#Charlie Barber/reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roanniom · 2 years

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Ummmmmm tell us more about Professor!Charlie getting handsy after hours helping you with your TA lesson plan pls & thank you

Lesson Planning

Professor!Charlie Barber x Reader

The previous semester you had been the TA for his class, Advanced Theatrical Production 411, but this semester you were granted a 50% TAship. This means more money for you, but also more responsibility. You’re teaching Intro to Theater all by yourself to a class of 50 undergrad students who have no idea that their lecturer will be a suffering grad student, not a capable tenured professor.

So the capable tenured professor who’s mentored you has kindly offered his services in prepping you for this daunting endeavor. You’d barely voiced half of your concerns before the sweet man had set time aside on his calendar for this meeting. And now it is 7pm on a Friday. The wing of the theater department which houses the professors’ offices has been long abandoned. Charlie had apologized for the unorthodox timing but had clarified that this was his first availability, having had his son visiting all week up until that morning and wishing to dive in as soon as he was free.

You’ve been at it for an hour and a half now and your eyes are starting to glaze. Not because you are bored. On the contrary, you’re riveted. Charlie is an excellent educator – excellent at conveying information and knowledge. That’s how he became your mentor in the first place. You’d darkened his office door countless times during office hours, desperate to benefit from even more of his insight. Eventually you’d reached friendly terms, and when he’d asked you to be his TA the previous semester you’d jumped at the opportunity.

TAing for Charlie had been fast paced and nerve-wracking. You’d known his class was intense – you’d taken it twice by the time you became his support – but it was a different situation entirely being his right hand. He treated you with an immense amount of respect, asking your opinion in class, having you demonstrate different disciplines in front of everyone, and even having you lead several lessons as he watches, a small smile on his lips.

Now, however, all the pressure is on you and you alone. But then again…not really. Not as Charlie Barber hunches over your binder as if his life depends on it as well. He’s helped you hammer out a syllabus and has moved on drafting outlines for assignments. You can’t help but note the way he keeps running his hands distractedly through his hair. It has made it more unruly than it was before. You laugh as his waves flop out of control after another swipe of his hand.

“What?” he asks you, glancing up quickly. You bite your lip and shake your head.

“Nothing,” you say, measuring your words. “It’s just…your hair looks so disheveled somebody might think this is your lesson plan you’re working on, not a shitty ex-student’s.”

“Hey, don’t you call my favorite ex-student shitty,” he reprimands with a grin.

It has been like this all night.

It has been like this the whole last semester, if you’re being honest.

In both of your defense, things were perfectly professional when he was your direct professor and you were in his class. It wasn’t until you were his TA – assisting him in the hustle and bustle of every day and functioning as more of an equal – that things became flirty.

It started with a cheeky comment here or there. You’re not sure who made the first one. But things have escalated over the last few months, and now the line between propriety and indecency is lightly blurred. Not that you have any plans to reign things in yourself.

“You alright, love?” Charlie asks as you settle back into your work, frowning down at your notes. “Love.” Not a typical endearment a professor gives to a student, but you certainly won’t be correcting him.

“I’m just worried that they won’t like me. That I’ll seem like little more than a fellow student and they won’t respect me enough to listen,” you admit, looking up at him in earnest. Charlie drops the paper he’s holding and comes around the desk to stand behind you. His hands drop on your shoulders, comforting.

“Did you have any trouble with that when you taught my students this past semester?”

“No, but…”

“But nothing. They loved you, and your own students will love you.” Charlie’s fingers dig into the muscles of your shoulders in a light massage. You feel your eyes threaten to roll back in your head but you school your reaction. You need to get a grip.

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. I’m the one with tenure. I’m never wrong,” Charlie jokes, and he gets the laugh out of you for which he was hoping.

“Yes,” you acquiesce through a giggle.

“I’m your professor, young lady. Yes what?” Charlie jokes, grabbing your chin so you’re looking over your shoulder at him.

“Yes, sir,” you respond playfully, knowing what he’s angling for.

What you’re not prepared for is his reaction to this statement. All at once his eyes go dark and his hands tighten unforgivingly. His jaw sets and his gaze drops to your lips and then up to your eyes and then back again.

“Good girl,” he breathes. Almost hesitantly. Almost like he’s testing out the sound of it. Testing out your reaction.

You aren’t prepared for the small moan that issues unbidden from your lips. You don’t know what’s come over you. But you don’t know what’s come over Charlie, either, because suddenly he’s leaning forward and capturing your lips with his.

You don’t hesitate. You don’t shrink from his touch. Instead, you open your mouth for him almost immediately, allowing him to taste you. One of his hands goes to cradle the back of your neck while the other fumbles downward, grasping at whatever part of you it can find.

“Fuck,” he mutters darkly when he finally pulls back for air. His dark eyes search yours. Watching. Asking.

“I’ve been waiting for that,” you mutter breathlessly, a smile tugging at your lips. Charlie’s answering smile is blinding and suddenly he’s pulling you from your chair and depositing you on his desk, stepping between your legs and claiming your lips once again.

“I haven’t known what to do with myself,” he breathes between kisses. “Wanting you has been absolute torture knowing I couldn’t have you.”

“But you can have me,” you gasp, pulling him to you by the collar of his shirt. “Take me. Please.”

“Mmm but it’s wrong,” he mumbles, and it sounds almost like a whine against your skin. “And you know that, baby girl.”

In spite of his words, he chooses now to grind his hardening length against the apex of your legs and you let out a groan.

“I don’t care,” you argue dumbly, working your hips to respond to his in kind.

“Oh god,” he stutters, thrusting back against you almost mindlessly. “You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you.”

“Why don’t you touch me and find out?” you challenge, eyes gleaming. Charlie gazes into your yes for a moment, searching for something.

Then suddenly he’s pulled you from the desk and whirled you around, pressing on your back so that you’re bent over the back of the chair that he has positioned in front of his desk. The chair that you’ve spent countless hours sat upon, listening to his wise advise. Now you bend over it, ass out, chest heaving, as you listen to his groan at the sight of your curves as he lifts the back of your skirt over your hips.

“You’ve spent years parading this ass in front of me. And I’ll bet you always knew what you were doing, too.” A sudden smack to your right cheek makes you gasp and pitch forward.

“I’m glad you were looking, but I wasn’t trying to torture you, I promise,” you toss over your shoulder at him, though you wriggle your hips, almost hoping for another slap. He delivers it to you immediately, this time groping your roundness after the impact.

“Ah you weren’t, but you were definitely trying to torture the freshmen.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, glancing back with genuine confusion.

“Don’t play innocent. You know every single straight nineteen year old boy in that intermediate class had a hard on for you. When you presented Maggie’s scene from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof? About five of them ran to the bathroom immediately to tug one out.”

You scoff at the exaggeration of his statement. But his hard bulge has started pressing against your ass and you’re easily distracted.

“Th-that’s not true – fuck – and you know it…” You try to formulate a more articulate response, but he’s reached out and begun to play with your right breast.

“Is it not, sweetheart?” he hums in your ear, his chest pressed your back as he pushes you further down over the chair. “Is it also not true that you’re very, veeeery wet for me right now?”

“Oh Charlie,” you breathe pathetically in response.

“Are you confirming my assumption here, love? Do you want me?” You hear a satisfying zip and then you feel flesh against your ass instead of the khaki material you had felt before. It makes you push back against him even more, feeling his cockhead push against your panty-clad seam.

“I want you, Charlie, I want you!” you practically cry out. There’s not time for shame. Not with Charlie’s hard body against you and feeling like every one of your fantasies combined.

“That’s a good girl,” he rumbles, pulling your panties down your legs and pressing his cock between them.

You gasp at the feeling of him entering you. This is all so sudden and yet still so long in coming. How long have you wanted Charlie Barber? The man who taught you everything you know. The man who haunted both your dreams and day dreams.

He fills you and suddenly you know nothing else. Nothing but the feeling of him hitting parts of you so deep you hadn’t realized they existed. Nothing but his breath on your neck and the slap of his balls against you with each thrust.

“Such a good fucking girl,” he moans, making you moan in kind. His finger finds your clit and your back arches even deeper. “You’ve always been my favorite for a reason.”

“Because – oh god! Because you knew you could get in my pants?” you ask with a shaky laugh. Charlie chuckles back and you feel it vibrate from his cock into your pussy, making you gasp.

“Because I knew you wanted me in your pants,” he responds, accelerating his swirling finger on your clit, making you cry out. “Because you paid attention to me like you were trying to imagine what it would be like to have me break you.”

“Oh fuck,” is all you can say in reply. He doubles his efforts, both in his thrusts and with his finger on your swollen nub, and you know you’re close. “Oh Charlie. Oh god.”

“Yes, baby?” he asks so casually as if he expects you to ask what the forecast is supposed to be for the day. The only thing that gives him away are the labored breaths he keeps panting in your ear.

“I….I’m gonna cum. Can I cum, Charlie?”

“You asked so nicely, sweetheart. Of course you may,” he says, thrusting harder. Deeper. You cry out again and he rubs at your clit like your life depends on it. “Cum for me, angel.”

And you do. And Charlie’s orgasm follows soon afterward. Leaving him spent and heavy, leaning down over your body, draped as you are over the chair.

~*~

Tiny taglist: @paper-n-ashes @mariesackler @maybe-your-left @hopeamarsu @finn-ray-nal-beads @sacklerscumrag @jynzandtonic @millenialcatlady

#issa’s writing night #Charlie Barber x reader #Charlie Barber x you #Charlie Barber/reader #Charlie Barber/you #Charlie Barber smut #professor!Charlie Barber

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hauntingoldhouses · 1 month

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my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three.

#flip zimmerman #blackkklansman #adam driver #moodboard #aesthetic #aesthetic moodboard #ethel cain #preachers daughter #adam driver x reader #ben solo #kylo ren #clyde logan #charlie barber #flip zimmerman x reader #clyde logan x reader #hozier #too sweet hozier

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rynwritesstuff · 9 months

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Crazy In Love

Movie Director!Charlie Barber x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex, brief name-calling (slut, whore), gendered pet names (pretty girl), and general sexy stuff

Word Count: 1,150

Summary: You and Charlie have sex after a movie premiere.

Author’s Note: Thank you to the people who sent requests/ideas in! I’ll get to them soon, I just had to write this lmao. Feel free to send as many as you want. <3

Your love’s got the best of me, baby you’re making a fool of me . . . “ - Crazy In Love, Beyonce

The lights come up, and Charlie stands, which tells you that you should stand as well. You do, smoothing out your dress as you smile softly. Charlie’s grinning and waving and lighting up a cigarette, and God, he looks delicious.

