

“And what? Goodey two shoes Y/N is gonna break into old man Lang’s? Don’t make me laugh!” Sebastian mocked, “You know what, I fucking dare you to knock on his door or break in. See if you come out alive or not.”

Everyone laughed and teased...they didn’t believe you were capable of something so dangerous and stupid.

You glumly looked back at the fire. Something about the dare chewed at you. While everyone continued their own conversations you went over the pros and cons. You really wanted to know where he was. If he was out of town you could only imagine the shit he probably horded inside over the years.

You stood up and turned on your tail leaving the party.

You drove to the hardware store and collected some supplies.

A crowbar, some black gloves, a lighter, yards of rope, and a flashlight clip.

You went home and waited until early hours of the morning. All the trick or treaters had gone home and to bed. You drove out quietly to Old Man Lang’s house. You tried to not let your own thoughts scare you.

“What if he is dead? Do I call the police? How do I explain why I’m there...”

But Zoe made a point that his car wasn’t outside.

The Victorian era mansion was truly a beautiful structure. With the tall window panes and arched doorways that seem to be inviting you to step inside and the sweeping driveway that led up to a pair of grand double doors, you were being called to practically burgle.

The doors and upper part of the home was framed by tall brick columns, while a grand veranda stretched along the upper level, offering breathtaking views of the surrounding landscape.

You envied Old Man Lang and the sights he probably would’ve been able to see over the town. His house was probably the oldest in the entire suburban area.

You pulled up at the bottom of the hill and climbed over a back fence. You were covered in just black to stay hidden in the shades of night. You ran up the side of the house with your bag of tools. There was a outdoor lattice up to a top window. You tested the sturdiness and accepted it was strong enough for your body weight.

It took a lot of physical energy to climb the lattice and when you looked down you held back a scream. You were so high off the ground.

You clenched to the lattice and carefully pulled out the crow bar. Under the sundown sill opening you jerked the metal tool and lifted the window up. You kept it prompt open with the crowbar and crawled inside the opening. It was dark inside but as you came inside you found that you were entering a closet.

You turned on your flashlight and marvelled at what you saw.

Despite his ragged looks in his tattered plaid shirts he so often was caught in, he had a collection of fine shirts and blazers. You admired the sets of leather shoes and watches on a mirror stand. You opened someone the draws and gasped.

“Jackpot,” you whispered. Inside was a plethora of jewellery. Rings, necklaces, bracelets and watches. You collected them and emptied them into your bag of tools.

You left his closet and entered the space you could only assume was his bedroom. There was a massive pink, white and blue quilt over the bed. You left the room and came to intrude on a hallway balcony. You flashed your torch around the place and smirked... he really must’ve not been home.

You admired his home.

The old mansion exuded a sense of age and grandeur, with its faded rugs and tarnished sconces. The grand hall featured high ceilings and wide entrances, while the dining hall had large windows overlooking the overgrown garden. It was covered in hardwood floors and rich fabric rugs.

In its heyday, the old mansion would have been a bustling centre of activity, with countless maids and footmen running about keeping it pristine and ready for a party. These days, it sat silent and still, its age and beauty faded by decay. Dust filtered in the air making you sneeze more than once..

You decided you would need to make trips back to the car with all the potential loot you could knock off from right under him. Old bastard deserved it...besides who the hell would inherit the estate overall??

You found his kitchen and opened his fridge. Inside it was stacked with an adornment of alcohol and snack foods like pickles, cheese and sausage.

You smirked. You helped yourself to a bottle of rosé. As you pulled back and shut the fridge leaving you in the dark a bright light above you flicked on. Your eyes blinked and widened, you swivelled and gasped at old man standing at the entrance of the kitchen.

“Shit.”

His grisly old faced twisted, “What the fuck!?”

Old man Lang was still home...

“Oh my god...” you were speechless. Your mouth opened and closed nervously, you had no idea what to do.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?!” he shouted, his nose scrunched, “Who are you!?”

You were frozen with fear. You dropped your bag and held your hands up in defeat.

“I...Listen I can just go,” you tried to circle around, hoping you could figure out how to squeeze past him blocking the only entrance into the kitchen, “just please forget I was here.”

His eyes fluttered with disbelief and he shook his head.

He scoffed and glanced at the bag you dropped, “No, were you...were you fucking robbing me? Oh you little bitch...”

You voice heightened the more nervous you got, “Please sir, I thought...I thought you weren’t home,” you gulped as he stepped closer. “I never would have tried to rob you if I knew you were home.”

He nodded and rested his hands on his hips as he scolded you, “I’d bloody hope not. That would make you a worse burglar.”

He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor space in front of him, “Come here.”

“N-no,” you shakily said, “I’ll leave your stuff and just leave.”

You tried to scoot past him when his hand slapped hard onto the door frame in front of your face.

“That’s hard to say considering I’m blocking your way out,” he said with a strained smile, before snarling and reached around you dragging a bar stool from the island, “Sit down.”

Curling your lips inward you walked backwards and planted yourself softly onto the high stool...

He tongued his inner cheek and looked you up and down.

He was still so much taller than you. And for a man of his age you were impressed by the muscle in his biceps pouring from the black wife beater tank top he wore.

His hands slammed on either side of you on the island. He caged you in and bent his head down to your level.

“I’m going to give you a choice...either I can call the police, have you arrested and charged for burglary.”

You whimpered and shook your head.

“Or...” he drawled over your incessant sniffles, “you let me fuck you.”

Your eyes widened and your lips parted into a loud gasp,“wh-what?”

He mocked your gasp and continued with his baritone drawl. This man was old money of the south...“I can call the police or I can fuck your brains out...quickly now I’m an old man and haven’t a lot of time to waste.”

The thought of letting this man rut ontop of you was gut churning. He was handsome but knowing how far the age gap was, you knew he was a perverted fuck. You were young enough to be his granddaughter or maybe even great-granddaughter.

You called his bluff. He probably didnt even know how to use a phone.

You pushed him away gently and watched in amazement as he stepped aside.

You started walking away through the kitchen walkway, and then heard him call, “Tell your mama I said hello. It’s been some time since I’ve had her sugar cookies.”

Now that made you pause...you flew your head back at him. He was leaning against the counter top with his arms crossed. Your eyes narrowed...he knew about her most notable recipe...

You thought he didn’t know who you were!?...that’s why he got so close, to see you better. He wasn’t wearing his glasses.

“Oh I know you’re that Y/L/N girl...it’s been some time since I’ve seen your brat self. College girl last I heard.”

You licked your bottom lip nervously, “Yes sir.”

“And what did the princess go to learn?”

You narrowed your eyes. It was uncomfortable being called princess.

“A-art major.”

“Art major?” he chuckled, “What the fuck would the youth of today know about true art huh?” he grunted, “too busy looking at your phones and drinking your coffee to see real art.”

You felt a twinge of anger and annoyance at his foul remark. It was such a boomer thing to say. You knew art very well. His own arrogance blinded your accomplishments. You would’ve told him off if you weren’t in such hot water being caught trying to rob him. T

He sighed, “No wonder you left my paintings alone...what did you try to knick?” He licked the bag you tried to abandon towards you.

You didn’t want to show him...you should’ve grabbed the bag and ran for the hills. You carefully crouched and unzipped it. You held the flap open and showed him.

“Ah...old family jewellery...well you might’ve made a dime on them...”

He was telling the truth. The rings were old by the fact they were thick and discoloured and had old rubies gleaming in the sockets. The necklaces were lockets.

You re-zipped the bag.

“So...What’s it gonna be brat?” he asked tilting his head at you, “You can let me fuck you... or I tell your parents and the police where you were and what you were doing on Halloween night?”

You stood up slowly and gulped hard.

“I..I don’t know...I don’t wanna be arrested sir...but...can you,” you started to choke up, “-wear a condom please?”

He chuckled and scratched his silvery beard. His gleaming eyes reminded you of a sharks black gaze.

“Sure...”

᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥

Oh dear...who would’ve expected this?

How long had it even been?

You were tethered in ropes. A blind fold covered your face and a red rubber ballgag tightly filled your mouth. Naked, your clothes hung off your body in tatters. You were tied up in a frogtie position. Your arms behind your back and your knees pulled apart. You were laid out on his chaise lounge

His hands you felt pinched your nipples and tugged hard.

You whimpered and couldn’t pull away. He cackled and slapped his bare hand hard down onto your exposed pussy. You squealed.

“Youre a pretty little slut. Huh?” he mocked before slapping your thighs hard until the skin he struck turned hot.

A sound of a popping click filled your ears and the scent of a marker filled your nose.

He glided the cold pen across your belly. God only knows what he was writing.

He was yet to fuck you. When you decided to give into him he kept making the requests and threats...so he managed to tie you up, and immobilise you.

He drew more squiggles across your breasts and then felt the stab of the marker cross your forehead.

His cold hands tossed the pen away and your heard it clatter.

When he left you alone you heard him walk out of the room...after a while his foosteps came back.

Then you heard a loud click and the screaming pull of a Polaroid... the noise repeated and you broke down into real violent sobs.

He was taking Polaroid photos of your exposed flesh and what ever he had written on it.

“These are absolutely coming out perfect!” he cheered...”oh that one is going into the wallet,” he said proudly.

You despaired at whatever image he had taken that he promise to tuck in a personal accessory.

He pressed his lips to your cheek and moaned.

“Bet you regret trying to rob me you little bitch.”

You wailed behind the gag and nodded your head. You felt his fingers called down along your stomached and his thumb strayed down to torturously rub your clit. You tried to hold back the moan but the gag only made it more obvious.

He pulled the blindfold down to your neck. He slapped your cheek lightly. The soft burn was brunt with the rings he wore on his wrinkled fingers.

