#need to be gentler with peoples bodies my fucking ass
Note
You asked for anons and to be honest I am sitting here (anonymously) thinking about how I want Cody to fuck me through my third orgasm of the night and not let up despite my little whimpers and my hands clawing at the sheets- all with a smug smirk on his face as he absolutely fucking devastates me.
So yeah. ✌🏽
omg omg omg omg the cody about to LEAP out of me once again. I love this man. I love this man as the filthiest, smugest, most in charge dom ever because it just suits him. IM- piaejroiajgaji ok..
"Ah- yeah that's good Darlin'. You're such a good girl for me, aren't you? Three's not enough. I can feel it." He growled from deep in his bare chest, lifting your bare leg high in the air to press his center flush with yours.
You whined as his lower abdomen rolled perfectly into your oversensitive clit, still reeling from orgasm number three. The trail of hair leading to the base of him tickled you, even the slightest of touches spurring you on for more.
You were insatiable just as much as he was. He'd never found someone who could keep up with his appetite quite like you could. Three, four, five times a night was a common occurrence for the two of you. Though it probably sounded insane to some people. You knew your neighbors hated it.
Your muscles burned, coil in your lower belly clenching, just begging for him to pry you open deeper. "Not done unless you cum, Sir." You flirt between needed gasps of air. His fingertips dragged down the length of your thigh, gripping hard enough to leave bruises pressed into the gentle skin.
"That's my girl. Always thinking of me. I should reward you for that..." He thought aloud, placing a well struck slap to your ass. You half yelped, half whined at another tingling sensation joining the others that had already wracked your body. He flashed a toothy grin, clearly impressed with himself for having you needy and begging for more underneath his touch.
"Cody." You groaned, tipping your head back into the pillows and bucking your hips into him. "Deeper, baby, deeper. I'm aching, please." He chuckled, immediately leaning forward over you and spreading your legs around the width of him. The change in position had his length spearing into exactly where you needed him. With one hand, you fisted your sheets until your knuckles turned white and with the other you dug deep red scratches into his shoulder blades.
"Fuck..yeah that's what you wanted. Like that huh? I know you've got another in you cyar'ika. Be a good girl for me, scream my name and I'll fill you up so good next time. Can you do that for me? Say it. My name.." He ordered, the dark lust in his voice drawing more and more out of you as he pistoned into your insides.
"CODY!" You cried, your entire body seizing up as his hips pounding into you and the orgasming rocketing through you tore you apart around him. His arm slid up your back and he lifted you off the mattress, resting his forehead on yours.
"That's four, pretty girl." He laughed maniacally, pressing a kiss against your lips that was far gentler than his mid stroke persona. "Let's make it five?"
Well, who were you to defy the Marshall Commander?
#commander cody thot#commander cody x you#commander cody smut#commander cody x reader#asks and thots
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Cpl. Ray Person Smutty HCs
Happy New Year Smutty Motherfuckers! Godfather would be proud disturbed.
▸ Ray acts like a teenage horndog… and is basically a teenage horndog 70% of the time. The rest of the time, he’s respecting you and not being a complete and utter horny teenager 24/7.
Take it as a compliment though; he’s horny for you and only you.
▸ Granted, he jokes when he’s overseas. But that’s Ray just thinking he’s being funny. Having taken it upon himself to be the class platoon clown. He won’t ever act upon the stupid shit he says.
▸ Unfortunately the boys know every inch of your curves and assets. Ray’s big mouth just babbling away. Boasting about your body. Not in an objectifying sense… just more so that he’s got this hot girl waiting for him back home and he personally doesn’t think the other men have hot girlfriends compared to you.
▸ However, Ray’s not joking about things when it comes to what he intends to do to his girlfriends pussy.
▸ First thing he wants to do when he gets home is go down on you. Make you moan out his name. It’s also his favourite thing to do.
▸ As much as he’d enjoy it being returned, he also doesn’t expect it. Just for simply falling in love with him, his entire being is dedicated to you and making you feel good.
▸ He’s a kinky lil shit. Will attempt to do it semi-publicly. Walking back from a date? He’d have no problem hiking up your dress and taking you in a darkened corner in the alley, or in a deserted carpark (in the car). Unfortunately military training has taught him that laying on the deserted beach, as romantic as it seems, is not worth it with having the sand grains giving you ass-crack rash.
▸ Don’t ever bend down in the kitchen to retrieve something you’ve dropped or a utensil from the bottom drawer…it’s a literal open invitation for a certain horny little boy.
▸ But he would take you anywhere and everywhere.
▸ He never says ‘no’ to you. He’s always in the mood. You wanna do it? He’ll do it. Hell, it’s even hotter for him when you specify exactly what you want him to do. You know he’s got a shit-eating grin but will happily oblige.
▸ Unfortunately Ray forgets to stop and make love. He’s too caught up in just wanting to fuck you silly every single time.
But he saves those love-making intimacy for when it really matters.
He worships your body every single time but when it’s softer, more romantic… there’s just something different about it. I’m sure sometimes you’d wish he’d do this more often but at the same time…if he did… it’d lose that special intimacy.
▸ He’s generally loud and does more cussing than moaning. But it’s always your name that falls from his lips.
However, in those softer moments… that’s when you’re able to hear those sweet, vulnerable gasps of pure pleasure, lust and wanton.
▸ It’s the same compliment over and over again, but you know he means it with his entire existence. You literally render him speechless that he can't seem to deliver any other words. Repeats it like a mantra.
Fucking: “God you’re hot…you’re so fucking hot…”
His voice just rough with lust.
Love-making: “You’re so beautiful…every inch of you…you’re so fucking beautiful…”
His voice much more gentler, dripping with nothing but awe and honesty. Because he only does think you’re the most hottest angel to ever grace this Earth.
~
|| Disclaimers:
These were written specifically for a friend, but like Brad, felt it was too good not to share on my blog.
It's a little less HCs than Brad's one because Ray is my comfort character when I need a laugh. That big bro. So it was kinda hard to envision him in a smutty sense. Hopefully I did him justice! Gotta try because people are requesting smut with him XD I gotta deliver, y'know...
You don't have to like these, that's okay! It's just how I perceive him.
#combat jack spice rack#This is how I'm spending New Years? Whiskey Tangoe'd Smut Fest? Bottoms up bitches#ray person smut#corporal ray person smut#generation kill ray person smut#ray person x reader#generation kill ray person x reader#generation kill smut#ray person imagines#ray person drabbles#ray person hcs#ray person head canons#generation kill head canons#generation kill ficlet#generation kill drabble#generation kill hcs
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Welp. Had another Trigun AU Dream. And this one wasn't as sweet as the last one. q_q CW for death and suicidal themes of the zombie variety.
So this version of Gunsmoke had developed a zombie plague, but they were doing strangely well with it. Instead of devolving into an apocalypse, they put people who came down with the virus into hospice facilities where they would let them live out the reat of their lives as best they could before using euthenasia to keep them from...you know. Going full zombie. Or in less wealthy communitirs, they would have someone come out and take the patient out Old Yeller style, but still with the intention of being respectful and kind about the whole thing.
And Wolfwood's Priest persona included going out to those communities and doing the taking out.
I don't think Vash liked it, for obvious reasons, but he understood why it was a necessity. He just couldn't really bring himself to do the thing himself. Well, as he and Wolfwood were traveling, they met a wealthy family who were actually pretty nice, but the father came down with the disease, and even though he either was unable to recognize what was happening when his body started rotting away or just stubbornly refused to believe it, his family started the process of getting him admitted to a facility.
The dream was mostly them all touring the place, but the man's disease progressing so fast that he wasn't going to live long enough to need it, and juat before I woke up, the family asked Wolfwood if he would do the thing instead. So they all walked out, Vash and the family and Wolfwood, out to a cliff where he could shoot the guy, who at this point was basically mindless but not yet feral, in the head.
And then my dream brain was like "Oh. Wolfwood just caught the virus but hasn't realized it, yet. He's going to die in this universe by shooting himself in the head. That's sure a fucked up way for the "Wolfwood dies in every universe" tradition to play out in this au... :["
Like I got the impression that this universe was a gentler universe than the canon one, but equally as fucked up in its own way. I got the impression that the Plants were immune to the disease, so maybe this was how Knives decided to take the humans out? But they didn't go into a bloody, horrible extinction event and instead managed to handle it pretty well, all things considering. And Vash was sad to see all the suffering, but the humans' way of dealing with the thing and being a lot less chaotic than canon made it vaguely less traumatic for him. The planet and the people weren't SUFFERING, but they also weren't having a great time of it, either. And he was going to HATE watching Wolfwood die, but it was a lot less of a shock than what happened in canon, so juat as I was waking up, I got the image of the couch scene involving them sitting together so Vash could be with him when he took himself out. Still mourning and distraught, but it was a kinder, gentler end than they got in the manga.
idk, it was just another wild instance of my brain cooking up this whole-ass au while I was dreaming. Nothing new, though I definitely don't want to write THIS ONE out in fic at all, myself. I know you gremlins love zombies, though, so hey, if anyone wants to do anything with the concept, have at it.
#trigun#vash the stampede#nicholas d. wolfwood#vashwood#trigun maximum#au#dreams#suicide#character death#zombies
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// So having seen some of the posts people on my dash have been making lately, I just want to mention one of the ground rules of Monet's setting:
In my personal canon, the Pokemon world is a kinder, gentler place than our world. This means that bigotry as we know it doesn't really... exist.
Most people spend a significant portion of their lives learning to empathize with very alien (cute! cuddly!) monsters. Human differences kind of fall apart when your Very Best Friend is a 6-foot-tall firebreathing lizard. And in the rare cases that they don't? A ten-year-old with a funny hat will come kick any bigot's ass with the power of friendship and this Beedrill they found.
So most people don't judge you by skin colour, creed, gender, sexuality, neurotype, etc.; there's friendly banter about people from different regions, but nothing approaching our world's xenophobia.
The world isn't perfect- there are still awful parents, there's still parts of the world where poverty exists, there's still organized crime. But in Monet's world specifically, bigotry isn't a problem your average person is going to have to contend with day-to-day.
Also, in my continuity, most people are autistic. People have spilled a lot of ink about how friendly the Pokemon setting is to autistic people, so I won't reiterate it here- but being autistic is normal in Monet's world. Not being autistic is seen as a neurodevelopmental disorder called "allism". When you have allism, you have problems interacting with normal (read: autistic) people; more importantly, you have problems reading Pokemon body language and interacting with them.
I can't promise I'm going to be able to write this consistently, because I live in our world and bigotry is a day-to-day part of my life. I'm probably going to screw it up at some point. I'm also not going to contradict anyone who wants to use their rotomblrsona to explore how they feel about the Bad Shit that's happening in their real life; as we said Back In My Day, RP is cheaper than therapy.
But if you come to Monet with bigoted shit- or needing sympathy because someone threw bigoted shit at you- it's not going to grok what's going on. He's going to treat bigotry as the fucking bizarre, irrational bullshit it is- as one person having a really strange stick up their ass- and be Very Confused about why the bigot in question is doing this.
Again: this is a personal choice for Monet's canon, and I'm not going to directly contradict anyone on rotomblr who wants to use this setting as a way to explore the shit they have to deal with every day. Call it a quirk of the multiverse.
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#welp I was definitely right about everything. i was so right that I was proven even more right than I even thought I was!! lmaooo#thankfully my wife is on the same page#because the amount of physical violence we witnessed that child inflict upon our child?#every couple minutes he was throwing something at him or shoving him or hitting him#and his parents do this ‘gentle parenting’ bullshit where they say in sweet voices ‘we need to be gentle with others’ bodies’#being subjected to that for three days? my wife has finally seen the light#it’s all stuff we’ve seen before but when it’s here and there it’s so easy to downplay#but seeing it aaaaaallllll weekend? makes it so fucking clear#so fucking clear that the first time someone lays a hand on my child should be the last fucking time#and I can’t believe I’ve allowed it to get this far#but they met when they were 2 and the other kid is autistic#so it was like… okay. we get it#still learning how to regulate your emotions and all that#but my kid is 4 and your kid is 4.5 and I have to CONSTANTLY stop your kid from hurting mine?????????#what the FUCK kind of universe do you think we fucking live in#need to be gentler with peoples bodies my fucking ass#fuck that!#I’ve never heard a single stern word from those parents to their kid which is just… in hindsight I can’t believe#I can’t believe I never thought that was weird.#but then again! never been around them that long at one time!!!#to see your child get physically attacked over and over and watch the other child’s parent do NOTHING#just say we need to be gentler with peoples bodies#over and over and over and over#the more I think about it the more enraged I get#i don’t believe in yelling at kids but if a kid physically hurts you or someone else?#it’s COMPLETELY APPROPRIATE for them to experience a natural consequence!!!!!!#the natural consequence of pissing someone off??? they get pissed off at you#needs to be age appropriate of course but these people LET THIS KID DO WHATEVER HE FUCKING WANTS#what kind of message are you sending your kid if you won’t give them ANY natural emotional/social consequence for their behavior?#fucking unbelievable
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Patience
Pairing: Wrecker x reader
Tags: little bit of angst, dom!Wrecker, cock warming, sex in the pilot seat (sorry tech), overstimulation, implied squirting, probably some other stuff I'm not thinking of
A/N: I had no idea how to end this so it's a little hasty at the end hope ya'll don't mind. Also no idea if I'm tagging people correctly
Taglist: @4rosydreams @kesshou-otome @cobiwanbanobi
NSFW below the cut
A shower had never felt so good. You didn’t even care that it was cold, after months on that godforsaken planet you were finally home. As one of the few females on base, you got your own room but you also knew that more than likely Wrecker would probably be passed out on your bed once you opened the ‘fresher door.
He hadn’t followed you to your room after the mission like he normally did. Hopefully, it was just because he wanted a shower just as badly as you did. But you also couldn’t help but think it probably had to do with your behavior on the mission which you still needed to genuinely apologize for. You’d lost your temper when he made a risky decision, not following the plan.
“Why can’t you be patient for once?!” You’d shouted at him.
In the few years, you’d known the Batch, you’d never raised your voice to any of them. And definitely not Wrecker even in the past year you’d been dating. It was out of character for you and it startled the entire team. Even Crosshair was shocked. And the look your boyfriend gave you broke your heart. But you didn’t want to admit you were in the wrong in front of them. You just wanted them to be safe and if they thought they’d piss you off by doing stupid shit, then you’d be the bad guy.
You turned the water off before wrapping yourself in a towel, the standard-issue military towel almost too small to cover you properly. Walking through your room to grab your blacks you were disappointed to see that Wrecker wasn’t there. Well, you needed sleep anyway. As you crawled into bed, it felt wrong. Too empty without being snuggled up to the large trooper. Maybe things would be back to normal in the morning.
~~~
The next morning you wandered down the halls of Kamino looking for your squad. Peeking into their barracks you were disappointed to see all of them, minus Wrecker.
“If you’re looking for Wrecker he slept in the Marauder last night.” Crosshair all but growled at you.
You made a face, “what? Why?”
“You really have to ask?” He scowled at you, normally he was pretty neutral toward you but he obviously didn’t appreciate that you hurt his brother’s feeling.
Sighing you doubled back to the hangar. You could see him sitting in the cockpit, a pout on his lips as he stared into space. You walked quietly onto the ship, quiet enough that he didn’t look up as you walked up behind him.
“Is it okay if I join you?” You asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Wrecker glanced up, suddenly having his trademark smile on his face. “Mesh’la, I was just thinking about you.”
He pulled you down into his lap, his half-hard erection emphasizing his words.
“I came to apologize.” You smiled up at him.
He chuckled darkly, “I have a way you can make it up to me.”
You quirked an eyebrow, wondering where he was going with this. His sudden change in attitude with your appearance had you wondering what he was thinking. Granted his smile was a welcome change.
“What did you have in mind handsome?” You asked.
Wrecker pulled you back against him, his cock hard against your ass. He kissed your neck, the other hand pulling your shirt up.
“You realize that anyone can walk into the hangar and see us?” You whispered, now wanting to admit that the thought went straight to your core.
He just hummed in response, his wandering hand moving up to your breasts, squeezing your breast none too gently. You gasped in response, grinding yourself against him.
“I’m going to test your patience sweet girl.” He growled low in your ear.
Your heart was in your throat. Wrecker was one of the most kind-hearted people you knew but since getting to know him a little more intimately you’d learned he wasn’t all soft and sweet. And since he learned you weren’t as fragile as you seemed, he’d enjoyed pushing your limits quite a bit.
“I was plenty patient during that mission mesh’la, considering I wanted nothing more than to lean you over the closest surface and fuck you.” His voice was a low grumble.
You whimpered in response, you could feel your slick soaking your panties.
“Look at you all quiet now, where’s my angry girl?” Wrecker asked as he nibbled on your ear.
Your face was uncomfortably flushed, your cunt was throbbing. Not thinking you moved your hand down to touch yourself through your blacks. Wrecker hooked his chin over your shoulder, watching your movements for a moment before putting his hand over your own.
“I haven’t even started yet cyare, are you sure I’m the impatient one?” His hot breath fanned down your neck before kissing your pulse point.
“Maybe not.” You murmured, leaning back allowing the hand up your shirt to pull it up over your head.
“No bra mesh’la? Naughty girl.” He chuckled, pulling his own shirt off before pulling your back against his chest.
Despite being together for so long you’d never get tired of feeling his muscle-bound body against yours. You could feel every movement against you as he wrapped his arms around you, pinning your arms to your sides, a hand dipping between your legs. His touch was teasingly light, kissing your bare shoulders before biting down on the junction of your shoulder and neck, sucking a bruise there.
You whimpered again, squirming in his lap, desperate for more friction.
Wrecker paused his actions. “Don’t draw too much attention to us cyare, you don’t want anyone to see us do you?”
Instead of responding you ground your ass against his cock earning a growl from him.
