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Prototype
Tony Stark x Fem!Reader
Masterlist
Tony’s masterlist
Warnings: NSFW, reader wears a dress, heavy smut, toy play, f!oral, edging, overstimulation, Dom!Tony, dirty talk, light humiliation, power dynamics, aftercare.
A/N: This was a request, dont know what happened to it but here ya go! Kind of got carried away..
You thought tonight would be normal. You'd expected Tony hunched over some arc reactor upgrade or fiddling with a mini AI drone- maybe muttering to himself, maybe muttering to himself, maybe ignoring you for hours.
But apparently 'normal' in the Stark penthouse meant being ambushed by a grin so smug it could shatter a glass, and a silver device in his hand that looked like it was designed to kill... except it wasn't.
"What's that?" you asked cautiously, eyeing the gadget.
Tony twirled it between his fingers, smirk crawling across his face like a cat about to knock over a priceless vase. "Oh, this? Just a little something I whipped up. Compact. Sleek. Wireless. And designed exclusively for you."
Your stomach did a nervous flip. "...You made a... sex toy?"
He tilted his head, cocky grin spreading. "Correction: I made the sex toy. You think I'd let my girlfriend settle for store-bought crap? Please. That's amateur hour. You're getting a Stark Industries prototype, baby. Built for maximum pleasure and minimum mercy."
You blinked. "Tony-"
"Shhh." He leaned close, hot breath brushing your ear, one hand ghosting along your arm. "Relax. You're about to be tested. Field trial, offically. And trust me, you're going to love every second."
Before you could protest, he guided you toward the counter, pressing your back against the cold steel. One hand slid beneath your dress, hooking your panties down in one practiced motion, the other holding the device like it was a laser cutter ready to ruin you.
"Tony!" You gasped.
"Relax, sweetheart," he said smoothly, tapping a button on his watch. The toy hummed, buzzing against your clit, sharp and teasing. Your knees buckled immediately.
"Level one." he purred. "And judging by that gasp? You're already failing at staying composed."
The vibrations intensified, rolling through you in waves that made your back arch and fingers clutch hsi shoulders. You tried to push him away, but Tony's hand pressed firmly against your stomach, holding you hostage with a smug grin.
"Ohhh, don't struggle. That's adorable," he mocked. "You're already shaking like a wet cat. I haven't even synced it to maximum. That's still reserved for my more... favorite moments."
Your body trembled, overstimulation hitting faster than you could process. "Tony... I can't-"
"You can," he corrected, voice low and commanding. "And you will. Don't even think about tapping out. You agreed to prototype testing. And I don't negotiate with my test subjects."
He flicked the toy to a higher frequency, and the sensation made your breath catch in your throat. You moaned helplessly, eyes rolling as you tried to focus. Tony's lips brushed your neck, teeth grazing lightly.
"You hear that?" he whispered against your skin, hands sliding lower, brushing the folds of your dripping core. "That's your body screaming for Stark tech. And trust me, baby, I've got way more in store than just this guy."
His mouth moved lower, dragging teasing kisses along your inner thigh, tongue flicking at the slick moisture gathering there. The combination of the toy and his lips, hot and demanding, had you whimpering uncontrollably, hips jerking as he hummed in approval.
"You're insatiable," he muttered, one hand griping your hip tight. You thought this would be easy? Oh no. This is Stark Industries, sweetheart. We don't do easy. We do perfect... and slightly cruel."
Every twitch, every shiver, every desperate gasp was catalogued in his smug mind. He leaned in close, brushing your clit with the toy while his tongue pressed firmly against your entrance. "You taste amazing. And don't even think about squirming away. I built this to control you, remember?"
You were shaking, tears prickling at the edges of your eyes as the overstimulation built, waves crashing one after another. "I.. can't.. I'm-"
"Not allowed," Tony snapped, darkly amused, pressing the toy harder, angling it just right. "You're mine tonight. Every gasp, every sob, every moan... mine."
You cried out, hips lifting against him, body spiraling. He chuckled, deep and dangerous, and whispered, "Good girl. Taking every bit of Stark engineering without complaint. You're perfect... even when your breaking apart for me."
Your climax hit like a lightning bolt, body shaking, quivering, voice raw as he didn't let up. He kept the toy buzzing, dragging a second orgasm out of you before you could even catch your breath.