He pinched your chin and pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth and gag.

“I want you to watch,” he said as he slapped your thighs hard again before rubbing and massaging the fire induced flesh. The pain was agony mixing with the pressure his thumb made on your clit.

You cried, and moaned pitifully, “pweeth!” You shook your head and begged with your eyes.

He laughed and slapped you again, “Please what?” he cackled and rubbed hard, “Please make me cum?”

You curled your toes and sniffled loudly while you wept.

He kissed your chin, “Please fuck me?”

You nodded vigorously. The quicker he fucked you, the quicker he would let you go and not call the police. You were frightened and the more he rubbed and slapped, the warmer your insides felt and your pussy buzzed...

He bent his head down to your chest and licked at your solid nipples. You sighed deliriously as his warm mouth covered you and his silver whiskers tickled your skin.

His thumb you were amazed wasn’t cramped up. You tried rocking your hips but the frogtie made it nearly impossible.

You heard his belt unclinking and his zipper screaming open. The Viagra he took ten minutes ago was finally in full affect. You saw how the blood had made his tip swollen and near purple.

He was fondling his balls and rubbing his tip over your tied up thighs... he didn’t put a condom on...

Your eyes widened and you shook your head, begging him behind the gag as he aligned his pale naked cock to your ready and very fertile cunt...

He was truly evil Old Man Lang, how could you expect any different?

He entered to find you wet and ready, gliding him into you and sucking him, milking him with your needy pussy.

You tossed your head back onto the couch and yelled. You only agreed to this if he wore a fucking condom. He slammed in with a nasty grunt and stuttered his hips before rocking you both into the chaise cushions.

He was thicker than your eyes assumed. He was filling every empty wall of you wet cave. He tweaked your nipples and pushed your head forward. You stared at the black marker and a long grey furred snake buried down deep inside of you.

You felt warm and hot inside.

The sounds of your squelching was morbid. You felt so embarrassed. He kissed your head and continued a hard but slow pace.

Glancing up you watched his elderly face contort as he fell into utter pleasure inside of you.

Your toes curled and uncurled.

His hands played with your clit and nipples. He licked your neck and nipples your ear.

“You hear that my dirty little girl?...you hear how my old cock is fucking deep into your teen pussy? No boy could do this...no boy...but a man...” he shuddered.

You couldn’t correct him with the gag was in. You weren’t exactly a teenager anymore...you were twenty one...Drinking age.

“Oh Jesus Roosevelt Christ!” he cried and shook in delight. He buried himself deep enough to hit your cervix. The pounding sent you and him over the edge. You squeezed your walls tight and let go with a weepy moan while he groaned and hissed ontop of you.

That viagra didn’t exactly last long you smartily thought.

You shut your eyes, your body trembled through the small stabs of the aftermath orgasm. He pulled out and moaned loudly.

He crouched to the ground and grabbed his camera again.

This time you watched him aim the lens at you. He was directing the focus onto your pussy and he scolded you when you tried moving away. He smacked your thigh and held you open. His fingers trailed down and spread your labia.

You squinted...why wasn’t he taking the photo?

But you quickly realised as your muscles contracted what he was waiting for....

You felt the slick wet gloop leak out from your raw slit. His pearly white cum...

The camera flashed and the dragging him of it spitting out the photo tortured your soul. He pulled it out as it finished and waved it about while the colour hit the ink.

His cock hung limp out of his jeans as he walked and sat next to you. He held the photo up to your face and pinched your jaw when you tried turning away.

“Look at it...see that? That’s my cunt in your dirty little pussy. Christmas card worthy isn’t it? Yes I think I’ll send this to your Mama the next time you tell me to put on a condom.”

Your nostrils flared at his cruel words. Next time?!

He laughed at your expression, “Did you really think this would be our only time? Oh no no...you tried to steal family heirlooms from over two hundred years ago. You think I’d just let you go after? No your whole body mine now, little miss art major.”

He kissed your cheek before he slid down to his knees in front of you again and kissed your thighs.

“Besides, this little asshole is just begging to be filled with my rich cream...and I have a whole box of camera Polaroid ink.”

᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥

Two weeks...two fucking weeks it had been...he kept you there for a fortnight and he texted your parents through your phone saying you were okay...when he let you go.... You didn’t bother going to the police. The sick old fucker had made a photo album...the sick fuck made you enjoy those long two weeks.

You almost didn’t want to leave...

You drove to the pharmacy and bought a pregnancy test.

Lord knows someone has to inherit Old Man Lang’s house.

#dark!fic #dead dove do not eat #stephen lang is so hot thanks for that milky

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frankcastleonlyfans · 7 months

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never forgiving aston martin for fucking up so bad with the amr23 that i had to read people disrespecting fernando (when he is outperforming that car) to the point of comparing him to nico fucking hulkenberg for some reason, “maybe it's not the car, have you consider fernando might not be THAT driver” he is the only driver with a 100% q3 appearances rate this year, his teammate just qualified SEVENTEENTH and you really want me to believe he is not THAT driver and he is someone comparable to that german who is allergic to getting a podium???

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frankcastleonlyfans · 8 months

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I remember the day I wrote this. So mastermind of me.

Helaemond give me Hades & Persephone vibes

I see where you're going, but what about Ares and Aphrodite?

Think about it, Ares is the god of war. He's chaos, he's complicated, he doesn't have any sympathy or attachment for the other gods, and yet, he loves Aphrodite. She, on the other hand, already had a husband, Hephaestus. They had to keep their romance a secret, just like Aemond and Helaena.

For the Greeks, any god or goddess could have all kinds of love affairs with whoever they wanted. What wasn’t allowed was to have only one lover and maintain it. In other words, formal infidelity. The relationship between Aphrodite and Ares was just that. And, eventually, Hephaestus found out about their relationship and punished them. But, although Ares and Aphrodite couldn’t see each other again, they broke the rule: they had seven more children.

I CANNOT stop seeing the parallels between these two couples.

#frankcastleonlyfans asks #helaemond #helaemond asks

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frankcastleonlyfans · 8 months

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𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗻𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗯𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻 | joel miller x reader x emmett

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | the last thing you wanted to do was make emmett jealous, or question your loyalty to him; but as it turns out, he may be a little more supportive than you expected when he catches you looking at joel miller.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 7.1k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut - 18+ only (threesome, established relationship, sharing/hotwife kink, daddy kink, oral m and f receiving, anal and DP, creampie, light choking, overstimulation/multiple orgasms, some very gentle/mild degradation, tons and tons of praise), implied age gap (not specified, obviously reader is an adult), takes place in the last of us universe but pretty much porn without plot lol so don't overthink it

In the last year of traveling with Emmett, you’d mostly avoided the QZs. He said that the people there were cheats and liars at best— and that’s to say nothing of the corrupt military leaders that actually ran the place. However, desperation puts people into positions they never expected to be.

After all, you would’ve never imagined being with a man like him, though in this case you meant it in a good way— that you never thought someone as brave and resourceful as him would want somebody like you.

But, that said, you made yourself useful when you could. The best thing you could offer was your medical knowledge, and you were always the one tending to Emmett after injuries or illness. Still, he promised that he loved you for who you were, not what you could do for him. He was shockingly gentle, and passionate, especially for someone who had been forced to be rather ruthless to survive in this new world.

So, while you had been avoiding the quarantined areas and sticking to abandoned strips of forest and city, a lack of food out there forced you to venture to Boston— or, what was left of it.

Fortunately, you'd found more hospitality here than you expected. Maybe it was just pity— and wanting some more of that ammo Emmett had sold him— but a man named Joel Miller had given you a place to stay and helped you earn some rations here so you could finally eat. He reminded you of Emmett in some ways: stoic, hardworking, and generous beneath that hardened exterior. But Emmett had become much more sensitive and open with you in your time together, and Joel was all but a stranger. Sometimes he was so stern that he almost seemed irritated with you, but he kept letting you and Emmett stay, so he must not have been too annoyed by you.

And, you helped him how you could— like when he was in yours and Emmett’s room, sitting in the chair and talking to Emmett about something to do with tomorrow’s open jobs, and you noticed a cut across his palm.

“I-I can help with that,” you offered softly, motioning to the injury. “Do you want me to bandage it for you?”

“It’s not that bad,” Joel shook his head.

“It’s easier to clean it now than worry about an infection later,” you reminded him.

Though he seemed a little tense, glancing at Emmett for a moment, he relented with a nod. You smiled lightly as you stepped forward and knelt by Joel’s feet, picking up his hand and examining the cut.

Once you figured what it needed, you quickly hopped up to rifle through your bag, bringing back a disinfectant wipe and a roll of gauze. Holding his hand open— and feeling a little flustered from touching his warm, rough skin— you carefully wiped up the cut. “Does it hurt at all?” you asked him.

“Not too bad,” he replied lowly.

“You should see Emmett when I’ve gotta wrap him up,” you giggled, “he always acts like what I’m doing hurts more than when he actually got the injury in the first place.”

“Hey,” Emmett warned you in a stern voice, but you smiled up at Joel who returned with a small smirk.

“Alright, all better,” you hummed as you finished bandaging Joel. “Let me know if it’s hurting you too much, that’s a bad sign. Don’t just ignore it and act tough, okay?”

Joel seemed a little uncomfortable— if not sort of amused by— taking orders from you, but he nodded. “I’ll let y’all get to bed now,” he decided as he stood up. “Sleep well. Lot of work to be done in the morning.”

“G’night,” Emmett offered him with a nod.

You felt a little strange, him standing up fully while you were still on your knees on the floor. “Goodnight, Joel,” you said, your voice sounding sweeter and girlier than you intended. Your face felt warm— you worried Emmett had noticed the change in your voice, too, but would he think much of it if he had?

