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totallynotashieldagent · 7 months ago

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Kinktober - Hate Fucking

Pairing: Hal Jordan/Reader

The slap that cracked across his face shocked his system.

“You almost got us killed with your showboating!” You screamed. “I’m reporting you to Batman- I’ve HAD it with your absolute bullshit!”

“You did not just fucking slap me, princess-” Hal growled, twisting your wrist back. “I saved your sorry ass.”

“I had it under control!” You snapped at him.

“Like hell you did!” He pushed back, crowding your space until he was pressed against you.

“Fuck you, Jordan.” You glared venomously, taking steps back until you tumbled backwards into a random empty room.

“You know what, pretty? Why don’t you fuck me yourself?” He spun you around, your face against the wall. Punching the door button to lock you both in, engulfing you in darkness.

“The fuck are you doing, Jordan?!” You hissed, trying to push him away but it just ended up you grinding against his bulge.

“You heard me, princess.” He growled against your ear. “Fuck. Me. Yourself.” His ring glowed and you found yourself pinned against the wall with his constructs.

“Let go!” You gasped, hating how his stupid ring made everything so powerless.

“Ah- ah- ah-” He laughed, his uniform disappearing, leaving him starkers. “Behave or that mouth will go to good use-”

“You put your dick near my mouth and I’ll bite it off.” You warned, masking how your underwear was already soaked through. The bound wrists were to your liking. You did that usually with partners. But he didn’t need to know that shit.

You could feel his constructs undoing your uniform slowly. Your thighs were squished together to keep some form of dignity intact. You were not going to let this asshole know that you-

“Fuck you!!” You snapped again.

“I’m getting to it, darling.” Hal chuckled, his palms groping and kneading at your ass. “You, since the day you joined the League, I’ve wanted to fuck that attitude out of you-”

“Ever since I joined the League, I’ve wanted to cut your throat-” You struggle against the construct.

“Stop fighting it, sweetheart. They don’t call me the greatest for nothing. My constructs aren’t-” He boasted and you grinded against him, his concentration breaking for a moment, the constructs faltering. You used it to your advantage, breaking free and elbowing his nose as hard as you could.

He dodged the strike, grabbing your arm with a snarl. “Playing dirty, are we?” He twisted your arm behind you and instead of a pained gasp, you moaned. “Well, well, well- I knew you liked it rough.” He laughed against your ear. “You’re such a brat because no one’s ever fucked you right, hm?”

You jerked your head back to headbutt him but he dodged it too. It wasn’t riling him up anymore. It was just turning him on. And not that you’d ever admit it, you were enjoying it too. For the first time, you were fighting and the other person was able to keep up.

“I’ll give it to you like you need it, princess.” Hal licked your neck. “I’ll give it just how you need it.” The empty room glowed in green hues as a table breathed into life and he pushed you over onto it. “Last chance, honey-” His hand was skillfully undoing the zippers and buttons, hovering now on your underwear’s waistband. You knew you could stay stop and it would stop. Hal wasn’t the guy who would push after he was denied but-

“What? You a coward too now?” You goaded him.

“You’re such a fucking bitch-” The smack that came down made your body shiver and your thighs clench. His hand was large and calloused and he hit hard enough that you felt the recoil across your body. You felt the breath get knocked out of you and shudder when he kneaded the tender flesh. “Now, will you behave, pretty thing?”

“Fuck. You.” You bit out. In hindsight, not the smartest thing to say. Because the second spank that came down was harder. You yelped, trying to push away but his other hand held your wrists tightly at the small of your back.

“As you wish-” Hal laughed, a pair of green scissors cutting away at your underwear. “Oh- So wet? All for me? I’m flattered-” His fingers teased at your folds roughly.

“H-Hal-” You choked out but his middle finger was already knuckle deep.

“What was that, princess?” He leaned over your body. His hard cock against your ass. “You have to use your words.” He mocked.

You clenched your jaw. No way in hell were you going to tell him that his finger felt good. That he was curling it the right way. You breathed through your nose, your forehead against the table, concentrating to not- to not- to not-

“Oh god-” Oops- It slipped out. You were on your toes, legs were shaking, his thumb was brushing ever so slightly at your clit and you hated that you wanted more.

“No, no, no, no-” Hal laughed, removing his finger and sucking it off. “You’re gonna hold it until I say you can cum. Got it?”

“I’ll cum when I feel like it!!” You argued, trying to pull away from his tight grip.

“Keep squirming.” He rubbed the head of his cock against your dripping cunt. Slowly, teasingly, almost mocking you. The head just almost at the entrance but not quiet. “It makes me want to fuck you harder.”

“Big words for a man who won’t ev- AH!!” The words get lost in your throat in a cry of pain and pleasure as he plunges in fully. A string of curses left him and you. He stretches you to the brim, no longer holding your wrists, just the flesh of your ass. So tight, you know it’ll bruise later but god he felt so good.

“Jesus, princess-” He groaned, “If I knew your pussy was this heavenly, I would’ve pushed your buttons sooner.” He started to move. But soon enough, his slow, measured thrusts turned harder, rougher and more erratic. His blunt nails dug into your ass as he moved faster, and all you could do was hold onto the table with desperate needy moans, trying to catch your breath.

“Hal- I’m-” You tried, your legs were shaking so much. You were sure your toes would be blue with how long you’d been on them.

“Not fucking yet-” He growled, another harsh smack! connecting to your ass followed with a massage. It just made you wetter.

“Go to hell.” You moaned, holding the table so hard your knuckles were losing blood flow.

“Yeah? I’ll meet you there-” He laughed, rutting into you with a merciless pace, holding tightly to you. The recoil against your hips was harsh and you gasped every time his cock hit your g-spot so perfectly.

You were biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. Trying to control your noises as much as possible. The man did not need a bigger ego. He did not need to know that he could really back up all his bravado and ego with-

“Fuck- You’re squeezing me up, sweetheart. Gonna cum for me already?” He pistoned harder and you finally couldn’t help it. The sound that escaped you could’ve put a pornstar to shame. Hal groaned, his grip tightening, more curses falling from his lips.

You knew you were close. You were trying so desperately to hold off. To not give him that satisfaction. To make him live with the fact that he didn’t make you cum but it was getting harder and harder to do. Especially when a construct glowing green hand snaked around and started to rub at your clit. You cried out in pleasure again, the coil in your stomach so taut, you knew it was going to snap soon.

“Come on, pretty thing- I wanna hear what you sound like when you let go-” He groaned, his pace starting to falter just a bit. He wanted to cum, so badly, but heavens above he’d rather throw himself into the sun than finish first.

“Fuck you, Jordan!!” You screamed and came hard. Squeezing everything he was worth, your thighs shaking, your back arching as the pleasure cut through you like never before. You hated it, you hated how fucking good he felt and how amazing he made you feel.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-” He whimpered as his pace became erratic, shooting thick ropes, filling you so much that your needy, swollen cunt dripped to the floor.

He slumped on top of you, both of you breathless and boneless.

“So, still wanna report me, sweetheart?” He asked after a few beats of silence.

“Yes.” You mumbled, your pussy still throbbing around his cock.

Kinktober 2024.

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #kinktober 2024 totallynotashieldagent #hal jordan #hal jordan x reader #hal jordan smut #smut #dc #reader insert #green lantern hal jordan #green lanter corps #green lantern #Y'all I had SO MUCH FUN writing this asshole

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sky-is-the-limit · 2 years ago

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'I make guarantees.'

Phillip Graves x F!Reader

Summary: As a member of the TF141, it comes naturally to be aggravated by Phillip Graves. Pair that with every fiber of your body, mind and soul desiring him, and you have a ticking bomb ready to explode. Basically, porn without plot.

CW: Angry sex, jealousy, possessiveness, degradation, violent/explicit language, mention of blood (minor), unprotected sex.

WC: 4,712 words (oops)

Notes: I'm not a writer!

Phillip Graves was no ordinary man. He was the sort to blaze through your soul like a wildfire, allow you to feel the kind of passion and intensity you only find between the lines of a fantasy tale and then leave ashes behind, forever engraved in your skin.