You’re so proud of him, of his accomplishments, tonight and always. He’s so creative, your Charlie. He made a masterpiece, he really did. You’re not good at sharing, but tonight? You’re alright with the world seeing just how talented Charlie Barber is. The credits of his movie are rolling on the big screen, and people are standing up to clap. You could cry, so beyond thrilled that everyone who ever doubted your boyfriend has been proved wrong. He did it. He did this, and he did it well.

He looks back for you, trying to find you in the sea of people, and when he spots you, his smile widens. You blow him a kiss.

He catches it, then reaches into his pocket to pull out a cigarette. He lights it up and begins to smoke it. You swallow harshly, still clapping for him as heat forms between your thighs.

People make their way out of the theater, and you hurry to catch up to Charlie. When he sees you, he holds his hand out to you.

“There she is,” he says. “My pretty girl.”

You smile, leaning against his arm as you hold his hand.

“You did such a wonderful job, baby! It was incredible!”

“Yeah? You really think so?” Charlie asks. He kisses the top of your head, and the cameras go crazy, snapping and shooting pictures of the two of you. “Of course I think so!” you say happily as the two of you walk out to the car. It begins to drive you both back to the hotel. Charlie’s hand rests on your thigh the entire way there, and you know exactly what this means.

He’s trying to contain himself, behave himself, but really? He loves the way you look in this dress, and he’s eager to take it off of you.

The two of you walk up to the hotel room wordlessly, and Charlie swipes the card to unlock the door. You step inside before him, and he puts the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the outside handle before closing and re-locking the door.

You smile at him as he loosens his tie.

“You look so handsome, Charlie,” you say as he walks towards you. He hums, putting his hands on your hips and pulling your body flush against his.

“And you look absolutely – mm – beautiful,” he says, kissing you in the middle of his sentence.

You need him so badly. He looks so good, and your pussy is so wet . . .

“Please fuck me,” you breathe against his mouth. Charlie hums.

“You need it that badly, pretty girl?”

“Yes,” you say, nodding eagerly. “Need you. Need your dick.”

Charlie chuckles lowly, then says: “And they say romance is dead.”

You give his ass a playful squeeze.

“The offer’s gonna expire, Mr. Director . . .”

“Oh?” Charlie says, tugging you towards the bed. He shoves you down on it. “We wouldn’t want that.”

You smirk, pulling your dress up as he works at his pants. By the time he manages to get his cock free, you’ve pulled your panties off and tossed them to the floor. Charlie gets on top of you, settling between your legs, and kisses you deeply as he presses his cock up against your entrance. He smells like cologne and cigarettes, a smell that is so classically Charlie.

You love it.

He’s kissing you like his life depends on it, like he’s a starved man in need of something, anything.

“Mm. You gonna take my cock?” Charlie breathes against your mouth. You nod, and Charlie presses his tip into your pussy.

“Fuck, Charlie . . .”

“Ask nicely,” he teases. “Ask me nicely, and I’ll fuck you how you like it.”

Your pussy clenches.

“Need you,” you say, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. “Need you so badly, Charlie, need your cock in my pussy, please . . .“

He thrusts the rest of the way into you, and once you’ve adjusted to the feeling, he begins to roll his hips. He wastes little time, picking up speed almost immediately and fucking you into the mattress so hard that you can barely formulate a sentence.

“F-Fuck! Fuck, Charlie! Mmm!”

“Take it . . . Take it, pretty girl. Take it like I know you can . . .”

Your body is bouncing as he rolls his hips furiously. Your hands move up to tug at his hair, and he grunts softly as you give it a good yank.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you all through the movie,” Charlie admits. “Couldn’t stop thinking about having you like this . . . My perfect little slut . . . Such a good whore . . .”

“Mmm, fuck!” you groan at his words as he pounds you. “Fuck, shit, Charlie . . .!”

“Touch yourself,” Charlie says. “Touch that little clit for me. Wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

You reach down, and you desperately rub your clit, chasing your orgasm.

“Don’t stop talking, Charlie,” you breathe, rubbing your clit quickly. “Tell me what a good whore I am . . .”

Charlie grunts, fucking you faster.

“The best,” he breathes. “The best l-little whore . . . Mmm . . . Always taking cock like a good girl . . .”

He’s losing himself in the pleasure that your body is providing, and his cock begins to throb and twitch. He’s close already.

“Fuck, fuck, Charlie . . . “

“My own personal slut, hm? You love taking cock, but I know you l-like mine the best . . . Shit!”

You nod quickly.

“I do,” you breathe. “I do. You’re the best I’ve ever had, Charlie . . . Fuck, I’m gonna cum!”

He nods, then presses his face against your shoulder as your orgasm crashes over you. Waves or pleasure cascade over you, all radiating from between your legs. Chills rise on your arms, but you can’t feel them. You’re too focused on prolonging your orgasm. When Charlie feels you flooding his cock, he cums with a long grunt.

“S-Shit! Fuck!” he exclaims, dumping his cum into your pussy. You groan at the feeling. You’re so full of him, so full of his seed, and God you feel fulfilled.

“Fuck,” you sigh before Charlie kisses you. His lips work against yours, and you laugh breathily when he pulls away. Your lipstick is all over his mouth. You touch his cheek.

“Pretty boy,” you mutter.

You kiss him again.

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reveluving · 1 year

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red lipstick ; adam driver characters headcanons

summary: because what’s sexier than seeing you in red lipstick? 💄

warnings: fluff, humour, slightly explicit (minors DNI!)

a/n: on an ADCU spree so I figured it’s the best time to write my own, courtesy of @safarigirlsp & @in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather for continuously feeding my obsession hehe! pls pls pls give their work some extra love!! and don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» check out my full m.list!

✧･ﾟ Jacques Le Gris

Le Gris' own presence exudes confidence, ferocity, and allure, and his lady is no different. What better way to show the men who envy him the same way the ladies do with you than by bringing you the best of the best? He will settle for nothing less, especially when it comes to your comfort and the like, and he will know if they're not up to par.

Old-timey Jacques will indirectly criticize the maiden in charge, knowing they probably did so to make you seem 'less appealing' to your very own lover, but many seem to forget that he was extremely smart just as he was your doting husband. Just a quick exile over here, a simple repeat of his demand for the best over there and boom, he's back to being happy ol' Le Gris. Modern Jacques is no different, for he would easily purchase the shades you'd swatch and hum to yourself, knowing if he heard how much you liked it, he'd buy the whole store for you. Do you want them personalised, too? Go right on ahead!

And that's not a threat, it's a promise.

“You should never settle for anything less, ma chérie. I shall not allow it.” He’d chime in as soon as he sees your eyes sparkle at the new case with both wonderment and guilt. If you offer to repay him for his endless gifts, he will ask for your kisses, complete with the new set he’s given you, but ever the lover boy that he is, you know good and well it won’t end with just kisses.

✧･ﾟ Flip Zimmerman

Ever heard of the saying "the fortune favours the bold"? He doesn't need to hear from Stallworth that Flip has in fact 'loosen up' upon being graced by your existence. He does, however, preen in the knowledge that since knowing you, he's become bold. Well, bolder than he already was. Where has uncertainty brought him in life? But as much as he'd like to deny till the end of time, he's nearly done it before.

Keyword: nearly.

The day you met, he wondered if he had died in a shootout and met hell's personal It girl—no angel could pull off the devil's shade with pride the way you do. Had he continued to mask his hesitancy by returning your undeterred gaze, he'd be the biggest fool for letting you go.

He'd clock in work with your lipstick stains if he could. Public indecency be damned! He'd fight everyone and anyone if he hears another person talk about it as a form of embarrassment.

"S'not my fault you don't have a pretty girl to come home to." He'd shrug, though the wolfish smile told the poor bastard everything that he felt. Was he wrong? No. Was he going to fight Flip for publicly embarrassing him with the truth? Absolutely not; your husband would probably knock him out before the guy could even land a hit.

✧･ﾟ Clyde Logan

To think there were more red lipstick shades than he could count with his good hand. In all honesty, he really doesn't have a favourite nor does it matter if it's even red or not. That's not to say he doesn't care because clearly, he does, but only in the sense that it makes you happy. You are the professional in this particular field, after all. But best believe the happiness that heightens in him whenever you'd ask for his opinion.

Still, the colour red does, however, as the current generation says, 'hits different'. Unsubtle glances from his patrons were a normal occurrence but they never got any easier by the day. But, on the other hand? He’s the lucky son of a gun who gets to call you ‘his’.

But the man loves his kisses, and kisses he will get! With your frequent visits to the bar, you'll never let this man work without at least a peck on the cheek. Seeing his signature pout lift to the bashful smile we know and love (the audacity) takes no effort.

“Y’know just how to make a man happy, sugar.” He’d murmured against your lips, his sudden boldness not surprising you but instead, his customers, who were only giving him shit but also openly ogling at you not too long ago.

✧･ﾟ Kylo Ren

Whether you think of our ol’ touch-starved leader, the vampire, the knight, or whatever suits your fancy, Kylo will want nothing more than the top-notch of things for his darling, and your preference for lipstick shouldn’t be any different! He, in a way, is an embodiment of red—his passion for both his belief, his interest, and especially, his devotion to you. So, to see the very same colour he associates closely with, other than black, be embraced as your very own as well? He shouldn’t be surprised that most, if not all of his elation are sourced from you in general.

He’s a busy man, but he will not miss the opportunity to watch you apply your colour of the day with great care. He’s unconsciously smiling, lost in your melodic hum as his vow to keep you out of harm’s way grows stronger. He’s been through hell and back to survive, and he’d have no problem doing the same it’s to ensure you leave the danger zone unscathed. So, if something as simple as red lipstick makes you happy, then don’t be surprised if you see a new one even before your current one runs out.

And although all kisses are good kisses, don’t think he won’t pull you in for a real one once the smooching fest starts. You’re worried about leaving a stain? Don’t be! His men/subordinates don’t have the balls to point them out, knowing by doing so is a game over for them.

✧･ﾟ Charlie Barber

The man eats, sleeps, and breathes art, so it's knowing his beloved has her very own is a major plus! One would think nothing impresses him anymore, or at least, not as much as his own work, but oh, were they dead wrong. There hasn't been a day where the lipstick holder on your vanity table never makes him puff out his chest with pride. From the simple matte ones he'd buy after a random day at work simply because it reminds him of you, to the high-end bold to burgundy ones personalised with your name engraved on the case. C’mon, what harm would it do to him for paying a couple of hundreds for makeup as one of his ways to say thank you to his wife—his muse!