Thankfully, he didn’t say anything about it that night, simply pulling you close when you got into bed, burying his face in your neck.

But the next night, that was a different story. You weren’t actually going to sleep yet, even though it was late enough for it— he’d already changed into an old t-shirt and pajama pants, while you were still in your dress, but he’d laid back on top of the sheets and patted the bed, silently asking you to join him. You smiled and obeyed, of course, leaving the lamp on as you slipped in by his side.

Emmett held you gently, rubbing your back as you laid your head on his chest. “You’re not too tired, are you?” he asked quietly.

For what? you wondered, but just shook your head instead.

“We can stay up a little longer,” he decided. “Didn’t get a chance to hold you all day.”

“Yeah,” you sighed wistfully, nuzzling in more as you squeezed his torso a bit.

“Or talk to you much,” he continued.

“Was there something you wanted to talk about?” you asked, looking up at him from your head’s happy place on his shoulder.

“Just something I noticed,” Emmett replied, looking back at you sweetly as he brushed your hair aside with his fingers. "I think you've got a crush on Joel."

You froze, face getting warm in an instant. "I-I only want you, Emmett, I swear— you know I would never—"

"Shh, shh," he soothed as he chuckled a little, "it's okay, baby. I'm not angry with you… you're not doin' anything wrong."

"Really?" you asked nervously, and he nodded. "I thought you might be jealous…"

He shook his head and laughed a little.

"I-I just think he's handsome," you explained, "and sort of nice— but that's really it!"

"It's alright, baby," he purred, "cause you know something? I was talking to him earlier today, and he wants you too."

Your sat up and your eyes went wide as you tried to imagine that conversation. You could hardly believe that that was true, let alone that Joel has admitted it to Emmett… or had Joel approached Emmett about it, asking for a night with you? Oh god, your head already hurt trying to wrap itself around this…

"I know how hard it is to keep a naughty little thing like you satisfied," Emmett explained with a smirk, sitting up with you and speaking softly beside your ear. “I'm willing to bring in a little… outside help."

Just then, the door opened slowly and Joel stepped inside. You watched him, totally unsure how to feel, as he shut the door behind himself, and then his eyes met yours.

"C'mere," Emmett offered to Joel, patting the bed beside you two. "No need to be shy, Miller."

You watched as Joel took a seat on the bed, and you looked at Emmett as you lowered your voice. "You don't have to do this for me," you promised him softly. "You know I love you— I only need you—"

"It's okay," he soothed as he pet your face. "I told you, I'm not angry. I want you to do this."

"You… want me to?"

"If you want it," Emmett replied.

You shivered as Joel leaned forward a bit, reaching out to gently rub up and down your leg. "What do you think, princess?" he asked softly. "Don't worry, you're not gonna hurt my feelings if you say you don't wanna—"

"I want to," you admitted quickly, afraid to lose your courage if you waited any longer to say it.

Both men smiled at you as you looked back and forth between them; Joel's warm brown eyes against Emmett's steely blue ones… they were so similar, and so opposite, in so many impossible ways.

Without saying anything, Joel suddenly lifted your chin and guided you into a kiss.

You felt strange kissing someone other than Emmett, something you hadn't done in quite some time. Joel's lips weren't as soft as Emmett's, and his kiss wasn't as gentle; he moved his hand to the back of your neck to hold you close, gently pressing his tongue into your mouth. It wasn't too aggressive or anything, but it was certainly quite forward. Emmett's hands were still on you, gently rubbing your back, and you reached back to find and hold one just as your other arm wrapped around Joel's broad shoulders.

Joel made you gasp by breaking away to kiss at your neck instead; you squeezed Emmett's hand slightly. "Fuck, she sounds so pretty," Joel noticed when you moaned at his teeth teasing your pulse.

"Yeah," Emmett agreed. "She can get loud, too, so let's just hope she doesn't wake anybody up…"

Joel pulled your hand away from Emmett's and guided it to the bulge in his jeans; you sighed as you felt it, a hot feeling stirring in your chest. "See how you got me all worked up already?" he scolded you playfully. "C'mon and take it out for me."

Your hands were shaking more than you realized when you brought them to unfasten his belt… it felt new, and exhilarating, and a little scary as well, to be with someone new after so long. But you remembered when it was new with Emmett and it felt like this, exciting and weird and wonderful all at the same time. But you'd known Emmett longer before anything happened between you— you'd only met Joel a few days ago.

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose when you reached into his boxers and wrapped your fingers around his erection. It was so hot to the touch, you were worried your fingers felt cold to him, but he didn't seem to mind much. You shuddered as you released it from the fabric, your mouth falling slack and your hand instinctively beginning to stroke it gently.

Joel's cock wasn't as long as Emmett's, but it was thicker, with a slight curve to one side. Regardless of exactly what it looked like, you were just amazed to see and stroke another cock but Emmett's— it had been so long, and you hadn't been with all too many people before Emmett anyways.

"Show him what you can do, baby," Emmett encouraged in a low voice, and you nodded as you leaned down to capture Joel's cock between your lips.

He hummed as you licked and sucked the tip, swirling your tongue over the head. But he groaned aloud when you dipped lower and took as much as you could into your mouth, letting the tip of his cock bump into the back of your throat.

Then you set your pace, hollowing your cheeks and slowly moving up and down on his length. Your jaw ached slightly already and you'd only just started.

You felt Joel's hand on the back of your head, not pushing you down but just guiding you in your movements.

"Mm," Joel praised with a grunt. "Your girl's got a sweet fuckin' mouth, Emmett…"

"Yeah," he agreed, "and she loves using it— gets her so wet, feel it."

You whimpered slightly as Joel reached back over you and pulled up your dress, slipping a hand inside your panties. His fingers curled through your lips, even toying with your swollen clit for a moment, and you moaned around the thick cock in your mouth.

"Damn," Joel chuckled, "she's soaked."

You broke away from Joel and turned around, looking at Emmett expectantly as you sat on the bed. "Can I suck you too? Please?"

Joel chuckled a little as Emmett nodded, letting you pull his pajama pants down as his hard cock bounced free. It was nice to get back to what you knew for a moment, and you didn't hesitate at all to take hold of him and lick a long stripe up his shaft.

Joel took the opportunity while you were facing away from him to toss up your dress and pull your panties down; he purred at the way the fabric stuck to your pussy, peeling off slowly with all the wetness there. "Fuckin' gorgeous," Joel groaned as he got a good look at it.

Two thick fingers rubbed over your clit until your toes curled; putting your head down in Emmett's lap to suck him sort of forced your hips up, nearly at eye-level with Joel, and feeling him explore you so gently made you feel exposed in the best way.

He slid one finger into your hole, just one, and you clenched down on him. "Damn," Joel groaned. "I don't know how you find the energy to do anything but fill this pretty little pussy of hers, Emmett."

But Emmett wasn't really paying attention to him— he was watching you with heavy eyes and a slack mouth, petting your hair as you bobbed your head on his cock.

"Just like that," Emmett praised you quietly. When you moaned around him in response, it turned into a muffled cry as Joel suddenly took his finger out of you and replaced it with his tongue. His hands held your ass and kept you spread wide for him, burying his face in your pussy and tasting everything his tongue could reach… which was a lot. Your whole body quivered when he licked a long stripe up from the base of your clit all the way up, higher and higher, even running over that hole as you shuddered.

Your moans vibrated through Emmett's cock and his hand in your hair tightened into a fist and tugged on you a bit. "Fuck," Joel moaned against your soaking folds, "tastes even better than it looks."

"Feels even better than it tastes," Emmett promised with a smile, though he snarled as he pulled your head off of him by your hair and guided you into a rough, dominating kiss. He all but threw you back towards Joel, and you were sort of dazed and moving on instinct as Joel turned you around to face him.

But as you leaned down to suck Joel's cock again, he stopped you with a hand around your neck. "Taste yourself first," he ordered before he kissed you, diving his tongue right into your open mouth as you whined at the tangy flavor of your arousal coating his lips.

He pulled you back from the kiss with a growl, holding your hair and examining your face— you must have looked fucked out already, panting through your mouth and looking at him as you waited for your next instruction.

“Was she always this desperate?” Joel asked Emmett, though he was still looking at you. “Or did you train her?”

“A little of column A, a little of column B,” Emmett replied with a light chuckle.

He shoved your head back down into his lap, guiding his cock to your waiting lips and groaning when you swallowed it down. “Good fucking girl,” he praised. “So fuckin’ dirty— damn, that tongue…”

You gagged harder on Joel’s cock when you felt Emmett toying with your clit, teasing you with slow and delicate circles that made your toes curl. “Wanna fuck her?” Emmett asked Joel simply; your hole pulsed in anticipation. The way they talked over you, like you weren’t even there, was sort of irritating: but it made you so desperate, and you couldn’t even figure out why.

Joel just laughed. “Are you kidding?” he wondered.

It was Emmett’s hand that pulled you off of Joel’s cock, but Joel grabbed your neck— not too tightly, just enough to make you let a whimper out of your open mouth— and flared his nostrils as he stared closely at your face.

“Get on your hands and knees for me,” he ordered firmly, and you nodded right away. They both let you go and you took the position, feeling a little shy again suddenly— like you had any right to be shy now. You faced Emmett, your hands on either side of his lap as he sat up on the bed, and he reached up to hold your face as you heard Joel get up and kneel behind you.

He teased you by running the head through your folds a few times, your lip catching between your teeth as the tip bumped against your swollen clit. Emmett studied your face closely, watching your mouth go slack and your brows knit together as Joel pushed just barely inside you.

And then you cried out, far too loud, because he shoved the rest of the way in at once. "Shit," Joel hissed, "fuckin' tight little thing. Fuck."

