Having A New Fave Character Like

having a new fave character like

Fish daddy at its finest 😘👌🏻❤

he looks this good and you expect me not to fall in love with him? lmao ok

Ughh it's so fluffy my heart can't take it 😭😭

amor ; namor mckenzie.

pairing ; namor x mutant!gn!reader

synopsis ; we know what it’s like to be punished for love.

words ; 1.1k

themes ; angst, fluff, mutant au, married au

warnings / includes ; no black panther: wakanda forever spoilers, reader is a mutant and can transform into a creature known as the mishipeshu, brief mentions of a conquistador and mutant bigotry, you and namor bicker like an old married couple <3

part two. main masterlist.

The feathered serpent god—K’uk’ulkan. Leader, savior, ruler.

That’s what your people called him. But not you.

“Mi amor,” you called out, a small crease of worry divoting between your brows. You rose from the waters and into the expansive cave, glowing a faint green from the bioluminescent sea lanterns, striding up to your husband. “You have yet to eat today. I’m worried about you.”

He glanced towards you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His arms extended to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and roping you closer. “I’m sorry—I’ll be down shortly. There’s just a lot on my mind right now.” 

Humming in response, you placed a soft kiss to his cheek, then another to the side of his nose. A satisfied rumble thundered within his chest. With his free hand, he gestured to the rocky wall you were facing. 

You tilted your head upwards, observing his handiwork. It was a grand mural, painted with bright coral pigments and sponge-tipped brushes. Every stroke held a thousand memories, every color a symbolic tale. It was no wonder Namor spent hours upon hours here.

“That’s me,” you whispered, stepping closer to the wall. It wasn’t you in your human form—it was an intricate drawing of Mishipeshu, as the land-dwellers called you when you transformed. There were about a couple dozen humans with spears pointed towards the creature. A lump formed in your throat. You could feel a tar-like darkness stain your insides at the memory. The surface-people were once your friends, but that was a lifetime ago. 

“It was the day we met,” Namor susurrated, vibranium jewelry jingling as he strode towards the other side of the cave, where another painting resided. “When I found out you were not like the other Talokans—a mutant, like me.”

“That was not a pleasant memory. The humans I once trusted, betrayed me. They were hurting me and I… I thought you were going to do the same. I nearly killed you,” you sighed wistfully.

At that, Namor whirled around, arching a brow as he stalked back to you. “If I remember correctly, I almost killed you.” He leaned closer with a smug look etched over his features, only mirroring your steps every time you shuffled back. 

“I am nearly sure I was winning that fight.”

His low chuckle reverberated through the cave. “I beg to differ.”

“I broke your arm!”

“I cut your tail off.”

“And then I married you not long after,” you gruffed with a scowl, gently shoving his face away when he backed you into a corner. “Besides, my tail grew back a month later—no thanks to you.”

“And who was the one that proposed marriage?” Namor leered, grabbing your wrists to keep you from swatting him.

A low growl caught in your throat. “You are insufferable, my love.”

He barked out a laugh. “As are you, mi vida.”

Then, he kissed you. It was a kiss of contrasts—his cold jewelry pressing flush against your sweltering skin, and his lips rough as his nose softly slotted against yours. The silence was loud, nearly deafening, only thickening as he crowded you against the wall, the damp stone scratching almost painfully against the bare skin of your back. But you didn’t care.

“Amor,” you croaked, when his lips left yours, trailing down your jaw, to your quivering throat, to your heaving cleavage. He hummed in question, wordlessly asking you what was on your mind. “Why me? Why did you choose to save me?”

“Because I saw myself in you,” he replied easily, letting go of your wrists so he could press a frigid palm flat over your sternum. He could feel the frantic thumping over your heart pulse, only seeming to quicken the longer he stared at you. “Because you’re the only one that can truly understand me.”

“Because we’re mutants?”

Namor regarded you silently, before dipping his head to kiss you, much slower this time. When he pulled away, he whispered, “Because we know what it’s like to be punished for love.”

You studied him with wide eyes—the emerald luminescence cast arching shadows over his face, and for a moment you understood just why everybody called him a god. He certainly looked like one. 

But your love was not a god. He was a man—a man that lived through repeated nightmare after nightmare. A man who’d seen too much for a single lifetime. A man left with a legacy that he never asked for. 

A man with mutant powers—like yours.

Did that make you a god?

To the surface-dwellers, that made you a monster.

“I love you,” he muttered into you, lifting his head to meet your eyes steadily. They were narrowed, dark and observant, as if searching you for any sign of regret. He uttered those words very sparsely, usually in the dead of night when you were already sound asleep, or when one of you had to leave Talokan for a long period of time.

The land-roamers called him Namor, a man without love—but he had so much to give to you. The love he harbored for you laid heavy and stagnant within his chest, clinging to every bone of his ribcage, to every pump of his heart. It was tricky and unfamiliar to deal with at first—because the only time he’d ever loved someone this much was for his mother. He was not talented in the art of love, that was certain.

He was never one to be insecure. But with a name such as Namor so deeply ingrained into his being, he could only wonder if that was perhaps true. A Spanish conquistador used his dying breath to call him devil-born, undeserving of love. 

Was there truth to his words? Did he have your love in return? And if he did, would he deserve such love?

“You think so loudly,” you said, tilting your head. You kissed the corner of his mouth. Once, twice, thrice. He would do anything for a fourth. “I love you, amor. It’s like you said before—I was the one that wanted to marry you, remember?”

Your husband huffed, smiling fondly at the memory. “Mmh, very adamant about it, as well—”

“It’d be wise if you didn’t finish that thought, K’uk’ulkan.” 

Playfully, he narrowed his eyes. “You’ll have to make me, Mishipeshu.”

You surged forward and slanted your lips against his once more, and Namor reciprocated with an equally passionate vigor.

Yes, he thought, as your muffled laughter rang through the cave whilst you kissed him, throwing your arms over his neck, he had your love. And he most definitely deserved it, too.

