jarvisisbetterthansiri

[jarvisisbetterthansiri]

Daddy

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Word Count:  1764 Description: You sarcastically call Steve daddy when he treats you like a kid….but you weren’t expecting him to like it. Warnings: *NSFW* smut, alcohol, swearing, unprotected sex, overstim...I guess

A/N: Uhhhh, this started off good but I’m not sure about the end, anyway, enjoy

---

You suppose you should’ve listened to Nat when she told you to slow it with the drinking...because one minute you’re downing a bottle of Jack Daniels at one of Tony’s parties, and the next you’re being forcibly ‘escorted’ to your bedroom by a super soldier.

“Steve, seriously, I’m not even that drunk!” 

Blue eyes roll at your statement, dismissing you with only a look, and admittedly you might be more than a little tipsy. His fingers easily wrap all the way around your bicep to help you along, and you’re reminded again of just how big he really is.

Did the super serum enhance everything? 

The thought has you laughing at yourself, and yes, you must look terribly ridiculous right now; stumbling along the corridor, expensive dress stained with heavily scented alcohol, heels discarded somewhere in the complex, makeup that had been meticulously applied all smudged, giggling like a schoolgirl.

One wrong step and you’re swaying to the left, inches away from crashing into the door of your room. Of course, Steve easily pulls you into his chest, muttering under his breath.

Something about ‘kids nowadays’ has your head snapping up to face him, “You’re such a killjoy.”

“Am I, doll?” he muses, gesturing to the pad on the wall, which you reluctantly press your finger to, nearly falling, again, when the door opens. He catches you, again and sighs, “Bed.”

“You’re sending me to bed?” you mean to laugh but it comes out slurred, “Oh, come on Steve.”

He remains, unmoving, sight trained on the bed, brows slightly raised.

You pout, puffing out your chest in exaggerated annoyance, “You can’t send me to bed. You’re not my daddy.”

Now, you can’t decide if it’s just the bottle of whiskey in your system, but you could swear you heard a sharp inhale of breath. 

Steve’s adam’s apple bobs up and down, and he attempts to keep his voice steady, “Just get in the bed, darlin.”

“Or what?” 

His eyes widen, and he has to push away any impulse that arises when he takes in the sight of your dress riding up slightly too high, but he was raised better than that. You’re wasted- the way your eyes fluttered showed that much, and while he couldn’t get drunk off normal alcohol, he’d had his fair share of that Asguardian liquor Thor brought him. 

No, Steve was a respectful man, so he softly reminds you, “You’re drunk.”

You ignore the logical part of your brain telling you to not to say something you’ll regret, “What if I don’t get into bed? You gonna punish me?”

“Y/N,” he warns, voice all gruff and low, in Captain mode. 

You concede, turning to face away from him, huffing, “Fine, can you unzip my dress, please?”

Steve hesitates for a second, then you feel his fingers gently pushing the hair from your neck. You allow yourself to involuntarily lean into him, clinging to the musky scent of his aftershave. You tense, struggling to suppress a shudder at the contact, it’s intoxicating. The fabric on your body loosens, and suddenly the warmth behind you is gone.

Against your better judgement, you spin around, letting your dress puddle at your feet, feeling your nipples harden when they’re exposed. The look on Steve’s face sends a wave of arousal through you, and you mock innocence, crawling into your bed, making sure to wiggle your ass with every movement.

“Gonna tuck me in, daddy?”

The word receives the same reaction as before, and Steve clenches his fists, shifting his weight, “Don’t.”

“Why?” you push him further, cheeks pink and smile lopsided, “Will you spank me?”

Steve lets out a shaky breath, trying to ground himself. Though that’s pretty hard to do when you’re laid out all pretty for him, and fuck how he wants to bite those nipples until you scream. Instead he stops, “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Why don’t you show me?”

“Seriously? You’re drunk, doll, I’m not gonna...” he trails off and moves closer to the bed, actions not quite matching his words.

You feel his gaze go through you, heating you up, and without realising it your hand has made its way to the waistband of your panties, just tracing the little pink bow. Wanting to tease Steve has quickly turned into a sudden want, and your mind is too hazy to comprehend how irrational your actions might be, or if you even care at this point. It doesn’t feel real, like you’re dreaming, and you let a finger trail lower, whimpering at the sensation.

“Behave,” Steve rasps, knuckles turning white from the tension in his fists. He glances to the door - he could leave, but...he doesn’t want to. He wants to fuck you into that mattress. And clearly you want it too.

Throwing your head back, you frantically rub harder at your clit, “You can go if you want. ‘M just gonna get off all by myself.”