Charlie embraces this as your form of art; the shades, the textures, the right amount of shine or shimmer—just anything that screams you. Artistry performed best by his one and only.

And how could he forget about the polaroids you both have? Yours which has him covered in your lipstick stains and face in absolute bliss? His which were you kissing the area close to his happy trail, leaving the same shade colour to his toned body?

Yes, your husband's in paradise, indeed.

✧･ﾟ Commander Mills

Another hunk who really just finds your confidence in whichever you find is best is more than enough, because what's better than his girl's own joy? Even so, if red really speaks to you, then don't be surprised he takes advantage of it. If the numerous times you've caught him staring at your lips and even shamelessly holding your gaze doesn't tell you anything, then the instance he wraps his arms around you for a little while longer before pressing his lips onto yours definitely should.

And if we're talking about the whole time-travelling shebang and somehow, you had to make your own lipstick? Wowie. This man will scour every nook and cranny for the ingredients if you asked him to. Best believe he will find what you need!

If it means getting the opportunity to see you do your thing in your colour and being able to wipe off the accidental smear just after you've applied it, that man is on a mission.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

You can tell that I lost my roll towards the end HAHAHA but if you’re wondering what lipstick in particular inspired me to write this, it’s:

ETUDE Fixing Tint in Analog Rose/Vintage Red

Dior Rouge Dior Lipstick in 999

Stunna Lip Paint Longwear Fluid Lip Color in Uncensored

PERIPERA Ink Airy Velvet in Full Red Brick (11)

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strawberry-whorecake · 9 months

Text

It Started With A Book | C.B.

pairing: Charlie Barber x fem!reader

summary: You were Henry’s babysitter. He employed you to watch his son. You were a pretty little thing, and he should’ve known better than to pursue you… but damn could he just not help himself.

word count: 6.7k

warnings: swearing, age gap (reader is of age), dirty talk, praise, innocence kink, size kink, breeding kink (kind of??), PinV sex, unprotected sex, fingering, mentions of the book ‘Lolita’

A/N: the ‘Henry’s babysitter’ thing has been done before so full credit to everyone else who’s written one for the inspo !! i let my daddy issues run rampant with this one whoops

Charlie had known you since you were sixteen. He hired you for the first time when he was still with Nicole, before the entirely messy divorce had unfolded.

You were bright eyed and eager to please, which he liked. He was even more gratified when Henry took an immediate liking to you, especially since Henry didn’t click with many others.

He adored the way that you adored Henry, how you indulged to him one time that you saw the job more like hanging out with a friend; that you didn’t see Henry as an obligation, but as someone you enjoyed being around.

He was especially thankful that following the divorce you still didn’t seem to mind in the slightest to keep babysitting for him when he had obligations he simply couldn’t get out of; or in simpler terms— him not wanting to bring Henry to the theater and keep him up past his bedtime.

Charlie cursed himself for the way he took more notice of you the moment you turned eighteen— the way you interacted with Henry, the way your lashes would flutter when you wished him goodnight before you left, the way your soft lips would curl into a gentle smile when he’d walk in the door.

He scrutinized the way he could recall every flick of color in your irises. The way your skin looked soft and supple. He damned the innocent air that surrounded you, the one he so desperately wanted to defile and tear into with his teeth.

He knew it was wrong, and he hated himself for it. But goddamn could he not help himself when he got sight of you.

He looked forward to the private moments when Henry was fast asleep that you two would share a small and admittedly polite conversation, typically about the books you were reading before he would unfortunately wish you goodnight and safe travels home.

He cherished those moments because while you’d ramble on about everything you and Henry had done in the evening, he’d get to stare into your eyes— look over your gorgeous features— and if he was feeling particularly daring and depraved, sneak a glance down your body.

Tonight was no exception. It was a little after ten pm when he pulled open the door. He watched as you perked up at his arrival and he selfishly relished in the attention.

“Hi, Charlie. How was everything at the theater?” you spoke in a hushed voice, same as you did every night. He watched as you shut the book in your hands, placing it in your lap as he pulled off his coat and set down his case.

“Oh, you know…” he said with an airy chuckle, allowing his eyes to look over you again as they did when you first arrived earlier this evening. He looked forward to looking at you more so when he’d arrive home, in the privacy of just you and him.

“Henry’s asleep?” he asked, eyes looking over your chosen outfit. The shirt you wore from a band that he without a doubt believed you’d barely knew of their greatness as they came before your time. That pleated tennis skirt that stopped just at the beginning of your thighs. His eyes wandered farther, down to the ankles of your socks and that pair of utterly adorable mary janes.

You nodded curtly, and he watched those lips of yours pull up into the corners. “He had dinner- all he wanted was mac and cheese, so I gave in." you giggled sweetly, "Then we played board games for a while before he went to bed at eight, like you asked.”

‘Good girl’ had almost burst from his lips, but he quickly stifled it with a gentle clearing of his throat. “Perfect. What is it this time?” he nodded toward the book in your lap. You picked it up, outstretching it towards him. “It’s uh, Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov, are you familiar?”

Charlie hummed as he turned the book over in his hands, he noticed the way your eyes followed his movements. “I am actually. Quite a controversial novel, but I’ll admit the writing is fantastic.”

You nodded again, “I couldn’t agree more. It’s written beautifully considering…" Your gentle chuckle filled the room with such an air of purity, he couldn’t help but crack a soft smile as he handed you back the book.

He watched as you stood, smoothing out the fabric of your skirt— his sign the night was ending… tonight, he couldn’t let that happen. He held up a thick finger, “Hold that thought, will you?”

He took notice to the confused look in your wide eyes, but you nodded once more, and with the okay he slipped into his bedroom momentarily, running his fingers along his vast collection of books until he found what he was looking for.

Returning a moment later with a haste to his steps as he couldn’t wait to be facing you once more, he held out the book in your direction. “Here, this is for you.”

He watched your eyes look curiously to the book in his hand before you took it in both of yours. He watched as your eyes wandered the cover of his copy of Lolita, your lashes fluttered in astonishment and disbelief before those eyes of yours met his. “Charlie… you can’t be serious…”

He chuckled, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’m partial to hardcovers myself,” he used a thick finger to tap the book now in your hands. “This is a first edition print, but it’s still in mint condition.”

His words made your fingers loosen slightly on your grip, your eyes widening a bit more. “Charlie…”

He shook his head, “No, no, take it. I want you to have it.”

Your brows knit lightly as you looked at him, trying to find any ounce that he wasn’t serious— but oh, was he. Just the idea of your small, nimble, perfectly manicured little fingers caressing the pages before you’d turn to the next one made him more than sure of what he was doing. He loved your hands, and how little they were in comparison to his— but then again, everything about him was huge in comparison to you.

“I’m going to give you a hug for this, that’s your warning.” you giggled, making him smile again. His eyes followed you as you turned to carefully place the book on the couch before you turned to him again, practically colliding with him as your arms did their best to wrap around his broad frame.

He easily entangled his arms around you, it only took one of his arms to encompass you, but he indulged himself in wrapping them both around your back, gently rubbing it with his hand.

He felt you sigh softly, felt the rise and fall of your chest against him as his hands slowly tangled into your hair, playing with it around his fingers.

You looked up at him— you looked like an angel. Your eyes wide, blinking softly as you looked up at him. Your cheeks tinged with color.

His heart kicked up speed, he could feel his own cheeks growing pink with fluster. His hand trailed from your back, using his knuckles to caress their way up to your cheek until he took your face against his palm. You were utterly still under his touch as he drew you in closer— his longing to feel you against him was unbearable...

“Would you maybe… let me kiss you?” Your breath hitched in your throat, your chest stuttering slightly in response as he held your gaze to be locked in on his. Your perfect lips parted, but they made no sound. His inquiry had rendered you speechless, forcing you to nod in response.

He felt as his lips curled up into a smile, unable to stop himself. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek, urging your neck to crane further upward to meet his height as he leaned in, watching as your eyelids fluttered shut. He pressed his lips against your plush and plump awaiting lips.

He could feel your heartbeat against his own body, and for a moment he couldn’t discern whose heart was beating faster with the thumping of his own heart ringing in his ears.

He felt your arms snake around his body and press flat against his chest, he couldn’t help but lean into your touch. The feeling of your hands on him was like pure bliss— a sin he’d so often dreamt about. He couldn’t stop himself from letting his hand fall from your face as his arms encircled you, finding their way to the backs of your thighs, feeling just how plush and smooth the skin of your legs were against the pad of his fingers as he pulled you closer to him. He let his thumbs caress your flesh.

He also couldn’t stop the gentle groan of pleasure that pulled from his lips. You were pure ecstasy to him. Your body against his, the gentility of your lips, the sweet and mild smell of your shampoo– all of it overwhelmed his senses and drew him into you, if he had half a mind he’d admit that all of this grew a kindling flame of obsession for you.

Now that he was in, he was all in. All his cards in your basket. Previously he just loved the small things about you but now he felt he had a deeper knowledge of you that dove beyond the surface, and he was drowning in you.

He pulled away just slightly, his lips ghosting over yours not wanting to be apart from them for too long. “You taste so sweet.” he purred before diving back against your lips, catching your bottom between his teeth as he tugged at it gently. When you whimpered at his actions he felt like his brain was going into overdrive. He was dizzy, his head full of just you and he couldn’t get enough of it.

Your voice was soft, slightly embarrassed, and stuttered as you spoke. “Ch-Charlie… I’ve wanted to kiss you for quite some time now.”

He hummed at your words, fingers teasing shapes into the flesh on the back of your thighs, making your bottom lip quiver as he looked you over. He had you eating out of his palm and that’s exactly where he wanted you. He saw the embarrassment flicker through your eyes at your own admission and he pulled you impossibly closer again– if you were any further against his body you’d be inside his bones, and he wasn’t sure that he minded that idea all that much. Those perfect fingers of yours trailed up and down his chest pulling a deep sigh from within it.

He buried his lips against your neck, tasting how sweet and soft and warm you were and he couldn’t help but imagine how you’d taste from between your thighs. He purred your name, “Jump…” he instructed.

He saw the slight confusion flood over your expression, and he pinched at the back of your thighs again. To his relief, you obliged. Your arms tangled around his neck and with a leap he quickly grabbed hold of your waist as your legs wrapped around his hips.

It seemed you couldn’t control yourself just as he, and your lips immediately found his as he walked you backward before pinning you between him and the wall. “You’re such a tease, you know that?” he hummed against your lips, his cock twitching in his slacks as you whimpered again.