Damn.. this is dark A F

Hello! Love your work especially with the last request 😍 May I request C.Evans x Innocent!reader. She's being interviewed with Chris for their first movie together and her big screen debut. During the interviews Chris keeps dropping hints that he's interested in reader but she's SUPER oblivious. The whole entire filming he has been interested in reader, but she never picked up on the hints. After all the interviews Chris finally snaps and shows her how much he's been longing for her 🥵🫣 Thank you!

don't deny the animal

Pairing: dark!Chris Evans x naive!reader

Warnings: non-con, dubcon, daddy!kink, dumbification, degradation, possessive behaviour, obsessive behaviour, manipulation, misogyny, slight breeding kink, seriously chris is kind of deranged in this, and the reader is super innocent, MINORS DNI

Summary: Chris wants you. He's never lusted after a co-star before but he can't help but want you. And the fact that you don't even realise it, makes him want you more.

(A/N: i got kind of carried away with this. but i hope you enjoy it anyways. i'll warn y'all again, this is a dark fic! read at your own risk! enjoy! also, -> requests are open <- and i write for chris evans and characters, so if you have any ideas do send them in!)

Chris thinks he’s having a minor heart attack the first time he sees you. His heart does this flippy thing that he’s never really felt it do before, seeing you shuffle into the room – all bright-eyed, shy and unsure of yourself. You’ve got your script gripped tightly in your hands; lip bitten in concentration as you go over your lines. He finds it so cute, how serious you are. He also can’t help but stare at you, your perfect figure, the way those jeans hug your ass.

“I see you checking out the fresh meat.” The director sidles up to him, giving him a nudge and a wink. Chris doesn’t hide his scowl – he doesn’t like this seedy sonofabitch talking about you like that. Despite the fact that he’s never before batted an eye at the director’s past misogynistic comments towards countless actresses and extras. But something about you is different.

“She’s the full package, Chris, I’ll tell you that right now.” The director continues, “Great body, great face. Acting’s great too. Plus, she’s got that whole innocent thing. You know, the whole ‘I’m from a small-town and I’m new to Hollywood thing.’ God, that’ll go away quick, won’t it?” Chris zones out almost instantly, watching you whisper your lines to yourself as you pace around in the corner. Disregarding the director, he finds himself walking towards you.

He introduces himself, all confident and oozing with charm. He loves that you blush instantly, craning your neck as you look up at him because he’s just so much bigger than you. He loves how soft your voice is when you tell him your name and where you’re from. He loves how he makes you so nervous that you stumble over some of your words, and the blush deepens on your cheeks. He stares at you brazenly – he really can’t help it. You’re the hottest little thing he’s ever seen – how you bite your lip so sexily, how your eyes flash with panic every time you stutter over your words. And that body. God. He can feel his imagination running wild.

Chris doesn’t really make a habit out of fucking his co-stars. In fact, he tries to avoid it because of how messy it can sometimes be. But he knows he wants you in his bed the moment he sees you. You’re absolutely stunning but he can imagine just how pretty you’d look underneath him, with your legs spread, your face contorted in pleasure, mewling his name as he pounds you into next week. Fuck. He has to have you. No ifs or buts. He has to. And luckily, he always gets what he wants.

As filming begins, he can’t help but admire how good of an actor you are, how cute you look pouring your whole heart and soul into your lines. You’re quiet and reserved off-camera, but as soon as the director yells action, it’s like you’re a different person. And Chris loves acting opposite you, playing your love-interest. At one point, you earnestly tell him you’ve been a huge fan of him since you were really young, how great you think he is, how much he intimidates you. He loves how you boost his ego without even realising it.

“You should come to my trailer later on,” Chris says to you pointedly on day five of filming. It hasn’t even been a week since he began working with you but he’s already impatient, already wants to get in your pants. “We can… rehearse.” He makes sure to say it pointedly, make it as clear as day what he wants. There are a few kissing scenes and even a minor sex scene between your characters that you both have yet to film, and he figures he can give you a bit of practice on that within the intimacy of his trailer.

“Oh yes, definitely!” You’re enthusiastic, looking as if you’ve been blessed that the Chris Evans just asked you back to his trailer. He’s smug, loving how excited you get, loving how you stroke his ego. It gets his dick so hard; he has trouble concentrating the rest of the day. And you’re so extra hot that day, pouting those pretty lips of yours as you act through your scenes. Wardrobe’s done a great job of dressing you in this flowy, periwinkle blue sundress. That, plus this fresh, minimal makeup look they’ve done on you, makes you look like a little flower. It’s so innocent it actually makes his heart ache. And his dick too.

You show up at his trailer so promptly that it makes him smile. There’s an hour break before filming starts again and Chris can think of a million different ways to spend that time locked up in his trailer with you. He pulls you inside immediately, loving how your eyes widen at his touch. You seem nervous – you’re always nervous around him. “You want a drink?” Chris offers, gesturing to the selection of beers he’s got in his mini-fridge.

“No, thank you, Chris.” You say primly, and he wants to reach down and adjust his hard fucking dick because of how polite you are. He really approves of your good manners, it’s a trait he finds both attractive and important in a girl, and it just makes you even sexier. “I don’t really drink.” You add softly, and he chuckles. Oh, sweetheart, Hollywood’s gonna eat you alive.

“How about a juice?” He asks, and he can’t help but smirk when you nod shyly. He hands you an apple juice-box, making sure his hand brushes against yours as he does, loving how you jump slightly at the contact. And, God, it really is the hottest thing in the world to him – you holding that juice-box, sipping on it all cutely. His mind shifts to a darker place, thinking of how he could really just ruin you.

He saunters over to the conveniently located loveseat in the sitting area of his trailer, plopping down and really spreading himself out, knowing he’s taking up more than half of the space. Crooking a finger in your direction, he beckons you forward, “C’mere.”

Chris loves how you scurry to obey his simple order, your demeanour radiating nervousness as you tentatively sit down next to him on the loveseat. He immediately sidles closer, so close that he’s nudging your leg with his. And it’s crazy how sexy you look, tugging the hem of your dress down your pretty legs when it slightly rides up, not to mention the hitch of your breath as you register how close in proximity he is to you.