As if sensing his gaze, you turned to look at Phillip. You only spared him a passing glance though, smirking just before turning back to laugh at a joke Johnny told, too crest for the other man's tastes.

This was the second mission where you had to collaborate with the Shadow Company for a more effective outcome, meaning you had to be in his overwhelming presence once more. Someone outside watching in would think that you hated each other, whenever you'd interact. You always tested his limits, toed every line that you could cross with every action, with every takedown.

Perhaps you did, deep inside. Hated him for igniting feelings in you so intense that would only resonate to you either banging your head against a wall or let him fuck you against one.

Phillip showed his interest straight away, from the very first interaction the two of you had during your first mission, his arrogance and cockiness oozing out of him as though he had no ordinary blood running through his veins. Pair that with the way he was talking to Johnny, the closest squad member to you, you had to turn down his advances, which unsurprisingly, hurt his fragile ego and ever since, all remarks exchanged between the two of you were like bullets destined to kill.

Once more, you found yourself in the common area of your temporary base, left alone to face him. Your leisure time of listening to Soap's silly dad jokes and good conversation over coffee was cut short when Phillip walked in.

Johnny did not have the patience to ignore him and his snarky comments that he had to physically get away from him, and you did not blame him one bit. Was it your pride or something else forbidding you from exiting right after?

''It's pathetic really.'' His posture was starker than usual, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips tight as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Though you had your back turned on him, you could feel his gaze devouring you whole.

The abruptness startled you, but keeping your composure, you set your coffee down on the table and turned to look at him.

''Your entire existence? I know.'' The words came out in a furious rush and you felt a bead of sweat drip down your back under your black shirt. It was a nasty habit, at that point. You couldn't even finish one argument without starting another and the one brewing was the second one that day.

''How you flirt with him to get my attention, Y/N.'' Phillip's voice was low and irritated, and it set your emotions ablaze, a roaring inferno within your mind.

“Of course, because it's always about you. I definitely talk to my squad member specifically to get your attention, silly me.'' The minute he walked in, you prepared yourself for this. It would be abnormal for an interaction between the two of you to not turn into an argument.

''He's so boringly predictable that I caught you looking at me at least 50 times. Go on though, I do enjoy the show.'' Arrogance was dripping off his tongue like second nature, along with that all familiar smirk that made your insides hurt.

''Don't you ever get tired of hearing your own voice, Graves? Or do you get off of ticking every box in the 'how to be a perfect narcissist' list?'' You shrieked, hating the way your voice came out your throat but the way in which he threw his shoulders back and laughed in a cruel tone made you see red.

Suddenly he was much closer, leering down at you. It wasn't clear to know who moved first, or who would next.

''Me? A narcissist? You're the one who wants every man's attention on you.'' He growled lowly and stood to full height, his demeanor making you swallow thickly as he loomed closer and stared you down. Out of habit you straightened your spine, lips curling back into a scowl.

''Shut your fucking mouth, Graves-" The blood running through your veins was pumping hot, you wanted to pour it out and paint everything around you red, so it matched the fury riding you with every word he threw in your way. Phillip's response didn’t ease you any.

''Is that what you did to earn your spot hm? Fuck your way to the top?'' His tone dripped with scorn as he responded to you, his words carrying an edge sharper than a sword.

''Say that again, Graves. I fucking dare you.'' Spitting the words with teeth bared, and fists clenched as you circled each other, you poked at his chest firmly, the muscles twitching beneath your fingertips.

Your gaze met his with stubborn defiance, nearly ready to just explode and punch him. Maybe that would make you feel better, knocking some sense into his enormous ego.

There was nothing you despised more than another man undermining your career and progress, belittling you as if you were not greater than all of them combined when holding a sniper riffle in your hands.

What made it worse, was that you knew Graves was doing that to get a reaction out of you, to push your buttons without meaning a single word pouring out of his mouth. It was a facade, you knew that. The first thing he ever said to you, was to compliment your skills, which made his intention even more infuriating.

''You could try that with the Shadow Company next, I promise to give you a higher rank if you use that mouth-'' It was as though your hand had a brain of it's own, moving automatically with force to meet with his cheek and the corner of his mouth, leaving the tender skin red to the touch and the corner of his bottom lip reddening with drops of blood.

''Is that all you got?'' He mocked, his voice gravelly as his fingers wrapped around your wrist tightly, preventing you from moving an inch. Your anger dissipated in the favor of fear the very second you saw his expression.

You were volatile and explosive, but that's how you craved it, and even then, your desire to be fucked by him had trumped all your wrath, in fact, your rage had just heightened it. It was pure madness and the was no rational explanation to it nor that you cared to find one.

Glowering, hands itching to hit him once more, you turned on your heel, aiming for the door and intending to get black-out drunk with Simon as you assumed that he was downing his fifth beer by then, when he grabbed you by the back of your neck and hauled you against him.

You struggled, clawing and scratching his arms as they banded around you and held you trapped. He was chuckling in your ear, you could feel how turned on he was, and your inner voice was crooning that you got just what you wanted, but you ignored it. You wanted to fight yet your body had something entirely different in mind while a flow of slick started to soak up your panties as Graves pressed his manhood into you.

''You fucking-'' The thoughts running wild through your mind interrupted your own words, the ebb and flow of your gazes intensifying by the second though it felt like an eternity of his blue eyes piercing through your soul like he could sense every filthy fantasy hiding behind them. You didn't dare to move and in the end, you didn't have to.

You were both breathing heavily, tension wrought to the extreme as you were staring at each other, not really fathoming how you ended up like this. It was pure excitement, trepidation, like you were desperately waiting for something to happen.

This was the culmination of whatever instinctive, subconscious game the two of you had been playing from the very first mission you'd embarked on collaborating with him, a game of push and push between the two of you until the breaking point.

Graves pushed forward, his lips brutally meeting your own. He bit down on them, hard and cruel, loving the cry you whimpered out as he savored you whole. His hand moved from the side of your head to the back of it, tugging the hair there to tilt your head to his.

The agony was a pleasure as you reciprocated his intoxicating kiss, angry and violent as you teared at his lips. Your sharp teeth aggravated the wound on his lip, and you tasted blood on your tongue.

''Fucking brat-'' He instantly pulled back, his fingers grasping your jaw to keep you in place.

You shivered at his words, a new heat blooming over every surface of your body. Your cheeks tingled and you squirmed in his grip, squeezing your thighs together as you calculated your next move carefully.

"You're such a bastard!" You quirked your head as you breathlessly yelped, almost fearlessly before sliding your arms free of his hold and threaded them into his hair before pulling him in to capture another kiss, hotter and even more passionate than the last.

Phillip responded in an instant, letting his tongue slide against yours, hungrily whilst he tangled his free hand in your hair, gripping painfully, deepening the kiss, like it could be the last thing he ever does.

Your body seemed to burst into a flame of mingled rage and lust, and you knew he felt the same from the desperate, almost angry growl he made the sensation overwhelmed you both.

Sinking your nails into his scalp, you pressed your hips hard against his erection, feeling him gasp into your mouth before lifting his head to take another look at you, his fingertips never leaving your jaw.

Phillip licked his lips unconsciously as he stared down at you, but before you could say anything, he had brought his face once more closer to yours, his eyes half-lidded and full of desire.

''And you're a fucking slut.'' Once more your hand was lifted in the air, intending to slap him for a second time, but he caught it as it swung for his face and took hold of your other before you could attempt it again. With one swift move, he maneuvered your body around and pinned both of your wrists in a firm grip behind your back before your brain could catch up to what was happening.

Head shaking, arms straining as you tried to break out of his hold, huffing and giving in when he only held onto you tighter, walking both of you closer to the wall, pressing your front hard against it. Panting, furious, your heartbeat thundered somewhere in your throat. The Commander's form was a solid taut weight caging you in, imposing, all muscle, a hard line of his desire against your lower back.