“Fuck,” and it's like something in the room has changed. Captain America never curses. But this is Steve, just Steve. And he doesn’t care that he was your superior, or that you’re both intoxicated. He just wants to watch your pretty little face while you pump a finger steadily in and out of your core, panties now discarded.

Even in your state, you realise the shift, and in childish triumph you wiggle your glistening fingers at Steve, “Gonna join me?”

“Oh honey, you really shouldn’t go back on your word,” he chuckles harshly, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Go ahead, get yourself off. I’m gonna watch.”

“But…” your protest dies in the air, and with a whine, you drag your digits back down your pussy in a ‘V’ motion, spreading your wet folds apart. You circle your nub roughly, then plunge two fingers inside your warmth, shameless moans leaving your mouth.

The sound is needy and desperate. Steve takes in the sight greedily, breath quickening when he hears you hiss adding a third finger. You’re so tight, how would you even take him?

He shakes his head, “You’re gonna need to be able to fit more than that if you want me to be able to fuck you, doll.”

A spike of arousal washes through you at those words, and fuck, you couldn’t wait to see his cock. To feel it inside of you. All you can do is moan, gathering wetness to a fourth finger and slowly pushing it in. The stretch is delicious and it makes your back arch, “Oh god, Steve.”

Then his fingers press into your chin, forcing you to meet his stare, pupil so blown out there’s barely a trace of the blue you’re used to. He shakes his head slightly, tracing the edge of your jaw, and it takes a few seconds for you to understand what he’s waiting for.

“D-daddy,” you choke out as you cum, hard, spasming around your hand. Your head is spinning, or maybe it’s the world that is. All you know is Steve’s hand is wrapping around your wrist, hard enough to leave bruises, and forcing your movements to speed back up again. Fucking you with your own fingers. Hot breath tickles your ear, probably the hottest thing you’ve felt in your life, and you snake a hand into the blonde’s hair and tug, “Daddy please.”

“Oh, so now you wanna use your manners?” Steve coos, still ramming your fingers in and out, ignoring how painfully hard he is. Your hips lift up and he rubs against your clit, cruelly tearing another orgasm out of you. 

“Steve,” you plead, almost painfully sensitive, clinging to his arm.

A sharp sting against the inside of your thigh has you jolting, correcting yourself, “I - daddy, please.”

He stops only then, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body when he positions you beneath his body, face all mocking, “So desperate for it, aren’t you doll? Don’t worry, daddy’s gonna give it to you.”

Steve grinds his hand against his bulge roughly, then tugs down whatever overpriced jeans he’d been wearing at the party, pulling out his cock. His tight shirt is raised just enough above his belly button to give you a glance at the thick muscle underneath. The light trail of hair directs your eyes to his length, in all its girth and glory.

So, you guess the super serum did enhance everything.

He suppresses a grin at your face, letting his cock brush against your thighs as a reminder of how big he is, “Gonna be a good girl and take daddy’s cock?”

“I...I didn’t know it’d be this big,” you swallow thickly, face hot with...fear? Desire? Probably both.

A gasp betrays you when he thrusts his cock against your core, coating it with your wetness, “Thought you could handle it? Hmm?”

There’s a slight burn as he pushes into you, but it’s quickly replaced with pleasure when his thumb finds your clit again, “Oh fuck.”

“Language,” he teases, biting his lip when you clench around his cock.

One thrust turns into two, then three. And before long he’s steadily pumping into you, piercing you with those intense blue eyes, searching for any signal he needs to speed up or slow down.

You let yourself get lost in the moment, being loud enough to make Steve press his lips to yours to swallow your moans. Whiskey and cherry mix in your mouth. It’s a sweet kiss, you think, or it would be if he wasn’t pounding into you like you were a bitch on heat.

He pulls away momentarily, “Take it like a good girl,” only to latch onto your neck, suckling and biting the flesh until you’re sure there’ll be marks tomorrow. Not that you care.

All you care about right now is the obscene amounts of pleasure that are coursing through your body. A final orgasm of the night builds, and Steve speeds his thrusts, thumb flicking lazily over your clit.

“Say my name, doll.”

“Ste-daddy, oh, fuck!” Your thighs clamp around his hips.

He rides you through your ecstasy, smiling softly when you reach up a shaky hand to try and pull his mouth back to your own, “You know, you look real pretty like this.”

There’s something strange about the compliment, but you match his smile, latching to his lips when he leans over your body. His hips falter, and he pulls out. You feel warmth on your thigh.

Then you’re taken by drunken sleep before you can contemplate or regret your actions of the night.