“Or maybe you do, naughty girl. You want one of my vod to see how riled up I get you? See how good I fuck you?” He bit another spot on your shoulder.
“Please Wrecker.” You whined.
“Pants off, now.” Wrecker all but pushed you off his lap roughly, pulling the waistband of his pants down enough for his cock to spring free.
You pulled your pants down, you’d just barely gotten it below your ass when Wrecker pull you back down onto his lap.
“Giving the rest of them a show mesh’la? Why not just walk the halls naked?” Wrecker growled, hand grabbing your thighs roughly, pulling them apart so that they were hooked over his own.
He pushed your shoulders forward so that your ass lifted off of his lap, with his other hand grabbing his cock and rubbing its head through your folds. You knew you were dripping already, his quiet moans indicating he was enjoying the sight. He pulled you down onto his cock, the thick length spreading you open.
“Take it cyare, such a good girl.” His voice was deep as he reached around you to wrap a hand around your neck just below your chin.
He filled you more than you’d ever been before, you couldn’t move without his cock pressing against a sensitive spot inside you. His free hand went down to your clit rubbing lazy circles. You moved your hips, wanting movement but he stopped you, the grip on your neck tightening and pulling you back roughly. When you swallowed you could feel the strength of his hold.
Again you started squirming, the full feeling of his cock inside you building tension especially as he applies more pressure to your clit. He again tightened his grip, this time pulling your head back to his shoulder.
“I can sit here buried in your pussy all day cyare. I don’t think you deserve to cum after the attitude you gave me on that mission.” His voice was low but you could detect a smirk from him before he kissed your cheek before tilting your mouth to press against his.
“Please Wrecker. I want to feel you cum inside me.” You begged.
“Nice try mesh’la.” He chuckled, fingers against your clit pressing against you roughly.
The building tension was threatening to snap, arched your back, pressing yourself into his hand desperate for release. Wet heat radiated from inside your cunt, you could feel your wetness dripped down his cock and thighs as pleasure shook your core.
“Look at that cyare, squirting everywhere making a mess. You like my fingers and cock that much?” He teased. “Let’s see if you can do that again.”
His hand returned to your clit, now even more tender than before. The crescendo of pleasure building quickly again still riding on the pleasure of your last orgasm.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You whimpered a chant under your breath as you felt yourself tighten around his cock again.
“That a girl, let go.” He moaned, kissing your neck.
Your second orgasm was more intense than the first, your vision blurring as pleasure flooded your body with the snap. Wrecker’s hips thrust into you with a few shallow thrusts before he moaned loudly, his cock twitching inside you as he came.
You stood on shaky legs to lean against the control panel, needing to get away from the stimulation but unable to stand on your own.
“You okay mesh’la?” Wrecker asked, concern evident in his voice as he gently touched your thigh.
You laughed, trying to brush off his concern. “Yeah, that was just a lot.”
You could hear him shifting behind you, assumably pulling his pants back up.
“C’mere cyare, let me hold you.” He murmured, pulling you back onto his lap, gentler this time.
You snuggled against him, his warm body gone from rigid to soft and comforting. His arms wrapped around you, cradling you to his chest. You two stayed like that for a few moments before you dressed and both of you made your way back to your room before you both passed out in each other’s arms.
#tbb wrecker#wrecker x reader#tbb wrecker x reader#wrecker x you#tbb wrecker x you#bad batch imagine#bad batch smut
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𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 | 𝐨𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐮
Description: in a ditch effort to avoid your fate as a lonely cat lady, you allow your best friend, Oikawa, to help you gain sexual experience.
Warning: explicit smut. size kink if you squint. loss of virginity. kinda angsty
Notes: 2.9k words. inspired by my ‘inexperienced bestfriend’ headcanons
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
It had been a mindless comment really.
The three of you were just reaching the convenience store when Iwaizumi received a call. After answering it and finishing his conversation, he promptly explained that it was his mother, who needed him to run errands for her. Which left you and Oikawa, who continued whining about his irritation at his ‘fanclub’.
Rolling your eyes, you scoff, “So, you have a literal entourage of people devoted to you? Big fucking deal. My single ass hasn’t even kissed anyone yet, y’know. At this rate, I’m gonna end up a lonely cat lady by the time we’re in college.” You laugh lightly, only meaning it half seriously. Therefore, you could be forgiven for choking on air when you hear his serious response.
“Why don’t I help you change that then?”
And now, here you are, laying in your best friend’s bed as he’s knuckle deep in you. You’re covered in a thin sheen of sweat, breathing heavily and biting your lip in an effort to stay quiet. Your eyes are tightly shut, but you can tell that he’s still watching you intently, eyes alternating between focusing on his finger slipping into your hot cunt, and then wandering back to your contorted face.
Struggling with your words, you manage to gasp out, “H-how does it feel so, uh, so fucking good?! It’s never like this when it’s, ah, when it’s just m-me.” Chuckling at the shakiness of your speech, he responds, “Had a lot of training to strengthen my fingers for setting. Plus, they’re much longer than your tiny ones, aren’t they? Makes it easier to reach deeper.”
Shuddering at his words, you add, “They’re t-thicker, too.” Laughing at that, you feel him slightly shift the angle of his hand before continuing, “You usually can’t rely on fingering alone to get you off.” He follows that with a quick flick of his wrist, grinding his palm against your clit as his finger keeps prodding that certain spot inside you, adding, “Gotta pay attention to the clit.”
His attention is back on your face as you moan in response to his actions, no longer able to stay quiet. Grinning at your reaction, Oikawa continues his ministrations, rubbing his palm harder against you and increasing the tempo of his finger. His voice is silky smooth as he keeps going, “Keep rubbing harder and faster, until…”
You feel a high-pitched cry escape your lips. It’s so embarrassingly loud and shrill, but you’re unable to control it. His face is so smug - and normally, you’d want to slap the expression off of it, but this time, it just makes your face grow redder.
“Until, it hits just... right. And then, you keep it consistent,” he whispers in your ear, “Feels good, hmm?”
Nodding frantically, you grip on to his arm, desperate to hold on to something so you don’t completely lose yourself. You hear him hiss - likely at your nails digging into his skin - but you’re too preoccupied with your impending orgasm to pay too much attention.
“Nuh-uh, keep your legs open,” Oikawa tuts disapprovingly. Opening your eyes, you realize that you had subconsciously closed your legs, trapping his hand in between - they were shaking so badly you hadn’t even noticed. You struggle, but nonetheless, move your feet further apart to allow him to continue.
Tossing out all inhibitions, you don’t even bother attempting to hide your moans. Instead, you loop your free arm around his shoulder and bury your face in his neck, sobbing against his skin as you feel the knot in your stomach grow uncomfortably tight.
You feel his arm under you pull you closer to his chest, hand running up and down your side in a soothing motion. “Mhmm, that’s it, just like that, just like that,” Oikawa whispers - gentler than you’ve ever heard him speak - as he coaxes you through your orgasm, slowing his movements, but not stopping, allowing you to ride it out.
He only pulls away once you stop trembling. When you open your eyes again, you find him watching you with a hawk’s gaze as you exhale shallowly, fighting to catch your breath. It makes you feel self-conscious, being under his scrutiny. Blushing, you cast your eyes into a corner to avoid his.
“Aw, (F/n)-chaaan, don’t go all shy on me just yet. I’ve still got more I wanna do to you first,” he teases as he moves his body on top of yours.
Furrowing your brows, you begin to protest, “More? But, you said this was just for prep, right? So we could-”
Before you can finish, he interjects, “Are you really saying no to another orgasm?” Well, he had a point there. “Okay, I won’t stop you,” you concede, “but I’m still kinda, um, sensitive. Can we, uh…” You trail off, but he catches your eyes glancing down to his lips and smiles, finishing your sentence for you.
“A kiss? All you had to do was ask, sweetheart.”
You don’t get a chance to comment on the nickname because you’re too distracted by Oikawa’s hot breath fanning against your mouth as he moves his face closer to yours. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his fingers graze your chin, tilting your head slightly upwards. And yet, he doesn’t close the distance, as if he was waiting for you to make the move. So, you do.
The first thing you register is how soft his lips feel, lightly pressed up against yours. Suddenly feeling a wave of self-consciousness hit you, you pull away abruptly, realizing that you’re not quite sure what to do next. Confused by your pulling away, he looks down at you, eyes quickly flickering with understanding as he realizes the reason for it.
His thumb moves to caress your cheek before he moves forward again, this time, taking the lead. It’s more pleasant this time as he guides you, lips gently melding with yours. He keeps the pace slow, and you’re thankful for that - too much too quickly would’ve overwhelmed you. But then, as you’re wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, his thigh brushes against your core.
It’s involuntary, really, when you softly moan into his mouth in response to the contact, still sensitive from your previous orgasm.
But it’s enough to drive him feral.
Tightly gripping your hips in his calloused hands, he presses his lips harder against yours, swallowing your gasps as he tilts his head forward to deepen the kiss, turning it into something deeper, hungrier. You feel his tongue enter past your lips, licking the edges of your teeth before clashing against yours. You’re not sure how you feel about that - the sensation is slightly odd, but not entirely unwelcome.
“So, there was... s-something else you wanted to do?” you question breathily after pulling away, eyes cast up towards the ceiling - you would implode if you were to look at him while he was sucking on the sensitive buds of your breasts. Trailing his lips down your midriff, he mutters in between kisses, “Mhmm, got something I wanna show you.” His voice is so low, you almost miss what he says next.
“Gonna make you cum on my tongue,” he murmurs against your skin, “so you’re nice and ready when I stretch you out with my cock.”
This was your best friend. The same friend you used to play hide-and-seek with as kids. The same one who coerced you into binge watching space documentaries with him during sleepovers. So then, why was it that his words made your body react by sending a flush of pink across your face, and a throbbing between your legs?
He’s laying on his stomach now, face dangerously close to your soaked core. Scooting closer, he lifts up one of your legs, rough palm slowly trailing up the back of your calf. Shifting it to place it on his broad shoulder, he lightly brushes his lips against the expanse of your inner thigh. He’s ghosting kisses along your skin - you can feel them, but the pressure is practically non-existent, it’s maddening.
“Oikawa, stop teasing! Do- do something…” you grit out, frustrated.
Hearing his chuckle only adds to your exasperation as he ignores your request, deliberately straying away from the center of your legs. With that infuriating smirk still on his face, he feigns ignorance, “Hmm, I’m not sure I know what you want me to do here. Why don’t you tell me?”
When you give no response, he repeats himself, “Tell me, c’mon.” His tone is deceptively light and teasing, but you don’t miss the commanding nature behind his words.
“Want you to… to, uh, make me c-cum,” you’re trembling as you struggle to get the words out, “on your… on your t-tongue.”
Shaking his head, Oikawa tuts, “No, no, say the rest.” God, why was he such an obstinate asshole? More importantly, why was it working so well at getting you hotter?
Breathing unevenly, you whisper, “gonna get me, uh, nice and- nice and ready,” and you cringe at how whiny your voice is, but nonetheless, finish, “so you can s-stretch me out with your… with your c-cock.” The words tumbling out of your mouth are so, so filthy. He’s practically coaxing them out of you.
(You hate how easy it is for him to do so.)
Humming approvingly, he praises, “Mhm, that’s a good girl. Wasn’t so hard now, was it?” The smug smile is back as he purrs, “Can’t have you going all shy now. Not when I’m about to make you cum so hard you cry.”
Before you can respond, he’s hoisting your other leg over his shoulder. You stare up at the ceiling, form tensed up as you wait for what feels like an eternity - you can feel his breath fanning over your core as you anticipate his next move.
Then, you feel it. A warm, wet sensation right against your sensitive clit - you have to force yourself not to jerk away in response. The first swipe of his tongue is broad, one that languidly trails up all the way from your slit, to deep between your folds.
The feeling is so odd, so new. And so, so delicious.
It’s nothing like your fingers (or even his), nothing like you’ve ever felt before, but fuck, it’s good. It’s an antithetical combination of too much, and not enough - you can tell he’s holding back, going slow to begin with. And as much as you want him to turn ravenous and devour you alive, you know it’ll be too much for you to handle.
Oikawa knows exactly when he’s got the right rhythm going. Of course, you think to yourself, of course he fucking knows - from how you’re suddenly gripping his hair, squirming around and whimpering for him. And he keeps it up, using his tongue to turn you into a mess. Licking again.
And again, and again.
“Mhmm, Oikawa, k-keep… oh- keep doing that! P-please, I’m gonna… I’m gonna-”
You’re cut off by a sharp moan that leaves your lips as he pulls you closer to his face, tongue digging deeper into you. You’ve vaguely aware of him lightly chuckling against you - probably at how whiny you sound.
(And you can’t even get annoyed at him because you’re too distracted by how it sends vibrations directly to your core.)
Oh. Oh. Oh, god.
Tightly gripping his hair, you tense up, head thrown back and eyes tearing up as you release a final cry. Your hips move involuntarily, grinding against his face in a ditch effort to prolong the waves of your pleasure for as long as you can. He holds his tongue out flat, allowing you to do as you please. His eyes are locked on your face - his smoldering gaze is so intense that you feel compelled to look away, afraid that you’d combust if you didn’t.
Oikawa only pulls away once you whimper weakly that it’s too much, your hands slowly releasing the grip they have on his locks. Planting a soft kiss on your inner thigh, he moves to rest on his elbow next to you as you exhale heavily, face flushed and hot - from your orgasm, or the embarrassment, you’re not sure.
“Good?”
The question in itself is genuine enough, but the shit-eating grin on his face is all you need to see to realize that he knows. The bastard already knows that it was more than good. (With how you were practically sobbing his name only minutes ago, how could he not?) Choosing not to respond, you shoot him a glare instead.
“(Y/n)-chaaan, why are you annoyed at me for asking a perfectly reasonable question?” he pouts, whining, “Besides, I should be the annoyed one, seeing how you were practically yanking my hair out!”
Rolling your eyes, you retort, “Serves you right for teasing me so much!”
Shaking his head dramatically and childishly muttering something about how you’re ‘so mean’, Oikawa turns to face you, gently cupping your cheek. His expression and tone are more somber this time as he inquires, “You sure you still wanna go all the way though? We don’t have to go any further, just making you feel good is perfectly fine for me.”
Seeing you sit up, he moves, resting his back against the headboard as he waits for your response. You reach for the condom on his nightstand before returning back, placing yourself in his lap. Handing him the little silver packet, your hands move to his shoulders, before you finally respond, “Yes, Oikawa, I want to do this, don’t worry.”
“Besides, we’ve already reached this far anyway,” you move your face closer to his, whispering against his lips, “It’s like you always say - if you’re going to hit it, hit it until it breaks - right?” Seeing his eyes widen in surprise at your boldness, you silently congratulate yourself - you had finally rendered the Oikawa Tooru speechless.
(Even if it was only for a few seconds.)
“Fuck, hearing you say that was hot.”
Swallowing at the roughness of his voice, you bite your lip, asking softly, “That’s what you’re gonna do then? Break me?”
Quickly regaining his composure, Oikawa smirks, purring, “Hmm, I’m not sure you’d be able to handle it, sweetheart. Maybe next time.”
And then he’s on you again, hot mouth pressed hard against yours. Unlike earlier, he doesn’t hold back this time, quickly engaging you in a searing kiss that sends shock waves straight down to your stomach. You’re still shaky on what to do, but you attempt to mimic his movements, following his lips and working with them.
In the midst of all your excitement, you had not even realized that Oikawa was still fully clothed. Your cheeks flush pink as it dawns on you that you, on the other hand, are completely naked. Pulling away, you hastily reach for his shirt, practically yanking it off of him before looping your arms around his neck, sighing when you finally, finally feel naked skin against yours.
Moving back to press your lips against his, you feel his hands shift, rustling against your stomach as he makes quick work of unbuttoning his pants. But before he can put on the condom, you stop him. “Wait, c-can I?” you ask, tone laced with hesitance. He simply nods, watching you with that same scrutinizing look that he wears on the court as he hands you the rubber and waits.
For a moment, you simply eye it curiously. It’s… surprisingly pleasant to look at. It’s ruddy, particularly at the head, and it curves slightly to the left. As for the size, you don’t have the experience to start making comparisons, but you know it’s big, at least for you. It was definitely bigger than your tampons, and those were already hard enough to put in.
He wasn’t kidding about stretching you out. You feel a deep-seated lust settle within you as you consider the thought - oddly enough, it’s appealing, and you quiver at the thought of your tight walls being stretched thin around his large length.
Once you’ve got the condom on, he asks again, tone uncharacteristically hesitant, “You sure?” Sighing in mock exasperation, you grin, teasing, “What happened to Mr. Stretch-Me-Out-With-His-Cock?”
Seeing his unamused expression, you chuckle, adding without thinking, “No, really, I appreciate you doing this with me. I want to experience what it’s like, be ready for the real thing, y’know?”
Again, it was a mindless comment. As you angle yourself over him and move down, you’re too caught up in the feeling of being filled for the first time - you miss the way Oikawa’s eyes grow dark upon hearing your words.
Real thing.
Then again, who could blame you for not realizing the impact your words had on him. You would always see him as nothing more than your best friend, as the stepping stone before you got to the real thing. Nothing more. Nothing remotely close to how he wanted you to see him.
(Or how he saw you.)
So as he places his hands on your hips in a bruising grip, moving his hips upwards in a punishing thrust that has you keening, he swears.
He may not be your “real thing”, but he’ll make sure to burn into your memory that no one else would ever fuck you as well as Oikawa Tooru could.
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I’m so excited about the BBB!! Gonna be basic af and request Squalo + Hair. That works right? The hair is part of the body right??
welcome, welcome!! yes I’d consider hair a part of the body so it’s all good to request it!! I don’t mind if it’s basic bc prompts with Squalo’s hair are always so good!! thank you for dropping by, and I’m glad you’re enjoying it so far!
character/s: superbi squalo, reader-insert (gender-neutral)
word count: 542
warnings: swearing and one innuendo lol
prompt: squalo + hair (body bonanza)
God, his hair was pretty. How did he keep it so nice? He moved so much, so surely there were knots or something… The amount he’d need to brush it must’ve been astounding.