''Someone needs to fuck that attitude out of you, Y/N.'' The words made your toes curl and your hips arch, betraying how desperate you looked, splayed out on his command center for his pleasure. The side of his face was so close to yours that you could feel him breathing down on you, his lips at the shell of your ear.

The other hand that wasn’t currently wrapped around your wrists moved to hold your jaw, squeezing tightly to the point of discomfort.

Briskly, he released your arms, spinning around to pounce on the man before you and quickly pressed your back against the wall once more so you can be chest to chest.

''And that's gonna be you, Graves?'' You met his fire with your own, staring unflinchingly into the heated pools of stormy sea. The question was as close to begging as your pride would allow.

''No one else can. No one else can fuck you the way you deserve but me, soldier.'' He stated, face lowering to yours and his tone low and menacing, the promise of retribution sent shivers down your spine.

The grotesque snarl of words should have made you put him in his place, despise of the outcome. Any other day you would have, but instead, your body had different plans.

''Is that a threat, Commander?'' You croaked out, a smirk settling on your face. How you managed to still be coy in a situation where you knew you had no power was insane and the look on his face confirmed it as his fingers around your jaw grew tighter and you winced in pain.

''Oh, I don't make threats, Sergeant. I make guarantees.'' There was that deep chuckle again. The one that vibrated up his throat until it bubbled out to bless your ears and slither goosebumps down your spine.

Darkly, he challenged your moral compass that was screaming for you to get away from his intoxicating presence. The smirk formed on his lips was wicked, provocative. The prey was finally caught.

''Let's see how far your arrogance can take you then, Commander.'' With a hint of sarcasm, you challenged him back, deliberately imbuing his title with a sensual cadence. His skin was flushing to you calling him by his rank, a blotchy red slowly encroaching from his throat to his cheeks. It was an interesting kind of power to have over someone.

For a few seconds he just stared you down, eyes adapting the darkest shade of blue. The sensation simmering down in your abdomen was quickening the pace of your heartbeat trying to burst out of your ribcage in a mingle of fear and arousal. It was taking over every single nerve in your body and there was no way of stopping it, not that you desired to.

With a quick use of his brute strength he hoisted you up, having you scrambled to wrap your legs around his waist while his hands moved to your ass to hold you up.

''You won't even comment on the fact that someone could walk in right now and see you in such a mess, Y/N?'' Phillip murmured gravelly, his lips biting the soft skin of your throat intending to break the skin as he was backing you closer to the table behind you, quickly hoisting you to sit on it. He settled between your legs, hands gripping just above your knees.

''God, you must be so fucking desperate for it, huh?'' He was right, of course. The possibility of someone walking in was more than enough to let shame start creeping in your system and yet all it took was one look at his face. The way the moonlight was shining through the window to define his cheekbones even more, experience visible through the wrinkles decorating the corners of his eyes as they stared into your soul.

''You're taking your sweet time with this, Graves. I'm starting to think that you're all bark and no bite.'' You can’t help the smug smile that spread across your lips as you saw the flare of anger flash in his eyes, finding the way he was so quick to be irritated, quite fascinating.

That little defiant glint still sat in your eyes, and he was absolutely determined to remind you who was in charge by the end of the night.

"Oh, I'll show you how I bite.'' He growled, thrusting his clothed erection against your center, a loud whimper escaping your lips to the friction.

Gasping, you felt his lips leaving a wet trail down the length of your jaw before he settled in the hollow beneath your ear, an erogenous zone he’d discovered, devoting his attentions there. All your body could do in response was cling to him, mewls and sighs falling haphazardly from your lips.

“I dream about your cunt,” He stated, lifting his head up, smoldering eyes locked on yours as your elbows struggled to keep your balance against the wooden surface.

"How it feels. How it looks. How it tastes. I dream of fucking ruining you till you can't move to save your life." Every filthy word out of his mouth was a direct attack to your throbbing core as he maneuvered your hips upwards to yank the fabric of your jeans down to your ankles, legs exposed to the cool air of the stone room. Your gaze followed his, eyes glued hungrily on the obvious wet spots in your panties.

''Fuck- Do it then.'' Clearly, you weren't thinking when your mouth formed the words, "Fucking do it, already-" But it was spoken harshly between the ragged breaths of your desire, and it was all the invitation he needed.

"You're not the one who gets to make commands here," He growled, taking a sinful pride in the drawn out whimper that he had dug out from you.

''Pathetic.'' And so he lifted one of those large hands to your face and pressed his thumb into your mouth, the pad of it resting on your bottom row of teeth as he dragged your jaw down, forcing your mouth wide open.

Trembling with a sudden onslaught of unexpected arousal at having someone else's fingers between your lips, feeling the flutter in your soaked cunt again only this time it was more intense, fiercely with your legs shaking to the sensation.

Your hands moved on their own as Graves' thumbs pressed deeper into your mouth, gliding and pressing at your tongue as you slid them down the length of his body, feeling every defined muscle underneath his blue shirt, going lower and lower, until you were curving one palm around the shape of the Commander's cock confined within his dark shaded jeans.

Impatience took over you, lifting the hem of your shirt, hastily tugging the fabric up and throwing it to the side and before you could touch him again, his hands were at your sides, sliding over the mounds of your breasts and then there was another tug and a louder ripping sound as he teared your bra at the front.

His own pupils, now blown with a heated desire, locked into your glazed expression. Having his fingers toy with your mouth earlier had already caused a small string of saliva to run down your chin and he couldn't help the smirk starting to flicker onto his lips. He had barely started to touch you and you already looked all sorts of fucked up.

Your outrage couldn't even register before his warm mouth was on your skin, sucking at your nipples, pinching and biting and rubbing the soothing pad of his thumb over each one after any rough treatment. The chill of the night air was an electrifying contrast to the warmth of his mouth and hands as you were openly moaning and writhing to the way he massaged and teased every inch of nakedness before him.

''Me or you?'' You hum innocently to his previous remark as you pressed your palm against him, stroking the long line of heat firmly, and he hissed as his hips bucked forward just as desperately, his hands suddenly coming up to catch both of your wrists, bringing them down to your sides, the grip just tight enough to sting.

Indignation flashed in those midnight blue eyes. There was something off from his normal heated gaze. This look he was giving you was more than just argumentative, more than just fired up. It was absolutely primal. The heat had shifted. While usually he was more reminiscent of a volcano during an eruption, now he seemed to be the moments before, it was a slow heat. Dangerous.

"I'm not in the mood for games.'' Graves breathed heavily, bending over you to nip at your lips before hearing the sound of his belt touching the ground to finish what you started, freeing himself.

You couldn't tear off your eyes from the obscene sight in front of you as he took himself in one hand while the other came to rest high on your thigh, his thumb brushing against your core, tantalizingly close. He stroked himself once, twice, pressing himself against you and pausing for a moment, just long enough for you to grow restless.

He sighed, the sound more like a growl than anything, steam escaping from his nose.

''I should've done this a long time ago.'' He ripped your legs apart, tugging onto your dripping underwear until it was on the ground, grunting as your slick coated his fingers before he rubbed his cock against your entrance. Every part of your body tightened, a bare spark of pleasure almost exciting you when his cockhead scraped your clit.

You couldn't believe that someone you absolutely despised was giving you some of the best pleasure you'd ever felt. Wanton moans fell from your lips as he jackhammered your cunt. His hand tangled in your hair and yanked your head back.

''You like that hm? You like being treated as a little slut?'' His voice was raspy and full of lust before he pushed forward, drawing all air from your lungs with a loud yelp as he buried himself deep inside you.

''Commander-'' Despite your efforts, the call was loud, urgent. He didn’t start slowly. He was rough, punishing, desperate, taking you with everything he had, as though he was claiming you right where anyone could walk in to see it.

Phillip sped up his pace exponentially, sweat breaking out across his forehead. ''Answer me-'' You became a boneless mess under the power of his ruthless thrusting, slamming into you with such force that you were sure there would be bruises where his hip bones met yours tomorrow.