You could feel his gaze on your hole, no doubt watching himself split you open so wide, when his hands spread your ass open again for a better view.

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy,” Joel awarded it with a sigh. “Fuck, feel how good you fuckin’ take that? Feel how easy this big cock slides right into ya? Such a sweet little girl…”

Easy was one way to describe it— and yes, you were wet enough that he hardly had any resistance— but it felt like too much to really be easy. You fluttered your eyes open, not even noticing that you’d shut them, and found Emmett’s gaze still on you. How was it possible that he was looking at you with so much pride in his eyes? You bit your lip and returned his stare, whimpering each time Joel thrusted roughly into you.

"How's it feel, baby?" Emmett asked you as he gently stroked your cheek.

You choked a little, not sure you could find the words for it. "Different," you managed to blurt out, and both men chuckled a little.

"Yeah, bet it is different," Joel agreed, "don't think I'm gonna be as sweet with'ya as your old man here usually is."

Well, fair enough: Joel wasn't in love with you, so why should he treat you the same? Actually, your thighs shook a little as you thought about that… Joel just wanted to use you, fuck you like a toy and toss you back to Emmett when he was done. It should've been demeaning, but it made your back arch a little deeper.

"Yeah, fuck," Joel praised, "she likes that. Wants me to fuck her harder, I can tell."

“Then do it,” Emmett instructed him.

Joel gripped your hips tightly and slammed into you, making you choke on your own cry. “F-fuck—” you stammered, suddenly gripping Emmett’s shoulders for stability.

“God,” Joel choked behind you; you could feel the bandage you’d given him as his hands held onto your hips, keeping you steady so he could pump into you as hard and fast as he liked.

You whined and dropped your head on Emmett’s shoulder, hearing him gently soothe you as each thrust rocked you forward into him. “Takin’ it so well,” he praised softly, “that’s my girl…”

Emmett started to push your dress down your arms and chest, exposing your tits for his big hands to rub slowly; Joel reached around and felt them too— and four hands on you felt like more than you could keep track of. A hand running up your thighs, squeezing your ass, teasing your tits, even wrapping around your throat and threatening to tighten… you were overwhelmed, in the best way.

"God, she's so perfect," Joel breathed. "Can't believe you let me borrow her."

"Just don't come inside her," Emmett instructed, "that's just for me."

"Fuck, I don't mind," Joel grunted, "think I'll like painting that pretty face…"

“She swallows, too,” Emmett smiled, “if you like that.”

“Like it? Fuck,” Joel laughed, “that’s fucking hot.”

“E-Emmett,” you whimpered in protest, “I never… I’ve never done that for anybody but you…”

“Well, it’s not so different for anybody else,” Emmett assured you with a chuckle. “You’ll swallow his come if I tell you to, won’tcha?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“Good girl.”

That was all you really wanted— to be good for him. And you felt your chest fill with pride knowing he was happy with you now, even if you’d never expected this to make him happy. He could be very protective of you, and you assumed he would never want another man to lay a hand on you— he’d killed men for less, actually. But you realized that there was a massive difference: those men had threatened to hurt you, had scared you, had tried to take you from him. Joel was the first man other than Emmett that you’d trusted, let alone shown any interest in. Emmett was too busy fighting off creeps to mention that he didn’t actually mind good guys getting a chance with you, apparently.

Joel kneaded a handful of your ass roughly, and you whimpered when you felt one of his fingertips start to rub gently against your other hole. “What about this hole?” he asked with a groan. “This just for you, too?”

Emmett grinned a bit. “She’s only done that a few times… what do you think, baby, wanna let Joel try your ass?”

It was already quite an ordeal to get Emmett to fit in there, and you whined just imagining Joel trying to fit that thick cock in your ass— “Oh my god, she just got so fucking wet,” Joel noticed. Clearly, imagining it was having some effect on you. “Think she wants it— don’t ya, sweet girl?”

Though your cheeks burned with shame, you nodded, and both men chuckled darkly. “Warm her up first,” Emmett suggested.

“Of course,” Joel agreed, “wouldn’t wanna break your toy.”

You moaned just from him saying that, before he’d even started to gently press his finger inside you. He spit right down onto it as he slid the digit inside, making you clench around him— both ways. He hummed lowly, twisting and curling the finger into you, still fucking your pussy (though slower than before, thank god).

You gasped as a second finger carefully slid in, almost pushing you too far and making you wince slightly— but Emmett soothed you and kissed the side of your face, rubbing your back to help keep you relaxed. “You can take it,” Emmett promised, “be my good girl, okay? Let him get you ready.”

You nodded and clung tighter to Emmett, moaning when Joel twisted his fingers around and even curled them a bit inside you. “Not too much, is it?” Joel wondered when you whined loudly.

“No, she’s tougher than she looks,” Emmett answered— you sort of thought that question was for you, but you were too desperate to answer properly anyways.

Joel could pump those fingers in and out of you now, picking up the pace slightly to match the way he thrust his cock into your cunt, but when he tried to spread them a little wider he didn’t have much luck. “Still too tight, I think,” Joel noticed with a laugh. “Y’sure she can get stretched out enough for it?”

“Yeah,” Emmett promised, “I can help, hold on—”

He brought two fingers to your open mouth; you sucked on them instinctively, shutting your eyes and moving your head forward to swallow them as deep as you could. What Joel said before suddenly made sense— he really did have you trained.

You bobbed and suckled on Emmett’s long fingers, hearing him whisper his praises to you before he suddenly pulled them out— your open mouth chased after them for a second, and Joel seemed to notice with a small, condescending laugh— and reached over your back, pushing the slick fingers into your hole right beside Joel’s.

“Fuck!” you yelped at the feeling, legs shaking as you realized you’d never been this full: a cock and four fingers, it was more than you’d ever imagined.

Joel groaned a little, picking up the pace of his thrusts into your pussy again, and you did your best to breathe steady as those fingers pumped in and out of you. You couldn’t deny the way it turned you on— none of you could, you could hear it as Joel fucked you slowly. “She’s fuckin’ dripping, Emmett,” Joel noticed with a sigh, “she really likes this little ass played with, huh?”

Emmett laughed and nodded in agreement. “She likes doing what she’s told,” he clarified.

“Such a good little slut,” Joel praised, and you whimpered before Emmett kissed you again.

They continued that way until you worried you’d start begging for a cock in your ass if they made you wait anymore— thankfully, they didn’t make you embarrass yourself like that, Emmett felt with his fingers and saw in your eyes that you were ready. Pulling his fingers out of you, he glanced at Joel behind you: “Go ahead,” he offered simply.

Joel’s fingers left your ass, too, and you felt empty there but different— when his cock slipped from your cunt, you gasped a little at having nothing inside you for the first time in a while, and you glanced back at him. “Yeah,” Joel encouraged, “keep lookin’ back at me while I put my cock in your ass.”

You felt a little awkward doing that, but you did it anyways, biting your lip as he met your gaze and lined up his thick head with your stretched ass. He was still soaked from being in your pussy, and your ass was pretty much dripping with spit now, so he didn’t have too much trouble pushing into your puckered hole— but it was still tight, and you still winced (but kept your eyes on him, of course).

Even with all that prep, you shuddered and whined as Joel slowly slid into your ass— he savored every inch, licking his lips and groaning as he stretched you wider and wider. He seemed to just get thicker, even at the very base of him, and your eyes rolled back when he was seated in you all the way. And then he punched his hips just that little bit more, apparently intent on burying himself in you as far as humanly possible; you gasped and hugged Emmett tighter, turning your head towards him again but shutting your eyes tight from the sting of the stretch.

“God fucking damn,” Joel moaned, digging his fingers into the skin of your hips, clearly trying to control himself. “Fuck, Emmett, you’ve really got yourself such a perfect little fucktoy— where’d you find her?”

Emmett smiled wide, stroking your hair and looking at your face— painted with filthy pleasure— tenderly. “She found me,” he answered. “Still got no fuckin’ idea how I got so lucky.”

Joel started to move, making you tighten your hands into weak fists, and set a careful pace that gave you some time to adjust… even if not quite as much as you would’ve wanted.

A sudden, sharp thrust nearly knocked you forward— thankfully Emmett was there to catch you— and you moaned loudly. Emmett laid down slightly, letting you lay on top of him and hide your face in his chest. “That’s my girl,” he praised quietly.

As Joel’s movements sped up a little more, he sighed, seeming to find a comfortable pace (for him, at least) as you forced yourself not to tense up: it didn’t hurt, but it was certainly an intense feeling, especially when you felt Joel’s heavy balls slap against your dripping pussy.

"This'll be better than coming on your face," Joel grinned. "Filling up this tight ass, fuck, you're so dirty, baby…"

You felt someone move your hips down a bit, changing the angle of it all, but you were too lost in it to even know who it was. Emmett kissed your neck, teeth teasing your pulse, and you whined— you would beg him to bite you and leave a mark that everyone could see, if you could speak at all right now.

Your legs ended up straddling Emmett’s lap, and you gasped when you felt his cock press against your pussy— you'd been too distracted to even notice him taking it out— and he cooed at you sweetly. "You can take both, right?" he asked quietly. "You've always got room for me, don't you?"

Though you were still intimidated by the idea, you nodded as you bit your lip.

"That's my girl," Emmett praised, grabbing your hips and pulling you down onto his cock.

You almost screamed at the feeling of being so full, digging your fingers into Emmett’s shoulders. He looked up at you with eager eyes, watching you struggle to take them both— but you eventually relaxed enough to sink down and fit them both to the hilt.

“Good fucking girl,” Joel praised with a groan, holding on tight to your hips as he started to move again slowly— as for Emmett, his hands moved from your waist to your head to guide you into a sloppy, needy kiss.