“J-Just don’t drop me, will you?” you piped up, a hint of nervousness in your tone and he chuckled darkly. “I would never, I’ve got you.” he assured, pushing you against the wall with his hips as his hands gripped your sides. His lips crashed into yours with intense fervor, tracing his tongue along your bottom lip before prodding his tongue into your mouth. You tasted like candy– so incredibly sweet it almost made his teeth ache but he couldn’t get enough.

His fingers teased the hem of your shirt, feeling the fabric of your top against his skin. “Can I take this off?” his tone was as polite as he could manage, but there was a hint of order to it, like it wasn’t truly an inquiry but a warning that he was going to remove it anyway. His lips found your neck again and he was pleased when he felt you nod against him, adorable little whines and mewls gurgled in your throat in desperation. “Arms up, sweet girl.” he hummed.

You didn’t seem to completely trust him to not drop you as you nervously lifted your arms— but just barely. But drop you, he would absolutely not. He dug his hips into yours, forcing a gentle groan to lurch past his lips as his imprisoned cock pressed against your concealed core. The action made your arms rise up as you gasped softly and he wasted no time to tug your shirt over your head.

He pulled back a moment to admire you– your neck, your collar bones, the bulge of flesh that made up your ever-so-perfect and supple breasts and how they bubbled over the white and lacy confining fabric of your bra.

His fingers trailed up your abdomen, feeling the heat radiating off your skin and onto the pads of his fingers and wandered farther, finding their way to the small pink rose embellishment in the center of your breasts. He flicked it gently, chuckling to himself as even your under layers held a breath of innocence.

He couldn't stop his thoughts from wandering as he compared you to the little pink rose, so small, soft and innocent— it was a simple rendition of how he saw you.

His attention was drawn back to your fingers pulling needily at his own top, fingering the buttons of his dress shirt. “Want me to take this off, pretty?” He watched as your teeth bit down on the plush of your lip and you nodded.

He’d never known his fingers to work so fast, grazing from one button to the next with incredible ease as he worked up to the very top button. He couldn’t control his excitement as you assisted him in pulling the top off his arms. He watched as your eyes roamed across him, taking in the rise and fall of his broad chest. One of your arms fell from the grip around his neck, tracing down his pecs.

He held onto your hips, fingers gently gripping at your flesh as he resisted every urge to dig his fingers in, bruise you beneath his touch. You were soft, too pure for that– but he desired with every ounce of himself to taint you.

His lips found your neck again, and he teased his tongue along your skin, before placing open mouthed kisses further down your neck, finding finality against your collar bones. He could feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest against his chin. “Charlie…” you whimpered.

God– he loved the sound of his name off your lips. It made his groin ache, longing to be buried deep in your cunt, begging to hear how it would sound as you screamed it, trembling around him.

Your hips shifted beneath his hands as more whimpers fell from your lips. You grinded your core against his hardness in a desperate attempt for friction, drawing a groan from his throat. “You want something, little girl?”

You whined in embarrassment again, your head finding its way to the crook of his neck as your arms tangled around it once more, holding yourself steady. He chuckled again, diving his hands between your bodies and dipped his thick fingers beneath the waistband of that oh-so incredibly short skirt you wore this evening. Your breath hitched in your throat as his fingers teased your clothed core. “This what you want? You need attention here?”

Your pathetic mewl only made his cock twitch again— christ, was he impatient. But you were an angel, he intended on treating you like such... luring you in gently before truly defiling you.

Your hips bucked against his hand, and his lip curled into a smirk again. He slid his fingers over your clothed slit again. “I’m gonna need to hear your words, sweet girl.” The pet name drove you crazy– he knew so from the way the heartbeat between your legs pounded against his awaiting fingers.

“P-Please…” you pleaded pathetically. He hummed again, “Of course, pretty.” His fingers pulled your panties aside and he finally achieved one of his deepest desires– getting to touch you between those pretty little thighs. You whimpered against his skin, tightening your arms ever so slightly around his neck as his fingers barely even touched you.

He slid his fingers between your slit, gathering your wetness on the length of his fingers, and he teasingly sucked his teeth. “For such a good girl you’re so wet…” he purred, pressing his cheek against your forehead. The heat of your face burned in the crook of his neck and you mewled. It was so easy to fluster you.

He stroked his fingers through your core a few times, letting them caress your sensitive nub every now and again to earn more whines of desperation out of you before his fingertip teased your entrance. “Mmm… I’m gonna make you feel so good, little girl.” You whimpered pathetically once more and he couldn’t stop himself from smirking.

He took his longest finger and slowly pushed it inside of you, feeling the way your velvet walls sucked him deeper and clenched around him. You felt like a glimpse of heaven, and he longed to bury his dick inside of you instead, but you were incredibly tight only around one finger.

He teasingly sucked his teeth again. “Now, how am I ever going to fit my cock inside your perfect little pussy, hmm? I might split you in half.” His words made you clench around his finger, and you dragged your hips again. He took the hint, withdrawing his finger before prodding it back inside of you, earning a soft and stuttered sigh out of you.

He let his eyes flutter shut as he rested his head against yours, fucking into you with his middle finger until he thought you were ready, then he eased his ring finger inside you, curling his hand and dragging his fingers as he seemed to pet you from the inside.

He hummed in content at the way you immediately took him in, listening to the soft whimpers that bubbled in your throat as his fingers stroked you. He cupped his hand slightly, catching your clit with his thumb which he wasted no time to rub small circles against. He smirked as your hands gripped tighter around his neck.

Your hips gently rocked against his hand as he held you steady between him and the wall, making sure you weren’t going anywhere. Your walls seemed to suck him in deeper, desperate for his intrusive fingers.

Just on his fingers you felt like a dream– warm, velvety, slick. He adored using his fingertips to explore every centimeter of your walls, poking and prodding every ounce of you he could find as he curled his fingers inside you.

His head pulled away from the top of your own and he cocked his head to bury his lips against your neck, needing to taste you again as you softly mewled at how his hands worked inside and against you.

His tongue lapped at your skin before he gently sucked on your flesh, his teeth catching before he bit down earning a shocked gasp from you. He couldn’t help but chuckle. He felt like he was biting down into the soft and delicate flesh of a peach. He withdrew himself before grazing his teeth along another spot on your neck, biting down once again. He was gentle, like he made himself promise to be… but every soft gasp you made made him want to bite harder and harder.

Every time he nibbled on your neck you clenched around his fingers and he couldn’t stop himself from working them faster— your sweet, kittenish sounds growing more incessant.

When your breath hitched in your throat and you let out a particularly strained whine, his fingers seemed to act on their own accord, picking up more pace inside of you. “You gonna cum on my fingers, pretty girl?”

You held tighter around his neck, burying your face deeper into his skin as you nodded feebly, more strained whines escaping from your throat. His thumb drew tighter, more meticulous circles around your clit. “Look at me, sweet girl…”

This time your whine was in defiance, not wanting to draw your head away from the crook of his neck. “Don’t make me ask you again.” he warned.

When you withdrew from his neck, he swore he’d died and was facing the great beyond. Your brows were knit perfectly in pleasure, your eyes barely open; drunk on the bliss he was providing you. Your lips were parted, soft pants leaking from between them as your chin trembled slightly. “Fuck... you’re gorgeous.” he groaned looking you over. Your expression was motivation enough for him to push you over the edge, and it didn’t take long with the calculated movements of his fingers for you to crumble in his hands.

Your lips fell into a perfect little ‘o’ as your eyes rolled back before your lashes fluttered shut. Your walls constricted and stroked his fingers as your cunt flooded with warmth. He quickly buried his lips against yours, swallowing down the cries of your rapture to keep you quiet. As much as he wanted nothing more than to hear that sweet melodious pitch of your moans, he knew better than to risk being overheard.

He drew a few more gentle circles over your clit as he worked you through your release before your eyes opened again and found their way to his. A sloppy smile tugged gently at the corner of your lips and he withdrew his hand.

“Open that pretty mouth.” he ordered, and you obeyed instantly. He plunged his thick, slick coated fingers against your tongue. “Suck.”

You mewled pathetically as you followed instructions. He groaned as your tongue slid between his fingers, lapping up every ounce of your release. Your cheeks dented divinely as you sucked on his digits.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth with a pop and quickly brought them to his own mouth, tasting your sweetness and saliva on his own tongue. He hummed against his fingers, the sensation making his cock twitch again and he couldn’t deprave himself any longer of the need to slide himself inside you.

“Think you can take me now, sweet girl?” he purred, dragging his thumb along your bottom lip. When you nodded he sucked his teeth again, “Use your words.”

You whined pathetically before you spoke, “P-Please, Charlie.” His lips pulled into a smirk at your obedience. “Such a good girl you are.”

His hands found your waist as he pulled you away from the wall, your legs clinging to his hips to steady yourself as he carried you as silently as he could down the hall and into the bedroom. He used his shoulder to shut the door, only continuing to the bed when it clicked against the frame.

He laid you on the bed gently as if too much pressure would cause you to shatter. He watched as your back arched upward to meet his hands. They curled into the waistband of your skirt, tugging it down.

His boyish excitement bubbled in his chest at the sight of your delightfully matching set of underwear. He couldn’t help himself from wondering if you always wore matching underwear or, if more self-indulgently, you knew by a greater power that he wouldn’t be able to help himself this evening and you wore them just for him.

You were a divine sight as his eyes roamed over you. The way your thighs met at the top, the smooth skin of your stomach rising and falling as you breathed with anticipation. You were glorious, and you were all for him.

As his hands began to work at the clasps of his slacks your hands snaked under your back to unclasp your bra. He quickly grabbed at your wrist. “Let me.” he pleaded. He needed to be the one to strip you of your clothing. With a nod of verification he withdrew his hand and kicked off his shoes before he stepped out of his pants, pushing them with little care out of the way.

He leaned over your perfect body, starting with an open mouthed kiss just above your pelvis before trailing them upward until he reached the underwire of your bra. His hands encircled around your frame, pushing between your skin and the sheets on the mattress to find the clasp against your back.

When his fingers made contact he fought against his haste to rip it off of you, instead delicately and teasingly unhooking one clasp, then the next, until the only support the bra had on your body was by the straps on your shoulders.

He pulled away from you, writhing his hands away from your back and to your shoulders as he dragged the straps down your arms, watching as your nipples immediately pebbled in the open air of his room.

He oddly missed the sight of the little rose between your breasts, but the supple flesh of your chest made up for its departure. His hands traced down your sides before roaming up toward your breasts, pawing at them as he placed kisses between them– hearing your sweet little hums of pleasure returning as he flicked his thumb over your bud.