Tony's grin was merciless as he pulled back slightly. "That's right, don't even think you're done. I'm not finished obseving my prototype's effects."
When he finally allowed the toy to rest, your legs were trembling, your mind hazy. He didn't even give you a moment to recover before sliding you onto the counter properly, unzipping his pants. "This next part?" he murmured, cock pressing against you. "Consider it the reward for surviving field testing."
He shoved into you, slow and deliberate at first, then started a rough, punishing rhythm, cocky smirk never leaving his face. "You feel incredible. And here I thought building a toy was impressive... turns out you're the real prototype."
You gasped, clinging to him, every thrust driving you closer to another shuddering release. Tony's hand gripped your hip tight, other hand tangled in your hair, holding you for each punishing, delicious stroke.
"Look at you," he taunted, voice low, rough. "Screaming my name, shaking like a Stark prototype in the lab. That's what I'm talking about. That's perfection, baby."
Your body jolted, overstimulated and on fire, until finally, he leaned over, whispering against your ear, "Cum on my cock. Show me exactly who you belong to."
And you did.
Shaking, writhing, overwhelmed, collapsing into him as he rode you through it. Tony held you close afterward, smug grin softening ever so slightly. "Prototype testing? Complete. And judging by your performance? Succes. Official Stark Industries grade A+."
You could barley breathe, legs trembling, body spent- but Tony only chuckled. "Oh, don't look so shocked, sweetheart. But tonight? Consider yourself through field-tested."
He leaned down for a possessive kiss, smug and satisfied, and whispered, "And you're welcome. Stark Industries always delivers."
#smut#yeaiamme2#x fem!reader#x black reader#marvel smut#tony stark masterlist#tony stark smut#ironman smut
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Clark Kent
Main masterlist
Key: fluff: 🌸, smut: 💦, angst:🥀, dark:🖤
Red Sun, Black Vows🖤
Sorry Doesn’t Cut It💦
#smut#yeaiamme2#x fem!reader#x black reader#clark kent#clark kent x black reader#clark kent smut#clark kent masterlist
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BRAHMS HEELSHIRE
Main Masterlist
Key: fluff: 🌸, smut: 💦, angst:🥀, dark:🖤
Soft Obedience💦🌸
#brahms heelsire x reader#smut#yeaiamme2#x fem!reader#x black reader#brahms heelshire smut#brahms heelshire#brahma heelshire masterlist
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BRIAN MAY
Main Masterlist
Key: fluff: 🌸, smut: 💦, angst:🥀, dark:🖤
Say it again💦🌸
#smut#yeaiamme2#x fem!reader#x black reader#brian may x reader#brian may fanfiction#brian may smut#brian may masterlist
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ELIJAH MIKEALSON
Main Masterlist
Key: fluff: 🌸, smut: 💦, angst:🥀, dark:🖤
Jealous💦
Tender🌸
Claimed in the Quiet💦🌸
#smut#yeaiamme2#x fem!reader#x black reader#elijah mikaelson fluff#elijah mikaelson smut#daddy elijah#elijah mikealson x reader#elijah mikealson x fem reader
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FITZGERALD GRANT
Main Masterlist
Key: fluff: 🌸, smut: 💦, angst:🥀, dark:🖤
FITZGERALD GRANT
You belong to me🥀
The Sound of Scandal🌸
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NEGAN SMITH
Main Masterlist
Key: fluff: 🌸, smut: 💦, angst:🥀, dark:🖤
Say please💦🌸
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TONY STARK
Main Masterlist
Key: fluff: 🌸, smut: 💦, angst:🥀, dark:🖤
Power Play💦
Prototype💦
#smut#yeaiamme2#x fem!reader#x black reader#tony stark smut#marvel smut#tony stark masterlist#toni stark smut x fem reader
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BRUCE WAYNE
Main Masterlist
Key: fluff: 🌸, smut: 💦, angst:🥀, dark:🖤
Marked💦
Shadowed Obsession💦🖤
#smut#yeaiamme2#x fem!reader#x black reader#dc smut#bruce wayne x black!reader#bruce wayne x wife!reader#bruce wayne masterlist
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Shadowed Obsession
Bruce Wayne x Reader
Warnings: not proofread, dark smut.., multiple rounds, PinV, spanking, Face-Fucking, hair pulling, light choking, degradation, forced positions, manhandaling, reader crying, obsession, borderline non-consensual themes. First time writing something like this, really longer than what I usually write so there will be a part 2!