[jarvisisbetterthansiri]

Only Human - Aftermath

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader + some Tony Stark x Pepper Potts Word count: 1520 Description: Reader and Tony deal with the aftermath of sleeping together when he was engaged to Pepper. How will they deal with the guilt, and more importantly, the feelings for eachother? Warnings: *SFW* Angst, super angst, a lil bit of fluff, soft!reader + conflicted!Tony 

A/N: This is a sequel to Only Human (which is a smutty sex pollen fic, click here) but it can be read alone if you just want some good ole angst

---

The room is silent apart from the sounds of heavy breathing slowing to normal. 

Tony lets an arm drape over your body, an action that should be comforting, but then you feel it.

Warm metal on your skin. A ring, his ring, his engagement ring. The guilt comes then, and he feels you freeze, tears falling onto his chest.

What have you done?

---

Tony watched you stiffen, before scurrying away from him as if his touch burned you. 

He sits up slowly, scratching at his beard, guilt settling in his chest. Shrugging it off, he weighs his options. He could pretend it never happened - but he couldn’t do that to Pep, one look at her face and he knew he’s crack. He held too much respect for her. 

And then there’s you; the girl who managed to still get his coffee order wrong, the girl who would cover her face when she giggled at his ‘dad jokes’, the girl who looked into his eyes with the same adoration Pepper once had. 

The girl who had scurried away from the room with her blouse buttoned up all wrong, hair a tangled mess, mascara smudged below her eyes, clearly holding back tears. 

Tears because of him. --- Everything you ever wanted had happened. But...you didn’t want it like this. Yes, you had a crush on your boss. Yes, you daydreamed about what it would be like to be with him, just once.

But that was just a daydream. And the reality wasn’t something you were ever expecting to feel. You react the scene in your mind over and over, feeling the ache in your chest dig deeper each time. Then you feel the metal on your skin and it’s all you can do not to scream.

Homewrecker. That’s what you are. 

You wish you could just go back in time and do things differently. But you couldn’t, there was no way to make this better. An image of Miss Potts teaching you how to use the software on your computer flashes in your mind.

God, she was such a nice woman. And what had you done? Slept with her fiance.

You scrub your skin in the shower until it’s raw and painful. But you can still smell him, taste him. And you still want him.

---

Telling Pepper had gone as well as expected. Which was, understandably, not very well at all.

As soon as the words had left his mouth, she looked into his eyes, as if looking for a sign he was joking. And while Tony knew she wasn’t one to throw things or scream, he almost thought that would be better. Anything would be better than this.

One second passes. Two seconds. Three seconds. He feels her stare eat away at him, burning through his chest. Those glassy blue eyes hitting him like a sledgehammer.

“Are you even listening to me?” 

“I’m listening, Tony,” there’s a hint of vulnerability to her voice that he’s not used to, and it hurts more than he thought it would. “What do you want me to say?” He grimaces, “Anything.”

Then he moves closer to the woman he loves, sighing when she rejects his touch, “Say anything. Do anything. Just don’t take it out on-”

“Don’t say her name,” Pepper cuts him off, suddenly back to being cold, her guard up, no trace at all that she had been close to tears only moments ago. “Don’t you dare Tony.” 

Her face is harsh, and Tony can see the fine lines settling around her eyes. She was blaming you for this. 

Of course, it was blatantly obvious you’d developed a slight crush, but you were no seductress. If anything, he initiated it.

No. This wasn’t on you, it was on him - Tony folds his arms, “I mean it Pepper.”

“I have a right to be angry,” her voice is softer than his.

“At me,” he starts, desperately grabbing at her arms, urging her to look at him, “Not at her, she didn’t-”

“She slept with my fiance!”

“You know for a fucking fact it’s not like that!” Tony reacts before he can think, and regrets his tone instantly. 

The dam breaks and tears are now flowing hastily down Pepper’s cheeks, freckled face turning an ugly red. Tony wants to brush away the tears, whisper an apology, but she takes a shaky breath and steps away from his grip, “I can’t do this. You’re shouting at me, like it’s my fault you cheated.”

“Pep I’m sorry,” the pet name feels like barbed wire on his tongue, “I’m sorry. I just - I don’t know how we fix this.”

“Fire her.”

He shakes his head, “Pepper-”

“Move her to another office, Tony. And we can try to move past-”

“Please don’t do this,” now he’s the one pleading, searching in her eyes only to find hatred staring back at him.

But that’s all that she needs to hear, and all of the emotions catch up to her at once. Anger. Betrayal. A hint of jealousy. But more than anything, hurt. “You’re doing this, not me.”

Then without so much of a goodbye, Tony finds himself outside of his own home, with one expensive, shiny ring closed in his palm. And then he’s gone, walking away from the home he built with the woman he thought he’d spend the rest of his life with. 