He picks a scene and the two of you begin rehearsing. He loves the passion in your eyes – it seems like the only time you give him full on eye-contact for an extended period of time is when you’re acting. It’s easy for you to get lost in a scene with him – but every move Chris makes is calculated. Like when he puts his hand on your thigh. The scene doesn’t call for it but he does it anyways – figuring he might as well make it extremely obvious that he wants to fuck you. Right here. Right now.

Your eyes widen but apart from that you continue with your lines. Chris smirks, squeezing the soft flesh of your bare thigh, wondering if you bruise easily. Somehow, you make it through all your lines and – surprise, surprise; it’s not like he picked this scene on purpose – the scene ends with a kiss. It’s only meant to be a peck, but Chris figures he’ll really plant one on you, get you wet between the legs and ready for him.

He kisses you, loving how you squeak against his lips before melting into it and kissing him back. One, two, three seconds and fucking hell, Chris is ready to peel your clothes off. So it surprises him no end when you pull away, eyes bright and shining as you grab your juice-box and take another sip. “That was good, I think.” You speak. “The scene, I mean.”

Chris smirks, “And the kiss?”

He watches you mull over his question, really thinking it through before you answer, “I think I did okay. But I don’t know. I don’t really have much experience with that kind of stuff, Chris. I’ve never really done any kissing scenes before.” And you look so innocent as you confess this, all reflective and honest – as if you have no idea that your lips on his have given Chris the biggest raging hard-on he can remember having in a long time. He moves his hand up your thigh and squeezes again.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You were great.”

“Really?” You light up, and it’s killing him how oblivious you seem to be of his true motives. “Wow, Chris. Your feedback really means everything. You know, I really just wanna nail this role – so people take me seriously. My family thinks this acting thing won’t work out, and I just wanna prove them wrong.”

Chris truly can’t believe it. His intentions have been crystal clear as day. He wonders if this whole innocent thing is just an act – but one look at you slurping noisily on your juice-box and he knows it’s not. You really are truly innocent, missing any signal he seems to be sending your way. And it only makes him want you even more.

***

From that point onwards, Chris makes it a personal objective of his to get you in his bed. He lays it on extra thick, your oblivious nature forcing him to act more and more obvious with his flirtations. He touches you a lot – in front of everyone. The whole film crew is subjected to Chris leading you around, his hand pressing on the small of your back or his arm thrown casually around your shoulders. The director gives him a knowing wink – you dirty dog, Chris. I knew you’d fuck her sooner or later! – and it truly seems like everyone knows Chris’ intentions. Everyone but you.

One day on set – when he’s feeling especially bold and horny – he takes you to his trailer to do a bit more “rehearsing”. The sex scene between you two is coming up, and you’ve told him you’re nervous about it, because – surprise, surprise – you’ve never filmed anything like that before. “That’s okay, princess.” Chris says, using one of his many pet names he now has for you, “I have something we can watch together. It’ll take the edge off and give you some pointers, too.”

Of course, when you’re both snugly sat in his loveseat, he pulls out his laptop and puts on his favourite porno. It’s a risky move – but surely you can’t be that oblivious. You settle in next to him, cuddling close because you’ve mostly gotten over your initial shyness around him, not batting an eye when he puts his arm around you. It’s only when the porno starts playing that realisation dawns on your face, and you turn to him with a questioning look, “Ch-Chris? What is this?”

“It’s porn, babe.” Chris states the obvious, loving how your luscious lips form the shape of an ‘o’, wanting nothing more than to stuff his dick down your throat just for pursing your lips like that. Instead, he squeezes your shoulder gently. “It’s an industry secret, but all the big actors watch porn before their sex scenes. I do it all the time. It works like magic.”

Sometimes Chris wonders how he can lie so easily. But you seem to be eating up every word he says, nodding as if he’s just bestowed the world’s biggest wisdom onto you. You settle in, relaxing as the video begins. And Chris spends the whole time looking at you rather than the laptop screen. The look of pure concentration on your face is absolutely adorable, but you might as well be taking notes in math class with how serious you’re acting. He wonders if you’re just very good at masking your desire – and he wonders just how wet your panties are.

“Ooh, daddy, fuck me harder!” The girl in the video moans, and you wrinkle your nose and look at Chris. “Daddy?” You repeat, a questioning look on your face.

And Chris thinks he’ll bust a nut right then and there, hearing that word slip past your lips. God, how fucking innocent can you truly get? He clears his throat, making no secret of adjusting his hard dick in his pants.

“Well, yeah, princess. Don’t you know that most men love it when their girls call them daddy?”

You shake your head slowly, a look of wonder on your face. “I didn’t know that. Should I call you daddy when we film our sex scene?”

He chuckles at that. I wish. “Maybe not, princess. But you can call me daddy anywhere else.”

And he can’t believe you have the audacity to laugh. This twinkling little girl giggle you do that drives him crazy, gets his dick so fucking hard he feels like he’s going to explode. And the feeling increases tenfold when you next open your mouth. “Okay, daddy.” But you say it as a joke, laughing shyly while Chris screams inwardly out of frustration. God fucking damn.

The two of you film your sex scene the very next day. And for Chris, it’s over all too soon. One second, you’re on top of him, underneath the covers wearing flesh-coloured bra and panties to give the illusion that you’re naked. And God, it feels too fucking good, your tiny body writhing on his hard dick, your lips pressing kisses on his skin, breathy little moans coming from your mouth. He can’t resist and gives your ass a little slap, loving how it jiggles against his palm.

He bounces you up and down on his dick, really wishing more than anything that he was actually inside of you. But it feels fucking amazing anyways, him humping you on his dick like this. He can’t believe this is his job. But after about ten seconds of this pure bliss, the director is yelling cut and Chris wants to gouge the motherfucker’s eyes out. Too soon, the assistants flood the set, helping you into a fuzzy dressing gown and whisking you away.

And you have the audacity to look back at him and mouth, “thank you for the pointers.”