It had started as a quiet evening at the Wayne Gala. The city lights glittered aginst your dress like tiny stars, but you weren't here for the accolades or the small talk. You wanted to escape- a moment alone.
For the first time, you weren’t sure if this arrangement—being Bruce Wayne’s wife—was truly a prison, or if it was something far worse.
The tension between you had always been a slow burn, but tonight it felt like a live wire, crackling in the air.
By the time you slipped away toward the study, hoping Alfred hadn't seen, the door clicked behind you, locking with a soft authority. He was there, dark silhouette in the dim light, eyes preadatory.
But Bruce noticed. He always noticed.
He was there, dark silhouette in the dim light, eyes preadatory.
He didn’t say a word as he approached, just that familiar, suffocating presence pressing down on you like the weight of the Gotham skyline itself.
"You humiliated me tonight," he said, voice calm but dangerous. "Slipping away from the gala like some ungrateful little wife. Do you think people didn't notice?"
“You think you can just walk around, live your life, and pretend none of this is mine, live in my house, wear my name, and still pretend you're not mine.” His voice was low, deliberate, and dangerous, each word dripping with ownership.
You swallowed, heart hammering, trapped between fear and something darker, more thrilling. You wanted to run, you wanted to hide. But some twisted part of you- dark and ashamed- wanted him more than anything.
You tried a nervous smile, a small excuse, but his hand was already around your throat, pressing you to the desk.
Bruce’s hand found the nape of your neck, tilting your head back, his thumb brushing over your pulse. Every touch, every subtle movement, was a claim, and you could feel it in your bones.
The heat pooling inside you was chaotic and desperate, a storm he had no intention of letting calm. With a firm grip at your waist, he pulled you closer, pressing you against him. The world outside—the city, the party, the expectations—faded into nothing. All that existed was the sound of your own ragged breathing and the dark, relentless control in his eyes.
“Good,” he whispered, his lips now at the hollow of your throat. “Because I don’t… do gentle. Not with you. Not ever.”
Your knees threatened to give out, but he caught you with ease. Every inch of him was in control, power, and dominance. Your body betraying you, craving the ownership, the danger, the dark devotion.
Hands slid under your clothes, but it wasn't tenderness. It was calculated, consuming, designed to break you down and pull every shiver, every gasp, ever whimper from you.
You were trapped, overwhelmed, addicted. Every touch burned, every command drove you higher into the haze of desire and fear.
"Tell me you want this," he growled, voice a low rumble in your ear. "Tell me you belong to me."
"I... I-" your words stumbled, but the truth burned hotter than shame. "I... want you."
"Good girl," he murmured, voice smooth and dangerous. "Because you are mine. Every inch. Every thought. And I will take everything, wether you fight me or not."
The line between fear and desire blurred until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Every inch of him, every shadowed intention, promised both pain and release, and somewhere deep down, you knew you would surrender, completely, without hesitation.
The first strike of his hand against your ass was sharp, echoing, leaving you breathless. Then another. Harder. Each one blurred pain into heat until you legs trembled beneath you. Hid grip was iron, his presence all consuming, his voice dripping with contempt.
"Pathetic," he snarled. "Shaking for me already."
He shoved your legs apart, fingers sliding inside you without warning. The stretch as immediate, brutal. You whimpered, nails clawing at the desk as he pushed deeper, knuckles pressing, unyielding.
"You can take more," he murmured against your ear, teeth biting your neck. "You'll take everything I give you. Because that's what you're for."
The burn made you sob, tears spilling, but your body beytrayed you, clenching, wet, hungry for him. He laughed low in your ear, cruel and satisfied.
"Look at you," Bruce spat, yanking your hair back so your ruined reflection stared back at you in the window. "Crying like a little whore, but your body's begging for me. You think anyone else could handle you? No. Only me. Always me."
He pushed you until you sobbed, the pressure unbearable, yet soick heat betrayed you. His laugh was cruel, mocking.
He then bent you back over the desk and drove into you in one brutal thrust. You screamed, but his hand clamped around your mouth, muffling the sound. His rhythm was merciless- each thrust deep, hard, punishing, rattling the desk behind you.
"Say it," he demanded. "Say you're mine."
"I-I'm yours," you sobbed into his palm.