---

Tony watches you through the glass door of his office; shoulders hunched, head hung low as you type at your desk. You’d handed in your resignation earlier in the day, before he arrived. There’s an atmosphere thick enough to choke on when you knock gently at his door.

“Your coffee,” you mumble, scurrying to place it on the table and leave as fast as you can.

“Y/N-”

“Mr Stark, please don’t,” you wave off any sparks of a conversation, and walk away, only to be followed.

Tony knows he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t run after you, he shouldn’t talk to you so soon after breaking it off with Pepper, and he definitely shouldn’t do this in a public office. But he couldn’t stand to see you so miserable, blaming yourself, too scared to even look at him, “Listen to me, you’re not leaving.”

“I have to,” you manage out, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in an attempt to stop from crying. God, you felt so stupid.

“Not over this. You can't let one mistake ruin your life.”

Mistake. Your hands tremble when the word leaves his mouth. That’s what it was to him, a mistake. “I can’t stay here. Pepper…” You trail off, voice thin and distant.

“Pepper already knows,” he sighs, “Look, this isn’t your fault.”

“It is,” you cry, louder than you anticipated. You feel the burning of your coworkers stares. Quieter, you breathe, “I was...it’s my fault. And I have to live with that, every day, and I feel horrible. I’m a bad person..”

Tony is startled by how distressed you look, and he places a hand on your shoulder, replacing it as soon as you shrug it off, not caring if people see. “No. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.”

“Please don’t be nice to me,” you almost beg, any composure gone at this point. This kind of attention was something you’d craved for as long as you’d known Tony. But not like this. You weren’t supposed to be some kind of homewrecker. But one look into Tony’s eyes has your breathing laboured, heart hammering in your chest. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” Tony feels unnaturally weak when he pulls you closer to his body, arms wrapping around your frame. 

Ever aware of your audience, you struggle against him. No, you shouldn’t...you didn’t deserve to be hugged. Tears spring to your eyes and a sob leaves your mouth before you can stop it, “You shouldn’t…”

“I don’t care. I don’t regret what happened,” he exhales shakily, trying to calm his anxiety when you look up at him, pouty lips pulled downward in confusion.

And fuck how he wants to kiss those lips.

He refrains, closely watching your expression, “Do you? If things were different, would you do it again?”

A gasp, but no answer. Tony brings a hand to your cheek, thumb gliding towards your lip, “Sweetie?”

“I would,” you whisper, ignoring every inch of your body telling you to lie. You don’t want to lie. You want him, despite the shame.

And fuck if Tony didn’t want you. He wanted you when you laughed too loudly at his bad puns. He wanted you when you were coming undone against his body. He wanted you when you were crying into his chest. He wanted you completely.

He wanted to be with you, to kiss you. So he does. He leans in gently and places his lips to your own in a soft kind of passion that has you reaching for his shoulders to stable yourself. But you push away, remembering your setting, only too late.

Murmurs. Shocked whispers. Clicks of cameras. And one very unmistakable strawberry head of hair hurrying out of the offices.

---

A/N: Lol, idk if that was trash, but bon apetit, hope you enjoy

[jarvisisbetterthansiri]

Twist it Deeper

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word count: 1788 Description: Bucky wants to tie you up and play with you using his favourite toy (his knife) Warnings: *NSFW* Knife play, blood play, rope tied, swearing, rough sex, dirty talk ~ dom!Bucky + knife kink

A/N: This is another re-upload from my other tumblr

---

You’re laying on the bed in your room, inconspicuous clothing from your night activities discarded on the floor, naked apart from the crusting blood and dirt clinging to your skin. Once cream sheets would surely be filthy by the end of the night, but somehow, you can’t bring yourself to care. Especially not when you’re watching him stripping in front of you.

He’s shirtless, rippling muscles on display with the startling contrast of his mechanic arm. His dark hair is loose, covering one side of his face, and he’s wearing leather pants that don’t hide a damn thing. You stare unabashedly at the outline of his cock, squeezing your thighs together already.

If you’d been told a few months ago that you’d be fucking the Winter Soldier, you would’ve scoffed. 

But he knew it the first time he saw you; bloody nosed, black eyed, tattered clothes, but still laughing scathingly at the men in front of you. You’d beaten Bucky to a gang of drug dealers he was tracking, and he’d almost stepped in until he saw you pull out a baseball bat (basic, but hey, you were no Avenger) and beat the shit out of the lowlifes.

He approached you then, and it wasn’t long before he was dragging you into a nearby alley, ripping off the remains of your clothing, and ravishing you.