He looked up at you from between your breasts, as your hands tangled gently into his hair, combing it out of the way of his eyes. “You’re perfect.” he praised as he pulled his lips away from you.

He stood to his full height, trailing his hands down your sides until his fingers hooked in the waistband of your panties. This was it– this was the vision he was waiting for. Your body completely bare for him, every ounce of your flesh ready to be swallowed down by his eyes.

His breath hitched in his throat as he sucked down his excitement. First he saw your hips and the beginning of your pelvis, then he dragged the fabric further, finally bearing witness to your perfect little mound.

He dragged your panties all the way down your smooth legs before discarding them to the floor. He took hold of your knees and pushed them backward so you could display yourself for him.

Your whines of embarrassment as he gazed upon your idyllic cunt didn’t deter him in the slightest. He was swallowing up the vision of you– legs spread, completely stripped down for him.

He couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped past his lips. You were unparalleled. And right now, you were his. His cock twitched at the sight, and he palmed himself through his boxers, keeping one hand to caress up and down the side of your thigh.

As soon as his hand met himself he groaned softly, the excitement coursing through his veins again that momentarily he’d be buried deep inside your sweet cunt. Your awaiting eyes, the slightly nervous expression on your face made you seem ethereal– like you were just a dream and he had to resist the urge to pinch himself to verify that you were in fact very real.

He couldn’t take the wait any longer, it felt like it was eating him alive the longer he stared at the glistening evidence of your prior release still slick on your pussy. He tugged down his boxers with haste, kicking them to join his slacks off to the side. Your breath hitched as you caught sight of his size, making his eyes meet yours.

A smirk pulled on his lips, “I know you can take it, sweet girl.” he cooed, taking himself in his hand and giving him a few strokes. He smeared the precum across his length, circling his hand around his girth. His tip was angry, desperate to be buried deep inside you, and his veins pulsed in agreement. In just a moment he’d be able to feel his cock against your velveteen walls.

He kneeled on the edge bed, running his tip through your folds, making you whimper again. He shushed you gently, “Don’t worry, pretty. I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

He coated himself with your slick as he aligned himself with your entrance. He slowly, using all the restraint he had to not just completely sheathe himself inside you, pushed into you. Your cunt immediately clenched, tightening around what little he’d put in.

He groaned, working more of himself inside you as you strained out moans, struggling against his size.

The feeling was beyond what he thought he was prepared for. You were beyond perfect. His fingers did little to prepare him for this. Your cunt squeezed against him while simultaneously trying to draw him in, plush walls fluttering around his length.

He couldn’t stop himself, he pushed all the way into you as far as his cock would go, letting out a guttural groan as he bottomed out. “Fuck- you take me so good… you feel incredible.” he praised. You were reduced to only whines and whimpers as you fought to adjust to him, but he didn’t care.

His fingers drifted from your thighs to your tummy, his eyes widening in admiration as he caressed and admired the bulge in your belly where his dick resided from inside.

Christ, he wanted to fuck you dumb, fuck you so hard that you’d forget your own name, only babbling cock-drunken mumbles.

He pulled out of you, no longer interested if you were adjusted or not before he plunged back inside of you, his head lurching forward as his eyes shut at the feeling. You clearly weren’t fully adjusted yet from your feeble cry, but not to worry, you’d be there soon enough.

He dragged his hips back, his hands finding their way to your hips again as he pulled you down onto him– another cry pouring from your lips. He indulged himself with the unrealistic idea that a pretty little thing like you had never been touched before, that you were all encompassingly his.

He hissed through his teeth, his own brows knitting over the idea. “F-Fuck…” he groaned. He found a rhythm, fucking into you as gently as he could but his need was quickly winning him over as he increased the pace of his hips.

The way you whimpered his name drove him wild. Your chest rose and fell heavily, your fingers clutching tightly at his bedsheets.

He leaned over you, pressing his lips to your neck again as he gently nibbled and sucked at the skin, your hands wrapping under his arms stabilized by your head– fingernails scratching down his back as he bucked his hips into you. His cock slid between your plush walls, he hissed curses as he sank down into you, pressing them against the skin of your throat.

“Fuck-” he purred your name, “You’re amazing.” he praised, making you whimper again.

You pressed your hips to his with every withdrawal, as if you couldn’t stand the idea of him pulling out of you, as if you couldn’t wait for him to fill you again.

He bit down onto your neck, a little harsher than he’d admittedly meant to, making you mewl out. He withdrew from your body and grabbed tightly onto your thighs, dragging you toward him as he moved to stand at the edge of the bed. He pulled your legs to either side of his shoulders, desperate to breach as much of you as he could– and he was instantly gratified when his cockhead prodded against the silky, firm makings of your cervix. A groan of your name pulled from his throat as he sheathed himself against it.

Every pound of his hips to yours, every ram against your insides, made you cry out. He looked at the angelic expression of your pleasure before he leaned forward and pressed his hand over your mouth. As desperate as he was for you, he was even more so to not wake Henry– he wanted this moment to last forever, uninterrupted by anyone or anything.

With your noises muffled by his strong palm his movements grew fervid, his teeth gritting together to stifle his own sounds of pleasure. Your walls stroked him effortlessly, it drove him wild– borderline animalistic.

Your hands wrapped and gripped around his wrist as he looked over you, your brows knit together, your eyes pinched tightly shut as he fucked into you, each harsh thrust making your tits bounce as skin slapped against skin.

It was filthy, you were such an innocent and delicate thing, yet you let him fill you up with his cock like a whore.

That familiar clench he felt around his fingers now overwhelmed his length. His hand clutched tighter over your mouth as your whimpers grew incessant. You were unraveling right around him.

“Gonna-cum-on-my-cock-like-a-good-girl?” he emphasized his words with thrusts of his hips making you cry out against his palm. Your walls continued to clench, fluttering around him as he fucked into you.

Hitting again and again against the firm, slick surface of your cervix, the noises he worked so hard on muffling– he was nearing bliss himself. You nodded against his hand, muttering stuttered pleas against the skin of his palm.

“Then cum, sweet girl.” His hips slammed against yours again and as if he’d said the magic-fucking-word, your cunt fluttered causing his tip to twitch as your walls stroked him, your second release unraveling.

His hand dug harsher against your mouth as he watched you reach your peak– your eyes rolled before your lashes fluttered, pinching tightly shut. You cried out curses against his hand as you came on his dick.

He groaned as you milked his cock. White hot euphoria blurred his eyes as he leaned his head back, hips stuttering only for a moment before he shot ropes of cum deep inside your cunt.

You whimpered against his palm, your walls fluttering around him as he twitched, still thrusting into you but at a much slower fervency now. He opened his eyes and huffed harshly, looking down into your fucked out expression as he withdrew his hand.

He shoved your legs off his shoulders, closing in the distance between yours and his body as he crashed his lips against yours hungrily, clashing teeth against lips in the haste.

You moaned into his mouth and he happily swallowed them down, panting into your own, still dragging his hips through the end of his orgasm.

You were fucking perfect. He couldn’t say it enough, you were a gift from the heavens above; an angel. He often fantasized about the idea of fucking you– but he found his fantasies were not nearly as incredible as the genuine thing.

Fucks sake– he would happily stay buried in your cunt til the end of time. He pulled away from your lips, leaving you to whine in the loss of contact as he stood up to his full height and took himself in his hand, withdrawing from you.

As he unsheathed himself he watched as the combination of your releases slid from your hole… he couldn’t have that. He needed it to stay deep inside of you. Needed a part of him to remain in your cunt as a reminder of what he did to you, how he soiled your sweet air of innocence.

He dragged his tip along your folds, gathering up as much of it as he could before he gently shoved his cock back inside of you, making you whimper pathetically in overstimulation. He buried himself up inside you, bucking his hips gently as you tightened around him, making him hiss between his teeth.

You whimpered his name and he huffed softly, “Okay, sweet girl.” he cooed, curling over you again, and writhed a hand through your hair consolingly as he unsheathed from your sweet cunt.

Fucked out, skin tainted stickily with sweat, eyes heavy and tired… you were still nothing less than perfect to him– perhaps in this state even more so.

He was filled to the brim with desire for you, but he couldn’t stop himself from pressing a soft and gentle kiss to your lips. One of love rather than lust. He adored the way you hummed against his lips. His hands trailed gently up and down your sides.

He pulled away from your lips, looking down over your face as he gently caressed your cheek with the back of his knuckles. Perfect, he told himself again.

He helped you redress, as you were relentlessly unsteady on your own legs, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. He savored the way your fingers clutched his shoulders for stabilization as he helped you step into your underwear. He relished the way your head lolled softly against his chest as he pulled on your bra, clasping it in the back.

It was admittedly a walk of shame back to the living room for your shirt, but he’d do it a million times over just for you, for the way you depended on him for his assistance.

The two of you stood for a moment, neither one of you knowing exactly what to say as your eyes roamed each other. You were both, however, in a silent agreement that nobody could ever know what had happened… though Charlie selfishly hoped it would happen again.

“Let me help you.” he murmured, rushing to help you gather your bag, assisting you to pull it over your shoulder before you spun to look at him again.

He couldn’t help but smile as the fucked out expression still tainted your features. “Well… thank you for the book.” you mumbled softly.

After all that, he’d admittedly forgotten all about the book. His lips parted momentarily before they reconnected into a smile, and he softly shook his head. “I know it’s in good hands.”

He watched as your lips curled up into a gentle and innocent smile. “You’ll call me next time you need a sitter, right?” He noted your eyes nervously looking between his own, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. He wrapped his arm around your waist, drawing you closer, “You don’t think I’m getting rid of you any time soon, do you? Quite the opposite actually, sweet girl.”

You hummed softly as he placed a kiss on your forehead, making his heart beat a little harder in his chest.

He was rather saddened to watch you pull away from him, making your way to the front door– he wanted nothing more than to scoop you up in his arms and carry you to his bed to rest your tired body, but he knew he couldn’t do that.

So, he swallowed down his disappointment and unlocked the door for you, pulling it open.

You began to walk out, and he let himself indulge in the gentle sway of your hips as you walked past him, before you stopped, one hand on the frame of the door as you turned to face him.

He watched as your adorable wide eyes stared back into his. “Good night, Charlie.”

He beamed, “Good night,” he purred your name. You lingered a moment longer, and he resisted the urge to raise a questioning brow, until your hand met his chest and your lips met his for one last kiss– you pulled away after a moment, and with an air of excitement you quickly turned on your heel and made your way out the door.