He gifts you with flowers and a pearl choker on the last day of filming – after three aggravating months of sexual frustration and getting nowhere with his hints. You squeal and give him the biggest hug ever; he can feel your breasts pressing against his chest. “You’re the bestest, Chris. I’m gonna miss working with you so much!” He hopes you can feel his hard dick against your stomach, but if you can – you don’t say anything.

And his gifts don’t just end there. He buys you a tiny black bodycon dress to wear for the wrap party. Packaged with luxurious tissue and sealed inside a white box marked with Chanel. He leaves it waiting for you on your hotel room bed, accompanied with a note: Wear this for me tonight, princess. Love, Daddy.

He can’t possibly be more obvious if he tries.

And when he sees you at the wrap party wearing the dress hechose for you, that he bought for you – it awakens an almost violent, animalistic desire in him. He wants to bend you over and fuck you in front of everyone there, and go extra rough as punishment for teasing him all these months. But you’re blissfully unaware as usual, skipping over to him and giving him the biggest hug, thanking him for the dress. Completely unaware of the true intentions behind his expensive gift.

He keeps you on his lap all night. Maybe it’s because he can see how every other man in the room is staring at you in that body-hugging dress, or maybe it’s because his fucking dick just needs some friction from your body. And does it really matter if you don’t even realise what you’re doing? Getting all excited as you talk about the upcoming movie that you can’t help but bounce around, unknowingly giving Chris a few seconds of bliss?

But you leave early, saying you’re very tired and need a good night’s rest. Chris almost offers to give you a lift back to your apartment, but he’s surrounded by colleagues, actors and producers – all congratulating him on the movie. And easily, you slip out of his grasp; giving him a dainty wave before you’re gone and he’s left at a party he no longer wants to be at, with a hard dick and no adequate way of relieving it.

The press days for the movie are the worst. Of course, Chris is paired with you for the interviews – but the two of you never have a moment alone. It’s hair and makeup, then one interviewer after another sitting across from the two of you. And it doesn’t help that you look so fucking good, wearing this flowery pink dress with small pink flowers in your hair. Looking like a goddamn woodland fairy or nymph or some shit – it’s almost too much for him to handle.

“So, tell us what it’s like working on such a big film with Chris Evans?” One interviewer asks you.

“Oh, he’s just wonderful!” You gush. “This is my first major movie and I’ll admit I was so nervous. Because it’s Chris Evans, you know? But he honestly made me feel so at ease, and he really helped me out a lot. And we had so much fun too, like you guys already know this probably – but he’s a really great guy!” You give his hand a quick squeeze, and Chris notices the interviewer’s eyes zero in on this as you continue: “He’s just amazing. A great friend and mentor.”

Friend? Mentor? How many fucking friends of yours do you watch porn with? Chris wants to know, but he keeps his borderline angry thoughts to himself. Putting on his charming face and laughing and talking his way through the interview, when all he truly wants to do is throw you into the nearest bathroom and have his way with you. Rip that fucking flowery dress off of you, make you get on your knees and see how much of him you can fit in your mouth. Bend you over and make you scream so loud, that everyone hears. Paint your whole body with his cum, completely drench you in it, including those fucking flowers in your hair. So everyone can know that he’s not your fuckingfriend.

Instead, he sits through interview after interview. Growing more frustrated as the day progresses. Everything seems to be getting to him; he doesn’t like the male interviewers talking to you, or even looking at you – and he doesn’t like it when you reply to their dumb questions. He hatesit when you sing praises about the director of the film, or any of the other actors – he hates it when you praise anyone but him.

It suddenly dawns on Chris that he’s had you in this bubble while the two of you were filming the movie these past few months. But now that it’s over, he’s not ready to give you away into the ruthless clutches of Hollywood. He wants to keep you safe, keep an eye on you at all times. And, of course – above all – he wants you in his bed. He isn’t usually a possessive guy but you make him absolutely feral.

When Chris sees you at the premiere of the movie, he feels like his heart is caught in his throat. You look so beautiful, floating down the red carpet in this simple green chiffon dress. Your hair’s piled up on your head in this sexy updo with strands falling down to frame your face. All eyes are on you, the photographers yelling: ‘look this way, sweetie!’ ‘Give us a nice pose!’ ‘One over the shoulder, please!’

He almost wants to whisk you away, stuff you back into the limo and take you all the way back to his own house – away from the intrusive stares of all these people, away from the public eye. You’re his after all, not theirs. And Chris can tell you’re nervous, completely out of your depth, standing there looking so goddamn shy and delectable. He strides over to you, being a red-carpet veteran at this point, grabbing your elbow and giving you an assured smile.

You glow when you see him, readily take his arm. And fuck, it feels so good to have you on his arm, have all these people see you clutching on to him, the official photographers and the paparazzi going absolutely nuts snapping pictures of the two of you. You turn to him and whisper slowly, “Chris, I’m scared. All these flashing lights…”

He leans in all close to you, making sure to smirk as his lips brush your ear. He knows this’ll be all over the internet in a few minutes. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You know I’m here. I’ll always be here for you.” And he can hear all the murmurs and exclamations in the crowd, gaining traction as more people look your way.

“Awww, look how he came to the rescue! She looked like a deer caught in headlights!”

“Chris is honestly the best. And they make such a cute couple!”

“They look so good together, it’s insane!”

Chris finds it amusing how even the random fans in the crowd seem to realise his intentions better than you do.

But he’s in a pretty fucking good mood regardless of that. Because he’s at the premiere of his movie and you’re on his arm. He only lets you go when you two get further down the red carpet, joining the rest of the cast and director as well as a handful of journalists conducting interviews. They corner Chris almost immediately, and he good-naturedly answers their questions. It’s only when he turns around, ready to go into the theatre, when he sees you being interviewed a few steps away from him.

“So, tell us, do you have a special someone back home? Maybe someone who you were wishing could be here with you?” The interviewer asks you, and Chris almost rolls his eyes at how dumb the question is. That is, until you reply.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe.” You say coyly, doing that thing where you bite your lip. “I’m super grateful to be here, romance and all of that is really on the back of my mind right now.”