Since then, you’d found yourself bumping into the Avenger more and more. Not that you were complaining. You couldn’t complain when he has you pressed into your bed, fondling you eagerly as ever.

His hand is on your breasts, cold metal touching hot skin, and he moves his lips lower, tugging a nipple between his teeth as he pinches your other breast, his fingers rough. He moves back up your body, one frustratingly light kiss pressed to your mouth before he breathes against your ear, and whispers, "I wanna tie you up."

"What?" you ask, too intoxicated with lust to pay attention.

He pulls away, intense blue eyes staring into your own, and repeats, "I wanna tie you up."

Bucky, of course, doesn’t miss the way you hesitate, gaze faltering from his face, and he looks almost deflated, “Don’t you trust me, doll?”

“I do,” you reply, and it’s true. Despite every nerve in your body screaming for you to fear the 6ft tall super soldier standing in your room, you’d come to trust him with your life over the few months of knowing him. And by knowing him, you meant fucking him.

His face perks up again. "So, can I tie you up?

"Why do you want to?" You ask, still a little apprehensive.

"It’d be hot."

You have to agree. It would definitely be hot. Anything Bucky did was hot.

He snakes a hand into your hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling it tight. "I wanna see you like that," he admits, lips fervently pressed against your neck, "all tied up and helpless. Just have to take what I give you."

You let out a whine as he sinks his teeth into your neck, hard enough to leave a mark, and you can feel your resolve slowly slipping away. "So, what do you usually do to girls when you have them all tied up?"

“Don’t usually tie girls up,” he pulls away to give you a mocking grin. “Just you, doll.”

And god, he’s such an ass, but he’s so hot. He knew just how to turn you on, tease you, and fuck you better than you’d even thought possible. So, why not give him control for a night?

“Okay, you can tie me up,” you sigh, desire already pooling in your stomach at the way his eyes immediately light up.

He flashes his teeth at you, pulling out a piece of rope from his pocket, and you wonder what he has planned that he actually came prepared to tie you up. You’d be lying if you said the idea wasn’t slightly intimidating. But you did trust him, so you lie back, stretching your arms above your head.

Bucky quickly straddles you, his weight pinning you to the mattress. The way he loops the rope around your wrist is effortless, and you can’t help but think he was lying about not tying any other girls up. Or maybe he tied people up to torture them, a darker voice in your head says.

You don’t have time to think about that for long though, not when Bucky is reaching into one of the many pockets of his pants for something. He pulls out the object, good hand curling around it protectively. 

It catches the bedroom light and you see the flash of metal before you hear the swift, efficient click of the mechanism. Your breath catches in your throat as you take in sight of the knife, gleaming, sharp and silver like a threat, hanging unspoken in the air. 

Bucky watches you tentatively, fighting a smile from his face when you remain silent, wide eyes darting to his questioningly. You were too trusting, too unguarded, around him. Not many people would trust an assassin like him, but fuck if it didn’t turn him on. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” he rasped, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He paused then, restating, “..much.”

Still, you don’t protest, even when he lowers the blade, point first to your neck. You gasp when it touches your skin, pulse raising, eyes flinching closed, anticipating a sharp pain. To your surprise, the metal doesn’t touch you.

“Don’t close your eyes,” Bucky orders, needing the intimacy of the simple connection, letting the knife hover above your neck, just barely grazing the flesh.

You immediately open them, obeying him effortlessly.

It would be so easy for him to thrust it into you. You were completely at his mercy, and there’s a wave of arousal that floods through your body at that thought. It was becoming dangerous, the effect he had on you. 

He drags the knife down the valley of your breasts almost lazily, keeping it at an angle precise enough that it’s only scraping at your flesh, not enough to cut or bleed, but enough that you’re shivering with desire. 

The metal ignites a fire in its path, and by the time Bucky lifts it, you’re red-faced and needy for his touch. 

“Should I leave a mark here,” he presses the blade flat against your stiffening nipple, applying enough pressure to make a dent but not draw blood. You fight the urge to arch your back in pleasure, instead clenching your fists around the rope, scared to even exhale as he moves the other breast, “Or here?”

You see him take a deep breath, and he shifts on the bed, adjusting his cock inside his pants. He’s getting off on this, on you submitting to him, you realise.

Bucky continues trailing the knife down the centre of your stomach, and you watch in anticipation, breathless at the sight. He moves to the flesh of your hip bone, feeling for the point where your bone juts out the most. 

“Stay still,” he teases, “Or I might...slip.”

You whine when he flicks the blade carefully, just nicking the skin. A bead of red forms at the cut, and the soldier eagerly dips his head down, licking a stripe from the inside of your thigh to where the blood is.