He watched you glance back at him with that girlishly playful smile and he couldn’t help but chuckle. When you were out of sight he shut the door behind you, letting himself collapse against it as he writhed a hand through his hair, selfishly recalling tonight’s memories which were still, and would remain fresh in his mind for quite a while… surely until he saw you again, which he quickly made mental note to need you to watch Henry again soon.

You were a dangerous game, but Charlie wanted nothing more than to play.

#adcu #adcu smut #charlie barber x reader #charlie barber x you #charlie barber smut #adcu x reader #adam driver #smut #whorecake fics

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rachoxpotato · 1 year

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🎲 Charlie Barber x Female Reader ⚠️ babysitter/client relationship, age difference (reader 18), inappropriate use of Scrabble tiles, hand kink, Daddy, cunnilingus, p in v ✏️ 3k words -

Henry's been asleep since before Charlie got home.

Since putting him to bed, you’ve managed to put away almost all of the night’s activities and start the dishwasher. You’re heading into the living room, sights set on picking up the game of Scrabble (in which Henry insisted ‘gleeba’ is a word) when the front door opens.

“Hey, Mister Barber,” you greet from the floor as you slide the tiles from your letter racks onto the board.

He approaches with a smile on his face and stands over you—tall, towering, his hands on his hips. You swallow and continue tossing tiles onto the board so you can more easily funnel them back into their bag.

"Wanna play?" Charlie asks. "Or do you need to get home?"

Even as he asks the question, he takes a seat on the floor, clearly confident in what your response will be.

He’s right.

"I can play," you say, dumping the tiles onto the carpet as Charlie flips them with thick fingers.

Desperately attempting to focus on anything that isn’t those hands, you spend an unnecessarily long amount of time straightening his wooden tile rack, ensuring it’s perfectly placed.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch his two massive palms covering practically all of the tiles as he swirls them around, mixes them up, and you stop breathing when your own fingers graze his.

You choose seven wooden blocks.

“Ladies first,” he says with a smile, voice so deep, it shakes your core. You place your tiles across the star to play ‘CATCH,’ and then take five tiles to replace them.

Charlie keeps score, tallying up your points for you on the pad.

Such a dad.

“How was your meeting tonight?” you ask so you have an excuse to look at his face.

He shrugs, face laced with concentration as he anticipates his next move.

“Fine. Boring.”

You smile. “Hopefully this is a bit more titillating.”

Charlie looks up at you. His eyes fall to your chest as he considers your word choice and you clench as your heart rate speeds up.

“It definitely is, Sweetheart,” he says, voice deep, as he returns his own focus to the letters in front of him.

You’d been babysitting Henry since you were 16, even before Charlie and Nicole broke up. Conveniently enough, you live in the apartment above them and over the years, you’d grown attached to Henry. He’s smart and funny, he always remembers you and doesn’t need Charlie to reintroduce you. And he’s a good kid, easy to hang out with. You never mind canceling plans to help out the Barbers.

Well, to help out Mr. Barber.

Besides, Charlie pays incredibly generously and as you’ve gotten older, you’ve come to appreciate everything about him: his size, his demeanor, the way he’s such a dedicated father. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the way you catch him staring at you since you’ve turned 18.

You know you shouldn’t have a crush on the man who pays you to watch his son. You should be interested in guys your own age but… there’s something about your 6’4” client whose hands appear as though they could wrap around your entire waist in one go. And you’ve tried to think of anyone else with your bedroom door locked, and your tiny fingers between your legs–like the captain of the football team, or the guy who sits behind you in Calc, but Mr. Barber always worms his way into your thoughts right as you’re about to come.

Charlie plays the word ‘VEIN’ and you can’t help but clench at the sight of his own veins rolling over his knuckles as his hand flexes, the tendons straining when he reaches for his pencil to document his score.

“Sweetheart?” he asks in a tone that implies he’d been trying to get your attention for a while. “Are you okay?”

You can’t tear your eyes off of his hand as you apologize.

“It’s okay.” He smiles, his perfectly crooked teeth peeking out from behind his plush, pink lips.

When you look up at him, his eyes flick up to meet yours, his features laced with guilt as you catch him staring at your chest again.

Then you play ‘WIDE.’

As you reach to place your tiles, you bend a little further than necessary, so more cleavage is revealed to his clearly hungry gaze.

He inhales sharply.

“We could uh… we could make this more fun,” he says. “If you want.”

“Okay,” you say immediately. “I want.”

Charlie swallows, looks you up and down, his gaze scorching as he takes in your tiny denim shorts.

“Whoever plays the lower scoring word for the round… removes an article of clothing.”

It’s always warm in his apartment, so it’s not like you have a ton of clothes on to begin with, but you nod anyway, and you’re not sure if he purposely plays a word that scores him lower than yours, but he slips his cardigan off his shoulders without prompting and you smirk.

The following round, he’s delighted when ‘CLOSE’ earns him 24 points.

You arch an eyebrow.

“Shirt.” His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it, eyes dark and focused. He watches you cross your arms at the hem of your shirt and he inhales deeply as you tug it up and over your head, revealing your lace bralette. It’s not completely see-through, but your nipples ache and are desperate for attention. They’re clearly visible as they strain beneath the fabric.

The second round goes to you and you memorize everything about the way his fingers undo the buttons of his shirt. You’re disappointed to see he has an undershirt on. He chuckles when you pout.

The next round goes to you as well and unfortunately, you have to waste this win on his shoes, but he throws you a bone and takes his socks off as well.

The letters you pick up are less than stellar and when it’s your turn again, you mindlessly drag your ‘W’ Scrabble tile across the bare skin of your chest while you survey the board.

“Fuck,” Charlie mutters under his breath as he shifts his weight and you’d noticed the bulge in his slacks earlier but it must be uncomfortable for him now because he rearranges his long legs for the third time in the past minute.

Still, he plays a word that scores him 21 points and his eyes unabashedly shift from your chest to your shorts, and back up to your chest as he considers his options.

“Bra.” You take a deep breath in and bite your lip as you tug the bralette up and slip your arms out of it, your breasts dropping out of the lace.

His expression is caught somewhere between pain and hunger as he devours your bare tits with his eyes. He sees you squirm where you sit, attempting to grind your center on the floor but it’s not the right angle, and it’s not enough. So you play your turn and win the round. You want his undershirt off desperately but you take pity on him and request his pants, his erection now so painfully obvious; it must be throbbing.

Unfortunately, your replacement letters contain no vowels and your options on the board are extremely limited, so when he scores higher than you on the next round, you both know what it means.

His eyes are on your tiny fingers working the button of your shorts after you’ve stood up but your hands are shaking so violently, you struggle.

“Let me, Princess,” he says, walking toward you on his knees.

He’s so tall, he’s eye-level with your chest. He nudges your legs apart before hooking his fingers into the waistband on either side and freezes, looks up at you. You nod, head moving half an inch but it’s all the permission he needs before his mouth wraps around one hard nipple, and his hands tug at your tiny shorts.

You whimper as he pulls them down your thighs, his mouth siphoning at your tit like he’s sucking a milkshake through a straw, and your panties get hooked with the denim.

You don’t even realize it's happening until Charlie pulls off of you to say, “fuck it, I’m taking this, too,” and yanks your thong down as well, leaving you completely bare in front of him.

“Fuck,” he whispers, free hand climbing up the inside of your thigh. “Fuck, you’re so perfect. So gorgeous. So grown up now, aren’t you?” You nod as his finger reaches the apex of your thighs.

You shift your weight back and forth as he strokes your folds, teases the creases between your sex and thighs.

“Mister Barber,” you whimper.

“Is this okay, Princess?” he asks.

You nod. “More.”

He smirks, but applies a bit of pressure and slides that finger through your folds. You can’t help but moan as his thick digit glides effortlessly through your soaked flesh, over your entrance and up toward your clit.

“So goddamn wet. This pussy. Fuck, Princess.”

He gathers some of your arousal onto his fingertip and brings it to your clit. Once slick, he circles the throbbing nub a few times, earning gasps and moans from you. Your hands flail, desperately seeking purchase on his head, his shoulders, anything.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He presses his finger to your entrance and slips it inside to the middle knuckle with ease. “Anyone ever touch you like this, Honey?”

You nod slowly.

“Yeah?” he asks. “Bet they didn’t make you feel like I can… will you let me, Sweetheart? Let me show you how good I can make you feel?”

You nod.

“Say yes, Baby Girl. I need you to tell me.”

“Yes,” you say immediately, walls clenching around his finger. “Please, more.”

He curls his finger forward toward your front wall and you gasp as pleasure shoots through your system. Then, he adds a second finger.

He pumps them slowly, testing you, watching your face contort to see how much you can take. You groan when he withdraws his fingers, but you get a good look at them when he lifts them to your face.

“Look how wet you are for me, Princess,” he says, painting your bottom lip with your own arousal.

You allow both fingers into your mouth when he prods and you moan as you taste yourself, suck your juices off of him.

Then, you grab his wrist, holding his hand in place so your tongue can make figure eights around and through his digits.

Damn, you never knew that fingers could taste so good, that their weight on your tongue could feel like this, that sucking them deeper into your mouth could cause a surge of arousal to flood your already soaked center.

“You like this, Baby Girl? You like sucking Daddy’s fingers?”

Your knees nearly give out at that. You’d always wanted to say it, to call someone that but… most boys your age hardly want to be called ‘Babe,’ let alone ‘Daddy.’

But it fits him so well, you decide, as this fantasy knocks you off balance.

Charlie sits back on the floor and beckons you down with him using those fingers, until you’re straddling his lap and he lets you continue to suck as his opposite hand plays with your tits. He massages them, squeezes them, holds them in his hand and makes them bounce. You moan when he pinches a nipple and gasp when he twists it.

The ache between your legs is unbearable. It doesn’t help that your legs are spread open so you can’t even rub your thighs together in the way you usually do when you see Mr. Barber.

“Atta girl,” he coos, bringing your free hand to the bulge in his boxer-briefs. “You like sucking on Daddy’s fingers, huh?”

You nod, let your eyes fall shut as you hollow out your cheeks. “Will you do that while you let me fuck you, Baby Girl?”

You whine as he pries his fingers from your reluctant mouth and he chuckles.

“You’ll get them back, Princess. I could never deny you.”

He pulls his own shirt off and you marvel at his chest—the hard muscles and sheer width of him. His soft tummy bulges slightly over the waistband of his boxer briefs and brings you a sense of comfort you can’t explain and didn’t even know you needed.

His broad shoulders flex under your gaze and he smirks. Charlie keeps you in his lap as he maneuvers his boxer-briefs down and grips your waist so tight, his long fingers nearly wrap entirely around you.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, tilting his head up and capturing your lips with his. You moan as he squeezes you harder and thrusts his tongue into your mouth.