“Are you fucking right?”
You staring at him like an idiot wasn’t new, but it was annoying if he didn’t know why.
Squalo watched quietly as your face scrunched up before you nodded to yourself.
“You should let me braid your hair!”
“You’re a real fucking idiot. No.”
“I’m so good at it, though!” You brought your hands to your face and made grabby-hand motions, grinning. “I’m real good with my hands. C’mon.”
Squalo snorted at this, slumping back in his desk seat. Well, you’d approached it the right way by making a joke, so he’d give you that.
“Fine. But-“
“Yay!”
“-But!” He pointed at you quickly, and you nodded just as fast. “Fuck it up and I’ll kill you. Do anything dumb and I’ll kill you. Got it?”
“Yes, sir! Thank you!”
You skipped up to his desk and slipped behind his chair, humming happily, like this was the best thing you could’ve been doing.
You started by combing your fingers through his hair, soft as silk, and made a noise of awe.
At first, Squalo’s shoulders had tensed, as he wasn’t used to people touching his hair. But he forced himself to relax, breathing out slowly.
He warned you more out of instinct, really, but you knew well enough why his hair was so important. There was no one who’d be gentler with it than you.
And, admittedly, the feeling of you so close, playing with his hair, actually felt rather nice.
It went on like this for a while, Squalo doing paperwork and you messing around with his hair, putting it in intricate braids even professional hairstylists would be jealous over.
“Y’know, Squalo.” You talking jerked him out of the nice lull he’d fallen into, and he grunted. “Wish I had hair like yours. It’s so soft. You’re really lucky, y’know?”
You started twisting some of the braids around here and there, doing what you could without any pins to hold it in place.
“It’s actually kind of impressive!” You then chimed. “The dedication you put into this, into your work and your pride… You’re really amazing. ‘M a little jealous of that, too.”
Squalo was still before turning his head just enough so he could peer up at you from the corner of his eye.
“You don’t have to be. If you can continue with your pride on your own, without anyone else, that’s what I’d prefer. I’m fine with my loyalty like this, but you’re better suited with more freedom.”
You contemplated this for a moment before offering him a crooked smile, and he rather liked it. You’d never been the best at it, at smiling, but he liked it as it was.
“Can I say my pride is you or somethin’? Do I still have my freedom if I say that?”
He huffed out a breath, looking forward, and he felt your hands resume their task, making sure to massage your fingers into his scalp at the same time.
“Can’t say I’d really be against that. Dork ass idiot.”
“Only yours, Captain.”
#I love him your honor#katekyo hitman reborn#khr#khr imagines#katekyo hitman reborn imagines#katekyo hitman reborn x reader#khr x reader#mine#superbi squalo#s#superbi squalo x reader#requests#events#body bonanza#please let me play with his hair
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“Fight Me” - Ragnar the Younger x Eivor Wolf-Kissed (female)
Content Warnings: Explicit smut, fighting as foreplay, to the point where it resembles consensual noncon roleplay. Face slapping/striking, rough sex, exhibitionism, negotiating on the fly. Don’t like, don’t read, and I’m not interested in hearing if you think Eivor is OOC to your headcanons. These are mine.
Notes: I am maybe halfway through my playthrough of Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla, and I haven’t found anyone I want to ship my female Eivor with yet. So, I did a thing with my favorite Last Kingdom hunk. You can easily imagine that one of her missions was to get involved with the Danes’ gathering in Young Ragnar’s stronghold (season 3) since the setting and time period is exactly the same in both game and show! I suppose Brida doesn’t exist in this fic; I didn’t find a useful way to write her in or out of this scene (although I’m sure Eivor would love to take her to bed too!)
Ragnar the Younger finishes a long pull of ale and sets his cup down with a flourish. Then he eyes the woman beside him. “Fight me.”
Eivor merely cocks a brow, regarding him over the rim of her own mug. “You have offered me no insult, Earl Ragnar. Why would I fight you?”
The big blonde leans in, his eyes swimming with mischief even as they seem to cut through to the core of her. “You are restless, Eivor Wolf-Kissed. I see a need in you, to feel your blood sing.” His charming gaze lingers on her an extra moment before he continues to speak. “You grow frustrated with the delay, how long I want to wait before marching on the Saxons.”
Her lip twists. “It is too late to talk strategy tonight. Let’s not ruin the merriment.” The talks had lasted for days; to Eivor they had seemed endless. But tonight the ale had been just as endless, and most of the Danes are now passed out around Ragnar’s hall. Or retreated in pairs to the darker corners, for more private diversions.
“No more talk,” Ragnar agrees. “Let me give you a bit of what you are craving.” He stands, wide and imposing. “Fight me. Just a friendly brawl.”
Eivor grins and kicks her chair back as she rises.
Only a few of Ragnar’s warriors, as well as a handful of others from the gathered forces of Northmen, show any interest, though they do clear a space for them. Although they are famous warriors, the two combatants are not exactly the center of attention in the hall; it’s late enough that most of the revelers are too far gone to notice what is happening.
Ragnar lifts the axe from its place at his belt and tosses it on the table. Eivor follows suit, although it takes her considerably longer to unstrap the blade at her wrist and the other sharp edges she keeps at the ready, hidden all around her person. Ragnar’s brows climb as he watches her produce them all, and she thinks he might be impressed.
She’s only recently met the young Earl, but Eivor has the impression of a good-hearted man who will be an absolute bear in a fight. Perhaps too good-hearted to lead a bloodthirsty people, given his reluctance to turn on his Saxon neighbors, but there is steel within his bones. Eivor admits that she would love to test it.
They enter their makeshift square, and contrary to her expectation Ragnar is upon her immediately. He grasps her at shoulder and waist, hooking her leg for a takedown which she is only barely able to twist away from. Straight to grappling, then. She doesn’t really mind. Eivor has never been afraid to take a punch, but Ragnar the Younger is a whole head taller than her with the muscle mass to match, and if they started this bout by trading blows she’d likely have been black and blue all over in the morning.
While she evades his attempt to trip her, she can’t quite dislodge herself from his arms, and so she’s down to twisting and turning inside his grip, trying to gain the advantage. Her muscles heat, jaw clenching into a ferocious smile as she thrills in the effort and the challenge. Ragnar was right; this was exactly what she has been craving.
And it’s not just about the combat, although she lives to best those warriors that dare to underestimate her. She shifts her hips, letting her center of balance slip just enough to lead Ragnar to believe that he’s gaining the upper hand. When he pushes her into a takedown she turns his leverage against him and rides him to the floor.
Cheers and jeers of the drunks watching them with varying levels of interest ring in her ears as Eivor clenches her thighs around Ragnar’s broad waist. He’s a handsome one, and she likes them big and not too stupid. But it’s hard for Eivor to find someone she truly wants to take to bed. She is a consummate warrior, skilled enough to best just about any challenger, and yet she only feels aroused by a man that she cannot beat.
Will Ragnar turn out to be that man? He’s grinning up at her from the floor, looking as ferocious as she feels, and when she loses grip on one of his hands he cuffs her across the face.
She reels from it, more than she should. It’s not that he hit her so hard—it’s the way her body reacts. Heat of an entirely different sort burns between her thighs, ignited by the adrenaline, and the coiled power of his arm. The disorientation of her animal reaction gives him the opening he needs to drive himself up and force her to the ground beneath him.
She doesn’t go without a fight, of course, but the heat of the struggle is only feeding her awakened lust now. That she-beast within her does not want to make it easy for him, but she’s craving his victory too, wants to feel her strength repelled and her thighs forced apart by his knees.
She arches her back beneath him. She considers hiding her feelings, given that at least some of the men are still watching, and it burns her pride to think that anyone would know that Earl Ragnar had won her in this way. But even that potential humiliation twists her insides with some undeniable appeal of its own. She won’t stop herself on account of the watchers.
She knows the heat has entered her eyes by the way that Ragnar’s darken, as he looms above her and holds her arms down at either side of her head. “Is there, perhaps, another craving I can satisfy for you tonight, Eivor?” he croons.
She lets a wolf-smile grace her lips. “I am considering it.”
He releases her hands, leaning in to kiss her, perhaps, but this isn’t how Eivor wants it to happen and so she uses the opening to push him off her and regain the upper hand. She strikes him and Ragnar’s eyes burn and she can see now how much he wants her too. “What will sway your decision?” he asks, breathless with their struggle.
Eivor leans down, and purrs into his ear: “Whether you can take it from me.”
They struggle like their very lives depend on it, after that. Ragnar crushes his weight against her but now he’s trying to achieve something much more difficult than a simple pin. He has to get one of his hands free to loosen her clothing, or his own, and every time he gets both her arms pinned at once he can’t keep her there for more than a few seconds. He growls his frustration, and she bites his neck in some primal combination of denial and encouragement.
With his shoulder pressed into her chest, grinding her to the floor below his considerable weight, he manages to get one hand shoved inside her pants. The greedy press of his seeking fingers should be uncomfortable in such a sensitive place, but he finds her so wet that he slides easily there, until two of his fingers are buried inside her.
She cries out between clenched teeth and arcs her body to the angle that makes those fingers feel most satisfying. But as soon as he shifts to an angle that’s not completely holding her down, she slips away.
Pulse pounding, she stares at him, eyes wild as she catches her breath. Her entire core is burning for him, but she won’t give up this game.
Ragnar’s gaze thickens with satisfaction. “I won’t do this to you in front of my men,” he says, “but I will finish this, exactly how you want it, if you come to my bedchamber, Eivor.”
“Better catch me,” she snarls with glee, and springs to her feet to sprint in that direction.
He overtakes her at the door. She gets only the vague impression of a big bed covered in furs before his body hits her from behind and she’s thrown on top of it. He holds her down with her face in a bearskin as he tears at her waistband, pulling it down over the curve of her ass.
There’s not much struggling she can do from this position; he doesn’t have to control her arms at all if he can keep her chest pinned down tight. He does so first with his arm, then with his chest as she feels him struggling with his own belt. She throws her hips up savagely, not to win anymore, but simply to feel herself fighting in the face of the inevitable. Her entire body is burning for this, to be bested, to be fucked only by the fittest and the strongest of warriors.
His grunting changes, and she knows he’s gotten his cock loose. She wonders what the shape of it is, if she’ll spend time exploring it with hand and tongue some time after this. She’s not opposed to gentler lovemaking after a partner has proven himself, like Ragnar is doing now.
She writhes beneath him, ready for him to get on with it. She feels the cool air on her ass and she’s aching for him. His fingers swipe her roughly, leaving a trail of spit to make sure he’ll go in easy. She’s about to growl a protest; she’s not fragile, and she likes the pain, but then the blunt head of him is pressing against her entrance and she knows why he’s in that habit.
His cock is wide. The pressure is intense as he centers his weight and pushes his way inside. Eivor keens at the perfect mix of pleasure and pain she feels as he makes his claim. Inch by inch, he stretches her, taking what he wants just as she bid him, and when he bottoms out he groans low in her ear.
“Are you still going to fight me?” he challenges, and in response she throws her hips back up against him. He hits her cervix and she squeals between her teeth but she does it again, then Ragnar is roaring and driving himself into her as hard as he wants. He stops crushing her against the bed in favor of gripping her hips with both hands, and Eivor rises up for better leverage to meet his savage thrusts.
He’s impossibly deep. They sweat and grunt together and Ragnar is relentless, hollowing her out with the massive force of his need. She feels her body clench and shimmer around him, and Eivor’s eyes widen. No man has ever brought her to the brink like this so fast . . . but rarely has a man met her passion with such confidence, and endurance, either. She drops her face to the furs, overwhelmed by the rushing pleasure flooding her core, the steady stroking of his cock spurring her on to a shuddering, bellowing release that she tries to muffle in the bedding.
He slows down when she stops screaming. Although his cock has stretched her, she feels more loss than relief when he pulls himself out and releases his grip. She’s panting, balanced on her knees and elbows, and turns as she hears Ragnar pulling off the rest of his clothes behind her. Aside from breeches pushed down to her knees, Eivor herself is still fully clothed.
Her eyes land on the gorgeous cock sticking proudly up into the air, a massive, glistening thing weeping with a thicker milkiness at the tip. “You didn’t—” she asks dumbly.
Ragnar smiles, a thick, arrogant thing. “Wouldn’t want this to be over too quickly.” He strokes a big hand idly over himself. “Thought I’d give you a moment to catch your breath. And I’m hoping that took some of the fight out of you. I want my woman to fall to pieces more than once before I take my pleasure, and I need you to hold still for the next few things I want to do.”
TLK taglist: @ceridwenofwales @oddsnendsfanfics@laketaj24 @thewildbeauty @geekandbooknerd @therealcalicali @tiyetiye @pokeasleepingsmaug@goldentailedmermaids @sifshoney @titty-teetee @savismith @ariellostatci @perfectus-in-morte @axiseeu12 @kingofshadowalkers @glitta-killa @just-random-obsessions @volvaaslaug
Specific thirst list: @fearlessindigo @artemiseamoon @naps4bats @evelyn-shelby @autumn--the--season
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Story idea: guys goes in for a tux fitting but is so bloated the tailor is concerned he won’t get a good fit. The man is made to expel as much gas as possible by the tailor to the amusement of everyone else in the store
He hears the words but it takes a while to sink in. He- he’s asking me to do what? A small gurgle from his lower belly seems to affirm his situation. He shifts his weight from side to side on the short platform and glances around the fitting room as if looking for a way out of this predicament. There’s the tailor, looking up at him expectantly, his own mostly naked reflection in the mirror, and only a curtain separating him from the other clients in the main room. No, no everyone’s going to hear me…
“Sir, I cannot measure your stomach when you’re bloated like so. You can come back later, but I’m booked up for the next couple months. I’ve got customers waiting so I’m sorry, but you need to make your choice.”
The client’s breath quickens and his hands go clammy. There was no way he could wait for another appointment. The wedding was in a few weeks and needless to say the tux was a requirement. His belly had been roiling and rebelling all day, no doubt angry at all the greasy food he wolfed down the night before. Foolish of him to gorge right before the fitting, but what could he do about it now? Well, he knows what he has to do. There’s a feeling like a balloon being inflated in his lower gut and the urge that he’s been fighting since he walked through the door intensifies.
He closes his eyes and tries his best to imagine that he’s alone. He tenses his belly just a little, clenching his cheeks to try to stifle the sound and keep the blast to a minimum. A whistling fart tickles his hole and fades out almost as soon as it began. The client sheepishly strokes his gut, which is just as inflated as before.
The tailor plucks at his mustache. That was a man’s fart? A mouse, perhaps! Pathetic! He’s about to just call the appointment off when the pitiful look on his client’s face softens his demeanour.
“Okay, here let me help you.”
The tailor splays his hand over his client’s swollen belly. The soft, warm skin is a stark contrast to the tailor’s rough hands, made calloused by decades spent perfecting his craft. His belly juts over the waistband of his tight, white underwear and the tailor lowers his hand to cup the underside of the fart-filled gut.
“Tch tch tch. We have a lot of work to do. You ready?”
Even in the throes of humiliation, the client feels his body wanting to relax into the man’s touch. Wanting to arch his back and press his aching gut against the wandering hand. He swallows loudly and nods his head, already beginning to muster up the courage he’ll need to walk out of the room once he’s through.
It’s quiet at first. A barely audible rush of air and for that he’s thankful. He stares at the mirror, watching his eyes squint and his lips pout. Watches the tailor sink his palm into his tense gut. Part of him wants the tailor to stop because the pressure is making the fart louder and he’s sure that soon all the people beyond the curtain will be able to hear the dirty thing he’s doing. Part of him wants to grunt at the tailor to push harder, get it all out, It feels so good, ohhhh I need this.
The fart rumbles on and the tailor chuckles to himself at how much like a chainsaw it sounds. Discussions about fabrics and fits between customers and associates die down and all heads whip towards the curtain. Is that…? A throaty groan from the fitting room confirms their suspicions. Lips begin to curl and laughter bubbles up their throats.
With a series of short pops, the fart ends and the client’s gut relaxes and expands. He sighs but his breath catches in his throat. Laughter. From the next room and no doubt directed at him. His stomach sinks.
“I- I can’t do this,” he stammers. Fuck, this is embarrassing.
“It’s fine, sir. Pay the hyenas no mind. See,” the tailor hastily pats his client’s belly and places the other hand on the man’s lower back, “you already look a little slimmer. That was a good push. Let’s get the rest out, now.”
Before the client can agree or disagree, his belly is pushed inward and a short quack is forced out of his rear. Then again. And again. Quick thrusts inward and sharp farts of various pitches shooting out. The client huffs with each push, feeling like he’s getting an unconventional form of CPR. Between farts, he can hear the giggles from the amused bastards beyond the curtain. With the gas being pretty much expelled for him, he focuses on tuning them out and thinks about how he’s going to look like James Bond in his new tux. If this is what it takes, then so be it.
The tailor abruptly stops driving into his gut and rubs wide deep circles roughly enough to jostle the client around. His gut is given a slap before a groaning fart is forced out by the hand that seems determined to make his navel kiss his spine. It’s not as gentle as the client would like, but given the time constraints it is understandable. He pushes and grunts, doing his best now to let it all out.
“Okay, now squat down. Bend the knees. Good.” The new position he’s guided into makes it easier for the gas to wind through his colon and the farts fly past the cotton stretched around his plump cheeks. The fabric, of course, does nothing to filter the stench. It hangs heavily in the air and makes the small, classy looking room smell like a farm.
“Excellent, very good. Now, you look ready for me to do my job, just-“
“Wait,” the client grunts. “I’m not finished… unngh.” He clutches his stomach and strains. The gas isn’t ready to come out but he can feel it. It’s almost there. He bears down with a guttural groan and a loud fart rips from his ass with enough force that they’re both surprised he didn’t tear a hole through his underwear.