''Fuck- Yes, damn you!'' You mewled loudly, then covered your mouth with one hand, fearful of passersby. He pulled your hand away, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up into his eyes as he took you against the shaking table.

''I can tell by the look on your face." He said gruffly. ''You can’t get enough of me can you?'' You placed your forehead on his shoulder, embarrassed to look at him.

''Look at me, Y/N.'' He said in response to this. You slowly looked back at him. ''Good girl.'' He muttered, grabbing your hips and pounding into you.

His hips bucked slowly, riding his twitching length inside your warm folds as he withheld his own noises. ''Beg for it, go on." He gave a firm, sharp smack to your ass, gripping on it tightly whilst using the sound to hide the low groan he released.

He didn't want to hold back any longer, but he refused to let you have your way, especially when you were already so close to come undone under his touch. Your dripping cunt was leaking onto him with every deliberate thrust, letting him glide in and out with ease.

He hunched back over you , pressing his chest down onto you as much as he could without breaking his hold on your arms. "Fucking beg-" He gave a feral groan before sliding out of you without the intention of going back in. A strangled whine escaped you, once again, jerking your hips back against him, trying to provoke him, to get him inside, get him to continue, anything. He refused to relent.

"Whimpering doesn't count, doll." He whispered against your ear. His tone is hard, unyielding. Prick.

His stubbornness was torturous for the both of you. It was a battle to see who could break their composure first and he was about to go fucking berserk. Eventually, you lost it. It wasn't until he had pulled back and dragged his tip to the entrance of your sopping cunt once more that he finally heard you gasping a loud breath as he slowly prodded against the heat.

"Please- Fuck, just- please!'' Your desperate response seemed to please him enough, the sudden build-up of pressure and heat in your body was allowed to be released as his length was quick to plunge into your body, sending the entire table to lurch backwards slightly.

The sounds coming out of your mouth were obscene, not really caring that the two of you were doing such a private thing in a place that anyone could walk into at any moment.

He was not gentle, or tender but you hadn’t expected Phillip fucking Graves to be that. His thrusts came fast and hard as he took his pleasure cause that was what he thrived in. Take and take and take, though you gave gladly, growling out praise in ragged whispers that you couldn't barely grasp.

You grabbed tightly onto his shoulders, screaming out in delight as he fucked you into you in a brutal. You felt your legs tingle and your mind go numb. All you could focus on was the warm feeling in your stomach, the bundle of nerves within you going crazy.

The hot tears continued to pour down your cheeks with each merciless thrust ripping through your body as your teeth pierced the soft skin of your lip, the taste of iron touching your taste buds whilst the wet slaps of his body against yours filled the room, accompanying the pain shooting through your core.

''Crying? Is this too much for you, baby?'' There was sarcastic, mock-disappointment in his tone, the repetitive press into you and the wonderfully satisfying stretch of his cock only deepening the catharsis of the intimacy you were sharing with him.

He grabbed your hips and started pounding you with newfound vigor. You could feel yourself clenching around him. It wouldn't be long before you peaked. You dipped a hand between your legs and started rubbing your clit, willing the moment to come faster. You closed your eyes and sighed, both in pleasure and exasperation.

''Too good- Commander-'' This time, you needed no further prompting and there wasn’t a single hint of brattiness in your tone as you submitted to his request fully, whining for him. Waves of ecstasy pulsed through your body, overwhelming you. Noises you didn't recognize poured out of your lips as your body began to spasm and convulse around him.

''That's my fucking girl.'' His last words came out in a rough growl as he pulled out of you again, before thrusting back in, so hard that you started seeing stars and shriek with pleasure.

The room was filled with your sounds, no longer able to control the moans and whimpers that left you as pounded into you, white dots clouding your vision to your orgasm overwhelming your body hard, shattering as he thrusted and swirled, setting off a wild pulsing in your clit that triggered your insides, and you came all over his cock with a scream followed by a shudder of shaky breath.

Graves kept his ever-the-rougher pace, holding you tighter and tighter, but you felt the slight stutter in his hips that suggested that he was close to his own climax. He started gasping out sentences, heavy statements that surmounted to desperation. ''You're mine, fuck- all mine-''

You could feel yourself growing light-headed in the best way as his embrace restricted your breathing to a further degree, and you gasped sharply as he said your name, the syllables transforming into a vicious growl just as he sank his teeth into your shoulder, deep enough to draw blood and deep enough to make you cry out in pain.

Cleansing, freeing pain, the kind that purged every transgression you knew you’d enacted against him, and him against you.

He followed shortly after as he began to shake subtly, his movements sporadic and wild as he lost control of his body. You surrendered yourself to his control as he pumped aggressively into you, dictating what he needed from your body as he arrived upon completion whilst tightening the grip on your hair almost painfully as he emptied himself inside you.

The weight of his body collapsing against you felt almost comforting in that moment, gasping and absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles into your scalp where he’d just been tugging your hair by the roots.

''So..'' he started, his voice strained and weak. ''Learned your lesson yet?'' Cocky bastard.

You chuckled quietly, and you could feel him smile against your skin.

''Think I might need a few more lessons, Commander.'' Shamelessly, you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up as he lifted his head to take another look at you.

''I might have to thank the fucking Scot after all.''

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cutestarkersworld · 17 days ago

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Peter wants a cat but Tony told him no, they were too busy with super heroing to take care of another living being. Peter was upset but understood, maybe in a couple years they could adopt a senior cat from the shelter. Still, for a little while he walked around with a sag in his shoulders and a frown on his face.

Everytime he'd pass by a stray it was the same thing, him turning to Tony with a hopeful smile and the man only shaking his head and telling Peter that the most they could do is take them to a shelter and donating so they knew the kitten would be taken care for.

Peter would give the man big puppy eyes to try and beg him but it never worked, Tony knew they couldn't handle a cat right now but that didn't mean that Peter's looks were any less effective. Tony had to fight back the urge more often than not, it was too soon.

Maybe a part of Tony was scared to take care of something with Peter, taking care of a being with someone was a commitment. What if everything went to hell? What if something happened and now they had to decided where the cat goes, with him or Peter--not that he ever had a plan on breaking up with the boy. It was just, owning a living being together was a commitment and Tony always had issues with that.

But then he sees the way Peter cooes each time they pass by a pet and the way his eyes soften and well, maybe it wouldn't be too bad right? So when they pass by an old, sad looking cat that sat near an alleyway on their morning walk and Peter looked at him with those eyes, Tony finally said yes. Peter would be so surprised and thrilled. He immediately tell Tony to wait there and watch the cat as he runs to the nearest pet store to buy cat food, water, a crate, and Churu treats so they could bribe the kitty.

Tony would obviously stay put and tries his best to earn the cats trust but it doesn't work, if anything he probably scares the poor thing more by accident. Peter would show up with an armful of bags, ready to set up their house when they get there. They would spend the entire evening sitting on the dirty pavement feeding the cat and gaining it's trust before luring it into the crate with food.

Tony who grows to love the cat more than almost anything in the planet, aside from Peter obviously. He is the definition of the person who doesn't want the pet at first but falls in love with them in a couple of weeks, who buys them everything he thinks the kitty would like.

just starker adopting a stray, senior cat and loving it as if it was their actual child.

#ironspider #starker #mason's writing

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awesomelly · 6 months ago

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There is something I need to get off my chest in the Nimona fandom:

I dislike the depiction of Ballister being a subservient, emotional and fragile man, especially when in comparison to Ambrosius who is often pictured as the manly protector and voice of reason in their relationship - both in pre-canon and post-canon fanfics.

This isn't correct. I have to state it that way.

Let me explain:

The basic principle of a good narrative is to have people/characters act opposite to their nature. That means to put those characters in situations where they are forced to adapt and overcome obstacles, otherwise situations wouldn't be obstacles if it was easy.

And this is true for both Ambrosius and Ballister in the movie as well.

