Put to use
Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 3
Prompts: Rough & Aftercare
Words: 1,404
Rated: E
Tags: Roleplay; Consensual non-con; Mean dom!Steve; Sub!Eddie; Face fucking; Hair pulling; Slapping; Degradation; Humiliation; Coming in pants; Aftercare
“You know why I called you here?” Steve asks.
Eddie hums. The sound comes out shaky and too high, distorted by the bundle of nerves lodged in his throat.
“Not to ask my opinion on your interior design choices, I hope,” he says, gesturing at the checkered atrocity lining the walls. “I mean, I dunno what's considered chique in your circles, but this-”
“Don’t play smart with me, Munson.”
Steve whirls on him, and Eddie's feet stumble a step back without his conscious permission. The backs of his knees bump against something soft and then, before he knows it, he's sitting on the bed with Steve looming above him. That pretty mouth twists into a haughty smile.
“Selling drugs to my team on the night before the big game?” Steve asks, voice gravelly and low. His varsity jacket rustles as he brackets his hands on either side of Eddie’s legs. “Are you fucking serious?”
Eddie rolls his eyes, hoping that the hammering of his heart won't betray him. “What are you, their mom? Gimme a-”
Steve puts one large hand on his thigh and squeezes, and the words give way to a pained hiss.
“I am their captain,” Steve says. He smells faintly of chlorine and shampoo. “And I wonder what the coach would say about this. Or the principal for that matter.”
Eddie can practically feel himself go pale.
“No,” he breathes. “Nonono, c’mon, dude! You know Higgins has it out for me, I can't afford another fucking suspension. Can't we just forget about it? Please, I'll do-”
“Oh,” Steve says. “Now you can say please? I like that.”
The fingers digging into Eddie’s thigh shift inwards, and Eddie’s heart kicks against his ribcage.
“Hey, stop it,” he blurts. “What are you-”
Steve slaps him. Not very hard - just enough to leave Eddie’s face stinging with pain and humiliation. The feeling pools at the base of his spine, hot and tight, and his cock throbs against Steve’s hand.
“Now,” Steve says. “What were you about to say? You'd do what, exactly?”
Eddie blinks at him.
The second slap is harder than the first. It sends his head flying to the side, hair whipping with the movement. Steve takes a fistful of curls and pulls, forcing him to meet his eye again.
“You'd do anything? Is that what you were going to say?”
Eddie tries to speak, but all that leaves his lips is a pathetic whimper. His ears are ringing and his scalp is burning where Steve is yanking on his hair. He's embarrassingly, painfully hard.
“You look so dumb with your mouth hanging open like that,” Steve scoffs. “Might as well put it to some use.”
“Wha-?” Eddie stammers, but it turns into a yelp when Steve gives his head a hard shove.
“On your knees. You want me to forget about this, make me.”
The impact of his knees hitting the carpet makes his teeth clack together and sends the room spinning. Above him, Steve laughs, holding his head in place with one hand and undoing his pants with the other. The thick, heady smell of arousal hits Eddie before Steve even pulls himself out, punching another breathy whine from his throat.
“God, look at you,” Steve murmurs, and there's something swimming in his voice that's dangerously close to awe. “You're actually getting off on this, aren't you?”
“Please,” Eddie says again. He isn't even sure what he's asking for. Please stop? Please keep going? He doesn't know, and Steve doesn’t leave him any time to find out. Instead, he wraps one thick strand of hair around his fist, so tight that Eddie can feel his scalp give under the pull, and uses the ensuing gasp of pain to shove his cock into Eddie’s mouth.
The first thrust hits the back of his throat, making him gag and turning his moan into a wet gurgle. He instinctively tries to pull off, but Steve makes a harsh “tsk” sound, holding him in place with the hand fisted in his hair.
He keeps him there until Eddie’s eyes water and drool begins to gather around the warm, heavy weight on his tongue. Just as Eddie thinks he’s about to run out of air, he starts to move.
Tangling his other hand in Eddie’s hair as well, he pulls him back, allowing him just enough time to draw a choking breath before he slams him back down on his cock again, and again, and again. Eddie struggles, briefly, but then he goes limp in Steve’s hold, forcing himself to relax his throat, to settle into the relentless rhythm, to let his mind go blank and just let Steve take what he wants. When he braces his hands on Steve’s hips for support, Steve chuckles and wedges of foot between his thighs, hissing in pleasure when Eddie moans around his cock.