“But ‘maybe’ means there is someone back home, isn’t there?” The interviewer grills. And you don’t reply, instead just shrugging happily – which is answer enough for Chris. And his blood is fucking boiling. He feels like he could punch something. Or someone. Every territorial cell in his body feels like it’s multiplying, the animal inside him growling angrily. You? Have someone else? How fucking dare you?

Chris has had enough. No, he’d had enough months ago. Now, he’s fucking feral. And you’re so fucking oblivious, being ushered into the theatre to where the movie is being screened. The whole collective moves, and once everyone’s inside and away from the photographers and bright lights and crowds, Chris grabs your arm, pulling you into the nearest bathroom and not giving a single flying fuck who sees.

“Chris, what are you doing? Is everything okay?” You ask him, your voice all breathy. Fuck, even when concerned you look fucking hot as fuck. Chris can’t take it anymore, he really can’t. “Chris, what’s wrong? They’re screening the movie now, we’re gonna miss it!”

It takes barely two percent of his strength to slam you against the bathroom wall, his arms on either side of you, effectively caging you in. “You have a boyfriend back home?” He asks you bluntly.

“Wh-What, no, I –”

“Answer me truthfully.” He says, his face inches from yours. You look scared out of your mind, and clearly very intimidated. And why does he find it hot that you’re scared?

“N-No, Chris. I don’t have a-a boyfriend,” you stutter; “I was just… There’s someone back home. Someone I knew from high-school. But I’ve been so busy with this movie… Nothing’s happened.”

He kisses you then. All rough from the get go, tongue ripping past your lips and claiming your mouth. He kisses you like he owns you. Which he does. And it’s about time you fucking realise it. You’re almost too stunned to kiss him back, and more confused than anything else. Chris can feel your tiny fists pushing at his chest, trying to push you away. It makes the animal inside him angrier.

“Wh-What are you doing?” You cry, face red and confused. Like, actually fucking confused. After he’s just dragged you into the bathroom and kissed you. Chris can’t fucking believe it.

“Surely you can’t be that clueless.” He says, reaching down to touch your body because fuck – it’s his and he’s had enough. His hands smooth down the sides of your waist, feeling the soft silk of your dress. The material’s so thin, he can practically feel your skin underneath. So creamy soft, he squeezes your waist, loving how you feel underneath his fingers. You let out a small whimper, and it drives him insane. He grabs your ass lewdly with one hand, giving it a rough smack that has you falling into his chest in shock.

“Why are you doing this?” You sob, and he continues to paw at you like a touch-starved man. Like an animal. Making up for all those times when he should have been touching you but couldn’t. “Chris, please! Why– Oh, oh!” You let out an involuntary little moan when he smacks your ass harder, and it makes him smirk.

“I’ve been trying to fuck you since the first time I saw you.”

Silence. And your fucking lips do that thing again, where they turn into the shape of an ‘o’. Your eyes are glazed with tears of shock and you look up at him in complete and utter disbelief. And Chris can’t fucking believe it either – because a tiny part of him still thought that maybe you were just playing extremely hard to get. But no, the way you’re looking at him now, you’ve been this innocent all along. His dick twitches in his pants.

“You’re so fucking naïve, princess.” Chris breathes, hauling you till he has you bent over the counter of the sink. And it’s not like you fight against him – he’s way too much bigger than you and you’re still in shock from what he’s just said. So it’s easy to maul you into place, with your perky little ass pointed straight at him, and he can’t help but grind his hard bulge into your backside.

“I-I, I thought you were my friend, Chris!” You speak up finally, your tone so deliciously pitiful, looking back at him with those big eyes, tear pearls hanging off your long lashes, cheeks red from the position he’s got you in. He smirks, grinding into you even more.

“Friend? How many of your fucking friends do you watch porn with, huh?” He flips up your dress and bunches it around your waist, revealed the most sinful lacy black G-string Chris has ever seen. Fuck. You’re way too innocent to be wearing something like that. He snaps the elastic of your panties against your skin and gives your practically bare ass another harsh smack that has you crying out loud. “And how many of your fucking friends do you call daddy in private?”

“I thought that was an… an inside joke between us!” You sob, clutching hard onto the marble countertop underneath you, so hard that your knuckles turn white. “And… And I thought you said all the actors watched porn before a sex scene. I thought you were helping me!”

“Well, you’re a stupid little baby, aren’t you?” Chris mocks. And he can see you in the huge mirror attached to the countertop that he’s got you bent over, he can see your mascara-streaked face, your flushed cheeks, the way your face drops when he calls you stupid. And God, all of it together is such a heady combination, it almost has him reeling. He rips your G-string off with a single, merciless yank, revelling in your desperate cry as he gives the tattered lace a deep sniff before stuffing it in his pocket.

“Chris, Ch-Chris, please…” Your breathy whines are like fucking music to his ears. He’s imagined how you’d sound all those times he jacked off thinking of you, but it’s nothing compared to the real deal. Your dainty hand grabs at his, and you crane your neck to look at him, “Please, Chris. We can’t…not here! Th-The movie!”

“Fuck the movie.” Chris growls, his large hands pawing their way up to your chest, pulling down the top of your dress till your breasts pop out. He licks his lips at the lewd image he sees in the mirror: you desperately trying to shield those pretty little tits now exposed to the soft light of the bathroom. He swats your hands away immediately, cupping both your breasts in his hands, squeezing indecently hard, loving how you can’t help but moan as your erect nipples poke against his palms.

“It’s your fault it has to be like this.” Chris tells you, “This could’ve happened months ago. I could’ve fucked you in my trailer, in my hotel room, my fucking house. But you just had to be a dumb fucking innocent little baby, didn’t you? Couldn’t even see how bad your daddy wanted you.” He unbuckles his belt and undoes his fly, pulling his hard dick out. And he wishes he could pause time and replay the look on your face again and again. Replay how your eyes widen, replay the darkness and hint of fear that shimmers in your pupils. Replay that goddamn hitch in your throat as you stare at his dick for the first time.