Your moans were loud yet weak, your shaky hands clutching at Emmett desperately as they both pumped into you. Joel seemed almost overwhelmed by it, too, leaning down over you, growling and biting at your neck and shoulder.

“F-fuck, dunno how long I can last like this,” Joel admitted, “so fucking tight…”

You jumped slightly when one of Joel's rough hands reached around your hips and slid down to your clit, rubbing at the bud until you jerked back from the sudden intense sensation.

"Just wanna feel you come first, princess," he explained with a purr.

“A-ah, fuck,” you whimpered, shaking all over as you tried to process all that you were feeling. They moved you around how they wanted you, and at some point Emmett was sitting up and holding you in his lap while Joel kept thrusting into your ass from behind while holding your shoulder— how were you supposed to keep track of all the anatomy of this, while you had two big cocks stretching you open and Joel’s rough, experienced fingers on your clit.

Emmett moaned against your skin as he kept sucking on your neck, meanwhile Joel was speaking gruffly by your ear, sending chills up your spine. “Can you come, princess?” he asked darkly. “‘Round both our cocks?”

“Yes,” you admitted in a gasp, “fuck— Emmett, can I come?”

He smiled against your neck; “Of course, babydoll,” he breathed. “Let’s show Joel how much you love bein’ fucked like a whore.”

You wrapped your arms around Emmett’s neck, dropping your head limply back on Joel’s shoulder as the feeling washed over you: you tightened up everywhere, inside and out, and they both groaned as they watched you give in to ecstasy. You weren’t even sure whose hands were where anymore, but they were everywhere, and even through your exhaustion you felt desperation guide your hips to move on their own— chasing an even higher pleasure.

“Fuck,” Joel grunted as he watched you go, his own thrusts getting faster and rougher. “Fuck, that’s so cute.”

You didn’t expect him to describe you like that in a time like this, and you whimpered as your walls flexed again. You could tell Joel was getting a little desperate himself, that bandaged hand giving your clit a break and holding your hip tightly instead. “Come in her ass, Joel,” Emmett ordered with a sigh, staring at your face with heavy eyes, “she’s ready.”

He did it pretty much instantly, groaning lowly and tossing his head back with a sharp breath in through his teeth; you felt him flexing, and it stretched your tighter hole even just that much more. You whined softly at the feeling, hearing distantly little praises from Emmett, and finally Joel finished and pulled out of you with a little hiss.

It was less of a relief than you expected— your ass was still stretched and sore, and Emmett was still so deep inside you… and then, a moment later, you felt that hot trickle out of your used hole. You felt filthy with Joel’s come running out of you like that, tickling your inner thigh as it dribbled down— but the way Emmett was looking at you seemed to remove any sense of shame you had left.

"God, look how beautiful you are," Emmett grunted as he guided you to move faster in his lap, "men just can't help it with you, can they? Bet every guy in this town wants you, bet they're all thinking about having you to themselves— but you're mine, huh? My girl?"

"Yes," you sobbed, "yes, I'm yours— all yours, Emmett, always—"

"Gonna show Joel whose girl you are," Emmett promised with a growl. "Gonna get this pussy nice and full how you like it."

"Yes," you said again, a needy groan this time— the tip of his cock was hitting so deep inside you that you could hardly breathe, yet you only wanted more. "Yes, please, please— come in me, daddy."

"Damn," Joel laughed, "she is dirty."

Emmett grinned. "Only gets that way when she's real desperate. Needs her daddy's come so bad…"

“Please,” you begged shakily, feeling him pull you closer and start to buck his hips up into you faster; he was breathing roughly, quickly, and you knew that he was getting close, but he had a habit of holding back until he absolutely couldn’t take it anymore just so he could watch you like this for as long as possible.

Apparently unsatisfied with the speed and control he could reach with you on top of him, Emmett pushed you back down onto the bed, holding your legs and fucking you hard and fast— you cried out, arching your back as his hands slid up to hold your waist.

You gasped loudly when Joel unexpectedly leaned down and sucked on one of your tits; your back arched even further towards it, and you heard him moan against your skin as his tongue circled the hardened bud. Emmett's mouth suddenly found the other one, without his pace slowing down at all, and you could've screamed right then. You hadn't realized how sensitive they would be, and never in your life had you had both sucked on at once— it was so overwhelming, it was making jolts of white hot pleasure burst inside you, and fuck Emmett’s cock was filling you just right, hitting that perfect spot—

"I'm coming," you sobbed, "f-fuck, daddy, I'm coming—"

Emmett groaned loudly, his mouth falling slack around your breast as hot breaths fanned your skin. You felt him starting to flex inside you, and you moaned louder knowing he was filling you so deep. His grunts were in time with his deep, hard thrusts into you, and you went numb and tingly all over as the orgasm seemed to drain everything out of you.

Finally, he slowed to a stop, moving up to kiss you slow and sweet— both of you breathing heavily against each other, your shaky fingers reaching up to hold his face and run through his hair.

He broke away and sat up with a sigh; you wanted to kiss him longer, but you were too exhausted to even complain, simply relaxing against the bed and almost wincing when he pulled out of your sore cunt.

Emmett sat back and tugged your limp form up a bit, cradling you as he held your back to his chest. “Oh, look at that,” he whispered just beside your ear, reaching down to rub your thigh, “all’a my come running out of you… both holes nice and full just how you need… so fuckin’ pretty, baby, my pretty little girl…”

You just whimpered sleepily, soaking in the warmth of Emmett’s embrace.

"Why don't you taste her now, Joel?" Emmett suddenly offered him with a smirk.

Before you could process that idea, Emmett was holding your legs open while Joel dived down between them. You whimpered as Joel licked up through your folds, your whole body getting hot at the thought of Joel tasting you and Emmett. He really didn't mind doing that with another man's come? The idea that he might just be that insatiable for you…

He suddenly latched on to your clit and sucked hard, making you yelp and buck your hips— but Joel and Emmett were both holding onto you tight, keeping you steady as your body shook uncontrollably.

"Oh, that's it's," Emmett praised, "let him taste you, baby— let Joel lick that pretty pussy, okay?"

"F-fuck— s'really sensitive—" you choked out.

Emmett held you tighter, both hands groping your breasts and his fingertips gently toying with your nipples. “Bein’ so good for me,” he praised in a low, rough voice. “So fuckin’ pretty when you’re getting your pussy ate, babydoll— never get to appreciate it ‘cause I’m too busy doin’ it. But you look so fuckin’ cute like this…”

Your back arched, pushing your shoulders against Emmett's chest as he held you, and he trailed gentle kisses along your shoulder and up your neck.

"Gonna come, huh?" he noticed, pinching your nipples harder until you whined. "It's okay, baby, let Joel make you come. Just one more and you can rest…"

“C-can’t,” you choked, “can’t come anymore—”

“Shh, you can,” Emmett promised. “You can show Joel how good you are for me, huh? You can come when I tell you to.”

“Fuck,” you sobbed, grabbing onto Emmett’s hand tightly— though your other hand gripped a handful of Joel’s salt-and-pepper hair, making him look up at you with those dark brown eyes…

“Mhm, you can do it,” Emmett continued, squeezing your hand in encouragement. “Put your tongue inside her, Joel.”

You shuddered and quaked when Joel obeyed, the most filthy sounds filling the room while Joel lapped and sucked at your leaking pussy. Emmett’s hand— the one you weren’t holding onto for dear life— groped your tits roughly, pinching your nipples hard enough to make you buck your hips against Joel’s face, but Joel still had that iron-tight grip on your hips to keep you where he needed you.

Joel was moaning lowly against your skin, focusing his tongue attention back on your clit— from teasing little circles around it to hard, rough licks right over it. This time, when he went back to sucking on the nub harder than ever, you knew you couldn’t hold it back anymore. “Fuck, Joel!” you screamed, making him groan darkly again. “I’m gonna come!”

Emmett dragged his teeth over the shell of your ear, laughing softly yet wickedly. “You’re sayin’ his name now?” he noticed. “You’re not coming for him, baby, you’re coming for me. Because I told you to. Yes?”

“Yes, yes,” you promised, chanting it mindlessly. “Yours, Emmett— fuck, I’m yours, you know I am. Only yours.”

His hand moved from your breast to your face, turning it far enough to look at him— those eyes were boring into you, and you whimpered with your lip between your teeth as you hoped you hadn’t disappointed him. “Say it again,” he demanded.

“Yours,” you repeated as you looked into his eyes— even though your imminent orgasm made it harder and harder to keep your eyes open. “I’m yours, daddy.”

He grabbed your jaw and kissed you hard, his tongue keeping your mouth wide open; he swallowed every moan as you came, moaning himself like he could taste your pleasure in the kiss, holding your hand tighter than ever.

Joel kept eating you out even when your whole body was shaking, even when your weak little hand was trying to push his head away— he only stopped when Emmett’s hand joined yours, just one touch and Joel lifted his head and sighed.

Emmett guided your hand back up to his face, and you held it (with what little strength you had) as you kept kissing him… though the kiss changed, it went from rough and hungry to soft and slow and gentle.

He stopped kissing you just enough to speak, his thumb petting your cheek so you would open your eyes. “You did so good for me, babydoll,” he cooed under his breath.

Knowing you had finally done everything he wanted, you melted limply into Emmett’s arms, who chuckled a little at your exhaustion.

“Looks like you really wore her out, Miller.”

“You did, too,” Joel returned. “Besides, at that age, I’m guessin’ she’ll be raring to go again by the end of the hour.”

Emmett snorted. “I can get her begging in five minutes,” he countered.

“Please— m’too tired,” you whimpered, cuddling up tighter against Emmett— but his hand was already snaking up your thigh, teasing further between your legs.