The tailor rubs his back, much gentler than he did his stomach, and the client basks in the pleasurable feeling of relief. No longer did he feel like a balloon about to burst. The embarrassment was worth it. His stomach, while a little sore, felt damn good.
“Stand up straight. Yes, yes, perfect. Okay, we take the measurement now.” The tailor unravels his measuring tape and loops it around the client’s gut. “5 inches less! My, my.”
The client smiles politely and slowly catches his breath as the tailor scribbles down the circumference. He can only hear the occasional giggle from beyond the curtain but he figures it’s alright. Let’s see how hard they laugh when they have to stand in this hotbox.
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X. Meeting the Team Pt. 2
The Next Chapter Masterlist
< Previous Chapter • You Are Here • Next Chapter >
Warnings: Strong language, a depiction of a panic attack and the reader's panic, mentions of Oikawa having a knee injury and panic attacks, reader yells at Kuroo.
A/N: By the way, please don't hate me for giving Kuroo a Camaro, I know literally nothing about cars, I'll call myself out so you don't have to.
Stepping out of Kuroo's sleek black 2013 Camaro, your eyes look at the large gym, the sound of volleyballs hitting hardwood floors bringing back memories for you. Glancing out of the corner of your eyes, towards your taller friend, you remembered the last time you'd walked into an unfamiliar gym. You'd met people who you'd made life-long friends with and he'd helped you get out of an awful situation.
Kuroo, Kenma, Lev, and... Well, really, the majority of the Nekoma High and Fukurōdani Academy volleyball clubs... They'd helped you realize when you needed to put your foot down and start looking out for yourself, rather than worrying about stepping on people's toes. While yes, you had lost two of the most important people in your life, by doing so, you also met quite a few people who truly were looking out for you and your happiness.
Did you hate Atsumu and Suna for the way they treated you? No. They both did a lot of damage, through their words and actions. But, at the end of the day, you'd all been so much younger and you weren't going to waste the rest of your life, hating people who weren't even in the picture, anymore. Or so, you thought.
You didn't ever intend or want to see them again, after the emotional turmoil they'd put you through. Little did Kuroo know just how badly you would respond to seeing them again.
"Are you going to stand there and keep reminiscing over when you met me, or are you going to walk inside and make some new friends?" The teasing smirk on Kuroo's lips only reminded you of the fact that even though he was pretty much a mother to you and Kenma, he was a teasing asshole. He knew how to press all of the right buttons and it would never fail to piss you off.
Walking forward, Kuroo walks forward and grasps the handle of the door, opening it for you. You don't hesitate to begin walking into the gym, flipping Kuroo off on your way. "You talk to me like a preschooler, y'know. And you wonder why Kenma calls you mom behind your back."
Stepping into the gym, you were in awe of your surroundings. Sure, this was an Olympic-level gym, but it looked far too pretty and clean to be a place for as grueling a training regimen as you could assume these athletes were put through.
What you were most pleased to find was that it didn't reek of sweat and floor mats. Instead, it had an almost fresh smell to it. It was partitioned up into three different rooms, as far as you could tell. The largest room was the one you were standing in currently, a weight room; different machinery is scattered neatly around the room and you notice that several ceiling-to-floor mirrors are lining the walls for the boys to observe their form while they work. Across from the door you'd just entered through was a wall of glass, which you could only hope was reinforced, and on the other side was a true volleyball gym, where you could see a few people working on their spikes, even if you couldn't quite make out who they were yet. The last room was closed off and much smaller than the other two, so you assumed it to be where the showers and changing room were located.
"Your highness!" You hear a familiar voice, turning to see Iwaizumi approaching you with a snarky grin, a small white towel hanging from around his neck. He wore a sleeveless grey shirt, only bringing more attention to his defined biceps. Sweats drip down his temple and you find yourself a bit embarrassed when you notice his lip still shows signs of the damage you'd done, the day prior. "So kind of you to finally join us."
Despite the lack of a real smile on his face, one of your own tugged at your lips, knowing that he was only teasing you. "You know, Iwa, you could always just admit that you missed me." Sending a wink his way, you notice that a few of the men are stopping what they're doing to look towards you, their attention captured by how loud Iwaizumi had previously been.
"Baby owl!" You can only brace yourself as you hear the former captain shout to you, knowing he was one for hugs. You didn't quite expect to be scooped up off of your feet. Laughter escapes you as Bokuto spins you around, practically bouncing up and down in joy that you were here. "You missed my spikes, earlier! They were so good, they were so good! They even would have made Akaashi proud!"
As Bokuto places you back down on the ground, some of the other boys are starting to approach, a few looking concerned by the way you gripped Bokuto's shoulder to steady yourself. And though you weren't paying attention to who it was, the three who'd been in the area of the gym and net had entered the weight area and gone for their towels and water bottles.
After you manage to shake yourself out of your dizzied state, you look at Bokuto with a smile. "Yeah, Bo? Well, you'll have to show me some more, later, yeah?"
Feeling a hand on your shoulder, you spot Iwaizumi staring at you, brows pinching together in slight concern for your wellbeing. He places a bottle of water in your hands, before looking a the excited, silver-haired volleyball player, "Let's be careful, Bokuto. It's only their first day."
"They're looking a little dizzy, Bokuto. You might want to refrain from doing that in the future." The deep voice catches you off-guard, eyes flicking towards the very, very tall, scary man, now standing beside Bokuto.
He wasn't just tall, but he had quite a lot of muscle to his frame, giving him the build of a fucking giant. With wide eyes, you look him over. Despite his size, upon closer examination, he seemed a lot gentler than you might've previously mistaken him for. Kind eyes like that didn't belong to someone who would snap you in two... Right? Your eyes move away from his face, trailing down his body. From strong-looking biceps to defined thighs, the man seemed like a machine, more than anything. He couldn't actually be real, right?
"The fuck are you guys feeding him? Holy shit, hi there, B-F-G." You nod towards him, "Is your hair green or brown, because I'm looking at it and I'm gonna be honest, it's confusing me about as much as that Karasuno kid's did. Holy shit, I think I'm haunted by those memories." A mock shudder runs down your spine.
While Bokuto and Kuroo are used to your trailing off-topic, Ushijima looks confused, the poor thing. "What is a... B-F-G?"
"Big friendly giant. It's what they used to call this tall-ass first year who went to volleyball club with us, as well. You should feel special, Ushiwaka."
"Oh my fuck, Yaku, is that you? You got taller! That's criminal. You were my short king!" A pout graces your lips, while you step forward to give your old friend a large hug.
While Yaku hasn't found himself looking an insane amount taller, he did gain a bit of height since his time in high school. He stood in front of you, a hand resting on the back of his neck and his shoulders drawn back. He'd always had this feel-good, confident aura about him and it was something you'd always deeply respected about him. It was good to see that hadn't gone away.
After a brief hug, Yaku opens his mouth to speak, only for Kuroo to beat him to it. "I thought that was Kenma?"
Sighing, you roll your eyes. "I had to put Kenma in a different bracket, or else he would very easily surpass all of you in everything. I mean come on now, this is Kenma we're talking about," you muse with a self-satisfied smirk, making Kuroo raise an eyebrow.
Though, unbeknownst to you were the thoughts going through Kuroo's head. If only you knew why Kenma did all of the things that he did for you.
"I'm so excited to be working with you guys," a grin makes its way onto your lips as you clasp your hands together in front of you in excitement.
The smile that spread over your lips was contagious, even making Ushijima crack a small smile of his own. Out of anyone Kuroo had known, even with your aggression and the talking you'd do when you got excited, you were one of those people who people couldn't help but find themselves drawn to. And none of the men in the gym were able to quite explain why they found you as endearing as they did. Maybe it was the fact that you most certainly had no filter, whatsoever.
Bokuto places his hands on your shoulders, looking at the others on his team, "They're such a good player, guys! They could have gone pro if they wanted to! They have the best jump-float I've ever seen!" His loud bragging unknowingly catches the attention of the three final members of this group, who'd been caught up in conversation and getting a drink of water.
Yaku juts his chin out a bit and if you hadn't known him as well, you'd have thought the look he gave you was downright scrutinizing. But, being the person you were, and him being the person he was, you knew that he only took Bokuto's words as a challenge. "Oh yeah? Then that should be good practice for our receivers and I."
"If you needed service aces to practice on, you could have just asked, Mori! I wouldn't have minded helping you out, outside of my work hours." You smile as you look towards the libero, "I've been needing to get out of the apartment, for a while. Even Kenma can only handle so much of my dumbass."
Ushijima's curiosity gets the best of him and he cocks his head to the side, wondering what profession you'd chosen, rather than a career in volleyball. And so, yet again, Yaku is beaten to the chase, Ushijima speaking before the smaller man can get his mouth open. "What do you work as?"
"Youtuber some days, but twitch streamer, more often than not." Shrugging your shoulders, you continue to smile, "My roommate got me into it, actually, and from there, it became a profession for the both of us. Though he's got a dozen other jobs as well, it's pretty amazing."
A hand comes to ruffle your hair and after quickly identifying it as Kuroo's you lean into the display of affection. "We're talking about you, not Kenma."
"Speaking of," Bokuto speaks, even though it has nothing to do with the topic at hand, and his hands come up to guide your shoulders in the direction of the gym, "You need to set for me!"
Iwaizumi raises his eyebrows, looking impressed, "You can set, as well?"
Nodding excitedly, you dive into an explanation, stopping before Bokuto can steal you away, "Yeah, I play a lot of different positions, actually. My ex-boyfriend was a middle blocker, my childhood friends were a setter and a spiker, and my older brother was an outside hitter - plus, he was amazing at defense, so he helped me a lot with perfecting my service aces when I played in high school. So you can say I was always a well-rounded player."
"Not to mention that you and that ex-boyfriend of yours were almost unbeatable, together. Almost." A warily familiar voice came from behind you, making you look back and grin from ear to ear.
The germaphobe had hardly changed, since high school. He was as tall as ever with a good build to him - only befitting for a volleyball player. As well kept as ever, he stood in front of you, reminding you of the number of times you'd ended up facing him across a net, years before. Though, unlike back then, now you were able to look towards one another for a friendship rather than a healthy rivalry.
"Why if it isn't Sakusa Kiyoomi. It's been forever!" With a questioning glance thrown your way by none other than Bokuto, you explain. "When I was at Inarizaki, we played against Itachiyama all of the time. Kiyoomi and I traded numbers after we bonded over our hatred of large crowds."
Sakusa lets a small uncharacteristic smile slip onto his lips as he glances towards Bokuto, "We haven't really kept in contact, but they'll be a welcome challenge, on the court, again."
"Is that a certain germaphobe of ours... Smiling? Omi! I didn't know you could do that! I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks!"
That voice. Why was he here? Your body goes stiff underneath Bokuto's touch, making the large male draw back to check on you, eyebrows pulled together in concern, until he spots what, or rather who you're staring at.
Because there the two are, standing in all of their glory. Suna Rintarō and Miya Atsumu. They didn't look all that different from the last time you'd seen them. Even though, it'd been what? Nine years?
By the way you go rigid, Suna's eyes drop to the floor, almost guiltily. It had been nine years and you still hated them. Though, he supposed they both deserved it. When you'd told them that you were leaving Inarizaki, they made your life even worse than what it had been. They gave you absolutely every reason to leave, rather than try to convince you to stay.
Before anyone can say anything, you catapult yourself into the air in an attempt to flee the building, much resembling a cat. You just, bolted in the first route you saw working and that was apparently through the air. Kuroo had to jerk you into his chest before you could face-plant to get you to calm down for a second. Sakusa narrowed his eyes as he looked between Suna and Atsumu - had they really been so awful to you?
"I quit. I'm not gonna do it." Your words sounded childish, you knew that but you didn't care, shaking your head as you pull yourself away from Kuroo, having half a mind to leave and not talk to any of the men here ever again. Well, more two of them, than anything else. Though, as you pull away, it dawns on you: was this why he had been so dead-set on you coming to 'help the team out?' With this question in mind, you turn around to face Kuroo. "Did you know they were going to be here?" When he doesn't respond, you feel your breath catch in your throat. The air you were breathing felt heavy inside your chest. He couldn't do that to you - he wouldn't. You flex your hands a bit - everything wasn't actually crumbling. Just remember what Kenma said... Breath...
You can't find the words or guts to continue until he reaches for you, anger quickly rising. What made him think he had any right to comfort you when he'd put you in this situation? "Do you not remember any of what happened in high school? Do you not remember how he," pointing a dramatic finger at Suna, "manipulated me? How bad he hurt me, more than once?"
"Do you not remember what he let happen?" After pointing towards the faux-blonde briefly, you drop your hand back to your side, "Oh no, I forget, you weren't there to see the damage they did, right? Because you went off to University and forgot all about Kenma and me, until we got out of high school, as well, right? Right?" You were hardly able to speak, trying to catch your breath in between words. Your voice was growing faint and strained, due to your lack of oxygen in your lungs.
You knew that everyone's stare was on you, only worsening your panicking. Your hands come to your shirt, wringing the ends of it as you try to ground yourself. But you couldn't stop. You just kept talking, needing Kuroo to understand why you were angry, why you were upset. He needed to understand what you were feeling and what he had done.
"You left me, with strangers, in a big city, after promising me it would all be okay. I wasn't welcomed back with my grandmother and brother, after the falling out. But did you even bother to check up, once, after you left? Did you even care, after promising me it was going to be okay? Come on, give me an answer, huh?" You weren't quite sure what brought up all of these old feelings. Maybe it was having to see the two that caused you all of that distress. "Fuck you, Tetsurō."
Kuroo couldn't deny the fact that he was surprised by the way you lashed out at him. He was wondering where all of this anger had been, years ago. Why hadn't you or Kenma ever said anything to him about this? He was fumbling, no words would escape him, no matter his efforts to get something out.
An uneasy silence hangs in the air for a few long moments, everyone looking between you and the former Nekoma captain. Truthfully, you'd never really dealt with everything that had happened, emotionally. You just kind of shoved it down and distracted yourself with being at a new school and video games.
"Bokuto, take Miya, Ushijima, and Suna and go and practice on the court, for a while." A firm voice saves Kuroo from having to respond, making everyone look towards the athletic trainer. "Yaku, I think you should escort Kuroo out. I'll take Y/N home, today." Iwaizumi walks over to you, looking at Sakusa, "Go get me a cool, damp towel, okay?"
You aren't quite sure if Kuroo leaves willingly, or if Yaku has to force him out, but you don't really care, at the moment. Iwaizumi places an arm around your shoulders and brings you over to a bench to sit on, uncapping a water bottle for you. He crouches down in front of you and hands it to you. "Hey, look at me. It's going to be okay, can you focus on breathing for me, right now?"
You weren't crying, were you? Why was it so hot in here? Why couldn't you just calm down? Everyone was looking at you, weren't they? Had you acted irrationally? They were going to hate you for being so dramatic, weren't they? So much for a good first impression with the boys...
"Did you hear me?" Iwaizumi's voice cuts through your thoughts, making your eyes shift to his. Without a word, you move your eyes back down to the water bottle in his hands, "Breath, Y/N."
Easier said than done. "Al -," you swallow shakily and nod, "Alright."
You move your eyes away from him - bad idea Y/N. When you spot the men glancing over at you while they distractedly get to work, you don't quite register that they wanted to check on you, because they were worried about you, mistaking it, instead, for judgment. You opt for closing your eyes, tapping your fingers together rhythmically to help you calm yourself down.
Looking you over, Iwaizumi is reminded of all the late practices that he would find Oikawa collapsing from exhaustion or due to his knee injuries. Though, Oikawa only got this bad when he held the weight of not making it to nationals on his shoulders. Was this a panic attack that you were having, like Oikawa use to have? Or was it something else? He noticed you reach out to him, after a moment of his thinking, and he offers you a hand, silently nodding when you flash him a grateful, weak, but grateful, smile.
Slowly, your breathing mellowed out and the tears pricking your eyes slipped down your cheeks, your head hanging as you attempt to withdraw your hand from Iwaizumi. Though, your eyes move back up when he gently grips your hand, holding it in his, still. It isn't long after that when you feel nimble fingers grip your chin, tilting it up so that Sakusa can gently pat your cheeks and face with the cool cloth. You knew he didn't like touching people much and you were tempted to tell them that they didn't have to do this for you. But their touch was so gentle and their presence so calming that you couldn't bring yourself to open your mouth.
Instead of saying anything, you relax against Iwaizumi and Sakusa's touch. Normally it was Kenma who'd be doing this for you, just as you'd do it for him, but Kenma wasn't here, right now. And you were left to depend on yourself and these very kind, very gentle men.
It doesn't take Yaku long to make his way over, sitting on the bench behind you and gently rubbing circles against your back. "You okay there?" He asks you after a few moments of silence.
Letting out a breath, you open your eyes and nod. You pull your hand away from Iwaizumi and pull your head from Sakusa, turning from them, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."
Though, you aren't expecting Sakusa to grasp your chin once again and tilt your head in their direction again, "You aren't and we all know it, so cut the act."
Yaku sends a glare towards the taller man, "Sakusa!"
"What?" He snaps back. "I'm right, aren't I? They're not okay and they have every right to express it."
Iwaizumi sighs and looks at you, ignoring the other two, "Drink some water, okay? Look, after today, you don't have to return, I think we'll all understand if you don't want to... But, and you can ignore what I'm about to say if you want, I think that you need closure. Even if that comes from just having to tolerate occupying the same building as them."
Glancing over his shoulders, you find Suna and Atsumu both glancing in your direction. They looked so guilty... Why did you care? You frown and give him a shrug, "Whatever..."
Looking at you, Yaku nods slowly, "We'll try and keep you away from them, alright?"