“It’s…so, so big…” You breathe, mesmerised by his dick and Chris can’t help but be smug. He grinds against your ass before slipping it down to press against your slit. Your wanton moan surprises even him – but moments later you’re gathering yourself, shaking your head and scrunching your eyes shut as if trying to fight off every instinct in your body. “N-No, please! Please, don’t do this here! Let’s just go back. I’m sorry, Chris! I’m sorry I never realised, I’m so sorry!” You sob.

“Baby, I’m not stopping for shit.” He says bluntly, his hands leaving your breasts; one lands on your hip and grips it tight, the other meanders slowly down to your pussy. A strangled moan tears past your stubborn lips when you feel his finger gliding over your slick folds. “So don’t you fucking deny me. See how fucking wet you are? You want this. You’re too fucking innocent to realise it – but you want me. And I’ll fucking show you how bad I want you.”

You’re so tight when he stuffs his finger inside you, but at the same time so slippery wet with your walls squeezing around his digit. He almost shudders as he imagines how snug your warmth will feel around his cock. He starts pumping in and out of you at an almost casual pace, because he’s waited so fucking long to have you that he might as well savour it – despite the animal inside him growing restless.

“Ugh, Chris!” You mewl, and for all the fight you’ve put up, it pleases him no end when you subconsciously grind your hips back into him, effectively humping his finger. “P-Please, I…I…” Already, you’re at a loss for words, and Chris wonders if anyone’s touched you properly at all. The boys from your hick small town probably had no idea what they were doing, which explains your almost visceral and immediate reaction to him. He adds another finger and you keen prettily, your worries about missing the screening quickly forgotten, “Oh, oh, oh! Feels good!”

“Forgot about your movie now, haven’t you?” He teases cruelly. As if on cue, his phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s a text from the director: Where the hell are you guys?? The movie’s started, people are wondering where the two stars are! Chris only smirks, using one hand to type out a quick reply, something about taking care of business, his other hand still pumping in and out of you almost lazily.

“Ch-Chris?” Your tiny voice makes him put his phone away, and he looks at your face in the mirror. You already have a glossy sheen of sweat covering your skin, lips parted as if you’re panting. God, it’s crazy how adorably hot you look – and he’s barely even touching you. “Chris… Please… I need… I need…”

A devilish smile paints his features, his fingers curving upwards inside you and causing your entire body to convulse forward. “PLEASE, CHRIS, I NEED MORE!” You cry out so loudly, it surprises even him. And then you’re sobbing, really sobbing, tears staining your cheeks, his name leaving your lips in breathless moans as you rock back against his fingers.

“More huh?” Chris squeezes your ass particularly hard, reddening your soft flesh and loving the way you cry out. It’s amazing how vocal you are for him. “You want more, pretty girl?” You nod pitifully, a look of greedy hope in your eyes when he adds another finger inside your squelching wetness. He suddenly increases the pace of his thrusts, “Where the fuck were you when I wanted more, huh?” Another finger, and now you’re gasping from the stretch, the delicious burn. “Where were you, huh? When I was jacking off to your fucking body all these months while you denied me?”

“Didn’t deny you! D-Didn’t, I didn’t!” You insist desperately, “I didn’t know – oh fuck, don’t stop, ugh! – I didn’t know! I swear to God, I didn’t know!”

Chris can feel you getting close, he can feel it from the way you swallow desperately, from this wild look in your eyes, from the way your little hands clutch at the marble of the countertop. Studying you, longing for you for all these months has made him an expert on you and your body. He knows you’re about to cum, he’s so certain of it. But he doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction. And so, unceremoniously, he pulls his fingers out of you.

“No, no, no, no!” You moan, and Chris feels his dick twitch at how needy you are for him. “Chris, please!”

He grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls you up till you’re standing straight, his body supporting most of your weight because your limbs have forgotten how to function. He’s given you a taste, a mere lick, of the pleasure he can give you, and it’s already made you putty in his hands. Turning you around to face him, he leans down, till his face is level with yours and oh so close. “If you’re gonna keep begging me, baby, you might as well address me properly.”

“Daddy, please!” You mewl with zero hesitation, and it’s music to Chris’ fucking ears. God, maybe you weren’t as dumb as he believed. You’re making desperate, grabby hands at him, trying to get him to put his fingers back inside you and finish the job. And he marvels at how – in five minutes flat – you’ve turned so fraught, so frantic for him – like a fucking bitch in heat. He loves that he’s done this to you, that it’s him who’s reduced you to this.

“That’s right, baby. I’m your daddy. Good to know you retained at least one thing from all those months we were filming together.” He guides both of you backwards, into one of the stalls. Kicking down the lid of the toilet, he sits down on it, placing your tiny, form on his lap, loving how you don’t even question it.

And okay, throughout all these months of him envisioning his first time fucking you, he never thought it would be in this small, dingy bathroom at the premiere of your movie. But it was your fault, completely your fault – you’ve driven him to do this, awoken this carnal desire in him to just own you and claim you. It’s like he’s a beast, an animal that’s been poked and prodded for months and now he gets to devour his prey. His reward.

“So, are you gonna ride daddy’s dick like a good little girl?”

Suddenly, you’re shy, panicked. You shake your head vigorously, biting your lip in clear distress. “N-No, daddy, you… you, please!”

“Me what?” Chris is absolutely revelling in this, loving how dumb you sound. “What a dumb baby, you can’t even speak properly all of a sudden, hm?” He gives your ass another slap that has you burying your red face in his chest. “Now answer me. Are you gonna ride my dick like a good little girl?”

“C-Can’t!” You sob, shaking your head again when he forces you to look up at him, desperation radiating off your tear-stained face, “I don’t know how, daddy. Please, you do it. You fuck me. Please!”