“Too tired, huh?” he taunted quietly, petting closer to your sore pussy until your legs spread naturally to let him touch where he wanted. “Good girl.”

Two fingers delicately teased you, circling around your clit but never quit reaching it— until you were rocking your hips up to try to find some attention in the right spot.

When he did touch your clit, ever so gently, you shivered and mumbled his name; your eyes still closed, you hid your face in his neck and began to shamelessly rock against his fingers. He teased your opening, making it apparent how wet you still were, but never dipped inside no matter how hard you tried to tempt him to.

“Please,” you whispered, too desperate to feel guilty for it at all, “Emmett, I need—”

“Jesus,” Joel laughed, “didn’t take long at all, did it?”

“Nope,” Emmett agreed.

“So fuckin’ needy,” Joel groaned.

“Yep,” Emmett responded simply again. “Tell us what you need, babydoll…”

“I…I need…” you mumbled, face getting warm. “Need to be full…”

“With what?” Joel pressed.

“Um…” you stalled, nervous to admit it but knowing they wouldn’t rest until you did. “With a… a cock.”

Emmett snorted. “Any cock?” he wondered.

“W-well, I figured one of you two—”

They both laughed a little, and you felt silly but your walls tightened against themselves. “We’re not young like you, sweetpea— it’s not that easy,” Joel explained. “Gonna need a little more patience…”

“But— but you got me all worked up!” you whined. “You did that on purpose…”

“Yeah,” Emmett admitted with a purr, “yeah, baby, I did that on purpose.”

You pouted a bit. “You’re mean sometimes…”

“Mhm,” he agreed with a soft laugh, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Joel. “How long will it take you to get hard again?”

“Not that long,” Joel answered, “if she puts that mouth to good use.”

Emmett helped you sit up, patting your back encouragingly. “Go ahead, baby, you know what to do…”

As you crawled towards where Joel knelt on the bed, still totally dazed and exhausted, you realized that tonight was far from over— and that tonight may not be all that Emmett had in store for you.

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frankcastleonlyfans · 9 months

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Cillian Murphy - Masterlist

Updated: 24/07/2023

COMING SOON:

POST LOS ALAMOS

I won’t be giving anything away but, in this fic, you will meet Cillian during the filming of Oppenheimer, which is also where you will embark on an emotional journey. There is just one problem though, both of you are married to someone else…

CURRENT PLOTS:

YES! MR MURPHY (ONGOING)

Summary: Post Oppenheimer, Cillian takes a break from acting and you are a young drama student who indulges on an intense one- night stand with a much older stranger. When the stranger then shows up at acting school, you get the shock of your life. Will you get closer to this man who is also 25 years older than you?

Parts: 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7; 8; 9; 10; 11; 12; 13; 14; 15

THE FOURTH SEASON (ONGOING)

Summary: You are a young actress who meets Cillian on set of Peaky Blinders, Season Four. Will his professionalism and the fact that he is twenty years older than you prevent him from falling in love with you?

Parts: One; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six; Seven; Eight; Nine; Ten; Eleven; Twelve, Thirteen

OPPENHEIMER (ONGOING)

Summary: You are twenty-five years old and the daughter of director Christopher Nolan. On set of your father’s latest blockbuster movie, you meet the charming Irish actor and one thing leads to another. An age gap relationship ensues. Can you keep your relationship secret?

Parts: One; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six; Seven; Eight; Nine; Ten; Eleven; Twelve; Thirteen; Fourteen; Fifteen; Sixteen; Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen,20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28; 29; 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36; 37; 38

SMUT/NO PLOT:

USE ME

Summary: You are a young actress who has a crush on Cillian. You become his little minx, just for fun, after he takes your virginity.

Parts: One; Two; Three

THE BABYSITTER CHRONICLES

Summary: Less romance and more Smut is the motto of this fic where the Reader starts a secret but purely sexual relationship with Cillian, who is also the father of the children she babysits. Expect slow and irregular updates. It is a Smut Series.

Parts: One, Two

COMPLETED PLOTS:

CHEATPASS (COMPLETED)

Summary: You have regular sexual and non romantic encounters with Cillian on set of Peaky Blinders.

Parts: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

THE SECRET (COMPLETED)

Summary: You have a secret and romantic age gap relationship with Cillian on set of Peaky Blinders. Will you be caught?

Parts: Part One; Part Two; Part Three; Part Four

THE SINGER (COMPLETED)

Summary: You are a singer and start an age gap relationship with Cillian, receiving media backlash.

Parts: Part One; Part Two; Part Three; Part Four

FAN WITH BENEFITS (COMPLETED)

Summary: You are a fan and get to have a steamy night with your favourite actor.

Parts: Part One; Part Two; Part Three

ROOMMATES (COMPLETED)

Summary: This a story from best friends to lovers during a pandemic.

Parts: One; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six; Seven; Eight; Nine; Ten; Eleven; Twelve; Thirteen; Fourteen; Fifteen; Sixteen; Seventeen

THE LAST SEMESTER (COMPLETED)

Summary: Cillian is your university lecturer for a specific project only and a relationship develops.

Parts: Part 1 to 16; Part 17; Part 18; Part 19; Part 20; Part 21; Part 22; Part 23; Part 24; Part 25; Part 26; Part 27; Part 28; Part 29; Part 30; Final

JUST FRIENDS (COMPLETED)

Summary: Two single parents become friends with benefits and then more ensues.

Parts: One; Two; Three; Four; Five; Six; Seven; Eight; Nine; Ten; Eleven; Final

MY FRIEND’S FATHER (COMPLETED)

Summary: The Reader is Cillian’s 20 year old daughter’s best friend and has a crush on the handsome actor. This is a age gap romance with lots of drama.

Parts: 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7; 8; 9; 10; 11; 12; 13; 14; 15; 16; 17; 18; 19; 20 ;21; 22 ;23 ;24; 25; 26; 27; 28; 29; 30; 31; 32; 33; 34; 35; 36; 37; 38; 39; 40; 41

Continuar lendo

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frankcastleonlyfans · 9 months

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𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐂𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 | dad's best friend!cillian murphy x reader

��𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | based on the following request: what would dilf/dad's best friend cillian do if he found your dildo?

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5k (this was literally supposed to be a drabble...)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut (18+ only), significant age gap (reader is college-aged, cillian is in his late forties), voyeurism/exhibitionism, semi-public sex, use of toys, praise kink, unprotected sex, very brief/semi sarcastic 'sir' kink, shockingly fluffy??

Not that your parents' anniversary cocktail party wasn't horribly riveting (cue dramatic eyeroll) but you were upstairs, on your bed, on your phone; you'd had enough of 'so how's college going?' and 'what's your major again?' and 'got any boyfriends yet? you must be a heartbreaker' for one evening— or a lifetime, preferably.

It wasn’t even that comfortable to be on the bed in your party dress—a cute, short sparkly one that you’d picked out for tonight—but it was better than standing around and trying to balance in those sky-high heels; those you had kicked off into the corner of the room the second you were alone.

When you heard a small rap on the door, you hummed a quick "Come in!" and didn't even look up from your phone, figuring it was your mom or dad come to find you after you disappeared.

Instead, you heard Mr. Murphy's voice as he leaned in the doorframe; "Sorry to bug you," he said, startling you slightly as you closed Instagram and set your phone down. "Just needed a Tide pen— your mom said you might have one in here?"

"O-oh, yeah," you said, sitting up, "sure— what happened?"

"Salsa fiasco," he joked softly as he shut the door behind him, showing you the dark red stain on his shirt— though the shirt itself was red, so it wasn't too egregious, but still noticeable.

"That's too bad," you chuckled, "I warned them about that salsa— if you serve salsa, there's gonna be a fiasco, that's what I said."

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "They should listen to you more," he agreed.

"I've got a couple stain remover pens in that top drawer," you suggested as you pointed to your dresser.

"Great," he smiled, starting to unbutton the shirt; you got nervous for a second until you realized he had on a black undershirt beneath. It's hard to say why you were nervous about that, since you'd seen him shirtless plenty of times in the years you'd known him...

"Nobody's worried about me going missing, right?" you wondered as he continued working on the buttons, and he shook his head while shrugging slightly.

"Not yet," he replied, "but they're going to want to find you soon, you're sort of the star of the night."

You rolled your eyes, frowning. "It's my parents' anniversary party, I think they should be the focus."

"Maybe they should, but you're the much more interesting one," he informed you.

You pulled your legs up a bit, leaning to the side as you sat on your bed; as much as all this attention from your parents' friends was usually annoying to you, something about being interesting to Mr. Murphy didn't bother you so much. "Is it weird for you?" you asked, lowering your voice a bit; he tilted his head quickly as if to ask what you meant. "Going to an anniversary party after, you know—"

The words hung in the air, seeming to gather around his conspicuously naked ring finger: after the divorce. "Oh, no," he scoffed, taking off his cufflinks. "It's fine; but I'm sick of the questions about it."

You winced. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Don't worry," he laughed finally shirking off the shirt; he looked a little too good in just the short-sleeved undershirt. "You can make it even by letting me ask you how college is going."

"Oh god," you groaned, rolling your eyes, and he laughed.

"If I didn't know from your parents that you were acing it, I'd worry that your aversion to talking about it meant you were struggling somehow."

"It's not that," you assured, "it's the people."

"The people?" he pressed. "Or the guys?"

You laughed nervously, looking down at your lap. "Geez, you learn to mindread while I was gone or something?"

He stepped around your bed to get to the dresser, laying his shirt down over it. "No, I just remember that time— somehow. And I remember how much of a headache I and every other young guy was."

"I guess not much has changed then," you smiled.

"What, I'm still a headache?" he grinned as he looked over his shoulder at you.