“Fuck, yeah, baby, taking it so well. Gonna come now, yeah? You gonna swallow for me? Wanna see you swallow.”
Eddie moans again, tapping Steve’s thigh twice, and Steve shudders apart above him with a hoarse scream, the bitter, salty taste of his relief exploding all over Eddie’s tongue. Eddie swallows it in long, greedy gulps, throat bobbing with the motion. When Steve releases his hold, allowing him to pull back, he licks up the drops that have escaped with his tongue, one long, thorough drag at a time. Steve sighs in bliss and tips his head back, fingers running through Eddie’s hair, massaging soothing circles into his stinging scalp.
“You good, baby?”
Eddie, currently busy with sucking the last traces of come off Steve's tip, hums vaguely, head too fuzzy for words. When Steve huffs and drops to his knees, he whines in protest.
“Hey,” Steve says, cradling his head in both hands, fingers ghosting over the spots that are still raw and tingly where he hit him. His brow is furrowed in concern, his touch as gentle as his voice. It makes Eddie’s eyes sting again, but for entirely different reasons. “Hey, talk to me. I wasn't too- Fuck, Eddie, I didn't hurt you, did I?”
His eyes are large and round and worried like those of a confused puppy dog, and Eddie’s head is so ridiculously tingly, he can't stop the laugh that bubbles out of him.
“Only in the best ways, big boy,” he slurs, breaking into a fresh fit of giggles at the way his voice comes out, all hoarse and wrecked from Steve's cock.
Steve's face is full of fond exasperation as he leans closer, brushing his lips over Eddie’s burning cheeks.
“You're impossible, y’know that?” he mutters, pressing a long, lingering kiss to Eddie’s lips, making a face when he tastes himself there.
“I know,” Eddie winks. “Luckily, you know how to put me in my place, huh?”
“Yeah, right,” Steve snorts, pulling them both to their feet. Eddie’s legs feel like jelly, and so he ends up cradled against Steve’s chest, cheek squished into the soft fabric of the varsity jacket. “Right now, the only place I wanna put you is the shower.”
He sends a pointed look at the dark, wet spot staining the crotch of Eddie’s jeans.
“Yes, captain,” Eddie quips, attempting a mock salute that almost makes him topple. Steve rolls his eyes, ignoring Eddie’s surprised yelp as he scoops him up bridal style to carry him towards the bathroom.
“You enjoyed it then?”
Eddie looks up to find Steve’s eyes trained ahead, the faintest pink blush coloring his cheeks.
“Well, duh,” he says. “Why you askin’? You aren't still worried-”
“No,” Steve blurts. He pauses to set Eddie down and flick on the bathroom lights, licking his lips before he continues. “Yes. I always worry about you, you know that. It's just, I…”
He trails off, blush darkening as he chews on his bottom lip. Then, so quietly Eddie needs to strain his ears to catch it, he mutters, “Maybe I'd like to … y’know … try it the other way round, some time.”
Eddie feels his face split into a grin, so wide his cheeks start hurting all over again.
“You know what?” he says, reaching out to undo Steve’s pants again. “I love that. Next time, I’m gonna be the big, bad drug dealer and you won’t have any money to pay for your fix.”
If the way Steve’s cock twitches in his hand is any indication, this is an excellent idea.
More smutty September
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Arsonist neil please🙏
WIP Wednesday (9/18) | Arsonist Neil / Firefighter Andrew AU (Part 232)
"K—" Andrew blanks and curses himself. He has an eidetic memory for fuck's sake! How could he run out of names?! Katelyn gives him a look, like she thinks she's won this ridiculous competition. After a few seconds of coming up empty Andrew sighs out a breath, ready to admit defeat. But on the inhale, he smells something that makes his heart stop. It's that same awful feeling he gets at work, when they first arrive on a scene. Why is he... Where is this anxiety coming from?
Andrew looks away from Katelyn and sniffs the air, dread settling in his stomach. It's smoke. A very faint smell of smoke coming from the kitchen. "Katrina,” he makes a point to say. “Your kitchen is on fire."