The sensation of his tongue against the cut makes you hiss, and he lifts up his head, smiling in the most predatory way, “Oh, did that hurt?”

“Bucky,” you moan, wanting, no, needing for him to stop teasing you and offer you some sort of release.

He seems to take the hint, snaking his good hand between your legs and dipping a finger into your entrance, probing. No doubt his finger comes away soaking, and you eagerly buck your hips, trying for more contact.

“Maybe I’ll leave you some pretty marks,” Bucky bites his lip, groaning. “Pretty marks for a pretty girl.”

You can feel him trace the letters on the inner side of your thighs. ‘BUCKY’ on one leg, ‘BARNES’ on the other. You shudder at his touch, and at the thought of it, being owned, marked by him. 

His metal hand grabs your chin, tilting your head to face him and you swallow thickly. His eyes are darkened with arousal, and he looks almost as desperate as you, “Would you let me?”

Whimpering, you nod, almost unable to speak for the burning desire pumping through your body. He inhales sharply, moving up to place a hot, brutal kiss on your lips, discarding the knife on the floor.

It’s bruising, passionate, needy, tongues and teeth clashing against each other. He fumbles to free his cock from his pants, not once leaving your mouth. He runs his length up and down your slit, getting it wet enough, and you whine into his open mouth.

Bucky takes his lips from yours, only to place them on your neck, sucking hard enough to mark, and muttering, “So fucking hot,” against your skin.

He sheaths himself in you with little warning, making you gasp at the fullness, and he's barely started to thrust before you're coming, clenching around him, already wound up from his teasing. You ache to touch him, but the rope restricts you, so you opt for wrapping your legs around him, angling your hips to take him deeper, harder as he fucks you through and beyond your orgasm.

“Fuck Bucky, you’re so good, oh god,” you babble, almost sobbing at the raw throbbing of your cunt. You felt more full than ever before.

Bucky grunts, fingers finding the nick from earlier and digging into it, making you cry out.

“Say my name,” he moans, almost pleading, and you can’t deny him.

“Bucky,” you’re breathless, another orgasm shuddering through you.

“Louder,” he manages to get out, thrusts becoming sloppy, and you can tell he’s close.

“Bucky!” you whine, this time louder, and he’s coming too, with harsh, panted-out breaths, his body stiffening against you, peaking and releasing.

He remains still for a moment, staying on top of you, and you hear his breathing begin to slow, his hands on your face, thumbs wiping away any tears that spilled onto your cheekbones, “You okay, doll?”

You nod weakly, exhaustion falling on you quickly. Still, there’s a smile tugging on your lips at the way he can switch from being so commanding and filthy, to being sweet and checking up on you.

It was becoming worrisome - the relationship you were falling into with the former assassin. But there’s nothing you can do but let it take you, let him take you, completely. So you close your eyes, and let sleep engulf you.

[jarvisisbetterthansiri]

Only Human (sex pollen)

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader Word count: 2143 Description: Despite being with Pepper, Tony is only human, and when you are both hit with sex pollen, he can’t control himself Warnings: *NSFW* Dub-con (due to sex pollen), smut, infidelity, overstimulation, dirty talk, unprotected sex ~ soft!reader + dom!Tony

A/N: Yes, this has been posted before, it’s still me, I accidentally deleted my account, so I’m just moving to here, and re-uploading my fics I had saved on Google Docs so they haven’t gone to waste. Hope this isn’t too confusing.

---

---

“Y/N, sweetie, can I borrow your hands for a few minutes?”

A slight blush makes its way onto your cheeks at the pet name, and you nod up at Tony Stark - your boss. Your very hot but sadly, engaged, boss.

Your job at Stark Tower consisted of bouncing between offices, making coffee, and helping with the filing. Not that you would complain, it was secure as you could ask for, and the pay was good. Also, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy spending time in the presence of Mr Stark, even if it was from a distance.

He moves towards a glass door, scanning his print for access, and you scurry behind before the door can shut on you.

“Just need you to help carry,” he squints at the cabinet, pulling out a key, “a few things. Careful. Don’t touch anything.”

You cringe at this, eyes widening at the objects locked in the shelves, bright warnings plastered on them: explosive, toxic, bio hazard, corrosive, radiation. Fuck.

Tony holds out a hand, passing you a small flask of dangerously pink liquid. And then the unthinkable happens - your hands shake with nerves, glass slipping through your clammy fingers, and smash.

“Shit!” you gasp, eyes wide as Tony mimics your expression. “I’m so sorry Mr Stark, I-”

“Goddammit!” his voice is raised, almost a growl, “F.R.I.D.A.Y, restrict access to this floor and evacuate the offices.”