After a nod of confirmation from Sakusa, you sigh and take a sip of the water bottle Iwaizumi had offered you. "Okay. Fine, yeah, I'll... I'll keep helping out." You confirm. "But, I'm going to bring Kenma for the next few days, just to make sure... This doesn't happen again." Gesturing to where the three sat, doting over you, you lower your eyes again.
"Whatever is going to make you feel most comfortable," Iwaizumi tells you, bringing a hand to affectionately ruffling your hair, watching the way you immediately lean into the affection.
"Let's get to work, what do you say, Y/N?" Sakusa hums, tone surprisingly gentle with you.
You finally stand up, capping your water bottle. "Yeah... Yeah. What can I do for you boys?"
Kenma and you both have a history of having panic attacks and you both are very good at calming one another down, due to your years of experience.
The boys might have just met you, but they all quickly developed this sense of 'I need to protect them' after what happened in front of them.
Atsumu let someone blackmail you, while you were both in high school and Suna continuously used you for his own amusement after he lost his memories and before he got them back. And they both said hurtful things when you announced you'd be leaving.
I am so sorry for how late this was, honestly. I just couldn't get it written how I wanted it. And even still, I don't really like the end result. But no matter, here it is, now, I hope you guys enjoy it. I hope you guys are having a great day, as well! Remember, sweetheart, I'm proud of you. You deserve to eat, get a good amount of sleep, and drink some water, I am so proud of you. Have a great day, alright! I'll have another chapter out tomorrow 🤍 I love you guys.
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Don’t Play
Part 2/3 of the Companion Trilogy.
Genre: Smut
Word Count: 2.3k
Summary: During one of your visits to Kun’s place, he offers his companion’s services to Yangyang, boasting that he’ll show him what a real companion is like. You fully expected Yangyang to refuse–sharing companions wasn’t illegal but it was definitely taboo, and even Yangyang can’t be stupid enough to do that. But to your shock and horror, he agrees.
Warnings: femdom, exhibitionism, blowjobs, overstimulation, yangyang being a needy baby
You hated going to Kun’s mansion, the young man didn’t just get on your nerves, but he was also always all over his companion right in front of you, and it had a habit of getting Yangyang ansty and riled up. Like right now.
You try to oblige him as much as possible, allowing him to kiss and touch you some, but you always stop it before it gets too far, needing to keep something of yourself to yourself, something that frustrates Yangyang greatly. He tries to play it off like it doesn’t bother him but you know he’s always disappointed every time you send him off to one of his girls hot and bothered.
"I'm really hard right now." Yangyang breathes into your ear, his hands feeling you up over your clothes. Right now would be when you stop his wandering hands, the press of his hard member against your ass sobering you up, and send him on his way. But Yangyang didn’t bother to invite any of his lady friends to your little trip with Kun.
"You're the one who didn't bring one of your girls along."
"Because this is an intimate vacation." He grumbles, trying to keep you from squirming out of his lap.
It’s not like you didn’t enjoy making out with Yangyang; you had your needs too--god knows how you’d always have to bitterly get yourself off every time you turned him down--and he is an incredibly attractive guy. But he’s far too entitled for you to even begin to give him what he wants. You love him, you really do. He colors your days like no one else can, and behind his brattiness, there is a heart of gold, but he doesn’t seem to get why you’re so adamant about not giving yourself to him and that in itself is a huge problem to you.
“Can’t you give it to me just this once?”
His bristle at his question. He’s talking as if your body is something you can just let him have to be nice. “No. And that’s enough.” You tear his hands off of you.
“Why are you being such a bitch?”
Your jaw drops. He did not just call you a bitch for refusing to have sex with him.
Before you can say anything, Kun interrupts. “It seems like you guys are having a bit of a problem.” He snickers, his hand practically down his companion’s pants.
Yangyang scoffs at his friend and you snarl, “It’s none of your business.”
He just smiles knowingly, staring you down. “If you’re having problems with her, I’m sure Hyejin would be more than happy to show her how a real companion should act.”
“Are you insane?” You didn’t bother keeping the disgust out of your face. What he was suggesting was preposterous. Sharing companions wasn't illegal, but it was definitely frowned upon. A companion is yours to keep, and if you're seeking comfort from someone else's then it's a great shame on your companion. It shows that they have failed in their entire life’s purpose. You’re sure Yangyang will put the arrogant pervert in his place.
“Ok.”
You turn to Yangyang with absolute betrayal covering every inch of your face. You just can’t believe he’s doing this to you. You can tell he already regrets that one word. He knows he fucked up, but he’s too stubborn and prideful to back down now.
With his jaw set and head high, he says defiantly, "If you don't want to see it, you can go."
You’re so disgusted, you practically jump off of him, and that’s when you see it--the tiny look of relief on his face--and you know he’s bluffing. He wants you to think that he’ll do it, but he wouldn’t. You won’t let it slide though.
So you sit back down next to him and press your body to his, your hand going to unbutton his pants. His eyes widen and the breath gets trapped in his lungs in paralyzing shock. You can practically see the gears in his brain working overtime to try and understand what you’re doing.
Smiling sweetly at him and you pull his zipper down, you say, “And how am I gonna learn how to be a real companion if I don’t stay and watch?”
You hand ghosts over his dick, knocking the breath out of him as you pull his boxers over his member, freeing it. He whimpers as it slaps against his stomach and he closes the gap between your face, catching your lips in a fervent kiss. You reciprocate, caressing the skin of his thigh where it meets his stomach, so close yet so far from where he actually needs it.
"Baby--" He starts, lids heavy as he pulls away from the kiss, but you turn your head to the other companion, ignoring him. Raising an eyebrow at the two people in front of you, you goad, “Well?”
Kun breaks out into a grin and helps his companion up. She sends him a nervous look but he just taps her ass and shoos her towards you. “Go on, baby.”
You don’t know who looks more frightened, Yangyang or her, as she settles between his legs. Kun, on the other hand, seems entirely too pleased with himself, smugly looking at you as if he’s challenging you to back down, but you won’t. You could give Yangyang a run for his money when it comes to headassery.
“Go on then.” You tell Hyejin, grabbing Yangyang’s dick and giving it a couple of deliberate strokes as if to entice her. This is the first time you’ve ever touched Yangyang’s bare dick--the most you’d gone so far is to cup his over his pants--and the effect on him is clear. He throws his head back, moaning.
But he quickly sits upright again when he feels Hyejin’s mouth on him. He looks at you in a panic, not believing that you’re letting this happen. You give him a tart smile. “Why are you looking at me when she’s being so nice to you? Don’t be rude, baby. Look at her.”
You grab his jaw, your palm pressing down on the upper part of his neck, and turn his head towards her. You feel his throat vibrate as he moans and tries to focus on Hyejin. You had no intention of letting him, though.
Pressing your thumb against his pulse point, you feel it thudding against you as you lean closer to whisper in his ear. “Or did you create this whole scene so you’d force me to fuck you, and now you got yourself stuck.”
His throat jumps beneath your hand as he gulps. “No. Even you wouldn’t do something so stupid…" You push his head back against the couch, fully holding his neck now and tightening your grasp, "Would you, baby?”
His breath hitches and his hips snap up, causing Hyejin to gag on his cock, which only makes it harder for him to breathe.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" You growl, pulling on his earlobe with your teeth. "Fucking dirty."
Yangyang is loud. He’s loud in everyday life, and he’s loud while getting his dick sucked. You can't wait to find out if he's even louder he cums. Your hand leaves his neck and he takes in a huge gulp of air that he promptly chokes on when you pinch his nipple through his shirt.
"Ah fuck!" He yelps and bucks his hips up again, choking poor Hyejin. She pulls back, coughing, and you pinch Yangyang's other nipple.
"You're going to choke her, brat."
He looks at you, eyes pleading and glistening. “I'm sorry." And you know he's apologizing for more than just that.
"Too late for that." You grab his dick and squeeze it firmly, making him shut up. “You wanted this, now be good and take it.”
“Yes, baby.” He gives up easily, quite literally baring his neck for you as he slumps back on the couch.
When Hyejin takes him in her mouth again, he doesn't even bother trying to look at her, fixing his gaze on you instead, his eyes practically fucking you while he gets his dick sucked by another woman. You snort and start thumbing at his nipple, much gentler this time, and between her mouth on him and your fingers playing with his nipples, he starts squirming.
"Are you gonna cum from this?" You ask him, placing light kisses against the side of his neck.
"Y-yeah."
"Gonna cum down her throat while your own companion sits beside you?"
"I'm sorry. I fucked up."
"Yes, you did." Your growl against his skin, making him shiver. "Now don't make me wait and cum."
"Yes, baby--" He barely gets the words out before he's cumming--Hyejin struggling to keep his load in her mouth--and when he does, he screams your name. And you have to admit, it restored the confidence you had lost in yourself when he started this whole thing.
“Well this was interesting.” Kun drawls, motioning for Hyejin to come attend to his now raging boner. You give him a scowl, remembering that he's still there. Doing your best to ignore him, you turn back to the still panting Yangyang smugly. "Do you always scream my name when you're with other women?"
He blushes and shakes his head. You pout, "So you don't wish it was me blowing you?"
He whines and you laugh at his already hardening cock. "Please."
"Want my mouth on you, baby?" You stroke his hardening cock and he winces in pain but nods eagerly. "Dirty baby. Your dick is not even dry and you already want another blowjob."
"Please, I've waited for so long."
You get down between his knees where Hyejin just was. You lean closer and lick a strip up his cock, and even though the action was tentative and unpracticed, it made him shiver nonetheless. Wrapping your mouth around him, you try to mimic the movements Hyejin just did, albeit less deftly. You felt dirty putting him in your mouth and tasting not only him but Hyejin too. But despite your inexperience and relative disgust, Yangyang was moaning like you’ve never heard him before. He was squirming under you like you were giving him the suck of his life.
He grabs your hair and tries to fuck your mouth, but you pin his hands to his sides and pull off of him. "Keep those there or I'll stop." The slight pause affords you a better look at his state and save this image of him in your memory--adorably splayed on the couch, his mouth hanging open on his pretty fucked out face and his hips pushing up in the air in a silent plea for you to take him back in your mouth.
You’ve never seen Yangyang so needy before. If you had known that this was the way to get the brat so pliant, you might’ve done it a long time ago.
You put your mouth back on him, sucking around him as you bob your head up and down. He tries to buck his hips up, but this time you’re ready for him and keep them pressed back on the couch. He doesn’t try to grab your head again though, his hands digging into the cushions as he moans and whimpers.
“Baby----ahh ba....baby--” He whines, his cock hot and twitching in your mouth and you know he’s about to cum. You barely take him out of your mouth before he cums, most of it landing on your lips and chin.
“Fuck!” He groans, the sight almost tearing a second orgasm out of him.
You wipe the cum off your face and rub it off on his clothes.
"Was this what you’ve always wanted, baby boy?"
He quickly nods, greedy hands trying to push your head back down. "Again"
You snort and slap his thigh. "You insatiable bastard. Aren't two orgasms enough?"
"It's your fault. You made me wait for it for so long." He whines petulantly, still tugging on your hair.
"Really, Yangyang? Still acting entitled?" You go to stand up but what he says stops you in your tracks. "They should've given me another companion."
You see red, slapping him. “You rotten boy.”
He holds his red cheek, eyes wide. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” He says in a small voice.
You knew he didn’t. He was goading you because to him that's what got him what he wanted--to immature to weigh the consequences of his words.
You grab his dick again, jerking it off roughly.
"I'm sor--" He whimpers, but you shut him up with another slap, lighter this time since you're using your non-dominant hand.
“I’ve had it with your fucking childish attitude.” You growl, tugging on his length harshly. "Is this all you want from me, Yangyang?"
"No!" He shakes his head vigorously.
“Then why would you say that?”
“I’m just... b-being stupid...s-sorry.” He writhes, finding it hard to think with the tight and fast grip you have on him. And despite the situation, he can’t help but push his shirt up to thumb at his own nipples.
“That’s right. You’re a fucking stupid, spoiled slut, aren’t you?”
He nods, whining and bucking into your hand. “S-sorry… I... l-love you.” He cries out earnestly as his cock twitches in your hand, and a small spurt of cum comes out, the only thing he can give after three orgasms.
You sigh, believing him, but still hurt. “You will never say that to me again, understood?” You ask, taking your hands off of him.
“Yeah.” He says in a small voice, sniffling pathetically, his stomach stained by his own cum and a little bit of drool was running down the corner of his mouth. “Just wanted your attention.”
"Next time you pull a stunt like this, you won't be getting another chance." You warn. “Now fix yourself up.”
You were being hard on him, you know, but he really hurt you and if he wants you to forgive him, he needs to start acting like a grown up and treat you with the respect you deserve.
__________________________
A/N: Honestly don’t know if I’ll make part 3 of this lol
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Doll Me Up (P.7)
Title: Doll Me Up (Part Seven)
Summary: Fem!Reader x Dark Mob!Tony Stark. On good days, you and Tony were a power couple. You, a perfect trophy wife with your hands in local charities to promote a wholesome image. Tony, business man but sullied with organized crime. He indulged in his illegal gambling, extortion, and political corruption. And he indulged in his escort business. Hell, that is where he had found you. You were a brat, and he loved a challenge.
Words: 4,457
Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, smut, daddy kink, dom/sub, manipulation, death, violence, possessive behavior, drug use
Author’s Note: **This chapter starts with a very angry and violent Tony. If that is triggering, do not read it. Plus, it mentions him doing cocaine and with RDJ's past, that may be offensive to some! Head's up! You have been warned**
Part Six || Part Eight || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost
Three months ago (cont.)…
You were happy you had arrived in a bathing suit already. Cassandra already had a handful of people over – luckily all people that you knew – swimming in her pool.
“So, what’s up?” Cassandra asked you, leading you towards the bar.
“Nothing just… wanted to come over.” She stared at you and you said, “God, fine. Tony pissed me off. You wanna take some shots?”
“What? Why? I am… Y/N, I am high.” She laughed. “I cannot be drinking. You know I do not do well crossfaded.”
“I’ll do one myself then.”
Walking around the bar, you grabbed one of the bottles of rum off the mantel and poured yourself a double. Cassandra snorted and you told her, “I needed that.”
“What was it about now?”
“I don’t really wanna talk about it. It’s just gonna make me mad all over again. Let’s just hang out and have fun and relax.” You spotted a picture on the counter. “Oh my god. Is this from your new video?” you asked picking up the photo. Cassandra nodded excitedly. “Oh my god, you look great. Your body looks amazing. How did he feel?”
Cassandra snorted. “Like every other male pornstar ever? His cock was hard, and he was plowing me.”
You shook your head, placing the photo back down on the counter. “You really are brave for doing that.”
“Brave?” she laughed.
“Yeah. I mean. God, doing escort work is one thing. It’s just you and a john – or two or three, depends. But it’s just that. There’s no cameras or anything. You though? You’ve got cameras all around, a whole crew watching the whole thing. You’re taking direction while getting dicked. That’s gotta be a lot of pressure.”
Cassandra started laughing. You realized how ridiculous you sounded, and you started laughing too. “Oh god, let’s go out to the pool. I obviously need some air.”
“Obviously,” Cassandra agreed, linking arms with you.
The shots hit the blood stream quick and consequently opened the flood gates too in a short amount of time. On your way upstairs, you stopped to take another shot. Cassandra was telling you about the trip she was going to take with her sugar daddy and you groaned, remembering why you were so mad at Tony all over again. The two of you walked up the stairs, arms linked to the bathroom. She continued telling you about the things they had planned while standing outside the bathroom, giving you privacy.
“I think I’m starting to come down,” she said to you. “I’m gonna have to light up another one. Do you want to share a joint?”
“Mhm, maybe,” you called as you pulled your suit bottoms back up.
Movement outside the window caught your eye.
Oh no.
Tony’s car was outside Cassandra’s house, right behind yours. You saw him get out of the car, followed by Mikhail and Louis.
“Fuck me!” you hissed before turning around. You completely forgot he could track the car and now he was going to cause a scene.
“You gotta hide me!” you exclaimed, coming into her bedroom, grabbing her hands.
Cassandra’s eyes widened and she returned alarmed, “Wait, what?”
“Tony! The driveway!”
“Okay? Is this bad?”
“Yes! I might have… driven not entirely sober over here. And left without telling him. After we had gotten into an argument.”
You heard some commotion downstairs and you looked at her pleadingly.
“Fuck!” Cassandra spat.
“Y/N!” you heard Tony bellow from downstairs.
You looked around wildly in the bedroom. “Fuck, do you have somewhere you can hide me and pretend I left? Like, I just left my car. Took an uber!”
“Y/N, there is nowhere to hide you in here that they aren’t going to find you. I don’t have secret rooms like Tony has! I’m not a goddamn billionaire!” Cassandra hissed at you.
Tony’s shout echoed up the stairs, “Y/N! My patience is running really fucking goddamn thin!”
Cassandra pulled you close and stared deep into your eyes. “He’s going to find you, Y/N!”
“I don’t want him to. He’s so mad,” you said pathetically.
“Yeah, sounds like you did a bunch of shit to make him mad!”
“Don’t be mean!”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have gone and pissed your daddy off. I don’t do that shit, Y/N. I keep mine happy.”
“He likes pushback—”
Something shattered downstairs and there were cries of alarm as Tony’s voice rang up the stairs – he was closer now. “Y/N, if you don’t come out by yourself, you are just making things worse for yourself!”
“He’s breaking my shit, Y/N!”
“I’ll replace it,” you hissed.
The pair of you stiffened hearing his footfalls on her wooden stairs and both of your gazes shot to the closet.
“Get in your closet,” you told her in hushed tones. She looked at you confused and you said, “Just do it! I’ll just stay out here and he won’t bother you!”
She did as you asked, closing the door as quietly as she could. Before you really had time to think, Tony appeared in the doorway. Your eyes immediately fell to the gun at his side and your stomach turned. His pupils were blown wide, and you knew he was high as hell. Cocaine no doubt; it was his favorite.