"Louder."
"I'm yours!"
"Good girl." He growled, hips snapping faster. His hand fisted in your hair, fragging you upright, your back arched painfully against his chest as he slammed into you over and over.
When your legs gave out, he didn't slow. He spun you onto your knees, cock shoving into your mouth before you could breathe. His grip tightened in your hair, forcing you down, using your throat ruthlessly. You gagged, tears spiling freely, spit dripping down your chin.
"Take it," He snarled. "Every inch. Gag on it. That's what this mouth is for."
He held you down until your vision blurred, then yanked you up, spit and tears smeared across your face. He kissed you then- rough, consuming, suffocating- before throwing you back on the desk.
This time, he spread your thighs wide, forcing himself inside again, deeper, harder, his pace brutal. One hand pinned your wrists above your head, the other pressing on your throat.
"You'll never escape me," Bruce whispered, voice a dark promise. "I'll ruin you until you can't remember life before me. Until you crave the pain. Until you understand you exist for me."
You shattered beneath him, body breaking, rebuilt only in his image. He didn't stop when you came undone, trembling, begging. He used you until you were sobbing, ruined, boneless beneath him- until you were sobbing, ruined, boneless beneath him- until your voice broke on his name and your body gave him everything he demanded.
He then pushed you against the wall, hands roaming, rough and percise, pinning you as if you couldn't escape even if you tried. Your knees buckled slightly under him, and he caught you effortlessly, holding you in place.
"Trying to run?" His voice was cruel now, teasing, possessive. "That's not going to end very well for you."
Your legs trembled, your body beytraying you with desire. He kissed you roughly, one hand traveling lower while the other gripped your hair. You gasped arching into him, and he smirked against your lips pulling back just enough to watch you struggle.
"Such a desperate little thing," he murmured. "Always trying to resist."
And yer when you tried to step back again, the pull of him was too strong. He held you firmly, eyes dark, lips hobering over yours as he whispered, "You're mine tonight."
#smut#yeaiamme2#x fem!reader#x black reader#bruce wayne x black!reader#bruce wayne smut#bruce wayne x wife!reader#batman smut#dark smut?#kinda rally bad at this#part 2 soon!#dark bruce wayne
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Marked
BRUCE WAYNE X F!READER
Masterlist
Warnings: Smut, MDNI+, Dark themes?, possessiveness, rough sex, dirty talk, bruce is basically obsessed, dub con?, breeding, angst
The sound of your apartment door clicking shut makes your stomach twist. You’d been careful- or so you thought. Out for drinks with your friends, keeping your phone on silent, slipping in close to midnight hoping Bruce wouldn’t notice.
But of course he noticed.
Bruce Wayne is leaning against your living room window, tuxedo still on from the gala you know he left hours ago. His bowtie hangs loose around his neck, his shirt sleeves rolled up, and a glass of whiskey dangles from his hand.
He looks calm, too calm.
“Did you have fun?” His voice is smooth, low- but the sharp edge makes your skin prickle.
You freeze. “Bruce, I-“
“You disappeared” He cuts you off, taking a slow sip. His eyes never leave you. “No call, no text. And when I check your buildings security cameras…” he tilts his head with a humorless smile tugging at his lips, “…there you are. Laughing. Drinking. Walking home alone. In Gotham.”
You set your purse down, irritation flaring. “I’m not a child. I can take care of myself.”
Thats when his calm breaks. The glass hits the table with a slam, the amber liquid spilling across the wood. In three long strides, he’s in front of you, towering, his shadow swallowing yours.
“You that this city cares that you’re strong? That you can ‘take care of yourself’?” His voice drops, a growl. He cages you against the wall, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your jaw, forcing you to meet his dark, furious eyes.
“If masked men had seen you, if anyone had touched you-“ His jaw tightens. “You don’t get it. Your mine. And I don’t share.”
Your breath catches. He’s to close, radiating heat, raw energy, something unhinged simmering beneath the surface. "Bruce-"
"Don't," he snaps, but the edge softens instantly. His thumb brushes over your cheek, almost tender, though his grip never loosens. "You scared the hell out of me."
The anger bleeds into something darker, hungrier. He leans in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that's hard, punishing, despreate. You gasp against him, and he takes the chance to deepen it, his body pressing you harder into the wall.