"No, I meant—"

"I know what you meant, I'm just teasing," he chuckled. "Top drawer you said?"

"Yeah," you nodded, and he opened the top drawer of the dresser; of course, only right then did you remember that you should have specifically said top left. Because the top right was—

Oh shit.

You swallowed thickly as Cillian stared down into the open drawer, and your heart pounded as you somehow hoped and prayed that what was in there had turned invisible or something; but if the look on his face was anything to go by, it was just as visible as ever.

“I—fuck, sorry, I forgot that’s—” you choked out, face burning impossibly hot. “I never meant for you to see—I’m—could you shut the fucking drawer, please, you pervert?!”

“I’m the pervert?” he laughed thinly, looking at you again finally. “You’re the one with a massive fucking dildo in here.”

“Well—you weren’t supposed to see that—”

“Yeah, but—fuck,” he choked, “I was just looking for your stain remover and I see your— you have a— are you sure that isn’t technically considered a weapon or something? How’s a guy supposed to compete with that?”

“That’s the great thing about it: he doesn’t have to compete,” you explained, “that’s sort of the whole idea.”

He looked back at it for a second and you yelped, reaching your leg off the bed to kick him in the hip. “Would you please shut the drawer?!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed a bit, “but I mean, how am I supposed to react to that?

“Well, you’re not supposed to just stare at it!” you insisted.

He shut the drawer, giving you a look you couldn’t possibly decipher.

“What were you thinking?!” you said, somewhat rhetorically.

“I—well,” he hummed, looking away from you for a second, “I was thinking that I can’t imagine how you can possibly fit something like that.”

You blinked quickly, not sure what to say in response to that. “Well—I mean, it’s a little big, but… it gets the job done. Keeps me from calling the guys I shouldn’t be calling.”

He nodded. “Well, that’s good… none of those college boys could possibly deserve you…”

His eyes were running all over you, and even though you’d picked out this dress just for this party because you loved how you looked in it, you felt a little exposed by his stare.

“I just can’t believe a girl like you—”

“Come on, I’ve never been a saint,” you scoffed, glancing away.

“No, I just mean… the size of that thing…” he trailed off.

“You really can’t get over that part,” you noticed, “is this some kind of… intimidation, Freudian situation?”

You glanced quickly at his pants, and he started to deny it instantly. “No—come on, it’s not—I just can’t believe you take all that. For fun. It looks like it would break you.”

You hadn’t even had any drinks at this anniversary party, and yet you found yourself with this foggy head like you were tipsy; you blurted something out as if you were tipsy. “What, you want me to prove it?”

His chest sunk a bit, and you were about to take it back when he spoke before you. “I’d like to see you try.”

Biting your lip, you sat up on the bed, reaching around him and into the drawer. He didn’t step back or out of the way, just let you grab the toy and lean back on the bed in front of him.

You reached up under your dress, sliding your panties out of the way, finding yourself suddenly plenty wet to fit this toy.

His eyes never left you, though they certainly travelled all over your body as you pressed the toy up to your entrance; it was thick, he wasn’t wrong, and you had to slowly warm yourself up to it whenever you used it on yourself.

After pushing with enough pressure, the tip finally slipped inside and you let out a small sigh. He watched carefully, and your lips fell open into a moan as you pushed the toy deeper into yourself. When the stretch became a bit too sharp, you winced and slowed down, trying to take your time even with your heart racing and hands shaking.

You heard his own breathing picking up, watching you take the toy deeper; you found your gaze wandering over him, even lingering on his groin to see if you could catch a bulge growing there, but nothing was obvious yet. You stared for a moment at his hands, too, suddenly wishing to have them all over you—well, maybe not that suddenly, you’d sort of thought about this before. It wasn’t until somewhat recently that you noticed how sexy he was. Maybe when you were younger, you understood that he was better looking than all the other adults you knew, but only once you left for college did you start thinking about him out of nowhere, imagining what he was really like when he wasn’t just being friendly with you—you even asked your mom once on a phone call if he was dating anyone. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to get suspicious when you asked that; but she’d be more than fucking suspicious if she walked in now, saw you doing this to yourself under his watchful eye.

Oddly enough, the knowledge that someone could walk in and see this just made you even more desperate, and you gasped as you pushed the toy in deeper.

It still wasn’t all the way in, and you already felt so full… truth be told, he had a point about it maybe being too big for you—when you usually used it on yourself, you only put it in a little over halfway, since that was all you really needed. You hadn’t put the whole thing inside since you first got it—and yes, you’d ordered it online, because if you’d seen it in person you probably would’ve been as intimidated by its girth as he was.

Your decision not to wear a bra with this dress became very apparent when his gaze settled on your chest; your nipples were hard, and clearly visible under the fabric now. It was just because it was strapless that you went without, but you were thankful for it when you saw him quickly lick his lips at the sight. You dared to moan just a little louder as you pulled the toy in and out, picking up your pace carefully.

“How’s it feel?” he asked lowly, his eyes drifting back to where the toy slid into you.

“Good,” you mumbled, “really fucking good.”

“Can you really take it all?” he pressed, making your walls clench on the silicone.

Instead of answering aloud, you simply pushed it all the way in until your eyes rolled back—it was so deep, pressing heavy and fat against your deepest points until it felt like you might burst.

“Fuck,” he praised—it was just a swear, but the way he whispered it made it sound like a praise.

You sped up slightly, trying to do this the way you normally would without someone staring at you. But you were even more sensitive with him watching, your walls clenching more and more around the toy until it was almost hard to keep thrusting it in and out. Sighing, you shut your eyes and laid back on the bed to try to help yourself relax. The change in angle just seemed to make the toy go deeper, rubbing harder against the spot inside you that made your back arch.

“You’re so wet,” he breathed; you whimpered, nodding in agreement, and kept moving the dildo as deep as you could get it with every thrust.

Your free arm went back over your head to hold onto the comforter under you, your hand gripping tight for some relief for the pressure inside you. “Fuck yes,” you whispered, knitting your brows together and fucking yourself faster. “Feels so fucking good…”

He hummed a little, but you kept your eyes shut, afraid you’d lose your nerve if you looked at him again. It had been months since you used anything but this, and you had no regrets—the toy performed way better than any of the guys you’d met at college. But, truthfully, you didn’t like having to do this to yourself. It felt like you could never move it fast or hard enough, and you needed to constantly have perfect control over the toy to get yourself to come—and when you come, the last thing you want is to take control, you want to lay back and lose control. Still, it was better than the college fuckboys who smelled like beer and didn’t last more than two minutes.

Thinking about them wasn’t going to help you now, though; it was much better to think about Cillian, about those icy blue eyes running all over your body, about how his hands would hold you down while he claimed you, about how his lips would feel on your neck before he whispered in your ear that you were his…

You let out a sharp and sudden moan as the toy hit harder on that spot; your legs started to shake. “Good girl,” he mumbled, making you moan even louder because god, those words just sounded right in his accent, with that rough voice—and they sounded right being said to you.

“Fuck,” you choked, “Mr. Murphy, I—”

He laughed a little. “So polite,” he cooed. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

Though it made your heart beat even faster, you did as you were told. His stare was all-encompassing, making you feel completely trapped in a way you enjoyed more than you could’ve imagined.

“Call me Cillian,” he insisted.

You weren’t sure if he meant to literally call him that right in that moment, but it sort of came out anyway: “Cillian,” you moaned, and the grip he’d taken on the dresser behind him tightened.

“Can you come for me?” he asked lowly. “Right now? Can you come on that fake cock?”

You bit your lip and nodded, moving the toy faster and faster— more desperate to come than ever. “I—fuck, yeah, I’m close…”

“Good,” he praised again. “Let me see you come, honey.”

Your back arched harder, deeper—your hands were shaking but you kept going, holding on tight to the dildo and forcing it back and forth as your legs began to quiver.

Moans poured from your mouth faster than you could try to quiet them—everyone was downstairs, you just had to hope the music and conversation was enough to drown out your desperate, pleading noises. “Fuckin’ beautiful,” he mumbled, right as you hit the peak and melted into the mattress, a wave of ecstasy pouring over you.

You felt hot everywhere, but especially between your legs—you could swear you felt yourself leaking out around the toy, soaking it, giving away how needy you’d become and not even having the mental energy to feel any shame for it.

Cillian certainly didn’t look like he was trying to shame you for it; when you opened your eyes again, he had a stunned expression—in the best way. “You normally come that fast for a toy?”

You laughed a little, but you still couldn’t quite catch your breath. “No,” you admitted, “it normally takes… a bit longer than that…”

“What was different about tonight?” he mused, and you scoffed and rolled your eyes again.

“Shut up,” you sighed. “Now I have to figure out how to take this thing out—I’m always sore after…”

“If you can handle putting it in, taking it out shouldn’t be much trouble,” he noticed.

Which, yes, that would make sense, but after coming you always got all tight and sensitive and it could be a little intense.

“How about I help you?” he offered, and your chest tightened. He waited for you to nod before carefully wrapping his hand around your own, watching your face as he gently guided you to pull the toy out.

Your lips were slack and your eyes were probably glassy and dazed as he looked at you like that, completely enveloping you in his stare as he studied every detail of your expression. Aside from some heavy breathing you didn’t react much to him sliding the toy out of you, until the ridge of the head reached your entrance and you winced.

“Shh,” he soothed gently, “it’s okay…”

A long sigh of relief emptied your chest when the toy tapered off and you felt the last of it slip out of you; you really noticed then how soaked you were, as a draft in the room seemed to cling to the patch of wetness that had coated all between your legs somehow.

“Lemme see, baby,” he cooed under his breath as he set the toy aside, kneeling down and resting a hand on the inside of your thigh to keep your legs open.