Aaron reaches over to flick his earlobe. "Play fair at least, asshole."
"No, I'm serious," Andrew says, standing up so fast he nearly knocks his chair over. He makes sure to flick Aaron back before rushing into the kitchen to investigate. He finds the source immediately. Katelyn's kitchen towel is too near the burner, it's already caught and the fire is licking down the material and spreading fast. Andrew shoves the sleeve of his sweater up and grabs the end that's not in flames, tosses it into the sink, and cuts the water. It douses the fire instantly and the panic in his chest bursts like a water balloon. When he turns around, he finds two pale faces in the doorway.
"Oh my God." Katelyn says, looking from the rag to the pot on the stove. Aaron puts his arm around her shoulders and murmurs something comforting.
"Perhaps the two of you should come down to the station and listen to my boss's fire safety spiel," Andrew suggests, feeling like a live wire and a lightweight. Aaron gives him a look and Andrew holds a hand out. "I can give you the basics now: Do not leave a stove unattended, do not place anything flammable on or near the stove top, do keep a fire extinguisher nearby."
At that last part, Katelyn and Aaron share a look. Andrew squints at them.
"You don't have one, do you?" When neither of them answers, Andrew starts opening the doors of the cupboards under the counter and finds nothing but cleaning supplies and a small safe. He doesn't even comment on that. Instead he flicks his gaze up above them, scanning the kitchen walls. "You don't have a smoke detector either. What the fuck is wrong with you two? Do you want to burn to death? I hear it is the most painful way to go."
"Of course not!" Aaron huffs. "The old smoke detector died and I—"
"You're about to become parents. Get a goddamn smoke detector." Andrew grits out, making them both look like scolded children. Katelyn looks like she's about to cry. Aaron doesn’t look much better off. Good. Fire is serious. Andrew lets out a breath and clenches his fist. "I… am trying—”
"No, no," Katelyn blinks and nods. "You're right. I didn't realize I left it so close. It's my fault. And we do need a new smoke detector."
Aaron nods, “I'll get a new one tonight."
"Three," Andrew corrects. Then he counts them off on his fingers, "Kitchen, bedroom, hallway. And, whenever the baby room is ready, you put one in there too. Got it?"
"Got it," Aaron answers with a curt nod. Andrew matches it with his own and pushes past them to go sit back down at the table. Once he gets there, crosses his arms and that's when he realizes one of them is naked. He blinks at his pale, scarred skin. He didn't wear his bands tonight, he didn't think he would need them under the sweater. Andrew swallows and yanks his sleeve down over his bare arm. It's fine. It’s fine. It's not like either of them noticed.
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DONATE PLEASE NOT ONLY SHARE
Hello, my name is Hamza Al-Absi, a 32-year-old from Gaza.
I am a husband and a father of three children. Well, there were three, but I lost my eldest son, Osama, two years ago to leukemia (blood cancer). He deserved treatment for a year and a half, took his chemotherapy, fought the disease, and had a recovery period, but the disease returned, he had a strong relapse, and passed away. I couldn’t treat him again due to the blockade imposed on the Gaza Strip, which even affected patients with urgent, serious conditions. They refused to treat him, and he died in the hands of his mother and beside his younger brother, Saif. My son could have been treated, but when his turn came to get the treatment, it was too late.
I cannot express the pain of losing an eldest son, and my wife still cries for him every day. It’s a continuous pain that never leaves us.
Since the beginning of the war, we have heard news of children being killed and seriously injured by the insane and savage bombing with rockets and shells, which has not stopped since the war began until today. But thank God, my wife and I and our dear children, “Saif, 3 years old,” and “Rita, one year old,” are still alive.
We were forced to evacuate our home at the beginning of the war against our will due to the intense bombing that our area was subjected to and the orders to evacuate the area and head to southern Gaza. Our house was bombed with war shells, leading to its destruction.
Our journey of displacement began, moving several times from one area to another, until we ended up in a tent in the “Tel al-Sultan” area in the city of “Rafah.” You can imagine how difficult life is in a tent. Everything is done with great difficulty; we are forced to use primitive methods to carry out daily tasks. Every day we light a fire to prepare food, and we struggle to provide water for drinking or bathing. Going to the bathroom is a suffering in itself for adults before children, in the absence of toilets suitable for human use.