You feel him, hard and thick beneath you. You want to see it, but your bodies are pressed too closely together. You feel too small in his embrace, too powerless to make any decisions for the two of you.

“Mister B-” you whisper-whine before stopping yourself and moaning, “Daddyyyyy…”

“Shh, Baby Girl, I promise I’ll take good care of you, okay?” he coos and you nod. “Trust me.”

And you do. He lifts you slowly, until he’s lined up at your entrance.

“Please tell me you’re on birth control.”

“I am,” you breathe and he releases a sigh of relief as he lowers you onto him slowly. “Ahh,” you gasp as he stretches you out, pressing kisses to your chest and throat to distract you from any discomfort.

“Sweetheart, you’re—“

He doesn’t finish his train of thought. Just lifts you up off of him and you groan as he falls out.

“Daddy,” you whine as he sets you down on the scrabble board and pushes you back.

Charlie hovers over you and kisses you while one of his massive hands explores the curves of your body. You feel so vulnerable, spread open on his living room floor like this.

Kissing his way down your body, he pays extra attention to your breasts—sucking, kissing, licking at your nipples until they’re soaked and pointed.

“Daddy!”

Continuing south, Charlie positions your legs, spreads them the way he wants them and licks a stripe up your cunt experimentally and without warning.

“Yes, Princess?” he asks coyly. His hand appears between your legs.

Your back arches involuntarily as he licks your clit, and explores your folds with his tongue. Scrabble tiles dig into your back as you squirm and Charlie reaches up to pin you with a forearm across your hips.

You nearly scream his name as his tongue works you and he covers your mouth with a massive hand.

“Kid’s asleep,” he reminds you, but you hardly hear him when you grab his wrist and take two of his fingers into your mouth.

As you suck them, he sucks on your clit, his siphons matching your pace until you’re moaning, lips vibrating against his knuckles as your climax builds.

No one’s ever done this for you before. Sure, you’d made yourself come, but the boys you’d fooled around with probably couldn’t even point to your clit, let alone know how to tease it and suck at it.

Back arching, heart pounding, Scrabble tiles jabbing, you thrash across the floor and board as your orgasm wreaks havoc through your system, shakes you to your core.

“Good girl,” he praises, lifting his head off of you. He wipes his soaked mouth and chin on your inner thigh, your hip bone, your ribs, like a dog rubbing its scent, marking its territory.

“You came so well for me, Baby Girl. So good, so fucking good.”

Charlie wraps one of your pliant legs around his waist and you do everything in your power to tighten your muscles and hold it there for him while he enters you for a second time, filling you completely, but this time, it’s so much better.

“Fuck, oh my god, I-”

“Shh,” he tells you again, covering your mouth and refusing to allow you to pull it away. He buries his head in the crook of your neck as he thrusts hard and fast into you, the Scrabble tiles nearly cutting your back open.

“Fuck, you’re so tight still. Fuck, such a perfect pussy. Can’t believe you’re letting me fuck you,” he babbles as his hips snap against yours.

The friction of his thick cock rubbing mercilessly against your stretched walls renders you unable to think, let alone speak. Whiney babbles escape from between your lips as your body rocks back and forth with the force of his thrusts, your tits jiggling, and legs hardly able to remain locked around his waist.

Your back can only lift so much with his weight over you but as he grinds into you, a second orgasm rakes through your system, waves of pleasure coursing through your body as his thrusts grow sloppy and he spills into you, hitting you hard and deep as he comes. His hand slides off your mouth and he plants it on the floor to lift himself off of you.

“Fuck,” he breathes looking down at your naked body. “That was perfect, Baby Girl. You’re amazing.” He kisses your neck. “You were so good for me.”

You accept his lips when he leans up to kiss you.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, nudging your nose with his.

“Yeah, I just…” you maneuver your hand behind your back and pluck a Scrabble piece jabbing your shoulder blade. “Maybe round two can be in your bed?”

“Round two?” Charlie asks with an eyebrow arched.

“Of Scrabble. After all, we didn’t get to finish our first game,” you tease with a coy smile before dropping your voice, looking up at him through your lashes and whispering, “Daddy.”

Charlie growls before whisking you away to his bed.

Your clothes somehow make it to the room, but the disheveled Scrabble board remains in the middle of the living room floor.

#adcu #Adam driver #adcu fanfiction #adcu smut #charlie barber #charlie barber x reader #charlie barber x you #rachwrites

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sammythelover · 6 months

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#city on fire #apple tv #Charlie Weisbarger #wyatt oleff imagine #stan uris x reader #stanley uris #losers club #it chapter one #it chapter 2 #stanley barber #stan barber #ianowt #i am not okay with this #stanley barber x reader #wyatt oleff

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sacklerscumrag · 9 months

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Devotion

Regency!Charlie Barber x Fem!Reader

Warnings: pining, friends to lovers, smut, vaginal fingering, the smallest angst ever i swear

Word Count: 3.6K

Notes: I haven't written in forever but this idea has been in my head for about a year now and i just had to get it out. i miss you all, i hope you enjoy my crappy writing and never ending love for all things charlie barber <3

The light glimmered through the glass windows and reflected off the gold-rimmed tea cup sitting upon the pristinely decorated wooden table. Charlie sat in his reading chair in the corner of the otherwise quiet room as he turned the page in the ragged book in his hand when he felt something fall from one of the pages at the far end of it. A flattened, parched rose petal landed on his lap, etchings sketched onto it worn over time—your initials. And there it was. Yet another piece of you slipping between his fingers, Charlie's breath hitched in his throat. The brief memory of your tendency to leave small reminders in scattered books across his library when you were young for him to find as he advanced in his readings—something he carried so fondly in his heart, now a painful reminder of your absence.

You were more than merely a childhood acquaintance to Charlie Barber. You'd formed a bond amid the constant suit alterations and meetings between your fathers. Pacing and making your way through the large corridors of his estate, causing mischief, the joyous remembrances from his youth were those Charlie often recalled and pondered on in times when he sought comfort.

As you grew older, Charlie had to bear more responsibilities giving you far less time to spend on frequent visits and more time enclosed in his office, assembling his theater business from the inside out. While Charlie went above and beyond to secure his future in his theatrical endeavors, you'd spend your days on the opposite end of town assisting your parents in daily deliverances of gowns, suits, and more exquisite fabrics than you knew what to do with. You were taught to sew as your mother did; what once was an infinite amount of time to spend with Charlie as children now became fleeting moments of closeness when you altered his neckline or stitched hearts onto the sleeves of his finest suits, hoping he would one day notice any glimpse of your silent devotions. Soon, the division between your families became more apparent and impossible to ignore. You, the daughter of a seamstress to the wealthy, and him reaping the benefits of a lustrous family name. He seemed to pay less and less mind to you until you were nothing more than another servant among him. At least, that's how it appeared. On the inside, Charlie was tormented, to say the least. Irritation and bitterness festered in the depths of his heart, aching to feel the comfort he once had with you. His father's words echoed in his head; the girl will not advance your endeavors, my son. You must choose a wife wisely that will bring honor to our family. Perfectly placed strands of hair fell loosely over his face as Charlie shook his head in an attempt to compose himself. He hated himself for being blinded from the little good he had in his life with you in it and leading you astray from him.

Although he tried, Charlie could never forget you. In fact, he admired you greatly—clashing feelings when he was younger blurred and blind-sighted him as he reflected on the moment he felt a shift between you. Friendly tussles among friends became lingering touches and affectionate glimpses when the both of you were sure no one was looking. A chaste kiss you once shared, knowing it would be your only and your last. A brief moment lasted mere seconds, yet he found himself wishing to stay there for an eternity.

As time passed, Charlie soon realized what it was and what it would always be, that familiar feeling creeping in and nestling in his heart. The four-letter word he could never bring himself to speak out loud. And as much as he tried to push the thoughts indoctrinated into him as dishonorable into the depths of his subconscious, he couldn't. There was no denying it; as much as he was taught to loathe himself for it, he loved you, and loving you was like chasing the clouds; impossible as it seemed, he yearned for it. The unattainable idea that somehow you would someday be his haunted him. All he had to fall back on were the memories of what once was, and they were just that. Memories.

Rumors swirled of Charlie's highly respected status around town, how he eventually married and even took a child. As content as he seemed to the beaming eyes of the world at first, no one could even begin to envision the darkness that ensued behind the lavish walls of his estate. Altercations where neither he nor his wife Nicole could reach an agreement, whether it be on family matters or the simplest tasks. Thus began his downfall, as he called it. Charlie could feel the distance expanding, the tension dictating every cruel words spewed in her direction, all while secretly hoping Henry would be tucked off into bed, not hearing a single word of it. It wasn't long before rumors of Charlie's troubled marriage and whispered affairs circulated even amongst your circles. Their split became inevitable, Nicole moving further into the city, leaving Charlie behind to sulk over the consequences of his self-destructive behavior, forever longing for the person he could never have.

Charlie often wondered where life had taken you. But he was too ashamed to ever reveal himself to you again. No. He'd burdened far too many with his presence as of late; he wouldn't do that to you too. After the separation from Nicole, he found himself collapsing under the pressures of day-to-day life, needing a leave more often than not. Wandering the London streets in the late night hours, his mind raced faster than his feet could carry him. Charlie wasn't exactly sure how he suddenly found himself at your doorstep one night, but he longed to see you. Just one glance and he was convinced the problems churning in his head would vanish. He had to try.

-----------------------------

You were strolling along the entryway when the sound of shuffling footsteps alerted you to a presence at your door. You'd been ready to turn in for the night and briefly considered ignoring the unexpected visitor, but what awaited you on the other side of the door would be the most surprising thing of all. Charlie Barber. It had been years since you were in the presence of one another, yet, once your eyes locked on his, it was as if not a second had passed. Neither of you spoke, too taken back by one another to think of anything suitable to say.

"Charl-My lord." You quickly corrected yourself and curtsied before him. This definitely wasn't the Charlie Barber you remembered. Referring to him so casually felt wrong as you cursed yourself for the habit. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, something he often did when he thought no one was looking, and his nerves took over. You noticed. You noticed everything about Charlie; your mind wandered to a time when you'd lay your hand on his in a soothing manner but shook your head, not letting yourself get lost in him, not anymore.

"I apologize for my intrusion. I don't know what came over me; I should-" Charlie stuttered; his distraught manner alarmed you, a pang in your chest aching for him.