You could barely catch your breath with him doing that; you’d never had someone… look at it like that. You felt incredibly vulnerable but impossibly sexy as you heard him sigh at the sight. “Is it all stretched out now?” you wondered.

“No,” he said, “you look… just as tight as before. Fuck. That’s incredible.”

You bit your lip, sitting up enough to try to get a look at his face past the puffiness of your dress’ skirt, and he smirked up at you with the loveliest sparkle in his eye. “Really?” you breathed, and he nodded.

Even though your hands were still shaking you suddenly felt brave; maybe it was just the afterglow, but you grabbed him by the shirt and sat up to kiss him, colliding your lips with his. He reciprocated instantly, putting his hands on your upper back that the strapless dress left bare.

The kiss was perfect—needy but not too fast, sweet but not too chaste, teasing but not too slow. The guys in college couldn’t even kiss like this… you were wondering why you ever even tried with them—or, you would’ve been if that kiss left you capable of thinking about anything but him. “Need you,” you whispered as you pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around his strong shoulders.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your lips, a hand holding your waist while he started to kiss your neck and jaw. “Not here—your parents—”

“Don’t care,” you whimpered, “I’m so—fuck, Cillian, please—”

“You already came,” he noticed with a small laugh, “didn’t that take the edge off?”

“Not enough,” you whined, getting impatient and running a hand down over his shirt and down to his pants—and you smiled proudly as you felt the hardening bulge beneath. He choked a little when you touched him there, holding you tighter. “You want me too,” you noticed.

“Of course I do, but—” he breathed, then stopped himself as he tossed you back on the bed; you giggled as he crawled up over you, pinning you down. “But we can’t… your parents would have my head on a platter—once they’re done serving crawfish etouffee off of it downstairs.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on telling my parents,” you smirked. “Were you?”

“No,” he agreed, kissing your neck again as you hummed happily. “But if they found out—”

“So? They wouldn’t like if they found out about what just happened, either—and they won’t.”

“But this is different,” he insisted.

“How?”

“Because this…”

He trailed off, kissing down your neck and over your shoulder, until a hand reached up to pull your dress down and expose your chest.

“Shit,” he sighed at the sight of it, and you smiled up at him.

“You were saying?” you teased.

“Right, erm,” he swallowed, “this is different because—because if we do this, you’re gonna be my girl. Not just a misguided one-time fuck because you were turned on after screwing yourself with your dildo while I watched.”

You felt a little out of breath but nodded up at him. “Okay,” you agreed.

“Okay?” he repeated, looking a little shocked. “I tell you that you have to be mine and you just say okay?”

“What was I supposed to say, yes sir?” you joked.

“I just mean—shit, if I knew it would be this easy, I would’ve said something sooner,” he chuckled. “But I’m, er, not complaining about the yes sir thing either…”

He sat up and started to unbutton his pants, making you wiggle a bit on the bed impatiently. Even though you’d just gotten filled by your big toy, you felt needier than ever for something inside you—something real.

Your throat caught when he took it out— it was pale and veiny just like the rest of him; long, uncut, a bead of precum starting to leak from the slit… it was beautiful, honestly. The artificial fleshy hue of the silicone could never compete.

“Big enough for you?” he asked with a smirk, but you had to swallow before you answered because your mouth was watering.

“Yeah,” you panted, “plenty.”

He kissed you again, laying more of his weight on top of you; your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him close as he pressed you down into your bed.

One hand found your wrist and held it back above your head, while the other kept a tight wrap around his cock so he could guide it to your waiting entrance. When he pushed inside, you both sighed with relief like you’d been longing for this for ages—perhaps because both of you had, in your own ways. “Fuck,” you breathed, “Cillian…”

He whispered your name back to you, heavy and desperate and right by your ear, and you absolutely knew you were his, just like he said. He only stilled for a moment when he was all the way inside, already starting to rock back and forth—but he was sort of tender about it, watching you move under him as he fucked you. “So pretty,” he praised quietly, kissing you again, even harder than before. You both moaned into the kiss, and a warm, rough hand settled on your thigh under your dress.

Soon, the pleasure was too much to even focus on kissing, and your mouth just fell wide open in front of his as needy moans passed through it. He stayed close, though, watching your face go slack with ecstasy. The previous orgasm had left you sticky and sensitive inside, still totally dripping for him, everything in you begging for more. “Oh my god,” you sighed, eyes rolling back, your composure completely slipping already. He made you feel so good so easily—and fuck, the way he was looking at you, it was just too much to bear.

“Mm,” he hummed proudly, latching his lips onto your neck again until your fingers tangled in his hair. He moved down and caught a nipple in his mouth, making you whimper as he suckled at it gently.

“Fuck,” you whined, nearly pulling him along by the hair when he moved to the other one; you couldn’t stop clenching inside, squeezing him until he groaned against your skin.

“Won’t last if you keep doing that,” he warned you softly.

“What if I don’t want you to?” you teased, and he growled a little between his teeth, sitting up to look down at you. He fucked you harder, but put a hand on top of your head and pet your hair for a moment, looking at you like you hung the moon; how could he be so dirty then so adorable within the same split-second?!

“I’ll do whatever you want me to,” he decided, speaking softly, “how about that? What do you want me to do?”

That was a little too much power to give you, at least in your opinion, but you grinned as you considered it. “Then I want you to come way too quick,” you decided, “like all those annoying college boys—because you just can’t help yourself.”

He laughed a little, though he stopped to bite his lip as he fucked you even harder—and faster, too. “Okay,” he breathed, “don’t know why you want that, but—fuck— it won’t be very difficult after that little show you gave me. You look so pretty when you come…”

“Just keep going and you can see it again,” you promised, holding onto him tighter as he pressed into you and really let you have it—not really rough or anything, you couldn’t risk making any more noise than you were, but still aggressive and passionate and desperate.

He kissed your neck again, burying his face in your shoulder and finding the spot that made you gasp out his name suddenly; your fingers clutched at fistfuls of his undershirt, and your legs began to shake where they were hooked around his hips and half-pushed-down pants.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, the pleasure hitting you again—but it was better than with the toy, it was stronger, and it just kept going because he kept going. When your head fell back onto the mattress with a sigh, he realized that he’d made you come.

“Wait, fuck, I wasn’t looking,” he rushed as he popped his head up from the crook of your neck, “do it again.”

You laughed breathlessly and pushed against his shoulder a bit; “Shut up, I can’t do it on command.”

“You did it the last two times I told you to,” he reminded you, and that just made you feel even more deliciously dizzy.

Yes, you were definitely his girl now—totally addicted to him. You’d never felt like this with somebody—not just physically, but the trust and the laughter and the comfort of it all. This wasn’t a too-empty dorm room that still smelled like fresh paint, it wasn’t a mattress with no sheets in an apartment with 5 roommates nearby, it wasn’t a guy you vaguely knew from a two-hundred-student class or someone you saw on a dating app and talked with for an afternoon before meeting for ‘coffee’ (it was never just coffee). This was Mr. Murphy—and that should’ve made it weirder, but somehow, it just made it make more sense.

“So, if I tell you to come again,” he spoke lowly by your ear, a new authority to his tone, “you should come.”

You couldn’t think of anything else to say: “Yes, sir,” you breathed, hugging him close to you and pressing your face against his shoulder.

Of course, it wasn’t quite instantaneous, but just another minute of him giving you those deep, controlled thrusts right into your favorite spot sent you over the edge easily—and this time, he gently guided your face out of its hiding spot and looked at you, watched your pleasure overtake you, tenderly rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “Good girl,” he praised softly, kissing you again just as the last of it drained from you; you were so numb that you barely heard him whisper something to you—it took you a few seconds to process it.

“I’m gonna come,” he’d whispered to you, “fuck, you’re so fucking warm…”

“Come inside,” you instructed, and for all the concern he tried to perform for you after you said that, his moan was undeniable, as was the way he started to move faster.

“Fuck, really?” he nearly whined. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, panting.

“You’re on—”

“Yes, please, just come inside me,” you begged, and he finally stopped protesting and pressed himself as deep into you as he could—you could feel the way his cock flexed, and it made your exhausted walls dig up just enough energy to flex back.

“Fuuuuck,” he groaned, holding onto you tightly.

You hummed a little at the feeling, turning your face towards his, hoping to see what he looked like in this moment—but he pulled you into another kiss before you could get a good look. Even this kiss was different from the others—a little slower, a little more tired in a wonderful, dreamy way. He was breathing heavy against you, and eventually he found the energy to push himself up with his arms on either side of your head, and you smiled up at him. He looked really fucking good like this: his face a bit flushed, which seemed to show his freckles and fine lines even more (which you adored); his hair falling down, a little wavier from the slight sweat he’d worked up; his lips swollen and slick from the kisses; and those eyes, they looked as beautiful as always, but they made you feel beautiful, too.

“Is taking this one out gonna hurt, too?” he asked you with a smirk.

“Probably a little,” you shrugged.

“For both of us,” he agreed, “I’m so fucking sensitive now… you really do have me acting like a desperate college boy—but you know, it’s been a while, so…”

“Right, sure—good excuse,” you joked, but you didn’t mind any of it either way.

He did it a little quicker, pulling back as he took a sharp breath in, and you giggled softly.

“Fuck, I can feel it, like… leaking out,” you admitted, biting your lip at the sick satisfaction of the warm gush.

“I think I need to see that,” he said, sitting up and picking your legs up from under the knee to look at you. This was apparently a habit of his—and you were starting to get used to it already.

“How’s it look?” you asked, wondering if he’d finally stretched you out after that.

He just stared at it for a moment longer, running his tongue over his teeth, before finally looking back at you and saying with a smile: “Looks like you need the Tide pen more than I do.”

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