As you can see even in this tiny glimpse of the scene before the knighting ceremony (where everything was still sorted and their lives were still adjusted to their characters), you can see how Ambrosius is the one fuming at Todd's teasing. And Ballister is the one who stops him with a simple gesture and a slight headshake no. In the lair scene and the innocent's wall Ballister even corrects himself for repeating Nimona that Todd needs a good punching, so that scene above must have happened more than once beforehand during their time as squires - Ballister is the one with a straight determination, a cool head and a reasonable attitude while Ambrosius is righteously emotional at the provocation of his boyfriend.

Ambrosius proves his righteous and emotional character trait by forcing Ballister out of his brooding and trying to lighten him up by goofing around. Don't get me wrong, I love this trait of Ambrosius, and it gives us a perfect insight how the relationship works; apparently very well in their different ways of calming their nerves:

Another proof is the way Ballister ascends the steps during the knighting ceremony. He is determined despite his nerves whereas Ambrosius whoo-hooed at the spectators and then at Ballister after he is knighted. Again, a perfect opposite of reason (Ballister) and emotional outlet (Ambrosius):

And then everything goes to shit. This is where the story begins - can begin in the first place, actually.

Ballister's and Ambrosius' controlled lives crumble to dust and they are faced with exact opposites: Ambrosius is forced to take the role as a leader and a cool-minded persecutor of the man that he loves. A starker contrast is nearly impossible. And we can see an exposure of his true nature during the scene in the carriage with the Director, where he loses it in his mind but has to (and succeeds!) in suppressing his true emotions.

He even succeeds while he is facing Ballister but the struggle in his face is visible:

Ballister, on the other hand, loses his focus and goal in life in one single strike (literally). He is badly injured and still manages to hide, take care of his wound, and build himself a functioning prosthetic. He is on edge, worsened by the fact that a kid rampages in his life that has an overflow of emotions and attitudes. Ballister is forced to accept his new role and has to cope with a variety of very difficult and deep emotions. This is hilarious and fun, of course, but why is it that way? Because it is the exact opposite to his nature.

During the movie, depths of his character get exposed that would normally never come to the surface. That does not mean that Ballister isn't per se emotional or sometimes silly but the large mimics and gestures of him during the movie are a sign of his absolute overextension:

Both their characters are developing in this movie. Ambrosius becomes responsible without losing his sunny nature while Ballister breaks old habits of keeping to himself to become more expressive without losing his autonomy and his integrity. He is strong because of his fears and pushing through it with bravery, he is independent because he develops a deep connection to Nimona and ultimately saves her from herself, and he is manly because he shows his emotions with such intensity during the movie.

In summary: You need characters to face difficult situations because that's how character development is possible at all! It's the same thing in real life.

So, please understand that a superficial view on the pairing just does not suffice. Especially considering Ballister. And no, a simple hand placement, the crook of an eyebrow, or a slight difference in height does not depict who is top or bottom in a relationship!

I want you to know that every headcannon and alternation of the original canon is absolutely fine bc everyone deserves to build their own headspace, but please don't project anything ooc on these characters when it is a dysfunctional power play or a degradation of one character.

Thank you for reading! I am open for discussion!

#nimona #ballister x ambrosius #goldenheart #character analysis #narrative #character development

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kimberbohwrites · 7 months ago

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Can I request a drabble where Rolan overheard that gn Tav genuinely thought Rolan still hates them but just learnt to tolerate them? When in reality, he's been in denial about his crush on them for the longest time but accepted it recently 🤣

First of all— I am sorry that this took so long for me to get to. I rarely find time for asks and it took me awhile to get to this one— some of these I just needed more practice for tbh. I am striving to be better, however I am incredibly busy at work so I cannot promise you I always will be. Instead I promise you that I will always try to make your ask worth the wait.

Words Yet Unsaid

Rolan x Reader, SFW, only lightly edited

Word Count: 1214

Tags: Misunderstandings, fluff, and love confessions

Rolan sits down in front of you with a huff. There is a flush about his face that is so… him. The color on his cheeks paints a starker backdrop for the freckles that dot his face. Despite your so-called nerves of steel you cannot help but quickly glance away from the sight as your heart began to race in your chest.

The silence stretches and you look back across to find him nervously studying the wood grain of the table between you.

Sensing your gaze, he straightens up and clears his throat. He smoothes the simple but well-made dark blue tunic he’d worn with the tight leather breeches you could not help but notice as he’d joined you.

The color he’d chosen suited him well. Distracting you almost as much as the way his bottom and thighs had looked, no longer hidden behind the wizard robes. This was the first time you had ever seen him in at the tavern in casual clothes — sharp as these were.

The Elfsong Tavern was usually a good place to identify oneself as a great and powerful archwizard. But instead, he’d chosen to dress up and blend in with you. But why?

You tried not to let the racing of your heart, and the flush of your cheeks hide you from the cold truth that Rolan had never liked you. You were certain that this meeting he had arranged through Lia, was some sort of attempt at arbitration of your longstanding feud for the sake of his siblings.

Truth be told you had never wanted to fight with Rolan. It just happened every time you two had interacted since the very first time you’d crossed paths in the Druid’s Grove. That ire had only grown through the experiences that followed in the Shadow Cursed Lands and even when you’d slain his corrupt master and ended his apprenticeship abruptly.

So much pressure had instantly been thrust upon him, becoming master of the tower and archwizard of Baldur’s Gate so suddenly. Of course he’d be frustrated further by you.

Despite your best attempts to avoid him, your friendship with his siblings had caused you to repeatedly cross paths. It had been months now since the restoration of the city was considered complete, after you had ended the crisis. You’d attempted to returned to a normal life.

It was simple and gratifying, but something was missing.

“Thank you for joining me here this evening, you look lovely”

His tone cut through your thoughts; it sounded warm but a quick glance to his face revealed that warmth didn’t reach past his words. He looked… uncomfortable. Like your presence somehow pained him.

Tears sting in your eyes as you clear your throat and quickly stand.

“This was a bad idea.”

He opens his mouth, and his hand moves across the table like he’s reaching for you. Before he can form a word you continue.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time, I can tell this isn’t something you want to be doing”

You turn quickly to leave before he can say anything and before the tears you feel welling up are too much to hide. Your stride is quick and sure across the familiar boards of the tavern and out on to the streets that raised you.

The cool night air of the city was an immediate balm for the panic that had caused you to flee the tavern. All you needed to do was avoid Rolan for the rest of your life now, great.

You groan as you continued down the dark and empty streets. All of this weighs heavy on you but it becomes unbearable when the low roofs of the houses and shops fall away. As the street spills out into the open area which reveals Sorceress Sundries and the large structure which you knew was the point of travel for Ramazith Tower — the massive and beautiful wizard tower Rolan now called home.

It is as if the weight of the massive structure itself is on you now and you are stopped in your tracks. It’s then you hear your name called and the sound of someone running after you in the dark.

“Tav, wait! Please!”

You turn quickly to see Rolan sprint after you, still somehow looking perfect in his nice clothes despite the struggle of catching up to you. You glower momentarily at the thought that he will apparently always be gorgeous. Typical.

He catches up to you, huffing and puffing as his tail lashes out to steady him while he catches his breath.

“Why would you run after me?” You say with a whisper and you take a step closer to him, unsure if you’re needed to render aid for the struggling man.

“I… I’m sorry… I don’t hate… you… Tav….” He puffs out the words as he catches his breath.

Your blood runs cold at the words. It’s like you can feel the night breeze itself move through you.

“Rolan…”

You don’t know how to continue, and it gives him the opportunity to catch his breath and explain himself further.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have tried something so public to talk, Lia warned me, she didn’t say you’d run but…”

He sensed he was rambling and shook his head as if to clear it and start over. Your breath caught when his jaw tensed, the perfect bone structure always so eye catching, so hard to resist.

“I needed to tell you Tav, I don’t hate you. I… I overhead you talking to Cal and Lia about why you keep your distance when they invite you for dinner. I.. I should have apologized better — after all we had gone through—“

“We should have found time to talk…” You add

He takes a step closer to you, as if drawn to you and this time you don’t run.