“Hey,” you tried weakly, eyeing the gun worriedly.
Tony stomped across the room, his hand closing in on your arm like a vice, tugging you to him.
“Daddy!” you cried out, wincing against his grip.
“Don’t ‘daddy’ me!” Tony growled. He shook you as he continued furiously, “How fucking stupid are you? Huh? Driving drunk? Do you not care how much that car cost? Do you have no regard for your own life? You have absolutely lost that fucking car!”
“I didn’t crash!” you argued, drunk ‘logic’ getting the better of you.
Tony laughed humorlessly, “You didn’t crash. You didn’t crash…” He threw his hands out, letting you go. “Right. Right. That’s true. You know what? Everything’s forgiven. Forgiven. Slate wiped clean.”
You asked uncertainly, “Really?”
He suddenly yanked you to him again causing you to yelp in alarm, your noses almost touching. “Your ass is going to be black and blue when I’m done with you!”
“Daddy, the gun—”
“I’m not gonna fucking shoot you, Y/N! Don’t be a dumb bitch.”
“Just be careful!” you pleaded.
“Oh, you are telling me to be careful?” Tony spat before his fingers dug in even further on your arm. “Why didn’t you come when I called?”
“I was going to the bathroom!” you half lied. “I wasn’t going to run out there with my pants down! Daddy, you’re hurting my arm.”
Tony chuckled darkly, ignoring what you said. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“I don’t know!”
“Because I know you’re fucking lying!” He snarled, shaking you again. “You knew you were in big trouble and you were trying to avoid me!”
He began pulling you out of the room and towards the stairs. The two of you clamored down the stairs. You were wincing against how roughly he was handling you, the drugs doing him no favors in remembering to be gentler.
Louis was holding your purse having found it while Tony was upstairs searching for you.
“Drive her car home,” Tony ordered Loius who nodded in acknowledgment.
Tony only hesitated for a moment coming up to porcelain statue he had shattered. His gaze flicked to your bare feet and he guided you around it. You felt a sliver of relief seeing the thing he had broken was something Cassandra had gotten at Home Goods and was not attached to. The relief was short lived though, Tony dragging you down the steps of her house, across the porch towards the driveway. Mikhail was on your heels.
When you got to the car, he opened the back door and shoved you roughly into the backseat. “Get your ass in there!”
<><><>
At the elevator back home after eating dinner a couple nights after arriving in NYC, Tony led you onto it and pressed two different buttons. You eyed him suspiciously because one was the penthouse and the other was a different floor before it. He caught you staring.
“I need to go to the office first. You don’t have to go with me; you can go upstairs.”
“But—” you began to protest.
Tony hushed you with a deep kiss. “Come now, you can stand to be without me for a little while, yeah?”
Exhaling disappointed, you shrugged. You had gone shopping earlier in the day with Louis, picking up Tony one of his favorite bottles of bourbon and gourmet salted caramel to go on some ice cream. You had planned to give it to him tonight and even more so after the disappointing dessert the two of you had had at dinner. It was going to be perfect and now he was going to probably take forever and you would pass out before he would come upstairs.
“I’ll be up in a second,” Tony told you, giving you a kiss on the forehead. You gave him a sad look and he chuckled, “I promise. I’m not going to be working. I just need to send a quick e-mail.”
“That sounds like work to me…”
“It’s not. Trust me,” Tony assured you, giving you a light pat on the ass as the elevator dinged for his floor. He gave you another kiss and said, “Seriously. Fifteen minutes tops.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you muttered, much to his amusement. He waved at you before the elevator doors closed.
Scowling you, crossed your arms as the elevator started up again. When it opened at the penthouse, you walked in, tossing your purse on one of the chairs near the door and kicked your heels off. You sighed in relief, your bare feet on the marble. Making your way down the hall towards the kitchen, you thought about what you wanted to watch until Tony decided to show up again.
You stopped at the entrance to the kitchen seeing things on the counter that were not there before the two of you had left.
“What’s this?” you asked no one, frowning.
You walked closer and your eyes widened on one thing in particular. There was a large piece of fancy cheesecake on the counter with a large vase of your favorite flowers beside it along a gift bag.
“Oh thank god,” you said to yourself about the cheesecake.
You immediately went around the counter to grab a fork and came back to dig in for a big bite before hesitating. Maybe you should wait for him. But he also could take forever. You pivoted, looking towards the staircase, thinking. Putting the fork down next to the plate, you went upstairs quickly to grab the bags from earlier. If he got upset about you eating the piece before he got back upstairs, you would have his gift ready to placate.
You set the bag up nicely next to yours on the counter before picking the fork back up and taking the container lid off the piece of cheesecake. You took the first bite and sighed happily. As you chewed, you thought this could not have been sitting on the counter for long. He must have had someone grab it on the way back from the restaurant after he saw how put out you were by the piece of chocolate cake there.
After a few more bites, you put the fork down again and reached for the gift bag that had been left there. Tossing the tissue paper aside, you found loungewear from an online shop you liked.
You jumped at the sound of Tony’s voice. “That’s the right shop, right? That ethical one you were talking about?”
He came up from behind you and wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck.
“Mhmm,” you confirmed, picking up the fork and digging into the cheesecake again. You held it up to him and he took a bite. “It’s their new line.”
“Now you’ve had authentic New York cheesecake. Supposed to be the best,” he said as he chewed. You smiled at that, taking another bite. “Far better than that shit at the restaurant. Sorry about that, baby. Hoped this might cheer you up.”
“It did, tremendously. Speaking of that,” you said putting the fork down and unwinding yourself from his embrace. You reached for the other bag and held it out to him.
“What’s this?” Tony asked, taking it from you. He pulled out the bourbon and snickered. His eyes though lit up at the caramel.
“See, you can put that on ice cream tonight to also make up for the shitty dessert. It’s like I saw the future!”
Tony hummed in approval, popping the lid off the jar. He took your fork and dipped in it, licking it off. He got some out for you and you licked it off tantalizingly, not breaking eye contact.
“I think I can think of something better than ice cream to put this on,” Tony commented, running his tongue along his lip.
You snorted, pushing away from him. “I already took a shower today.” He screwed the lid back on the container and placed it back on the counter, following you, trying to grab you. You slapped his hand away and said, “Ugh, let me finish my cheesecake!”
“It’ll be there after I’m done finishing you,” Tony said. “I haven’t returned the favor from the other day.” You let him grab you, yanking you close, smiling wildly. “I wanna taste you, kitten.”
Sighing, you said, “I suppose I can allow it.”
Tony rose his eyebrows, playfully, “Oh, you are gonna allow it?” You nodded, running your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck. “Who put you in charge?”
“Me.”
“That’s cute, kitten,” Tony said, dipping down to plant a deep kiss on your lips.
He began guiding you backwards towards the living room, your lips never leaving the other’s, until your legs hit the back of one of the couches. You fell back onto the couch and Tony followed, hiking your short skirt up past your hips. Your panties were torn down your legs and he laid a trail of kisses up one thigh and then the other, nuzzling slowly at your sex between. He was taking it slow, working up to pressing his tongue in. Your fingers curled up in his hair, bucking towards him when he gave a suck at your pearl. Tony slipped two fingers in, curling them to hit your g spot. He was good at alternating between the two and had you coming down around his tongue in record fashion.
Coming up, his lips were glistening, and he wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. You beckoned him to you tiredly and he did as you asked. You sat up to meet his lips, kissing him slowly.
“Thanks for the gifts. All of them.”
“You know I’m never going to complain about seeing you in tight yoga pants,” he said, his lips brushing yours with a smile. “Those were a gift for the both of us.”
“Ass,” you said hitting his chest and he laughed in return.
<><><>
The following evening leaving an event, your fingers tip toed up Tony’s arm, trying to bring him out of his concentration. He had been on his phone since the moment the two of you had gotten into the back seat of the Escalade.
“Yes, kitten?” he asked, his eyes still trained on his phone.
“Can we go to this address I have?” you asked, holding up a slip of paper.
“What address?”
“A sightseeing place.”
Tony sighed, still not looking at you, “Y/N, we have dinner being delivered to the penthouse.”
“Yes, but there are people there to bring it up for us. And they can put it into the fridge. It can wait!”
He did not say anything in response, and you shook his arm. You saw Mikhail’s lips twitching in amusement at your persistence in the seat in front of the two of you.
“Why do we need to go to this address?’
Exasperated, you said, “I just told you. It’s a sightseeing place.”
“Of course it is. But why?”
“Daddy, it’s my first time in NYC! I just wanna see things and you’re not being nice about it.”
Tony finally put his phone down and looked you in the eyes.
“You think I’m not nice to you?”
“Not right now,” you returned, looking pitiful. Tony cocked his head, staring at you. You rested your chin on his shoulder, peering up at him. He said nothing and you moved up, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Please? I won’t ask for anything else.”
He snorted loudly, “I find that really hard to believe.”
“I promise. For the rest of the day.”
“There’s the catch,” Tony nodded. He exhaled loudly and relented, “Fine. Tell the driver.”
You did not waste a second to reach forward and hand the piece of paper to Mikhail. “Can you pass this up to Happy so he can put it into the GPS for the driver?”
“Why aren’t you just telling me where we are going?” Tony asked, suddenly suspicious.
“Because it’s not really your thing.”
“Perfect,” Tony said sarcastically. You snuggled back up against him, and your hand brushed across his lap. He caught your hand and whispered, “Not right now, you little minx.” You stuck out your bottom lip and he smirked in response before leaning down and giving you a kiss and then going back to work on his phone.
When you were getting close, Tony began to realize where you were going and he asked just as you pulled, “Why here, though?”
You gestured up at the building. “Because it is beautiful? Look at it! Imagine what the inside looks like!”
“It’s a church, Y/N. There are thousands – millions, probably – like it all over this country.”
You stuck out your bottom lip. “Daddy, please. There’s not many churches like this, that’s a lie!”
“Christ.”
By his tone, you knew you had broken his resolve. You slapped him in the chest, a smile coming across your face. You gripped his collar and pulled him close. “That’s the spirit!”
He realized what you said and got the joke just as you pecked him on the nose and let go of his collar.
“Where can we get out?” you asked excitedly, and you did not miss the amused look on his face at your happiness. You felt butterflies at his adoration and then a sinking feeling, anxiety creeping back in like it had been ever since you had found out you were pregnant. Shoving it away, you tried to think about the beautiful photos you were going to take inside.
<><><>
“Hey,” you said walking up to Pepper’s desk and placing the iced coffee you had bought her in front of her.
“Afternoon, Y/N,” Pepper said eyeing the coffee.
“Oh, I got that for you. I got an extra shot because and it’s almond milk.” Pepper seemed surprised and you added quickly, “I remembered that time I heard you order it.”
“That… is sweet. Thank you.”
“No problem,” you said before taking a drink of your own coffee. “That cathedral was amazing.”
“Oh, you actually went.” She sounded shocked.
You nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah. Not last night but the night before. You said it was nice, so I begged. I actually didn’t tell him what it was before we got there, he just told me to give the driver the address. Tony’s not really a church going person so he wasn’t entirely thrilled. But he enjoyed himself.”
“I can’t imagine Tony inside a church for any reason,” Pepper told you, taking a drink of her coffee.
“He did say ‘Christ’ before we went in. So, the energy was there, it was just misguided.”
She actually snorted at your joke. “Now that I can imagine.”
Silence fell between the two of you and you shifted uncomfortably, looking out her window. You had come in here for a reason but it was not easy to shift gears.
“Are you alright?” Pepper asked hesitantly.
Biting your bottom lip, you thought about how to approach what you wanted to say. But there really was no easing into it, especially since you were not going to be around her all the time. “I know this is really sudden and weird and I don’t want you to think I only got the coffee to try to make you happy and listen to me. The coffee is really a thanks for all the suggestions and taking it seriously when I asked you for the suggestions.” You inhaled deeply and then said slowly, “But, I was thinking – hoping, really – that maybe you can talk to Tony.”
You had her attention. Her hands fell from the keyboard, looking concerned.
“About?”
“Uh you know… having a baby… like… at all.”
Pepper was staring at you flabbergasted and you sucked in your lips, staring at her in return, wanting her to say anything. Uncomfortably, she said, “Y/N. That is a conversation you need to have with Tony. Not me.”
You flopped into her chair opposite her desk. “It would be better coming from someone else. Especially someone close to him like you are you. Happy sure as hell won’t.”
“Um, okay,” Pepper said. “W-why does this need to happen?”
“I’m sure he’s gonna get tired of me, find someone else, and then I’m just gonna be stuck with this baby. That I have no idea what to do with.”
Again, she looked floored by what you said and you had a sinking feeling this conversation was not going to go the way you hoped.
“I don’t think Tony is going to leave you, Y/N. I would actually be shocked,” Pepper said carefully. “And he’s excited about the baby. Really excited. He won’t shut up about it actually.”
Great.
Sighing heavily, you explained further, “I think he’s gonna regret it. Because it’s completely going to destroy my body. Like my stomach and my hips are never going to be the same. And my breasts.”
“Is that what you’re concerned about?’ Pepper asked, unable to keep the disdain out of her voice.
You shrugged quickly. “I’m worried about a lot of things that I don’t have time to get into detail about. But I mean, he didn’t get with me because of my intelligence.” Pepper narrowed her eyes and you pressed on quickly, “But, I just thought maybe you could try to talk to him, you know, some sense into him about it? He would listen to you. If I tell him having a baby is a bad idea…” you paused and then shook your head, shrugging. “He’ll think I’m just having a moment and won’t take me saying we shouldn’t have the baby seriously. He’ll think I’m being dramatic. Which is something I am a lot of the time, so it’s a good point normally. Can’t fault him there. But if you talked to him, he would choose—”
Happy walked in then and you immediately shut up, leaning back. He was not looking at you and you bit your lip, wondering if he had heard anything.
You noticed Pepper was watching you with curiosity about how quickly you had gone silent at his presence.
“Do you have that file for Tony? He’s about to call Gene.”
“Yeah,” Pepper nodded. “I’ll e-mail it to him. Sorry, I got busy this morning.”
“Hey, Happy,” you greeted, trying to play it cool. Happy turned his head to look at you and you asked, “So, um, I’m kind of hungry. Is there anything I can have from the lobby?”
“Y/N. Tony already has lunch plans for you. You know that.”
“Right,” you said. You did not miss the confused expression on Pepper’s face at his response, even if it was only there for a moment. You decided to try to press your luck. “But, I meant, Tony usually takes a lot of time in his meetings and I’m pregnant so…” Happy stared back at you in silence and you moved. “Okay, I’ll just go do it—”
He held up his hand and shook his head. Sighing, sounding reluctant, he asked, “What would you like?”
“Like… a banana. Or something. Something healthy.”
Nodding, Happy said, “Right. I’ll be right back.”
He turned and walked back out of the room.
You turned your attention back to Pepper, who was still looking at the door suspiciously where Happy had walked off before meeting your gaze again. You joked weakly, “Maybe being pregnant isn’t so bad. Everyone kind of just waits on you hand and foot.”
“I think you should talk to Tony, Y/N,” Pepper reiterated. “It’s perfectly normal to feel nervous. I’m sure most mothers to be do feel nervous. And I don’t think he’ll brush you off.”
“Sometimes he does,” you muttered, taking a drink of your tea.
“I think… with something important like this, he’ll actually listen. He’s not a complete ass.” You smiled softly at that and she nodded. “Trust me.”
Knowing how excited Tony was about the baby – Pepper did not need to tell you that herself, he made it abundantly clear to you. He had been asking you if you had thought about how you wanted to decorate the nursery already – made the thought of a conversation difficult. Tony was not one to be dissuaded from something he wanted, especially something important. He was stubborn to a fault. But maybe she was right.
“It wouldn’t hurt to try,” you admitted.
She nodded encouragingly.
Happy returned with the banana from the communal space outside their offices.
“Are we going to go soon? Do you know?” you asked him, as he handed it to you.
“Tony’s got another meeting and then we’re going.”
You sighed, leaning back on the couch. You knew ‘another meeting’ could range from five minutes to an hour depending on who it was. “Thank you. This will help,” you said holding up the banana, weakly.
Happy nodded, “Of course.”
“Emailing it,” Pepper told him and he thanked her before walking out of the office.
You blew out a raspberry as soon as he was gone. “I suppose I should go out and leave you to your work. Plus it’ll be easier to find me whenever Tony does want to go. I don’t want that to take longer than necessary. I’m serious, I’m starving.” You stood up from the chair and told her sincerely, “I’ll figure out how to approach this.”
“Good,” she said, nodding again. “It’ll be fine.”
You wished you felt as confident as she sounded.
~~~
Forever tags: @coconutqueen21
Fic tags: @kvzctam, @farihafangirls, @teenageregression, @mrsnegan25, @lilacs-lavender, @agustdowney, @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @emmariexx
#tony stark x reader#dark!tony stark#dark tony stark#mob tony stark#dark marvel fic#dark marvel#my shit
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Frustration
a Nathan Bateman x f!reader fic~
word count: 1.3k
rating: m - masturbation/voyeurism
summary: Nathan has a crush on you and he’s grumpy about it. He’s got sexual frustration pent up and he need to do something about it.
a/n: this smug beardy asshole lives in my mind RENT FREE i had to write about him some more
Frustration
You get under Nathan’s skin and he hates it. He can’t quite put his finger on what it is about you that makes him crazy – and that’s what makes him crazy. Ever since you moved out here to help after his ‘incident’ he prefers to have real people around, even if they are more complicated than AI. But you, fuck, you make his head spin and he wish he knew why.
Maybe it’s because you’re exactly his type. Maybe you’re the most beautiful woman ever created. He doesn’t know if he believes in God, but he knows whoever made you was an artist. Everything you do makes his chest tighten. And he doesn’t have a damn clue what to do about any of it.
He knows you deserve better than an asshole like him anyways. So, he pushes whatever the hell he’s feeling down. Down deep. He used to drink to quiet his mind, now he drinks to get the thoughts of you out of his head.