It’s fucking crazy how you never cease to amaze him. Chris shakes his head at you, momentarily at a loss. It’s insane how innocent you look, with this bashful look on your face, eyes flashing in embarrassment, trying not to meet his incredulous gaze. He reaches out to brush your hair back behind your ear, licking his lips slowly. “Don’t tell me you’ve only been fucked missionary before, princess. Is that how those small-town hick boys back home were fucking you? Huh?”

You nod, looking so distressed that it’s actually cute. Chris thinks nothing but dark thoughts.

“So you’ve never been fucked by a man before, baby?” He places a sloppy kiss on the nape of your neck, making you squirm and arch your back as you mewl out loud. And he continues, “Never ridden a man’s cock, huh?”

“No, I h-haven’t.” You hiccup.

His hands grip your hips tightly, fingers digging deep into your flesh as he picks you up slightly. “Well, there’s only one way to learn.” He says softly, plunging you down on his dick so hard, so fast, so suddenly, that you scream at the sudden fullness you feel. The impalement has your shriek of pain bouncing off the walls of the small bathroom.

“OH, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” You scream with absolute abandon, and Chris grunts because finally – fucking finally – he’s inside you. Inside those soft, velvet walls of your pussy that deliciously encase his dick as if it belongs there permanently, which it does.

“That’s right, scream for me, baby.” Chris whispers smoothly in your ear, gripping your tiny body and holding it close to him. You arch your back, the fullness so overwhelmingly pleasurable.

“So, so deep! It’s so deep, daddy! I can feel it so deep!” You babble, half crying and half moaning as you repeat and jumble your words in trying to form a coherent sentence. And there’s no movement yet, no friction, just you stuffed full of his dick while he savours the feel of finally claiming your body.

“That’s right, sweet baby. It’s deep from this angle. But now I need you to move for daddy.” Chris instructs you, helping you by lifting your hips up, hissing at the friction it creates around his cock. “It’s not so hard, princess. Even dumb babies like you can do it. Just move up and down, okay? Up and down.”

Through your tears of bliss and the overriding feeling of being overwhelmed by his huge fucking dick, you nod determinedly. And he finds it so cute when you bite your lip in concentration, doing exactly what he tells you to. With his help, his guiding hands on your hips which are honestly doing about ninety percent of the work, you slam back down on his dick, the tip of it going so deep that it fills you up till the hilt and you cry out desperately.

“Oh, oh, oh fuck! Daddy, it feels so g-good!” You moan, wiggling and grinding on his dick in a way that has both of you reeling.

“I know it does, princess.” Chris straightens up, realising that you’re two seconds away from being so dumbed out on his dick that you won’t get any work done. In an instant, he lifts you up, slamming you down on his dick so fucking hard that you squeal his name, your tiny hands gripping onto his shoulders, his neck, his hair. Just anywhere. “You look so pretty on my dick right now.”

“Th-Thank you, daddy!” You moan, and Chris can’t help but smile at your good fucking manners, despite the situation. God, he really just wants to ruin you. He rocks his hips up suddenly, fucking upwards into you, his hands on your hips controlling your every movement as he thrusts you up and down on his dick, and you scream bloody murder at how intensely good it feels.

“S-So big, it’s so big, daddy!” You whine, grinding down on him as if you’re starved for his cock. And Chris wants to capture every moment of this, he really wishes he could whip out his camera and film you, remember this first time. But his hands are more than occupied by you, supporting your body, holding you tight against him, bouncing you up and down on his cock. He remembers this is the position you guys had filmed your sex scene in for the movie. Fuck, it was crazy how you were out here filming sex scenes in movies when you barely knew the first thing about sex in real life.

But I could teach you.

“How does it feel, riding daddy’s dick on the premiere of your movie, huh?” Chris taunts you, reaching down to pinch your ass lewdly, loving how you scream for him. “How does it feel, finally submitting to your daddy after months of teasing me. Torturing me. Fucking tell me!”

You shake your head desperately, “W-Wasn’t teasing! P-Promise I wasn’t!” You cry, as if your dumb promise makes a difference to him. You’re absolutely sobbing with pleasure, the girth of his dick stretching you out, making your walls burn from taking him. And you take him, over and over, again and again, up and down, in and out. It’s like you’re a rag-doll – Chris controls your every movement. And you let him. You like it this way – he knows you like it like this. Him bouncing you on his dick, making you feel so fucking good, like no one has ever made you feel before.

Movie? Premiere? It’s all forgotten. He knows all you can think about is him, his dick, being owned by him. Being utterly wrecked by him. Ruined. Pussy torn open, used and abused. Claimed by his dick. Here in the bathroom, with your dress bunched up around your waist, tits out, pussy filled to the brim. Mascara running, hair come loose, carnal moans of pleasure and only the sound of his name leaving your lips.

Your pleasure’s mounting, building up into a crescendo that you can’t wait to reach. And Chris knows, of course he knows. He’ll always know. You’re panting loudly in his ear, body limp in his arms as he effectively uses you as a toy on his dick, pushing you up and down on it. And you love it. You thrive off of it. “Daddy, don’t stop! I’m so close, daddy! S-So close!”

Cupping your ass with both his hands, Chris stands up suddenly. Your legs automatically latch around his waist, locking yourself flush against him as he slams you into the wall. And now, now he fucks you like an animal, like a starved fucking animal just repeatedly jackhammering into you. You can’t even feel your legs anymore, you can’t hear yourself think. He’s effectively dumbed you down into just a toy – his doll.

“My little fucking baby,” He growls lowly, “Look how fucking adorable you look, dumber than ever on my cock. You’re gonna cum, baby? Make a mess around my fucking dick, huh? Tell me!”

“Yes, yes, yes!” You cry, “Yes, daddy, g-gonna cum!”

“From now on, you’ll let me fuck you whenever the fuck I want.” Chris says to you darkly, biting and nipping at your earlobe, his hips still a blur as he fucks into you. “You gotta pay me back for all those months I couldn’t have you. All those months you fucking teased me. No, from now on, if I even look at you a certain way, you’ll let me fuck you. Be my obedient little girl, won’t you? Won’t you?”