“Why… Why would you run after me Rolan?” You ask

“Tav…”

“Why do you even care now?”

You can’t help it. The tears that had threatened you earlier, now spill down your cheeks as you pepper Rolan with questions.

He closes the distance to you quickly, his hands on your cheeks. You barely register the softness of the pads of his thumbs as they brush the tears away from your cheeks before you are swept away by the feeling of his lips, crashing into yours.

Your breath catches in your throat. You can’t help but moan into the kiss as his body presses firmly to yours.

He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead to yours and you feel his tail coil around your thigh. Keeping you flush with him as he speaks.

“Because, Tav… I love you. I think I have always…” He gasped as if the realization fully dawned on him as he spoke, “I think I have always loved you.”

You kiss him now, no words on your tongue could be sweeter than to feel his lips against yours once more.

There would be time for words but for right now you wanted to keep kissing the wizard and so you do.

Under the open skies and the stars that shine each night over the city of Baldur’s Gate, wrapped in the strong arms of the man you loved, you kissed him with all the passion of the words in your heart yet unsaid.

#holy rolan empire #rolan nation #rolan brainrot #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #rolan x tav #rolanites #rolan fanfic #rolan x reader #rolan x you #rolan romance #tav x rolan #baldurs gate rolan #rolan empire #rolan fanfiction

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charliedaltonswife · 4 months ago

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henry winter taking a liking to a woman of math and science- his opposite, his muse

Polar Opposites

Henry Winter x reader (The Secret History)

Summary: Two opposites find themselves drawn together by a shared appreciation for the beauty in the things they don't fully understand; one with a mind for the stars, the other for the stories between them.

Warnings: um so a bunch of googled astrophysics stuff that I know nothing about, so science people don't get triggered im a humanities girl

master list found here

The rain pattered softly against the tall windows of the library, creating a rhythmic, lulling cadence that echoed through the cavernous space. The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment and dust, a solemn hush settled over the rows of shelves like a benediction. It was in this sanctuary of words and thoughts that Henry Winter first found himself inexplicably drawn to you.

You were seated at your usual spot, the far corner table near the window, surrounded by a fortress of thick textbooks and notepads filled with equations and sketches. The contrast between the two of you could not have been starker. While he delved into the ethereal realms of ancient languages and esoteric philosophies, you navigated the rigid, empirical world of mathematics and science with a kind of methodical grace that fascinated him.

He had always been attuned to detail, to the subtle shifts in a person’s demeanor or the quiet undercurrents of a conversation. But with you, it was different. It wasn’t just the precision with which you worked or the quiet determination in your eyes; it was the way you seemed to embody a different kind of logic, one that challenged the fluidity of his world.

“Lost in thought, as always,” his voice broke through her studies, soft yet tinged with amusement. You didn’t look up from your notes, your pen moving in swift, elegant arcs across the page.

You blinked, momentarily disoriented before a small, rare smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. “It would seem so.”

You glanced up then, your gaze meeting his with a mix of curiosity and warmth. “And what brings you to this side of the library? I thought the sciences were beneath your notice.”

“Hardly,” he replied, taking a seat across from you, his hands folding neatly on the table. “I find them quite interesting in their own way. Particularly when explained by someone who understands them as you do.”

You laughed softly, a sound that sent a curious warmth through him. “Flattery, from you? I must be imagining things.”

“It’s not flattery,” Henry said, his tone earnest. “It's an observation.”

“Besides,” he continued, making himself comfortable in the stiff library chair, “I have a particular fondness for this part of the library, so I’d rather work here.”

“Oh? Not because I’m here?” You teased, going back to your studies, not expecting him to reply with, “Perhaps.”

The two of you fell into an easy silence, the rain continuing its gentle percussion against the glass. He watched as you returned to your work, your brow furrowing in concentration, a stray strand of hair falling into your face. There was a quiet beauty in your focus, a kind of purity in the way you engaged with the world through numbers and formulas.

For a long time, he simply watched, the pages of his own book remaining untouched. There was something about your presence, the way you seemed to ground him in reality that made him keep coming back.

There was an inherent magnetism in your differences, a polarity that defied the natural order of things. Henry, with his quiet intellect and penchant for the arcane, seemed a universe apart from the world you inhabited; a world of numbers, formulas, and empirical certainties. Where he sought meaning in ancient texts and philosophical discourse, you found solace in the unyielding truths of the cosmos, in the elegance of a well-constructed theorem. Yet, it was precisely this divergence that pulled you toward one another, like celestial bodies caught in an invisible orbit, bound by a gravity neither could fully comprehend.

The others had noticed, of course. Charles and Camilla, with their shared glances, their questions. Bunny’s offhand remarks, tinged with a disbelief he didn’t bother to mask. Even Richard, always the observer, had raised a quiet eyebrow, though he never voiced his thoughts outright. You weren’t in the Greek class, not even in the same department, your academic pursuits couldn’t have been more removed from theirs. But Henry had brushed it off, his usual cool detachment shielding him from their skepticism. Your friends, too, had their reservations, puzzled by your fascination with someone that was such a mystery to the rest of the college.

“You know they worship the devil, that Greek group that your new boyfriend’s in,” Angie had voiced her opinion after one late night.

“They don’t worship the devil Ang,” then you turned to her, “And, he’s not my boyfriend.”

She quirked an eyebrow, amused, “No, but you want him to be.”

“I think it’s time for you to go now Ang, I’ve started the new unit on astrophysics and I haven’t done the work that’s due tomorrow.” I had stated.

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm, golden glow across the small study room. The storm outside raged on, rain lashing against the windows, the wind howling through the trees. Inside, though, the world was calm, a hug of light wrapped around the two of you as you settled in for the evening.

You were seated on the couch, a thick blanket draped over your legs, a mug of tea cradled in your hands. A textbook on astrophysics lay open on your lap, the pages filled with diagrams of star formations and dense equations describing celestial mechanics. It was a world of precision and discovery, one you navigated with ease, finding beauty in the intricate dance of the cosmos.

Henry sat at the opposite end of the couch, a book of poetry in his hands, though his attention kept drifting toward you. The quiet companionship between you had become a comforting ritual, each of you immersed in your own thoughts yet attuned to the presence of the other.

“I don’t understand how you can read in this light,” you murmured, breaking the comfortable silence.

Henry glanced up, a small smile playing on his lips. “It’s more atmospheric, don’t you think?”

You rolled your eyes, though there was no real annoyance in your expression. “Atmospheric or not, you’re going to strain your eyes.”

He set the book aside, leaning back into the cushions. “Then perhaps you could read to me instead?”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the request. “Me? Read to you?”

“Why not?” he replied, his gaze soft and inviting. “I’m curious about your world.”

There was a moment’s hesitation before you glanced down at your textbook, considering. “All right, but I warn you, it’s not exactly light reading. It’s got no plot and it’s not written by any of your ‘greats.’”

“I’m sure I can keep up,” Henry said, settling in with an expression of quiet anticipation.

You shifted slightly, clearing your throat as you began to read from a section on stellar evolution. “The formation of a protostar begins when a molecular cloud, composed primarily of hydrogen and helium, undergoes gravitational collapse, often catalyzed by perturbations such as supernova shock waves or nearby stellar winds. As the core density increases, the temperature escalates, initiating the process of hydrostatic equilibrium ....”

Henry watched you, his eyes soft with interest as your voice filled the room. The intricate language and dense content didn't seem to deter him; instead, he seemed drawn in, as though the complexity itself was part of the allure.

You continued, your voice steady and rhythmic. “Post-main sequence, the star’s evolution diverges based on its mass. Low to intermediate-mass stars evolve into red giants, eventually shedding their outer layers as planetary nebulae, leaving behind a degenerate core; a white dwarf.”

You glanced up, your gaze meeting Henry’s. “Still with me?”

“More than,” he said, his voice low, contemplative. “It’s strange how something so vast can follow such precise rules.”

You nodded, the edges of your mouth curving up slightly. “It’s comforting to me, strangely. The equations, the Lane-Emden equation, for example, they might look complicated, but they map out a star’s life with such clarity. It’s like seeing the future laid bare.”