But it doesn’t fuckin’ work.
He aches, he aches for you in a way he doesn’t understand.
He tries to break it down for himself in a scientific manner.
Ok. So, you’re a beautiful woman, and it’s chemicals in his body that make him want to be with you right? Just chemicals.
But it’s so loud, it’s so loud in his head. The thing is though you simultaneously quiet his mind with your presence. Your voice, your laugh. He’d burn the whole world down if anyone hurt you. He lives for that look in your eyes when you get flustered.
He has a damn crush on you and he’s mad about it.
He wakes one morning after having a very intimate dream about you, and he must go outside to box. He’s got to get this energy out. It’s a particularly cold morning, the chill washes over his arms. He sloppily wraps his hands, ready to punch away the images of you naked from his mind.
He’s never actually seen you naked, but fuck if he doesn’t want to know. He respects you enough that he turned off the cameras in your room. He might have peeked a few times, but you were always asleep or clothed. He feels slightly guilty about looking, but not even that he doesn’t peek occasionally.
He hits the bag hard. Trying to chase the dream away. He had you groaning and crying from pleasure, and he can’t get rid of how you sounded.
The chill of the air starts to feel good when he starts to sweat. The sweat on his brow not just from his exertion, but from the need building up inside of him. Adrenaline pumps through his veins. He’s hitting the bag hard; his knuckles will be bruised and tender later.
When it starts to rain and the temperature drops, he unwillingly heads inside.
He’s greeted with the sight of you in the kitchen, making some hot tea on this cold morning. You’re wearing an oversized sweatshirt; it hits your mid-thigh. You have long warm socks that go up to your knee. There’s a precious bit of bare skin on your legs that has him swallow harshly. Your hair is adorably messy, and you’re humming. You don’t know he’s there, or maybe you do.
“Hey,” he says, letting you know he’s there. And fuck was that his voice? It sounded like he was in pain.
Maybe because he is. He’s hard in his gym shorts and there’s no way you won’t notice when you turn around.
“Good morning!” your voice is cheery and sleep still clings to it. Fuck him you’re cute. “Are you alright?” you ask when you turn, your brow is furrowed.
“Worked out a little too hard,” he laughs. Wrong choice of words Bateman. He knows you see the look on his face, but you give him a gentle smile anyways. If you saw him hard through his pants he doesn’t know.
You’re accustomed to his quirks, so it’s not unusual when he darts out of the room.
He has a problem that he needs to take care of now. He thinks about a cold shower, but no. He needs the release.
Once he’s in his room he strips himself of his sweaty clothes and flops naked on his bed. His hand grabbing himself with need, and his groan is a little too loud. He thinks about you. Your smile. Your legs. How much he wants to suck on your tits. How badly he wants to smack your ass, have you whimper for him. Fuck he wants to kiss you. To hold you.
His hand speeds up, he’s groaning loudly, and he doesn’t care if you hear. Maybe this would solve his problem. He pushes the thought from his mind that you might not want him. He’s seen the shy smiles.
Those are his favorite, the little shy glances you give him when he’s being snarky. He loves when you sass him back too but shit those little shy grins. To die for.
He’s so close, the thoughts of you have him tipping over the edge and spilling all over his hand and stomach.
His physical need is satisfied, but he still has a need. He showers now and it doesn’t help. He still wants you, but at least his aching sexual need for the moment has quieted down.
He’d been afraid he wouldn’t be able to look at you after this, but he now wants to. Wants to see you. But it’s you now that can’t look at him.
When you’d finished making your tea, you took it back to your room. Maybe it was a glitch, he’s still ironing those out after the incident, but your TV turns on and there’s a video feed of a very naked Nathan jerking himself off. You almost turn it off, but when you hear your name fall from his lips you can’t turn your eyes away.
Nathan is sharp, he knows something is up when you can barely look him for the next couple days. You’re acting shyer than normal.
“So, what’s up?” he sits down in front of you in the living room one night. You were reading, but Nathan pulls the book from your hands, making you look at him. “Why won’t you look at me?”
“I-“ your eyes are big, pupils dilated.
Suddenly it clicks.
You start to stand up. You know he won’t be satisfied until he has his answer. And he knows you know that.
He grabs your wrist. He doesn’t even look at you when he speaks.
“I know you saw.”
His finger on your pulse point tells him all he needs to know.
“You liked it. Didn’t you?”
Your heart is beating faster.
“You heard me say your name.” He let’s go of your wrist, and he stands now in front of you. He watches your face; your eyes are dark with arousal. You’re trembling.
He mentally yells at himself; he doesn’t want to scare you away. His next move is a gentler one, he lightly cups your face in his hands. And he watches you melt into his touch. That’s it. A smile grows that look of arousal still in your eyes.
He doesn’t know who closes the gap between you, but he shudders to kiss you finally. You haven’t stopped trembling in his arms, and he’s endeared by it.
When you break apart for air, he looks at you. His dark brown eyes full of a softness you don’t see much.
“I know I’m an asshole, and you deserve better than me. But would you give me a chance?”
“Yes,” you giggle and lean up to kiss his cheek. Fuck he felt that in his dick. “And next time I’m so desirable that you have to leave to go jerk off will you let me know? I can help with that.”
Fuck.
“Yeah,” he laughs, “Yeah I will kitten. You wanna, help me out now?” He pushes his hips forward into you, his arousal against your thigh is unmistakable.
When you lean into him, he sighs in relief. His dreams of you is about to become a reality.
xx
tagging: @aliciaxglasgow, @arabellathorne, @bucky-j-barnes, @coaaster, @velvetmel0n, @darksideofclarke, @dindisneydjarin, @djarinsbxbyy, @eternallyvenus, @feelmyroarrrr, @ghosttofcalum, @himbopoes, @huliabitch, @jubileetion, @knittingqueen13, @mandoplease, @marvel-dameron, @melanietrancy, @mylifeliterally, @ntlmundy, @paintballkid711, @pascalplease, @pascalz, @perropascal, @phoenixhalliwell, @punkpascal, @rewritingstarrs, @savagethewhale, @saved-fanfiction, @shadow-assassin-blix, @stanningtoomanypeopleatonce, @thehippiequilter, @this-cat-is-dea, @tintinwrites, @wakalas, @woakiees, @writefightandflightclub, @xremember-me-notx
#nathan bateman#nathan bateman x reader#ex machina#mine#my gifs#my writing#glkjshgkshgksj#THIS CAME TO ME AT LIKE 5 AM
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↠ Desperate frustration
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader
Warnings: explicit sexual content, smut, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, Steve’s an asshole
Word count: 3,338
Summary: Two years of pent up frustration and agitation can make a person snap. In the end, maybe it’s all worth it.
Kinktober day: October 3 - Angry sex
A/N: Day three already! Didn’t think I’d get here, but I did! I’m leaving you to this little piece, and i hope you enjoy! Reblogs and comments are gold, we hoes trive on them! Let me know what you think!💫
Posting this for the n-th time, and I’m just so sad and mad at Tumblr, so like fuck you Tumblr. To the people that go numerous notifications, a huge, massive apology!
I hope you enjoy!💫
If looks could kill, you'd be as good as dead by now. Especially if those looks belonged to one Captain America.
You weren't though, just a bit bruised, and that's what you've been trying to tell the stubborn ass that was Steve Rogers. He, on the other hand, wouldn't listen. He had been staring you down for the last hour, ever since you sat down to debrief on your most recent mission.
Steve was throwing you his disapproving look. Lips, pulled into a tight straight line, a crease between his brows, and eyes, darker, and much rougher than his usually soft sky blues. It said a lot, the look itself. Not only was it disapproving, but it also showed his displeasure with the choices and actions you had made hours prior.
You had to ask yourself, when was he ever pleased with you?
You've been working alongside the Avengers as a field agent, for a little over two years now. In those two years, there hadn't been one nice thing that left Steve's mouth, when it came to you.
There was never a "good job, Agent," when you had successfully done your job. There was never a smile, that he often let slip to some of the other recruits and agents in the field. There wasn't even constructive criticism. It was all straight forward, blunt, irritation, and assessment.
You've been successfully paying no mind to him, stopped doing so after your second month in the field, when it came apparent how grumpy the 100 years old grandpa was. You've had continued doing your job, ignoring everything the man did outside of missions. You didn't even spare him a glance whenever he looked at you the wrong way.
And people dared say that Captain America was a sweetheart. It seemed people didn't know him the way you did.
And today was just the cherry on top. The thing was, you weren't sure if the cherry was yours, or Steve's. All you knew was that you were starting to get irritated. Two years of pent up frustration and agitation could do that to a person. And it didn't help that the man looked like a literal Adonis, even if he was getting on your nerves most of the time. Even if every time he looked at you, his expression morphed into one of hostility.
It had been an easy recon mission, well, as easy as Hydra let it be. You get in, check the facility, obtain any information you could, get out. The team didn't even need Steve when you had his second in command, Natasha Romanoff.
But of course, he had to come, criticize and order you around as if you were his lapdog and not an Agent with an extraordinary skill set.
Ten minutes after you penetrated the facility in Munich over a dozen Hydra agents had shown up, guns raised high. You've fought with all you could, eventually taking all of them down, but not without some scrapes and bruises.
You had a busted lip and a few cracked ribs. There were bruises on your body, along with a nasty knife gash on your side. Other than that, you and all the other agents were just fine.
But of course, Captain Hardass had to whine and bite back at you every chance he got.
"You were out of line," He snarled from across the table, pointing an accusing finger in your direction. Natasha, who sat at the head of the table, along with James perked up on the wall behind her, lifted a brow at his words.
"I was out of line? I was following orders, in case you forgot," you snapped back, sick and tired of constantly listening to him criticize you.
"Not my orders, that's for sure," it was becoming more and more apparent that he was doing it on purpose and that it wouldn't end well.
"Steve, that's enough. She was following my orders," Natasha tried to intervene, stop the starring match, and the harsh words between you and Steve. But it was of no use, and Steve told her as much.
"Stay out of it Natasha. This is between me and Y/N," He hissed, barely sparing a glance in her direction. From the corner of your eyes, you saw Natasha open her mouth to protest, but Bucky laid a hand on her shoulder to stop her from doing so.
"There's nothing between you and me, Rogers. You are just looking for a fucking excuse to snap at me, just like every other time," you scoffed, rolling your chair from side to side, bored.
He stood suddenly, body rigid, then he turned towards Natasha and Bucky. All that left his mouth, was a single, simple word, "Out!" he almost growled, his anger seeping out of him in waves. You saw the reluctance in their faces, but when his eyes found theirs again, darker and wider, they walked out of the room with a quick, silent step.
He rounded the table in a hurry, the moment the door closed behind the two Avengers. He spun your chair with a force, caging you in it.
"You disobeyed me."
"I was following the objective," your reply was curt, not up for question. You went to retrieve the information, which was what the mission was for. The fact that he needed to grow some balls, and stop being a jerk wasn't your problem. You were simply doing your job.
"You need to be taught how to follow orders. How to speak to your superiors," his voice was low, almost a murmur in the quiet of the room. One of his hands left the chair's armrests, in favor of sneaking to sit atop your thigh. It radiated warmth where it sat at the soft material of your leggings.
Your breathing hitched, and a shiver ran down your spine. You felt heat rush into your body, a tight ache settling itself into your private parts.
You swallowed thickly, clearing your throat with a smirk, "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I bruise your ego, Captain?" you asked in a sweet voice. You were pushing his buttons, trying to see what happens. You were so over his attitude and the way he was treating you.
His hand moved up, painfully slowly as a smirk colored his face. His eyes were blown wide with lust, one you only now realized was directed at you. There was anger there too, hot, white anger. You had to bite your lip to stop the moan that was bubbling to get out.
"My ego is just fine, darlin'. You, on the other hand, need to be taught a lesson," before you could say anything, his lips were on yours. You kissed him back, rough and needy, intoxicating. He didn't waste any time in swiping his tongue over your lower lip, waiting for you to open your mouth and let him in. When his hand cupped you through your leggings, you groaned into his mouth, which gave his tongue the perfect opportunity. He explored every crevice of your mouth, tongue running over your teeth, dancing with yours.
His hand descended up, his knuckles glazing your breast before he cupped it in his hand, massaging the flesh through your tank top.
He took your bottom lip into his mouth, pulling at the flesh with his teeth, mindful of the slit, but still rough. He pulled back panting, his hot breath framing your face. With your eyes still shut, you tried to catch your breath, every nerve in your body on fire.
Before you could even open your eyes to look at the men before you, his hands were under your thighs, pulling you up. You shrieked, startled by the sudden movement. He laid you atop the cold, glass table, your thighs locked on the small of his back, his hard length straining against the sweatpants he wore, rubbing deliciously against your core.
"Feel that? Do you feel what that snarky mouth is doing to me? You feel what you goddamned attitude is doing to me, kitten?" he rasped, his hands holding your hips in a tight grip. You had a feeling you'd be bruised the next day, but that was hardly your concern at the moment.
You scoffed, holding his biceps just as tightly, "My attitude? Jesus Christ, look who's talking. What about your attitude, you assh-" you didn't get the chance to finish your sentence. His lips met the tender flesh on your neck, sucking it into his mouth. A loud moan escaped you, your hips bucking forward against his.
"There it is again. Don't worry, baby, I'll teach ya some manners," he growled, hands roaming all over your body.
"My manners are just fine. It's yours you should worry about, self-righteous jerk," you snapped again, back arching off the table when his lips descended to the column of your neck.
"You are so feisty, kitten. Been wonderin' when you'd finally snap and start runnin' that pretty little mouth of yours all over the place," he murmured against your skin. His hands moved under your tank top, and he ran them over your stomach, leaving goosebumps in his wake.
His hands were calloused, the skin rough from so many years of labor. His touch though, that was gentler than you imagined it'd be.
You felt a surge of anger go through your body at his words. But no, anger wasn't even the right word at that moment. You could do anger; you could do with being angry at the super-soldier. It was something else, stronger, dangerous. It was rage, hot, pure rage towards him, and his actions. Towards him and his damn ego.
"That's what this is all about? Snapping at you for being an asshole. Two years of your goddamned behavior, and it's all for what? So could get a boner? Fuck me in the debriefing room? God, you're desperate," you barked, panting, from what, you weren't sure. Was it because of your fury? Or was it because he was running those damned, rough hands against your skin? You couldn't be sure.
He simply smirked, as if enjoying the show, you were putting on for him.
"Oh, you haven't seen desperate, baby. So I'm gonna fuck you real good, and you'd beg me not to stop. Then, and only then, would you know the meaning of the word desperate," he breathed, not wasting any time in stripping you off your clothes.
You laughed, the sound filling the space around you, "That's not gonna happen, Rogers. I don't beg. And I especially won't beg you." He reached for your bra, ripping the material in half without a care in the world. Your panties shared the same faith, and you were left bare in front of him.
His clothes soon followed, his shirt falling to the floor. You laid there on the table, the surface taking off a part of the warmth that flooded your body, as you stared at the man before him.
Steve was beautiful, but you sure as hell would never tell him as much. He was sculpted like a ceramic figure. His shoulders were broad, wide. His waist, narrowed. You couldn't take your eyes off of him, and when he saw you looking, he just smirked. Fucking asshole.
Next, he reached for his sweatpants, letting them slide down his thick thighs. Once those were off, you could see the strain his dick had on his boxers, along with the wet patch on the fabric.
He bent down then, his lips wrapping around one of your nipples. He pulled the hard peak between his teeth, rolling his tongue over it to soothe the ache.
He looked at you from under his laches, while one of his hands descended downward, towards your oozing channel. He ran a finger over your slit, feeling the wetness that had gathered there. He groaned, the sound almost primal.
He teased the lips of your pussy with his fingers, but he didn't touch the place that ached the most. You tried to keep your hips from bucking against his hand, searching for that little piece of friction you craved. You weren't going to give in that easily.
"I can feel your muscles tremor. You want me to touch you, don't you? Well, you'll have to beg for it," he muttered, his finger barely glazing the hood of your clit, but a mewled sound still fell from your lips.
"You could continue daydreaming, Steve, because I sure as hell won't ever beg for – " the words died in your throat when you felt, not one, but two fingers breach your core with force. You cried out, your walls clamping down on the digits. He pumped them into you at a steady pace, his mouth playing with your breast at the same time.
It was sinful, the sound your pussy made as his fingers dove in and out of you or the little sounds you tried to suppress, as to not boost his ego. You were still angry, you still wanted to kick his ass to the 40s and back, but at the same time, you couldn't lie and say you wanted him to stop.
The burning in your body, the arch in your lady bits, and the tremors in your muscles were very much real, and they awaited the familiar feeling of release. You knew that Steve could feel it if the gleam in his eyes was any indication.
He suddenly pulled his fingers out, the action eliciting a whine of protest out of you.
"Can you feel it now, what it means to be desperate?"
"Shut up and fuck me, Rogers. Or I'm going to go find someone willing to continue what you started. Maybe, Bucky? I'm sure he's gonna love it," you knew it was a low blow, bringing Bucky into this as a means to bring out Steve's anger even more. But you couldn't help it. He wanted you to bite back, and that's what you were doing.
And hell, you were even starting to enjoy it.
"Oh, I'm gonna fuck you so well, you'd forget your name," When Steve finally pulled his boxers off, he sat as bare as you were. Your eyes were locked on his cock, the tip red and angry, leaking with pre-come. He took himself in hand, stroking his length slowly.
You felt your core clench at the sheer size of him, and you had to question if the serum did enhance everything.
He ran the head of his cock from your slit to your clit a few times, before he started pushing in. There was nothing gentle or slow. In one fast, rough trust he was seated inside you to the hilt.
Your back arched off the table, a groan falling from your lips. The stretch burned, discomfort laced with pleasure.