The situation worsens with the arrival of summer and the rise in temperatures; the tent literally turns into a “sauna” during the day, especially since my little daughter Rita has started walking on the sand and suffers from pollution diseases, influenza, and other serious diseases that lead to hepatitis.
On top of all that, I lost my job at the beginning of the war and became unemployed due to the total power outage and the lack of internet connection most of the time. I face severe difficulty in providing for my family’s needs amid the crazy price hikes.
We have suffered enough and have been exposed to a lot of fear and panic in the past 7 months. The city of “Rafah” is now threatened with a ground invasion at any moment by the occupation, so I decided to travel and leave Gaza to save the lives of my wife and children.
Time is running out, and we need $15,000 to enable my wife and children to leave Gaza to Egypt via the Rafah land crossing as soon as possible, in addition to the costs of staying in Egypt for 6 months, estimated at ($6,000).
Asking for help is not easy at all, but we believe there is still good in this world. So, I hope you will help us save ourselves from killing and destruction and restore hope to our lives again. I have tasted the bitterness of loss once, and I do not want to taste it again.
We are grateful to everyone who will donate to us, and we appreciate your feelings and support for us.
Verified by @nabulsi @90-ghost
@sayruq @el-shab-hussein
Verified number 226
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happy life, happy wife | hugh jackman
an: “you attract what you fear” GUYS IM SO SCARED OF A 55 YEAR OLD AUSTRALIAN 😭 definitely thinking about making marvel actress!reader x hugh an actual series… i have ideas
marvel actress!reader
Deadpool & Wolverine Press tour - Hot Ones
Hugh felt like he was going to die. Each wing was getting hotter and hotter, but immediately when he heard his wife’s name he forgot all about the spice.
“Hugh, your wife is part of the Avengers, how does it feel having your wife be part of such a huge franchise? Have you two talked about a potential team up with the X-men and the Avengers?” Sean asked.
“My wife . . . Oh god, I think I’m crying-”
“I can’t tell if you’re legitimately dying or completely in love with your wife.” Ryan told Hugh.
“Wait . . I am completely in love with my wife and I would legitimately die for her.” Hugh gasped as he rearranged Ryan’s words.
“Is that in the contract she made you sign when you married her? ‘I vow to die for you’. My contract said I had to give all my money to my kids and wife.” Ryan said.
“No, she’s amazing, um, if I start talking about her I think I might go on for hours,” he laughed. “Our kids do want to see their parents fighting the bad guys together. We would love to team up, maybe it could happen.” Hugh smiled.
“The entire movie would be them making out and her beating the shit out of you. I’d pay to see that.” Ryan added.
•••
Comic Con 2024
Like RDJ, your last Marvel movie had been Avengers: Endgame. After being in ten mcu films, it was time to say goodbye to your character.
But that was in 2019.
At this years comic con, you were back. The cast of Deadpool & Wolverine had taken the stage and showed their appreciation for the fans. After their panel, it was time to announce Marvel’s upcoming projects. Kevin Feige announced the Fantastic Four, Thunderbolts, Captain America 4, and finally the new Avengers movies, which everyone was extremely excited about.
After showing the title card for the upcoming Avengers film, Kevin turned to the audience.
“Something people have been asking, as of late, is who the heck is going to direct these two movies?” The audience clapped.
From the side of the stage, you were nervous. What if the fans didn’t like the idea of you directing the next two Avengers films? Your worrying caused Hugh to come to your rescue.
“Hey, they loved you as an Avenger, they will love you even more.” Hugh kissed your forehead. “If anyone says anything about this decision, they have me to deal with.”
You laughed at his words. “I really love you so much.”
“Love you too, bub.” Hugh was about to kiss you when Ryan cut in.
“I really love us too. I convinced half of the people here that we’re a throuple.” He said in the most serious tone ever.
Kevin announced you as the director. Your doubt of the fans not liking the announcement was proven wrong when you walked the stairs to the stage and stood next to Kevin. They cheered when they saw you were back.
As you said a few words, thanking Marvel, Kevin and the fans, you were being recorded by Hugh, who was being recorded by Ryan.
“That’s my wife!” Hugh cheered from backstage, holding his phone in his hand.
“She’s Marvel Jesus now, holy shit!”