Henry tilted his head, his gaze steady. “You make it sound... graceful.”

“It is,” you said, softly. “But it’s different from what you know.”

He smiled, a flicker of warmth in his usually reserved expression. “It’s funny. You talk about stars and equations, and all I can think about is how much I’d like to understand it the way you do.”

You closed the book, the quiet of the room wrapping around you like a blanket. “Our worlds see things differently, I suppose, but it balances out.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, his tone soft, introspective. “I think I like the idea of seeing the world through your eyes.”

The silence stretched, not awkward, but filled with the slow crackle of the fire and the rhythm of rain against the windows. Almost instinctively, you leaned into him, your head finding its place on his shoulder. His arm shifted, wrapping around you in a gesture so natural it felt inevitable.

“Is this all right?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“It’s perfect,” he murmured, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your arm. “I think I’ve been waiting for this.”

You let out a soft laugh, warm and quiet. “I didn’t know you were the sentimental type.”

“Only with you,” he admitted, a smile in his voice.

And as the fire waned, the room settling into a comfortable dimness, you felt a peace that wasn’t loud or overwhelming, but steady and sure. In that quiet moment, tangled together, the world outside seemed distant, and all that mattered was the warmth you found in each other’s company.

Bitch i have no clue if this is shit or not, i'm still undecided anyway thx for the request bby xx

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rainghosted · 8 days ago

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Just some physical touch with Starker

Peter never really noticed how much he craved touch until Tony came into his life, not as Iron Man, not as the genius-billionaire Avenger, but as the man who reached for his hand first without hesitation.

It started small, fingers brushing in the lab as they handed each other tools. The way Tony would gently knock his shoulder into Peter’s when he made him laugh. Casual, effortless, simple. But over time, it grew.

In Public

Tony Stark was a man who didn’t shy away from attention, but when it came to Peter, his touches were softer, more grounded.

They’d be walking through the Tower or a crowded gala, and Tony’s fingers would instinctively find Peter’s.

Sometimes, Tony would rest a possessive hand on Peter’s lower back while guiding him through reporters or agents. Other times, when Peter looked a little tired or anxious, Tony would slip an arm around his waist, keeping him close, steadying his steps without saying a word.

Once, at a fundraiser, Peter had been overwhelmed by the press attention and flashing lights. Tony had leaned over, whispered, “Deep breath, babyboy,” and slid his hand into Peter’s, squeezing just enough to ground him. Peter held on like it was a lifeline.

In Private

That’s where the touches bloomed into something richer.

Peter loved how Tony’s hands always found him, whether it was a lazy Saturday or a post-mission wind-down. Tony would come up behind him at the kitchen counter, arms snaking around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder.

“You’re warm,” Tony would mumble, and Peter would lean back into him with a soft smile.

At night, Peter fell asleep best with his head on Tony’s chest, the gentle beat of his arc reactor humming beneath his cheek. Tony’s hand would play in his curls, sometimes trailing up and down his back.

On couch nights, Peter often found himself stretched out with his legs tangled in Tony’s, his back against Tony’s chest. They’d watch movies, half-paying attention, more focused on each other’s touch than the plot.

And Tony?

He always touched with purpose. A hand over Peter’s as they worked in the lab. A soft brush of knuckles against his jaw after an argument. Fingertips dancing along Peter’s thigh when they sat too close during team meetings.

Peter would blush. Tony would smirk. And neither would move away.

After a Bad Mission

Peter had come back with bruises. Nothing serious, but enough to have Tony pacing.

When Peter finally returned to the Tower, sore and exhausted, Tony didn’t speak. He just pulled him close, arms tight around his shoulders. Hand buried in Peter’s hair. Foreheads pressed together.

They didn’t need words. Peter’s slight tremble and Tony’s steady grip said everything.

“You always hold me like I’m going to break,” Peter murmured.

“No,” Tony whispered back. “I hold you like you’re the only thing I can’t afford to lose.”

And When the World Went Quiet.

It was late. Rain tapped at the windows, the city muffled in a dreamy hush. Peter stood at the glass, watching the skyline in Tony’s oversized hoodie, hair messy from sleep.

Tony came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist, burying his nose in his neck. They swayed gently, no music needed.

“I missed you today,” Peter whispered.

Tony held him tighter. “I missed you every minute.”

From hand-holding in public to chest-to-back hugs in the privacy of their room, Tony and Peter didn’t need grand gestures to prove anything.

And the way their hands always found their way back, whether lost in a crowd or lying in silence—said more than words ever could.

They had each other.

#starker #tony stark x peter parker #ironspider #peter parker #tony stark #starker prompt

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secfics · 6 months ago

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my favourite starker fics, part 2

hi. for my second reclist in this blog, i put together more starker fanfics that i’ve been discovering lately and have made their way into my personal list of favourites that i re-read again and again. in no particular order and with some cw/dark themes here and there, here they come:

• pete’s eats; by bloodgutsandstarbucks (ao3) aka @darker-soft-starker, Teen and Up, 9’3k, oneshot

Peter having a YouTube channel where he just drinks wine and teaches people how to cook things if they live in a mediocre apartment. While cooking and drinking he just talks about stuff like memes and school and, most importantly, his undying thirst for Tony Stark.

• naturally; by ursafootprints (ao3) aka @ursafootprints, E, 16’3k, 3/3 chapters

"Mr. Stark," Peter whispered for the third time, his voice now airless where it had previously been rough from sleep. "Are you okay?"

Mr. Stark's thumb was slowly tracing back and forth over Peter's temple, but it stopped its trek as he finally took a deep breath, the first sign that he was really hearing what Peter was asking.

Voice rough with something other than sleep, Mr. Stark said, "No," and leaned in to kiss him.

Or: Unbeknownst to Peter, Tony gets dosed with sex pollen (sex serum?) on a mission, so he's nothing but thrilled when all his wet dreams about Mr. Stark suddenly start coming true-- until the morning after.

this app won’t let me add links to all of the titles for no reason so i’ll add extra links after the summary of the ones i wasn’t able to, here is the link:

• you’re not yet done; by ursafootprints (ao3) aka @ursafootprints, E, 166’7k, 14/14 chapters - cw: rape, bad guys made them do it

Tony didn't know what it would do to either of them, to play this out like a shadow cast by the real thing, real love and sex and intimacy. But it was what Peter was asking him for, so he did it.

In the aftermath of a traumatic abduction by a villain, Tony and Peter have to cope with their not-entirely-in-sync coping mechanisms, concerned family and friends, figuring out who exactly really arranged the whole thing, and their evolving feelings for each other.

link:

• the leash; by downjune, M, 30’2k, 2/2 chapters

Peter didn’t know if they talked to anyone else who carried them, but when he had the Infinity Gauntlet tucked under his arm, he could swear the stones were trying to…commune with him. They wanted something from him. Wanted to be used. He wanted to be rid of them.

Until he found Tony Stark leaned against some torn up tree roots and rock. He found Tony dying.

At that point, Peter was ready to bargain.

• velvet elvis; by orphan_account, M, 45’7k, 7/7 chapters

Peter just wants Tony to feel comfortable in Peter's new home. That's it. He totally has no ulterior motives whatsoever. Nope.

link:

• practical results; by anonymous aka ‘is this thing (an)on?’ tag, M, 81’4k, 12/12 chapters - cw: dubious consent/bad guys made them do it

This isn’t his bedroom - not the one at the compound, or the suite in Milan. Definitely not the penthouse in New York. In all honesty, it looks like the inside of the fucking Spaceship Earth ride at Epcot.

“Kid,” he tries again, more urgently now, “where the hell are we?”

“Uhh, the guy said we’re someplace called Sakaar.”

“The guy? What guy?”

Let's say that after the uprising on Sakaar, the Grandmaster manages to cling to power by offering people an even better form of entertainment than the Contest of Champions: Porn. He offers them porn.