Your hands find his shirt, tugging at the buttons, but he's faster- ripping your top down the middle, fabric tearing under his fingers. He kisses down your neck, biting hard enough to make you cry out.
"Mine," he growls against your skin, sucking a bruise that will bloom deep and dark. "They need to see it. Everyone. You belong to me."
His handsgrip your thighs, lifting you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you to the bedroom. He doesn' bother with finesse- he throws you onto the bed, his broad frame covering yours an instant later.
The tux jacket falls away, shirt half-open, chest heaving as he looks down at you. The sight of you laid out beneath him makes something primal flicker in his eyes.
"You'll never walk this city unprotected again," he murmurs, undoing his belt with one hand. "If I have to mark every inch of you, I will."
When he thrusts into you, it's rough, possessive, evety movement claiming. He pins your wrists above your head, his grip iron. Each snap of his hips is demanding, forcing you to cry out his name.
"Say it," he grits out, forehead pressed to yours, sweat beading along his temple. "Say who you belong to."
"You-ah-Bruce, I'm yours!" The words spill from you, broken, breathless.
That undoes him. His thrusts grow harder, his teeth graze your shoulder, his voice raw. "Good. My girl. My only good thing left."
"You shatter beneath him, body trembling, and he follows, burying himself deep, a guttural groan torn from his chest. He doesn't let go, doesn't move away. He stays pressed to you, trembling, holding you too tightly as if you might vanish if he loosens his grip.
Afterward, silence settles, broken only by the sound of his breathing. He buries his face in your neck, his lips brushing your skin. When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse, vulnerable in a way you've never heard.
"If anything ever happened to you," he whispers, almost broken, "I'd burn this city to the ground."
An you know, deep down, he means it.
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Sorry Doesn’t Cut It
Clark Kent x F!Reader
Masterlist
Warnings: smut, rough sex, unprotected sex, clark spying on you.., size kink, mating press, possessive clark, reader doing something shes not supposed to do, dirty talk, use of the word ‘good girl’ , slight degradation.
You told yourself it was just an interview. Nothing more. Just a chance to get a good story.
Lex Luthor sat across from you in his expensive office, polished shoes crossed, an almost serpentine smile curling at his mouth.
“So,” Lex drawled, leaning back, eyes roaming a little too obviously over your body, “tell me, how does someone like you end up working for the Daily Planet? Surely you could do better.”
You forced a polite smile, ignoring the way his gaze lingered. “Im here to ask you questions, Mr. Luthor. About your new project.”
“Mm.” He waved dismissively, leaning forward, elbows on his desk. “All in good time. But indulge me- what does your boyfriend think about you being here? Clark Kent, isn’t it? The quiet one with the glasses.” He smirked knowingly. “Funny. I don’t see him as… your type.”
Your stomach tightened, but you kept your voice professional. “My personal life isn’t part of this interview.”
Lex chuckled low. “Then maybe we should skip the interview entirely.” His eyes flickered over you again, blatant and predatory. “Go to dinner instead. You’d look stunning on my arm. I could show you a much better time than Smallville ever could.”
*
Across the city, Clark’s jaw locked tight.
At his desk in the Planet newsroom, his hand clutched into fists. He told you not to go. He’d told you that Lex was dangerous. And now, with his super-hearing trained on every word, he could hear Lex’s oily tone, his shameless flirting, your nervousness laugh as you tried to deflect
“Dinner instead,” Lex’s voice echoed in Clark’s head. “I could show you a much better time than Smallville ever could.”
The pen in Clark’s hand snapped into two. By the time you walked through the door that evening, Clark was waiting in the shadows- glasses off, eyes burning hotter than hell.
“You went.” He said lowly. “To Lex..”
“Clark-“
“Don’t.” His voice cut like a blade. “I told you not to. And yet..” His head tilted, a sharp little smirk on his lips. “I heard everything.”
Your heart dropped. Of course. His hearing. Every word Lex said, every time you laughed nervously, every time you brushed it off instead of walking away.
You opened your mouth to tell him that you did your best to keep everything strictly professional, but Clark was already moving- faster than your breath could catch. His mouth was on yours, rough, punishing. His hands, big and unyielding, gripped your thighs and lifted you like you weighed everything.
By the time your back hit the mattress, you knew there was no getting out of this. He had you pinned, wrists in one hand above your head. You gasped, heart hammering as his body loomed over yours.