He crouches to the floor, reading the label, and curses again, “Increase ventilation and purify the air in this room.”

“I’m so sorry Sir, I didn’t mean to,” you apologise, chest tightening, tears pricking your eyes. 

Tony replies instantly, accusatory, “I told you not to touch anything.” Then he fishes in his pockets for a phone.

“I - it was an accident - I,” you stammer, stopping when he raises a hand, pressing the cell to his ear.

You step back, eyeing the spilled liquid. It was locked away. You’d had it in your hand. And you...dropped it. It was locked away. With the rest of the dangerous items. You really fucked up this time. 

“Banner,” Tony speaks, clearing his throat, “yeah, I know. We had an incident.” Brown eyes glance over to you, sighing, “I didn’t - I don’t have time to argue right now. How long until the effects set in? Son of a bitch.”

He slams the phone on the table, fists clenching.

“What...what is it? Are we gonna die?” you manage to get the words out, hot tears spilling down your cheeks. 

You were so stupid.

Tony freezes, frowning, “You’re not gonna die. Look at me, we’re fine.”

“I’m so sorry Mr Stark,” you say again, and it’s true. More than anything, you can’t stand the thought of disappointing him. 

He offers a smile, kind eyes now like you were used to, “I know you are sweetie, it’s fine. You’re not gonna get in trouble. We’re good.” 

Is it getting hotter, or is it just your imagination? You tug at your shirt uncomfortably, “So what...what is it?”

Now Tony is the one who looks uncomfortable, avoiding eye contact, “It...it’s something we found on an alien ship - a kind of aphrodisiac.”

“Aphrodisiac?” You repeat, hoping you heard wrongly.

He swallows, leaning against the table for support, “We know the species was...well, a lot larger than we are. So, we don’t know exactly the effects but it releases hormones, so extreme arousal.”

There’s a moment of silence, and a wave of dizziness swims over you. Something hangs in the air, a spicy and heavy scent, and suddenly there's a prickling heat clawing its way through your body. 

Your breathing gets harsher, “Why is it so hot, Mr Stark?”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, the temperature?”

“Seventy six degrees Fahrenheit,” the automated voice rings out through the speakers. But no, that can’t be right.

Tony groans, and your thighs clench at the sound, “Fuck.”

His eyes find you, and he drops his head, moving back, “Probably gonna want to stay over there, sweetie.”

The nickname has you gasping for breath, and a high pitched whine makes its way out of your throat. A dull ache spreads through your core as you watch Tony across the room; cheeks flushing at the way his pants strain against his bulge. 

“How long?” 

“Huh?”

You moan, shifting to the floor, fingers fiddling with the bottom of your shirt, “How long will it...will it feel like this?”

Tony pants, eyes fixed on your thighs, which he noted were rubbing together incessantly now, “All estimates...theory is to work it out.”

“Work it….oh,” a sense of dread settles in your stomach, “You mean…”

He nods, gesturing to the table, “Just, I’m gonna be,” turning his back to you, “so you can...however you need to.”

You stare at his back for a second, making out the movement of his arm moving up and down, then feel a pang of guilt at your actions and turn away. Tony was engaged, you shouldn’t be looking.

At this point, your clothing sticks to you oppressively, and you hastily unfasten the buttons of your blouse, shrugging out of it. Another wave of arousal hits and you inhale sharply, unable to even breathe when every movement has your nipples brushing against your bra, and your pussy throbbing with want.

Shakily, you press a finger to your bud, circling it roughly, moaning in a voice that hardly sounds like your own. With every rub you feel yourself becoming more overstimulated, thighs sticky with arousal but it isn’t enough. Fingers slip easily into your core, thrusting against the right spot but it isn’t working. And everything is too hot, too clammy, too much.

Tony groans, fisting his cock furiously. This was not how he’d planned to spend his evening. He was supposed to have a dinner reservation with Pep - he closes his eyes at the thought of her. 

It wasn’t right to be doing this; jacking off just meters away from his sweet young secretary. His thumb drags along his length and he shudders when he hears those desperate little sounds coming from your direction. It definitely wasn’t right to be picturing what you were doing to make those sounds, either. He should be thinking about his fiance, he tells himself, willing to recall how Pepper blowed him just last night.

But then he’s thinking of your lips, and how pretty they’d look sucking on his thumb while he fucked into you. Was it the aphrodisiac? 

“Mr Stark, this isn’t working. I can’t,” he could hear you sobbing now, and turns.

Tony’s breath catches. You’re laying back, skirt hitched up your slick legs, shirt unbuttoned, if you had been wearing a bra, it was gone now too. He’s startled by how scared you look, and just as frustrated at the fact he could do nothing to help either of you.