"Please come inside. It is late; the least I can do is offer you a warm beverage" You offered him a kind smile and gestured for him to come inside. Charlie remained uncertain, but when you didn't delay for a response, he found himself mindlessly following you into your quaint home. He was sure he wreaked of desperation as he strained to restrain his nerves around you. He stood near the kitchen table as you put a kettle on the stove and set two mismatched tea cups on the counter before you.

"You seem to be doing quite well." His deep voice startled you slightly. His mere presence was enough to unsettle you. Everything about being around Charlie set every nerve in your body ablaze. You were convinced he saw right through you, seeing each of the broken pieces he left behind while you'd worked so hard to put them back together. Letting Charlie go was never a choice; it was best for the both of you. Or at least that's what you told yourself when wishing things would've ended differently. Time heals all wounds; your mama's words rang in your ears. Perhaps she was right.

"It has been far too long." Charlie cleared his throat. "We left off in " He took in the sight before him, your nightgown falling perfectly over your figure, the delicate lace decorating the supple skin of your neck and chest. Your simplicity, the simplicity of your beauty, was something he knew he would never get over. He recalled a time when you'd take down that wall you'd built around your heart for so many other people. A time he had access to all of you.

"Time has passed; we moved on. Nothing more." You cut him off, hands trembling as you set the tea on the table. Tears threatened to well in your eyes, making Charlie's breath hitch. He could not bear to see you like this. He fought every instinct in his body that burned to fix whatever was troubling you, even if he was the one who caused it. Every feeling he had worked so hard to bury all this time, convincing himself he did not love you, could not love you, surfacing with every word that escaped his lips.

"Nothing more? Why is it that you distanced yourself from me then, hm? Why is it that whenever I make an attempt to go near you, you do everything in your power to stray further away?" Charlie pressed the unknown that had haunted him all this time, bubbling up uncontrollably to the surface before he could suppress it to the back of his mind where it belonged. He couldn't contain himself any longer; he had to know if your feelings for him plagued you all these years, as they did to him.

"Forgive me, my lord, but if I am not mistaken, it is you that distanced himself from me." You scowled in a hushed tone while taking a step closer to him. You weren't sure what to make of this. The newfound closeness between you fogged your mind more than you cared to admit. Every hateful word you'd cultivated over the last couple of years on the tip of your tongue dissipated, having Charlie within reach once more, taking in the weakened version of him standing before you. The color seemed to have drained from his face, bags solemn and profound laid under his doe eyes, new lines tracing around his face etched in by sleepless nights and whatever stresses plagued his every waking moment. His shoulders slumped in defeat, his clothes far from the pristine condition you knew them to be once; you had to fight the urge to take him in your arms and console him until this pain that burdened him was a distant memory. You took a breath to steady yourself before speaking.

"You want to know what I see?" Charlie studied your words, taking in your stern gaze. He tipped his chin down slightly to look at you fully, not yet answering your question.

"I see the boy I once knew evolved into a man I do not recognize before me. A mind corrupted and a heart once filled with such tenderness and exceptional curiosity for life now darkened by life's cruel intentions." You continued. "Thoughts and ideas once flourishing now damaged by broken promises, lies, and a world of hurt. But most of all, I see a heart that chooses to not feel and a mind that prefers to ignore what is right in front of him."

The words sank into his heart like an unsuspecting sword. Ever since Nicole, he'd closed himself off, a lesson learned that yearning for love was time wasted. But he could never entirely forget you. He could pinpoint that day all those years ago when you captured his heart in an unsuspecting manner. You were kind and compassionate in a way he admired; you challenged him in ways that irritated him to no end, yet he found himself entirely enraptured by you. This is precisely why he had no choice other than shut you out completely. Charlie knew letting you get too close would be going against everything he wanted for himself. He couldn't let himself love another or have another love him; with love came loss. That he knew for certain.

"That is not true." His ton was harsher than before. "You have no possible way of knowing what is in my heart. Perhaps these feelings you speak of are a projection of your own. Perhaps they do not exist." Venom dripped from him, the stern exterior of the man you loved now nothing but a hollow shell.

"You mean to tell me you feel nothing for me? That I do not cross your mind or your heart for that matter." Charlie's expression was unwavering except for a whisper of a 'no' he couldn't bear to say any louder.

"I do not believe you." You sneered at him, venom dripping from your words. "There is love in your eyes for me, Charlie. I know it."

"I shall not stain you with my burdens as I have to others." Charlie tentatively reached out, his fingers ghosting over yours. His delicate touch sending shivers down your spine. "They are my burdens to bear, not yours."

"That is not your decision to make." Your voice strained, tears welling and threatening to spill over. "Tell me you do not care for me. Tell me there is no love in your heart where I am concerned, and you will never hear from me again."

"Do-do not care for you? It is as if your very being consumes me. I cannot hold a breath or do the most ordinary task without you racing across my every thought and dictating my every move. I feel as though I am losing my sanity because I cannot bear to be without you for one second." Charlie stepped toward you, grazing a hand along your cheek. "I spend every day wishing your heart feels as fiercely as mine does for you." He sighed, focusing his gaze downward and taking a step backward. You could practically feel his walls rising, icing you out once again. "It does not matter. It wasn't supposed to be like this; I wasn't supposed to feel this...I wish I never knew of this...of you." Charlie's words stung in your chest so profoundly you had to make sure there wasn't actually a wound there. Your lower lip trembled, sentiment breaking through. Even through the hurtful words, he still ached for you. And he hated himself for it. It was pointless; what was the point of going after something entirely out of his reach? Charlie felt as though he couldn't do this anymore. He stood before you, trembling as he collected whatever ounce of courage he had left and asked.

"Do you hate me?" His voice was barely a whisper seeking a validation he knew he had no right to ask of you after everything.

"Of course not." You responded without hesitation. Charlie scanned your face for any trace of deceit, but there was none. Instead, he found all of the devotion and tenderness you could not convey into words. It was as if you indeed saw the broken pieces of him but only sought to love him as he was, incomplete and perfect in every way in your eyes. "Charlie, I loved you."

Loved. There it was. Part of him felt relief hearing the long-awaited assurance that maybe he wasn't insane for feeling this much for you for so long. But the grief quickly washed over him, the realization that you said loved, not love. It sunk in painfully and rapidly at the possibility that you had moved on, forgotten him amongst perhaps a possible newfound happiness in your new life without him.

"I see." Charlie cleared his throat and straightened out his coat, avoiding your gaze. Afraid he would no longer be able to keep his emotions at bay if he did.

"Charlie.." You brought a hand to his cheek cautiously as if not to frighten him. He flinched but then leaned into your touch. It felt natural, the warmth of your skin on his; it felt like home. The look in your eyes told him everything he needed to know and everything neither of you could bring yourselves to say aloud. "I never stopped loving you." Charlie's jaw opened slightly, unsure if he heard you correctly over the sound of his heart hammering through his chest. "I love you, Charlie." A sob wracked your chest as you held him close. It was as if you indeed saw the pieces of him but only sought to love him as he was, incomplete and perfect in every way in your eyes. A deep sigh escaped him before he spoke.

"I love you. I love you as much as a person can love another. I do not wish to hold it inside anymore. I love you." Charlie enveloped your face in his hands, his thumb tenderly stroking your cheek. Unbridled affection flowed freely and filled the space between you. Your lips met for what felt like the first time; his other hand settled at your waist, prompting you closer to him and deepening the kiss. His lips moved against yours with a gentle urgency. It was as if nothing else mattered, the past becoming more of a distant memory the further you melted into him. There was only this moment. Charlie unwillingly pulled away, leaving your foreheads pressed against one another, his hair slightly disheveled from your fingers running through it, lips swollen and thoroughly kissed.

He pulled you close again, continuing his ministrations. His lips lavished kisses along your neckline and down to your chest as your hands tangled in his hair. His hands worked tirelessly to remove as many barriers between your bodies as quickly as possible as he gently guided you to lean on the wall behind you. Charlie hastily bunched up your dress, groaning when his hands slid along your dampened underwear. You panted under him, his lips never leaving your skin, leaving a trail of marks and bruises as a reminder of his love for you.

The way you looked, how your body responded to his every touch. Every captivating sound he was able to pull from you, it drove him mad. He couldn't take it anymore; he had to have you now, whichever way you'll let him. Charlie abruptly lifted your leg around his hip and caged you between him against the wall, your fingers tugging at his hair and desperately nipping at his lower lip, pulling an animalistic moan from his chest.

"Charlie, please." You practically whimpered when you felt his finger prod at your entrance, clenching around nothing as he gently worked your sensitive clit. He pressed his lips against yours to swallow any sounds you made as he gently pushed inside you. You moaned into each other in unison as he began to plunge in and out of you, easily slipping through your folds, feeling your warm cunt eager to swallow him whole. He cupped your breast over the fabric of your dress, kneading it in his hands while breathing heavily as he pushed another finger inside of you, holding you there for a moment, reveling in how impossibly soft and warm you felt around him, your slick making an impossible mess of his hand. You could feel his stiff cock grinding against your thigh, realizing the effect you were having on him.

A low grunt rumbled from his chest when he felt you fluttering around him. His hand outlined from the swell of your breasts all the way down beneath your hips, memorizing every curve, feeling the way your chest was rising and falling with every breath of pleasure that surged through you; even the way your hips instinctively moved to meet his own drove him insane. Charlie craved and wanted nothing more than to be close to you; even with every inch of your body pressed against his, it was never close enough for him. He began to stroke your clit, already throbbing for attention. Your hips moved and rode his fingers, desperate for relief when he stroked a particular spot inside you. Charlie felt you whine quietly as your orgasm crashed into you. Waves of heat overwhelmed your body as you pulsed around him.

He pulled away from you after a moment of stolen kisses and delicate touches. Moving quickly to assist you in fixing your dress and ensuring everything else was in order before tenderly cupping your face in his palm.

"I wanted all of you." A sated smile graced your face as you took your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes trained on his trousers. You wanted this man inside of you in every way possible. Not that you were complaining. He'd managed to have you succumbing to a mind-numbing orgasm from just his hands in a matter of minutes. But you needed more.

A knowing smirk graced Charlie's flushed face as his thumb stroked your cheek, capturing you in a kiss once again. Gently moving his lips against yours, filling your heart with all the intent and promise he had to offer. He'd divulged so much of himself already; the awaiting question was on the tip of his tongue. But Charlie held himself back. No. He knew when the moment was right; he would make you his the way he'd always intended. Until then, the engagement ring burning a hole in his pocket would stay hidden...for now. "Soon, my love. Soon."

#adam driver #charlie barber #charlie barber x reader #charlie barber x fem!reader #marriage story #charlie barber fic

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