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ohsolonelyghosts · 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.

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ohsolonelyghosts · 1 year

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New Years Kiss

Characters: Maurizio Gucci x Reader

Word Count: 887

Note: Happy New Year everyone! I wanted to write this up real quick, it's not much, but I was really feeling Maurizio on this tonight. I typed it up really quickly, just wanted to get something out TONIGHT before it turned midnight on the west coast (where I'm at!)

Phrases to know: *Guarda quanto sei bella - Look how gorgeous you are

*Amore mio - my love

Contents/Warnings: Fluff, kissing, pretty SFW, some sexual language

You and Maurizio had just landed in New York City. He claimed he was here strictly on business, but it was a holiday and you knew it.

While he did have business meetings to attend, you stayed in the luxurious hotel room he had booked for the two of you. However, he promised you two would explore the city after the meeting today. After all, it was New Year's Eve.

You were applying your lipstick when you heard the door open and click shut.

“Love?” Maurizio quietly called, peeking around the corner to see you in the bathroom. He stood behind you in the bathroom, completely taking in your appearance while you finished up your makeup.

“Guarda quanto sei bella.”

You turned around, eyebrows raised at your husband. He was never light about compliments, showering you with them constantly. You smiled up at him, his hands finding your waist. Maurizio pulled you in, pecking at your lips a few times.

You pulled back slightly, humming.

“Thank you,” you whispered, fluttering your eyelashes.

“Any time, Bellissimo.”

You both exited the bathroom, pulling on the boots you intended to wear out today. Pulling on your stunning white coat to pull your outfit together, Maurizio barely changed his clothes and was ready.

“Men, absolutely no effort, and they can still look good,” you hummed over at him, listening to the chuckle in response.

“I know, doll, just call me flawless.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling as he stood in front of you once more.

“Let’s get going before we can’t move at all out there,” he suggested, holding his hand out, dragging you out of the hotel room.

Maurizio let you pick any stores to go into, any sights to see, and generally whatever you wanted to do for the rest of the day.

By the time the sun was setting, you were both walking back into the hotel, not avoiding any crowds. Setting everything you had bought from the day, which wasn’t much, onto the chair in the room, Maurizio looked at you with a slight smirk.

You looked up from sorting through the new belongings, tilting your head at him. He got that look in his eyes typically when he was in the mood. You shook your head, setting your things down.

You aimed a finger at him, shaking your head once more.

“Not right now, we were just out all day.”

Maurizio looked puzzled, giving you a smile.

“I meant champagne, amore mio. Let’s ring in the new year with some champagne and we can people-watch.”

You giggled as he picked up the hotel phone to dial for room service. Within no time the bottle showed up in the room, and your husband tipped room service generously.

You both stood on the balcony, both enthralled with the crowd of people down below. You had no idea how much time had passed, but the crowd grew louder with every passing moment. In a way, it was really fun to see everyone crowd around, pushing and shoving in an attempt to try to get out, or get farther in.

“People really come here to do this every year?” You questioned, turning your head to him.

The dark haired male turned his head back to you, looking you in the eyes.

“It’s a party, why wouldn’t you?”

You shrugged, a smile creeping onto your face.

“I don’t think standing in that crowd would be my thing.”

“Love, we are pretty much here for the party as well,” Maurizio mentioned, shrugging, a hand running through his hair. He straightened out from leaning over the balcony, checking his watch.

“11:30. So close.”

Maurizio kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips. You both shared a sweet moment, though anyone who looked up could probably see you two.

He leaned down close to your ear, gently placing a kiss on your earlobe.

“I am going to give you such a treat after midnight.”

His words made you shiver in anticipation, eliciting a soft noise from you. When your husband stood up straight one more time, you half closed your eyes in a seductive glance, lips slightly parted up at him.

“You’ll get one too.”

Maurizio shuddered, chuckling down at you, giving you one more kiss before turning back and leaning over the balcony again. You dragged your fingernails along his back, leaning gently against him.

As the time drew closer to midnight, Maurizio pulled out the champagne from inside the hotel room. He was going to pop it over the balcony, and not the safe way, either.

Soon enough, the crowd began the ten-second countdown. You and your husband looked at each other, bright smiles on your faces.

When it hit one, Maurizio used the hand that wasn’t holding the alcohol to pull you in, planting a long, loving kiss on your lips. You both grinned into the kiss, pulling away so he could pop the bottle.

You were both sure that it hit someone in the sea of people down below, worrying you for a second before laughing along with your husband.

He poured the champagne into the glasses, handing you yours first. You clinked your glasses together, Maurizio planting one more kiss on your lips before you took sips of the alcohol.

“Happy New Year, Maurizio.”

“Happy New Year, Bellissimo.”

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