“Y-Yes I will! I will, daddy! I promise I will!” You’re delirious, drunk on his cock, his dirty talk, his touch – his everything.

“You’ll let me fuck you whenever. Wherever. Howeverthe fuck I want. Won’t you, sweet baby? I don’t care where the fuck you are, if I want you then you’ll drop everything and run to me, you got that? In fact, you’ll stay with me. I’ll fucking keep you close. I don’t fucking care if this movie’s finished filming. I still want you near me. All. The. Fucking. Time.” He enunciates each word with a particularly hard thrust. “You got that?”

The dam breaks. Your orgasm almost squeezes the life out of him, your muscles contracting so violently around his cock. And you can’t believe it’s real, this feeling of pure, unadulterated pleasure. It’s never, ever been this good for you before, this intense, this magical, this euphoric. You cry out his name, cry out daddy until it loses all meaning. White-hot waves of pleasure crash through your body, and he continues to thrust into you, riding you through your orgasm.

And Chris can’t believe how hot you look, coming undone while he fucks you. Even his hottest daydreams about you couldn’t do the real you justice. You’re so fucking beautiful, so sexy, squeezing his dick in such a delicious way that he really can’t seem to last any longer. And it’s only moments before he’s ready to blow, that your dumbed out, blissed out eyes suddenly open, and you’re scratching at his chest in blind panic, “Chris! Chris, I’m not on the pill!”

“I don’t give a fuck.” He growls, the animal inside of him swelling with joy. It’s music to his fucking ears. He’s happy he fucked you raw. And now he can fill you up. His dick twitches at the thought, and your little gasps egg him on even more. Ropes of his hot cum spill inside you, one spurt after another till he’s got you filled to the brim with even more of his thick cum dripping out of you because of course you can’t hold it all in.

“Oh… Oh my God…” You say, practically entranced by the thick white fluid that now seeps out of your pussy. Your lips parted; you reach down to touch it. Like you can’t help it. And Chris feels so proud, so fucking proud. Finally, he’s claimed you. Claimed his girl. Filled her up all nice and full with his seed. And he’s not gonna let her clean up either. Damn right she’s gonna go back and watch the rest of this movie with the reminder of him sticky between her legs.

His large hand covers your own inquisitive one. He hardens inside you once more when he sees that you’ve scooped up a bit of his cum which was running down your thigh. He brings your hand up to your face, prodding at your lips until they part, and you dutifully suck his cum off your finger for him – the image so fucking hot he almost can’t take it.

“Good girl.” Chris praises you, loving how you blush.

You look up at him, eyes bright and still dazed. Makeup ruined, cheeks red, lips bitten. “I’m sorry, Chris.” You say softly, small hand reaching up to touch his chest. “I’m honestly so sorry if I led you on. I had no idea. But I should’ve known better. I should’ve paid closer attention. I’m so sorry.”

Chris feels like his heart is going to fucking fall out of his chest. He feels it again, this overwhelming need to protect her, shelter her, keep her safe. He smirks, chucking her under the chin playfully. “That’s okay, baby. Because you’re gonna make it up to me, right?”

***

EPILOGUE – 18 MONTHS LATER

“So, Chris. Tell us. What’s next for you?” The journalist asks. It’s an intimate interview, a dark set. A leather couch, the interviewer sat across from him. It’s the final piece of press he has to do for his new action movie that’s just come out. And as much as he’s enjoyed the whole filming process, Chris only has one thing on his mind.

“Look, as amazing as all this has been, I think the thing I’m most looking forward to right now is going home.” He chuckles, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Just going back to Boston, you know? Back to my wife and our family.”

The interviewer smiles knowingly, “And how is your wife?”

Chris smiles. His wife. You. You’re amazing. And it wasn’t hard at all to get you to marry him. Not after the two of you started fucking regularly after that fateful night at your movie premiere almost two years ago. He had moved you into his apartment in LA, making sure to have easy access to you whenever he wanted to fuck you. Which was all the time. All the fucking time.

So it wasn’t that much of a surprise when he got you knocked up about two weeks later. And he remembers how distraught you had been, crying into his chest with three positive pregnancy tests on the table in front of you. “I can’t do this; I can’t do this!” You had cried, “I’m too young, I don’t know the first thing about having a baby!”

He remembers reassuring you, telling you that he was there for you, that he’d always be there. Persuading you to move into his big house in Boston with him, where he’d keep you safe and tucked away from the invasive paparazzi of LA. He even persuaded you to marry him, in a private ceremony with only a few guests including your parents, who were happier than ever to see their daughter respectfully married off in Boston and no longer in the cruel clutches of Hollywood.

And then, nine months later, you gifted him with his twins. Two perfect, tiny, wriggling baby boys that looked exactly like him. Chris couldn’t help but feel so fucking proud. And then you started talking about accepting this movie role, going back to Hollywood, filming again. And that animal inside of him awoke once more, unable to bear the thought of you going back to being an actress.

So he knocked you up again.

“My wife is perfect.” Chris answers the interviewer. “I’m really lucky to have met her when we did that movie together – because I can’t imagine a life without her now. She’s at home right now, taking care of our babies. It’s beautiful to watch.”

The interviewer looks absolutely enamoured. “Speaking of babies, baby number three is due any day now, isn’t it?”

Chris smiles and nods. He can’t wait to get back home to you, see you all round with his third baby growing inside of you, just about ready to pop. To him, it’s the most beautiful and breath-taking thing in the world. You, heavily pregnant, waiting for him in his home with his baby twins on your hip. That’s who you’re meant to be. And you’ve got only Chris to thank. You were far too delicate and innocent for Hollywood. Hollywood would have ruined you. Chris likes to think he saved you.

Because you’re a great actress. But you’re an even better housewife. And mother.

Turns out, waiting for you all those excruciating months was worth it. Because now, Chris has you for life.

the end

A/N: i hope you guys enjoyed that! feedback would honestly be GREATLY appreciated, do tell me what you think! also, -> requests are open <-

the older i get the more im like. brown and green are such good colors

Pftt .. that aint true love... true love my arse

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