“I don’t...I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Y/N,” he clears his throat, tearing his eyes from your form, trying not to focus on how wet your fingers are.

You let out a cry of frustration, fists hitting off your thighs, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t...it’s my fault.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” Tony starts, ignoring the throbbing of his cock. “We’ve got this.”

“No, I can’t, my fingers aren’t working,” you whimper, “I need…”

Tony glances at his ring finger, swallowing any second thoughts, and lets himself look at you. It isn’t cheating, he tells himself. You’re in pain, he’s in pain, what else could he do? 

“Tell me what you need,” his words are syrup, thick with desire as he wraps his rough fingers around your wrist, the smallest contact sparking you to moan again.If you’d been dizzy before, you were sure you’d pass out now. 

God, you want to die. You can’t imagine a worse situation than the one you’re in now - what are you supposed to say? That you need him to fuck you? You couldn’t.

He moves closer though, finger pressing into your chin, forcing you to look into those honey eyes and see the lust in them, “Tell me. Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

“I can’t,” you protest weakly, shame eating away at your burning cheeks, “What about-”

“Don’t,” Tony cuts you off, not wanting to think about her right now. Not when you were looking up at him with those doe eyes, exposed all pretty for him. He lets his hand run down your side and squeezes at the curve of your exposed thigh, then adds firmly, “You can. Right now, tell me what you need.”

The words almost wont leave your lips, and you swallow thickly, “I need it. I need you.”

There’s a hint of amusement in his face behind the desperation you’re both feeling, “I gotta hear you say it, Princess.”

“Please Mr Stark,” you cry, fists clenching as the ache between your legs becomes so intense you think you might die.

Tony groans at your neediness and sits on the floor, pulling his cock from the painful confines of his pants. You feel all of the moisture leave your mouth at the sight - larger than your ex’s, swollen head glistening.

The amount of nights you’d pictured this exact scene while you touched yourself, and now it was real. Fuck.He motions for you to straddle him and you obey, crying out when his length grazes your clit. Tony’s breath is quick and shallow, nails digging into your thighs as he struggles to ground himself. 

Then, as much as he would love to pull you onto his cock right now, he restrains, “Do you need my fingers first?”

You shake your head, “No, just need you. Please.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs, and in an instant he’s pushing into you, “Fuck, you’re drenched.”

Another thrust, and you’re a mess, scrambling to hold onto his shoulders. If it wasn’t for his grip on you, you’re pretty sure you’d have collapsed already. Despite not being completely innocent, the sensation of being speared by his cock, of being stretched and filled, has you struggling for air.

Tony almost uses your body, forcing you up and down, watching your tits bounce and the look of bliss on your face. God, he couldn’t get enough of that look. Every thrust is harder to get more of that face and your needy little gasps.

“Feels so good, Mr Stark,” you babble, stars in your vision, and this seems to do it for him, judging by the way he pumps into you faster than you even thought possible.

Before you can even speak, you feel his fingers make their way to your nub, rubbing circles. And oh god, it feels so good, but it’s so much. You spasm, clamping down on his cock, crying in ecstasy.

Then, the throbbing in your core is subsiding, and you suppose the effects of the plant are wearing off. But Tony isn’t stopping, his cock pounding into you with a force that makes you choke, hands trying to push off of him. You’re too raw, too sensitive, and the pleasure is so good it hurts.

He notices and stutters his movements for a second, hand moving from your clit and finding its way to your shoulder, keeping you in place, “I just need a little longer, can you do that for me sweets?”

“Yes,” you sob, letting him slam into you again.

Tony pushes your hair out of your face, chasing his own release, “Fuck. Such a good girl for me.”

You nod, using your hips to match his movements weakly, and he sits up to place a sloppy kiss to your lips.

“Fuck,” he groans into your ear - what has to be the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your life, “you take cock like it’s your day job, babe. Think you might be in the wrong career.”

The familiar knot is building in your core again, and you let your hand guide his back to your clit, wanting more. He curses at the action, and starts palming you desperately, feeling himself getting closer.

“Oh god,” the words fall from your lips in a voice that is as wrecked as you feel. 

The next moments are fuzzy, and you clench down, back arching as you feel Tony spend himself in you. It’s a sort of warm feeling, and you fall onto his sweaty chest when he releases his grip on you. 

The room is silent apart from the sounds of heavy breathing slowing to normal. Tony lets an arm drape over your body, an action that should be comforting, but then you feel it.

Warm metal on your skin. A ring, his ring, his engagement ring. The guilt comes then, and he feels you freeze, tears falling onto his chest.

What have you done?