•••
WIRED autocomplete interview
“Is Hugh Jackman married?”
“Yes, to me, Y/n, probably to half the population,” Ryan answered. “He’s Australia’s biggest slut.”
“All the times, I proposed.” Hugh laughed. “But yes, I am married and I love my wife very much. She’s stuck with me forever.” He lifted his hand to show off the wedding band.
“Funny, because she texted me right now. Her and Blake are in the courthouse getting married. So Deadpool three was actually made so our wives could divorce us and marry each other.”
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"Hey...are you finished yet?"
You sidled up to Kento in the kitchen, impatient, his waist snatched by his apron as he chopped chillies. He knew what you wanted, and chastised you without venom, a wry half-smile upon his mouth.
"If you want dinner, you'll wait a few more minutes."
You loitered by the counter, one leg stretching out to stroke at Kento's hip, your toes trailing round his waist, and down, and--
Kento coughed, grabbing your toes against his lap, dropping his knife and giving his hands a cursory wash under the tap. Holding your foot to him, he closed in until your knee was crumpled to your chest, and you giggled as he glowered down at you.
He leaned down, his voice rumbling, appraising your body in his shirt with hungry eyes. Lifting you up on the counter, he continued to chastise you to your laughter, his voice low at your neck as he made love to it.
"You're not wearing anything under there, are you, Mrs.Nanami? Impatient. Filthy."
Giggles turned into sighs, turned into whimpers as Kento tangled a gripping hand in the front of your shirt, affectionately restraining you while his fingers slid down to your core, slipping between your folds until he found his aim.
Kento allowed himself one long-fingered dip inside you with a shudder, before rolling practiced circles over your clit.
You nuzzled into him with a sigh, feeling so oddly sensitive down there. The feeling built, a strange warm prickle, thinking Kento must have doused his fingers in magic and sin before they met their mark. You shivered, whimpering, the feeling building.
"...ungh...hot..."
"Mmm...yes, you certainly are. Could always edge you like this until you--"
"--no-- no, Kento-- hot, it's hot!"
Kento pulled back in alarm at the terror in your voice, keen eyes narrowed and fixed on you. You both stared at each other for a moment in dumb confusion.
His eyes flicked down to his fingers, still as the grave between your lips. Your eyes flicked over to the chillies he'd been chopping just minutes before.
"Kento, the--"
"--the chillies, fuck, shit, I'm so sorry--"
You shrieked, slapping his glistening fingers away, your face twisted in pain. "--oh my fucking god, Kento, you fucking idiot--"
"--excuse me, I am sorry, but if I recall, you were the one who seduced me--"
"--why did you let me?!"
You shrieked again, the Great Fire of London blazing at the crest of your thighs. Kento jolted to life, darting to the fridge, reassuring you, while he berated you, while you panicked in pain.
"--hang on, hang on, you'll be alright--shit..."
Kento slopped milk into a glass, shoving his hand into it and walking back over to you as you lay back on the counter, one hand clasped over your burning vagina. Kento's voice rumbled, authoritative, his hair mussed and sweaty.
"Open up."
"--you're fucking joking, Kento--"
"Do as you're told. This will help. Open up."
Half-laughing, half-crying, half-aflame, more agony than woman, you kicked at Kento while he huffed a laugh, batting your thighs apart.
Still weakly objecting, you gasped when he sunk two milky fingers between your folds, dipping his hand once more in the cold milk, and back again. Milk, labia. Milk, labia.
Lying back with your hands over your face, miserable with shame, you could do nothing while Kento milk-fingered the burning chillies off you. You could feel him trying to look serious and mournful as he did it.
"Stop laughing, Kento--"
"I would never."
"--you absolutely are--"
"I wouldn't dare, my love."
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
You and Kento ate your curry in silence. Kento's face was fixed throughout, deliberately solemn. You glared over at him occasionally, mulish, the ghost of a fire still lingering at your core.
Kento finished his curry, clearing his throat. He barely hid the crooked smile behind his napkin.
"That was delicious."
"...yeah. I guess it was."
"I do fancy a glass of milk though."
"--alright, that's it. Get undressed-- I'm giving you a blow job--"
"--darling--you've just eaten chillies--"
"Exactly."
Kento paled, voice tight as he begged for his life. "Please don't."
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