He didn't give you any time to get accustomed to his size before he was pulling back and snapping his hips forward. His thrusts were brutal, powerful. His cock dragged against your inner depths wonderfully, shaking you down to the bones.
You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, digging your nails into his back. Your heels dug into the globes of his ass, while you pulled him in, urging him to go faster, harder.
He slammed into you at a rapid pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air. You bit at your lower lip, trying to suppress any sound willing to escape, willing to urge him on because that wasn't going to happen.
Of course, the action didn't escape him, because his hand reached up, taking a hold of your jaw and squeezing the flesh the tiniest bit.
"So now you want to keep your mouth shut? That's not how this works, baby doll. I want to hear you moan, and scream. I want the whole building to hear how well I'm fucking you," he rasped, his hips pistoning harder.
"There's no-nothing to hear," you gasped, hand winding into his hair, pulling it with force, "Do better," you huffed shakily. Your words urged him on, and he changed the angle of his thrusts. It allowed his cock to hit different points inside your silky walls, making your breathing hitched.
On one particularly hard thrust, and a slight rotation of his hips, his tip hit that delicious spot inside of you, and you couldn't keep quiet any longer. You cried out, loud and clear, the sound bouncing off the walls. He smirked, the bastard.
His lips met your neck again, biting at the flesh until it left an angry, red mark onto your skin. His hips kept the angle, hitting that spot inside you over and over again. Your hips bucked forward, meeting his thrusts.
You could feel yourself moving closer to the edge of release when your pussy clenched around his dick on its' own accord. The action was met with a deep groan from the man on top of you, the same one who's eyes no longer held the anger they possessed minutes prior. The only thing visible in them now was the need for release, the desperation to be pushed over the edge.
You held onto his neck, bringing him down so his eyes could level with yours. You forced him to look at you, as a wide smirk made its' way onto your face.
"Oh, darling. Can you feel what it means to be desperate? Because your eyes sure as hell know what they are talking about," you cooed, your lips barely brushing together. He closed the gap, kissing you hard. Your teeth clicked together from the force. He played your lips like a violin, biting and sucking them into his mouth. You suspected it as his way of shutting you up because he had nothing smart to say back. One win in your corner.
You tried to move your hand down, to add the little pressure that you needed to meet your climax when Steve's hand wrapped around your wrist. He pulled your hand up and over your head, holding it there, still devouring your mouth.
His hand slid down, just where you wanted it. His fingertips teased your clit, before his thumb finally covered the arching bundle of nerves. He moved it in tight, slow circles, bringing you closer to the edge.
If wasn't long before he was taking you apart, his hips never ceasing their movements. Your vision blurred at the edges, the familiar coil in your belly snapped. You cried out your release, and Steve swallowed the sound.
With a few more pumps of his hips, Steve stilled inside you, his come coating your walls.
You were still kissing, panting into each other's mouths, even while coming down from your highs.
When he finally pulled away from your mouth, you opened your eyes to look at him. His azures were no longer filled with anger, the hostility you were so familiar with. Instead, there was something softer there, gentler.
Your own anger was long gone, disappeared somewhere between the rapid snap of his hips against your g-spot, and his hungry kisses. You were exhausted, there was no fight left in you any longer.
You didn't know what to say anymore, what was there to say. It looked like Steve himself was at a loss of words, which was a rare occasion in on itself.
You opened your mouth in hopes that something would come out, but it didn't. Instead, a voice, a very familiar one filled yours and Steve's ears.
"I hope two years of pent up frustration were worth it because I'm never sitting down at that table, ever again," it was Bucky, his voice full of disgust, yet playful. You felt your face heat up. Because just how much did he hear, or see?
You wanted the ground to open and swallow you whole.
Above you, Steve laughed. The asshole laughed!
"Shut up, Rogers."
"Yes, ma'am," and for the first time in two years, Steve didn't act like a complete asshole.
#chris evans#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers x female reader#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers smut#steve rogers one shot#steve rogers fanfiction#kinktober#kinktober with tina#tina's kinktober#tina writes
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Tracing Time
Sunday, 15:48
Song: Glass Animals - Heat Waves
Sander starts as fingers snap in front of his face.
His focus returns slowly to settle on Emilie’s hand, where her dark skin is patchy with even darker pencil stains. His eyes skip up her arm and over her shoulder to her face, where she’s watching him with amusement. She’s sat with her back to the low stone wall across from where he’s slouched on the grass, legs stretched out in front of her and kicking against Gilles’s ass. They’re at the park, clustered together on a free patch of grass in the sun.
“You still with us, rocketman?” she asks.
“It’s Starman,” Thomas corrects, without once breaking his gaze away from his book, hazel eyes intensely focused behind his glasses. His long form is tucked so tightly from back to toe between two trees that Sander winced at the sight of him, but Thomas seems completely content.
Emilie pulls a face at Sander, as if he should also be annoyed that Thomas remembers this Bowie fact, and Sander huffs as he smiles.
Gilles rolls over onto their back and effectively dislodges Emilie’s feet from their perch atop their backside. “Either way, we can all agree you’re up in space.” They gesture at Sander, then leave their hand hovering in midair. Sander smacks it in a high-five just to watch Gilles shoot him a dark, unimpressed look.
“You didn’t hear any of the conversation we just had,” Emilie says, gentler than usual. “What were you thinking about?”
What a question. He doesn’t remember the last thing he’d been thinking about, or the first, but there are a few lingering snippets from in between. He remembers thinking about his project, worrying over the details he summoned in his head and telling himself he’d gotten it done and it was fine. He was thinking about the dream he’d had last night, where he’d been chasing a wolf through a forest and fell right down deep into a puddle, and how he’d woken up in the late morning damp not from drowning but from sweat. Then he’d gone back, at some point, to where his mind always goes.
“Just, where Robbe and I can go for dinner when he’s back.”
Gilles groans dramatically and Emilie sighs dramatically and Thomas smiles slightly, at them or at Sander or at whatever he’s reading, Sander isn’t sure.
“Dude, you are with your friends, you need to learn to daydream about your boyfriend on your own damn time,” Gilles complains, rolling over this time until they’re lying atop Sander’s feet, gazing up at him plaintively. Sander’s boots are bound to be a literal pain in their side, but Gilles gives no indication of it as they wrap their arms around Sander’s raised knee. “Love us.”
Sander snorts, wiggling the leg his friend is holding just to hear a whine of protest. “Sure.”
Emilie flips her cornrow braids over her shoulder and pops a crisp in her mouth. “So where are you taking him for dinner?”
Gilles snaps their head around to glare at her. “Don’t encourage him,” they complain.
“But it annoys you,” she says, “which amuses me.”
Sander bites down a smirk as Gilles’s expression flips into one of betrayal and they pull away from Sander to curse at her in rapid French. Emilie listens calmly, although her lips are also curved in amusement as Gilles’s tan cheeks darken further and puff out in frustration. Somewhere amidst the rant Emilie’s brows raise, and then she responds to Gilles smugly in the same language, with what Sander knows is only slightly less fluency. He could understand most of the interaction if he wanted to, but instead he just absorbs words here and there and meets Thomas’s eyes before pulling a face.
Thomas’s lips quirk in response, and he gives a tiny shake of his head. He gestures subtly between their arguing friends and then makes a heart shape with his hands, mouthing ‘sickening’ for Sander’s eyes only.
Or so they think, until Gilles raises their voice and returns to Flemish to warn, “I saw that, Aarden.”
Thomas just blinks his eyes innocently, and Gilles scoffs as Sander snorts again.
“Can we come with you to the station?” Emilie asks suddenly, and Sander looks to her to find that she’s already staring back with her damn puppy eyes.
Nice try, he thinks. He’s immune to those by now. There’s only one set of doe eyes that still gets to him, and they know it. Well, maybe two, but Lucas is basically a Dutch Robbe and doesn’t count, really.
Emilie tries anyway, expression completely innocent as she pushes, “You are going to the station to meet him, right?”
Sander narrows his eyes. They know he is; of course he is. There’s no point in being apart from Robbe for longer than necessary. But he’s not going to say this out loud for them all to start up again.
“Come on,” Gilles whines again. “You can’t let him encroach on all our friend time and then not let us encroach on your Robbe time. And you never let us meet his friends! Who are also your friends!”
“We basically know them already from how much he talks about them,” Thomas points out, rather neutrally.
“Exactly! He talks about them all the time and I don’t even know what they look like. That’s a crime, Sander, a crime! Especially if they’re hot!”
“Shouldn’t matter, considering they’re all taken.” Sander raises a brow.
Gilles makes a ‘pshaw’ sound. “I don’t mind just joining in.” They wiggle their brows pointedly at Sander, then wink, and Sander finally lets out a full laugh. Thomas makes a disappointed noise and Emilie mock gags, but Gilles simply butt-scooches across the grass and tosses an arm around Sander’s shoulders, pinching Sander’s cheek with the same hand. “There it is,” they say, triumphantly.
Sander rolls his eyes. Warmth filters into his cheeks, and he blames it on the pinch. “I’m always laughing at you, you need to stop thinking of it as a reward.”
Emilie slides down enough that when she stretches her leg, her toes tap against Sander’s. “We just like seeing you happy. Accept it.”
“Your happiness is my favourite,” Thomas agrees. “Emilie’s is too smug and Gilles gets even more annoying.”
Gilles protests indignantly and Thomas finally blows them a kiss to settle them. Emilie accepts it with a small shrug while adjusting to trap Sander’s foot between her own. Sander simultaneously zones it all out and sinks into the warmth creeping around him that has nothing to do with Gilles pressed against his side. (Well, it’s maybe a little to do with it, but because of the easy affection, not the body heat.) Gilles is like Sander in the tactile sense, giving touch freely and yearning for it just as much. But whereas Gilles uses it to joke around and often gets shoved away for their efforts, Emilie is frequently offering Sander the comfort of some casual contact and Thomas always allows Sander to lean against his side or overlap their legs where he shies away from the others. It’s a small thing on the long list of reasons that he loves these three people, but it warms him every time.
He knows it’s likely influenced by the fact that he’s the younger one in the group. That even though Gilles and Emilie are barely a year older than him and Thomas almost a year older than that, he’s the baby of the group. It’s a sharp contrast to spending time with Robbe’s friends, and Sander has found he likes being able to bounce between the two dynamics.
Even though none of the youngins treat him anything like an adult, he thinks petulantly. Except, possibly, Aaron.
He’s known this group for longer, however, all of them since his first two weeks in the Academy. It just took a while for them all to gel together into the close-knit framework they are now, and Sander has gotten over the fact that it took them all rallying around after one of his episodes to make it so.
He was grateful they were there then, and nothing has changed.
Still. “I have to go if I want to be there in time to meet them,” he sighs.
Cue more dramatic, petulant groaning.
“Are you sure you don’t want us to just walk with you?” Thomas questions, tilting his head up to follow Sander as he gets to his feet.
Sander grins. “Always the gentleman.” Thomas flushes and stammers slightly and Sander huffs, shaking his head. “No, I’ll be fine. Can’t let this one get too close or someone might get infected.” He reaches down to tug Gilles’s hair.
Gilles releases Sander’s leg from where they’d been clinging on like a child to slap his ass, smiling brightly when Sander jolts and curses. “Fuck you too,” they say cheerfully.
Sander allows one last laugh before grabbing the strap of his bag and hoisting it onto his shoulder. He winks at Thomas and pauses by Emilie to lean down and kiss her head, allowing her to kiss his cheek in return before saying his goodbyes. They all call after him, Emilie throwing in a few woots and suggestive teasing while Gilles shouts dramatic terms of endearments until Sander flips them off. He hears their laughter as he gets farther away and doesn’t bother hiding his own smile, shaking his head fondly as he slips his phone out of his pocket to check for messages.
There’s nothing new, Robbe having been silent after telling Sander they’d made the train and what time they would be back, allowing him uninterrupted time with his friends. He wonders if Robbe had been busy with his as well, or if he’d spent most of the journey in his own world. If the couple was anyone but Lucas and Jens, Sander would assume the latter, but it’s more likely the two kept Robbe tied in with their bickering. His smile widens at the thought.
He makes it to the station before the train gets in, and simply takes out an earphone as he leans against the wall so he won’t miss their approach. He still ends up lost in his thoughts to the point that he only sees Robbe when he’s already weaving his way towards him.
Robbe doesn’t barrel into him or squeal or jump into his arms; they aren’t that bad. But he does neatly sidestep everyone without a single glance and sidles right into Sander’s space when he’s close enough, smiling his brilliant smile and leaving Sander’s heart shaking and stuttering.
He pushes away from the wall and they reach for each other at once, his arms engulfing Robbe’s waist as Robbe’s fingers slide into his hair and pull him down into a kiss. Sander hums, smirking slightly against Robbe’s lips when the boy shivers at the vibrations. He doesn’t let himself get entirely lost in it, not in the crowded public space, but he allows himself to indulge a little more than he usually would. He holds Robbe flush against him and sucks Robbe’s bottom lip between his own and swallows the surprised, pleased little noise he gets in return.
“Aww, it’s great to see how much you missed us.” Lucas interrupts them loudly, and Sander drops his head to Robbe’s shoulder with a bit-off groan, ignoring Robbe’s quiet giggle. “You know, all three of us, who I’m sure you’re here to see.”
Sander drags his head up to look over Robbe’s shoulder, immediately catching sight of Lucas’s shit-eating grin where he and Jens have joined them. Sander responds, very simply, with, “Fuck you.”
Lucas’s grin merely widens, and he steps away from Jens’s side long enough for Sander to pull him into a quick hug. Robbe leans back against the wall in his place, shaking his head as Lucas kisses Sander’s cheek with his cheeky smile still in place.
“One of these days, he’s not going to let you get away with that,” Jens warns, though he’s smiling as he tucks Lucas back under his arm. He clasps Sander’s hand in greeting as Lucas scoffs.
“I think he always will,” Lucas decides, tilting his head at Sander. Sander flicks his forehead, amused when Lucas is a few seconds too late in his attempt to bat him away. “And he deserves it. Asshole,” he complains.
Sander blows him a kiss and ignores Jens’s noise of protest. Then his attention is easily diverted once more as Robbe grips his arm and gives a small tug. Sander falls back next to him and immediately looks over, but Robbe just presses a kiss to his shoulder before resting his cheek there. He’s wearing his earring today, and he’s careful not to smush it between them. Sander would rather have it between his teeth.
“I missed you,” Robbe sighs. He wrinkles his nose and gestures at his friends before leaning up close to Sander, to make his stage-whisper that bit more dramatic. “They’re so gross.”
Jens immediately gapes, as they both knew he would, while Lucas simply shakes his head, resigned to what’s to come. “Bullshit,” Jens protests. “And even if it was true, you don’t get to comment, because I have been putting up with this—“ he gestures between the two of them “—for way longer already. And you are the epitome of gross.”
Lucas winces, nodding slightly. “He does have a point.”
“You’re disowned,” Robbe tells him, offended.
Sander huffs. “He’s an asshole, is what he is.”
Lucas places a hand on his chest and, in the most deadpan tone he can manage, says, “I am a fucking delight.”
Jens snorts.
Then Lucas gapes and pointedly steps away from him.
This is exactly what Sander loves about them. The pointless banter, the predictability stemming from familiarity, the easy camaraderie that bounces between them. He hadn’t thought about wriggling his way in with Robbe’s friends when he’d first sought the boy out; he hadn’t cared. But since they got together, he’s been constantly feeling the need to try. He doesn’t want to be a part of Robbe’s life separate to all the rest, and he’d recognised that fairly quickly, but had gotten lucky with Milan.
The others all took to him with their own enthusiasm, which he was relieved about, but like everything else in his life, it took a little more time.
To have this now feels like a blessing. But he marvels, once again, about how Robbe has been his one and only surety from first sight.
It makes him tug the boy closer as Jens goes about placating his own boyfriend; of course, at Sander’s expense. “Chill, we all know he’s actually the asshole.” He waves a hand, giving Sander a lopsided smile.
Sander smirks at him. “Jesus, stop flirting, so obsessed with my ass.”
“Nope, lost your chance, you were hotter as a blond,” Jens immediately snarks back.
Now Sander is the one placing a hand on his chest, jaw dropping, as Robbe makes a sound somewhere between admonishment towards Jens and comfort for Sander. Lucas tilts his head and gazes at Sander critically. Sander zeroes in on this reaction and jabs a finger at him. “You better not agree with him when you clearly have a thing for brunets.”
Lucas purses his lips, then rubs his hand over them to wipe away a smile. “Yeah, but, not everyone can pull off the bleached look like you do.”
“But you still think I’m hot now, right?” Sander presses.
“Oh yeah, definitely.”
Sander makes a triumphant noise as Jens tosses his hands up.
“I’m literally right here,” Jens reminds Lucas.
Lucas shrugs. “You flirted with him first.”
“I did not flirt, you know that is not my flirting.”
“Okay but then, what is your flirting?”
Robbe clears his throat, finally picking his head up off Sander’s shoulder to blink his doe eyes at all of them, lips quirked up adorably after listening silently to their bickering. “Hey, guys? Yeah, as much as I’ve enjoyed listening to this the past couple days, I’m fucking starving. Can we at least continue this somewhere with food?”
Jens immediately abandons his argument to nod, setting a hand on his stomach as if suddenly realising his own hunger. “Something greasy.”
“Then sweet,” Lucas requests, molding himself to Jens’s side again.
Sander tilts his head back to sigh at the ceiling, acknowledging the fact that his idea of a romantic dinner with Robbe has just been thwarted. Then he picks up Robbe’s bag and slings it over his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s nose. “Fine, but Robbe chooses.”
Robbe beams at him and takes his hand again, then immediately starts to tow him away.
As always, Sander lets him.
~^~
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#wtfock#sobbe#robbe x sander#rosander#van der stoffels#sander season#tracing time#gilles uses he/they pronouns#they all bow down to emilie#thomas is really just a gentleman#thomas aarden#emilie de vries#gilles visser
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