• rebuild; by tuesday (ao3) aka @everysecondtuesday, Teen and Up, 14’7k, oneshot

Tony lives, falls in love despite himself, and spends entirely too much time in California.

• in the hands of gods; by therogueheart (ao3) aka @therogueheart, E, 20’2k, oneshot

Peter has known nothing but the God Stark his entire life. The blessings he gives; and the cruelty he can deal. When Peter comes of age he must begin the next phase of his worship to the God - Sexuality.

But Peter has never been good at following rules, and he does the one thing that no man is permitted to do.

He touches.

link:

• expiration date; by learnedfoot (ao3) aka @learned-foot, E, 12k, oneshot

Tony knows exactly what this is. First big breakup, go for a fling with a completely inappropriate person. It’s basically a cliché. He kind of thought Peter was better than that, but apparently being brilliant and one of the bravest people on the face of the planet doesn’t mean he’s immune from being a stupid college student who makes stupid college student mistakes.

AKA Tony is sure this is just a fling, and he deals with that about as well as you’d expect.

link:

• the last five years; by orphan_account, M, 71’1k, 9/9 chapters

Tony Stark has spent the last six months trying to find a way to bring back those lost in The Snap, but when he succeeds and Peter Parker and the rest of the lost Avengers return he discovers that it has been a little bit longer for them.

• prototype protocol; by roamingsignals (ao3) aka @spider-mancan, E, 82’8k, 8/8 chapters

Tony Stark isn't good, despite years of trying. When the multiverse dumps a younger Tony into their laps, Tony is split between solving the problem and protecting Peter's virtue.

“Don’t worry about it, Mr. Stark.” Peter’s eyes are wide and unassuming and Tony is a bad man. “I’ve been handling you for years. I can handle him just fine.”

“I’m sure you can,” Tony's throat is really dry, for some reason. “I trust you.”

He just doesn’t trust himself. He doesn’t trust himself at all.

link:

• the friendly neighborhood; by postelectric, M, 22’9k, oneshot

“Mr. Stark?”

Before Tony looks, he hopes to every god whose hand he’s shaken that he’ll meet an uncanny Parkeresque-but-definitely-not-the-real-Peter Parker doppelganger who just happens to know who he is. That’s what he tells himself, anyway. It’s not impossible. Tony saved the universe. Most people know him, even with the giant face scar. Maybe because of the giant face scar.

It’s the real Peter Parker. He’s barely taller than he was at sixteen and he has pretty much the same amount of hair, but he’s got more in the shoulders and jawline these days. “Mr. Parker. You grew up.”

“Yeah,” Peter says. “That, uh, that happens sometimes, if you’re lucky.”

“You got lucky.”

(or, in which the friendly neighborhood spider-man from queens doesn't become an avenger and doesn't turn to dust. or, in which tony stark restores the universe for pepper potts and then lives to tell about it, which is not according to plan.)

link:

• permission; by cagestark (ao3) aka @cagestark, E, 15’8k, 5/5 chapters

During drinks with the Avengers, Peter admits that he enjoys orgasms more when someone is giving him permission, though since he's single, there isn't anyone in his life to offer it.

Generous Tony offers to offer it.

link:

hope you like them as much as i did!

#starker reclist #check the tags #starker #starker fic #starker fic rec #starker fic recs #favourite starker fanfics #starker fanfic

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schrodingers-romy · 7 months ago

Text

Diner Vignette [Usagiyama Rumi x Reader]

Pairing: Usagiyama Rumi x GN!Reader Word Count: ~800 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: A soft little moment at a late-night diner

Warnings: none afaik, some kissing i guess, just some sweet vibes

Notes: i've wanted to write some fluff with my wife for a long time! (also the comment i make about soft teeth grinding being a sign of contentedness from rabbits is true! however, loud or very insistent grinding can be a sign of pain or distress, so if you're unsure which your rabbit is doing please record a video and show it to a vet to be safe <3)

The city lights filtering through the raindrop-slick window reminded you of an abstract painting, all rounded smears and bubbles of color. The soft, dreamlike quality of the view only cast the sight of your girlfriend sitting across from you in even starker relief. Your sleep-heavy gaze brightened as you focused on her.

Rumi was still in her hero costume, fresh off patrol when she met you at your favorite diner. She was a little late, because she ran into some trouble that day; evidence of which was present on her face in the form of small butterfly stitches running across her split eyebrow. When she had bounded into the restaurant, twenty minutes late and damp with the night’s first traces of rain, you had taken care to press a gentle kiss to the wound. Even though you knew she was impossibly strong, you still felt the constant itch to comfort and care for her every miniscule injury. (She had laughed when you doted over her after she simply stubbed a toe, but she didn’t push you away. She didn’t need your care, yet she basked in it all the same.)

Her tardiness worked in her favor somewhat, anyways. By the time she slid onto the bench across from you, there was already a fresh plate of waffles sitting on the table, ready for her to devour. Your own food was sitting in front of you, untouched, until Rumi arrived. (When you told her you were waiting, she let out a small huff and then insisted on feeding you the first forkful, as a sort of wordless apology, though you hardly were starving in the time she was absent.)

Now, she was happily plowing through her food, blueberry syrup smeared across her lips in a sticky purple gloss. Rumi tried hard to swallow before she spoke, a rare instance of politeness, but sometimes she forgot in her haste to tell you about her day. (You were a little disgusted with yourself that you found her garbled speech endearing.) You listened intently, chin in your hands and elbows propped up on the table, your own empty plate pushed to the side. You had already offered up your own meagre tales from the day, but you were tired, and the prospect of listening to your girlfriend was infinitely more appealing than talking yourself.

After the last forkful of waffles disappeared into her mouth, Rumi made to wipe her face with a napkin. You reached out a hand to stop her.

“C’mere,” you said, voice a little slower and softer than normal. Rather than leaning across the table, she got up and joined you on your bench, sliding close enough that your thighs were pressed warmly together. She was uncharacteristically quiet, and her ruby eyes watched you curiously.

You didn’t give her a verbal reply, instead closing the distance between you two and pressing your lips together.

Rumi’s lips were tacky with sugary berries, and she tasted like them, too. As you melted into her, you thought that the kiss would have been sweet without them, anyways.

It wasn’t an efficient way of cleaning her face; in fact, you really just made more of a mess. But she giggled at your antics, when you broke apart, and snatched her napkin to gently wipe your own face clean. So, it was more than worth it.

“Did you miss me today, sugar?” Rumi purred, teasing.

You tsked. “You’re more of a ‘sugar’, with your sweet tooth,” you replied.

“Ah, you see, that is precisely the reason why I picked you. Because you’re so sweet.”

“Says the sweet talker. You sure you’re not tasting your own honey, bunny?”

You both blinked at each other for a moment, before bursting into simultaneous laughter.

“That was all so cheesy,” you wheezed.

She was no better, cackling so loudly it echoed in the bare diner. “We’re both so tired, aren’t we? Our minds have gone loopy!”

The both of you continued to break out into scattered giggling fits, leaning on each other for support as you steadied your breaths and rode out the waves of amusement. Eventually, the true tiredness won, and Rumi’s head began to rest more heavily on your shoulder.

You reached one arm around so you could run your fingers through her hair, as her carmine eyes fluttered shut. A soft teeth-grinding noise drifted from her, something she once told you was a rabbit’s way of showing contentedness. You smiled at it, shifting so you could press your mouth to the crown of her head, a subtle kiss.

You knew that soon, you would have to dart your way through the still pouring rain, back to your apartment. You would have to peel off soaking clothes, then take a warm shower together that you would both be too tired to make heated, before you could finally stumble to bed.

You didn’t dwell on any of that, however; you savored the moment, holding your love close to you as the dreamlike patterns of lights outside flickered across the rain-frosted glass.

#usagiyama rumi x reader #bnha x reader #rumi usagiyama x reader #mirko x reader #miruko x reader #mha x reader #mirko fluff #usagiyama rumi fluff #usagiyama rumi #rumi usagiyama #bnha #gender neutral reader #reader insert #romy can write

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