“You let him talk to you like that,” Clark growled, grinding against you through your clothes. “You let him think he could.”
“I-“ you started, but his free hand yanked your clothes away like it was paper. His mouth wad on your neck, kissing, biting, sucking, marking. You whimpered, squirming.
“Disobeyed me.” he muttered against your skin. “Made me listen to him try to take whats mine.”
Then he was lower, between your thighs before you had time to protest. He shoved your knees wide apart, his grip bruising, his eyes dark with possessive fire.
“Clark-“
He didn’t answer. His mouth latched onto your pussy with Kryptonian focus, his tongue relentless, devouring you like a man starved. You cried out, arching up, but he shoved you down with a flat hand on your stomach, holding you down with humiliating ease.
“Too sweet for him.” He muttered into your soaked folds. “This is mine.” His tongue circled your clit, hard and fast, sending shocks through your body. “You think Lex could make you sound like this? Beg like this?”
You moaned, writhing, but there was no escape. His strength pinned you perfectly, unmovable, unshakable. His tongue plunged deeper, his nose brushing your clit, and you shattered, crying out his name.
But he didn’t stop.
“Clark, It’s too much! M’sorry!” You whine out
He only smirked, mouth glistening, eyes burning into yours “M’Sorry?” He mocked, before diving back in, ducking your clit hard, dragging another orgasm out of you until your legs trembled around his head.
Your voice cracked. “M’sorry- Clark, m’sorry-“
He lifted his head, mouth wet, eyes wild. “Yeah? I didn’t hear that.” His tone was sharp and cruel.
“I’m sorry!” You whimpered louder, tears pricking your eyes. I shouldn’t have gone!”
“Good girl.” He growled, but he wasn’t done.
In a blur, he hauled you up, flipping you onto your back again. His hands pushed your knees to your chest, folding you in half. The mating press left you completely exposed, helpless, legs trembling on either side of his waist.
Then he slammed into you. Hard, deep. The stretch was brutal, overwhelming, Kryptonian strength diving into you with a force that left you gasping.
Your palms pressed in his chest, but it was useless. He was a wall of unyielding muscle and heat.
“Clark-!”
“Louder.” His thrusts grew sharper, punishing. “Say it again.”
“Im sorry!” You cried, voice breaking. “I’m sorry- Im yours, always yours!”
“That’s right.” His forehead pressed to yours, his pace brutal, your body bouncing helplessly beneath him. “You’re mine. Not his. Never his.”
Your walls clenched around him, your body on the edge again from his earlier torment. You sobbed his name, overwhelmed, breaking apart under him.
He groaned the sound guttural, desperate. “Fuck- mine-“ he came with a shudder, holding you down, filling you, making sure you felt all of it.
For a long moment, all you could do was cling to him, wrecked and trembling.
Finally his breath slowed. The fire in his eyes dimmed, softened. He kissed you gently brushing the tears from your cheeks.
“You don’t need Lex,” he whispered. “You don’t need anyone but me.”
And this time, you didn’t argue.
#smut#yeaiamme2#x fem!reader#x black reader#dc smut#superman x female reader#clark kent x black reader#clark kent smut#clark kent
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Power Play
Tony Stark x Female Reader
Masterlist
Warnings: MNDI+, dubcon?, rough sex, oral (f receiving, overstimulation, slight choking, possessiveness.
A/n: sorry i took so long to update, tumblr kept deleting my work, so i just left it short🤗
The pent house was quiet - too quiet.
You’d been waiting for Tony to come back from some classified meeting had pulled him away for the evening. He’d texted once, Don’t wait up, but you didn’t listen. The man had a habit of keeping secrets, and you were starting to suspect those secrets involved more than just tech blueprints.
The elevator chimed, and there he was suit jacket tossed over his arm, toe hanging loose, dark eyes already locked on you like he could read every thought that you weren’t saying.
“You didn’t listen to me.” He said, voice low, dangerous.
You shifted on the couch. “It’s only midnight.”
“Exactly.” He tossed the jacket aside and strode toward you, loosening his tie with one hand. “You should’ve been in my bed hours ago. Instead…” He glanced at the half-finished glass of wine on the coffee table. “…you’re drinking my ‘96 Bordeaux like you own the place.”
You gave him a small smile, half defiant, half nervous. “Maybe I do.”
That was all it took. One sharp step forward and you were backed against the couch cushions, his hand gripping your jaw, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.
“You really think you can play these games with me, sweetheart?” His gaze was sharp enough to pin you in place. “I’ll show you what happens when you push me.”
He dragged you to your feet and toward the bathroom- every step deliberate, predatory. By the time your back hit the wall beside his bed, his hands were already roaming under your shirt, knuckles brushing hot skin.
“Take it off.” He ordered
When you hesitated, his smirk darkened. “Do you want me to do it for you?”
You swallowed hard, shaking your head before pulling the shirt over your head. The cool air barley hit your skin before his mouth did- hot, demanding kisses trailing down your neck, teeth scraping just enough to make your knees weak.
His hand slipped into your shorts, fingers teasing over your panties. “Already wet. Guess you like it when I’m not nice.”
You gasped as he shoved the thin fabric aside and pressed two fingers inside of you without warning.
His other hand in your hair, tilting your head back so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.
“Keep your eyes on me,” he said, voice low and unyielding. “You look away, I stop.”
The pace was brutal, his fingers curling just right while his thumb worked your clit in tight, relentless circles. You tried your best to hold his gaze, but the pleasure clawed at your composure until you were whimpering.
“That’s it.” He murmured, lips brushing your ear. “Fall apart for me.”
And you did- with a sharp cry, your legs trembling as he held you up with nothing but his grip on your thigh.
Before you could catch your breath, he was pushing you onto the bed, stripping off his shirt and belt in one fluid motion.
“Round two,” he said, climbing over you. “And this time, you don’t get to come until I say so.”
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bring back tumblr ask culture let me. bother you with questions and statements
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The Sound of Scandal
Fitzgerald Grant x Reader
Masterlist
Warnings: fluff, forbidden romance, intense longing, public confession, angst?
You weren’t supposed to be there.
That was the rule. You’d agreed to it. No public appearances. No quiet visit’s to the East Room. No standing at the back of his speeches, not even in the shadows.
But tonight, something pulled you in.
The ballroom of the Willard Hotel shimmered with power and press. Chandeliers gleamed like judgement, and every camera eye hunted for gossip. The president’s fundraiser had gathered senators, donors, and every strategic whisper in Washington.
You stayed near the back. Hidden in plain sight. You wore midnight blue and kept your gaze low, the hem of your gown brushing the carpet like a secret.
He didn’t see you. Not at first.
Fitzgerald Thomas Grant ||| was too busy playing the part.
He stood at the podium, charming and regal in his tux, giving a rousing speech about America, values and the weight of leadership. You watched him- not the president, but the man.
The one who touched you like you were holy. The one who whispered your name like a prayer when the world was dark.
And for a second.. he felt you.
His eyes skimmed the room- then froze.
Right in you.
You watched his throat tighten. His breath catch. His fingers paused on the edge of the podium.
And thats when it happened.
“…And I stand before you tonight,” Fitz said, his voice strong despite the flicker of emotion, “not just as your president, but as a man who believes in hope. In dignity. In love.”
He should’ve stopped there.
He didn’t.
“I love you,” he said- soft almost underneath his breath.
But his mic was still on.
Not a whisper. Not a breath.
Your heart stopped breathing.
Fitz blinked, realization dawning too late. His face barley changed- he was too well-trained for that- but his eyes never left yours. Even as the room stirred, as whispers sparked like wildfire, he didn’t look away.
You stepped back. Breath caught in your throat.
And then his voice came again, deeper now. Steady.
“I love this country,” he corrected, his eyes flickered to the cameras, then back to you.
But it didn’t matter. You already heard it. They already heard it.
Later, long after the speech ended and the headlines were already forming like vultures, you found him in the Lincoln Bedroom.
The Secret Service had cleared out. No one else dared to question where the president disappeared to after the “unexpected mic malfunction.”
You walked in without knocking.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, jacket off, tie loosened. His hands trembled slightly.
You didn’t speak. You just walked up to him and stood between his knees.
“I told you not to come.” He said softly.
“You didn’t mean it.”
He looked up eyes full of something raw- scared and sure all at once.
“You heard me.”
“I did.”
He stood towering and beautiful in the dim light.
“Well,” Fitz whispered, brushing your cheek with his knuckles. “Know the world knows.”
You leaned in, smiling just a little. “Was that your plan?”
“No,” he said. “But I’m not sorry.”
And when he kissed you- deeply, fiercely, like the world had already fallen- you believed him.
#yeaiamme2#x fem!reader#x black reader#abc scandal#fitzgerald grant fanfic#abc scandal fluff#Fitzgerald Grant fluff
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Thought You Wanted It…
Tony Stark x Fem!Reader
Masterlist
Warnings: MDNI, Oral(fem), rough fingering, p!slapping, dirty talk, restraint, degradation kink, brat taming, Dom!Tony, Sub!Reader, use of “good girl”, crazy eye contact.
Tony Stark had been patient.
Too patient.
You thought that teasing him at that charity gala- legs crossed slow in that red silk dress, whispering things in his ear, brushing your hand down to his chest, like you didn’t know he was watching- was just going to be a little fun for the rest of the night.
But you forgot one thing.
Tony doesn’t just play the game.
He owns it.
Back in his penthouse suite, the city lights glowing behind floor-to-ceiling windows, you were stripped bare in minutes. The red dress you’d been flaunting hit the floor with a whisper, your body sprawled across his bed, breathing uneven and thighs already trembling from how deep his tongue had been working in you.
He hadn’t even taken off his damn suit jacket yet. Just pushed the sleeves up to his forearms, loosened his tie a bit- and then settled between your legs like a man with a vendetta.
Which, to be fair… he kind of was.
“Tony-“ Your voice cracked as he licked a long cruel stripe up your slit, tongue flickering just enough just enough to make your hips jump.
“Uh uh.” His voice was deep, smug, and laced with heat as he grabbed your thighs and slammed them back down on the mattress. “Lay still, you wanted this remember?”
You whimpered, hand flying to grip the sheets.
“You’ve been acting like a fucking brat all night.” Tony growled, fingers trailing up your inner thigh. “And now you wanna run?”
His fingers slipped inside you so fast- two, rough, and unforgiving. You let out a choked moan, body jerking upward in shock, hips trying to buck away.
That was mistake number two.
Tony smirked like the devil himself. “Oh.. but I thought you wanted it, hmm?” He cooed, tilted his head. His fingers stayed deep, curling up dragging against your walls like he knew every nerve ending. “What happened baby? Don’t like being treated like a little toy now?”
You gasped- back arching as he slapped your clit with his fingers, quick and sharp. The overstimulation burned.
Your hips tried to shift again, but his hand pressed you flat against the mattress.
“I said- stay still.”
Slap.
“Look at me while im playing with you.”
Slap.
“Fucking brat.”
Tears pricked your eyes, but it wasn’t pain. Not really. Just… too much. Too good. Too fast. You didn’t even realize how soaked you were until the wet, slick sounds of his fingers echoed through the room.
Tony leaned down, tongue lapping over your clit again. He moaned into you like you were his favorite meal- and tonight? He was starved.
“Pussy tastes better when your shaking like this,” he muttered, voice dark and low against your core. “All worked up and nowhere to go.”
You cried out again, and his fingers moved faster, thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight, merciless circles. Your body convulsed.
Another orgasm ripped through you, your third? Fourth? You’d lost count- and you tried to pull away, legs twitching.
“No,” he snapped, tightening his grip. “We’re not done. Not even close.”
“T-Tony, wait-!”
“Oh, now you want mercy?” He laughed, low and sharp. “After you were grinding on my lap in front of the board of directors like some cockdrunk tease?”
He kissed your inner thigh.
Bit it.
The went right back to ruining you.
You were sobbing now- hands gripping his hair, thighs trembling uncontrollably as he tongue-fucked you through another high.
“Stay right there baby. I said stay still.”
Slap.
Another sharp smack to your clit made you cry out again.
“Fuck-! I can’t-“
“Yes, you can. His voice was molten. Commanding. “You can take it. Your gonna take everything I give you until you apologize for teasing me like that. Until you say it.”
“Say what.” You breathed out, delirious.
Tony raised his head just enough to smirk, lips glistening with your slick.
“Say you’re my good girl”
You blinked up at him, barley able to speak.
“Say it,” he growled again, curling his fingers so deep it made your back arch.
“I’m- fuck- I’m your good girl!” You sobbed, shaking violently.
“There she is.”
And then he kissed you. Tongue, mouth, hunger. Full of himself and full of you.
When he pulled back, his fingers finally slid out of you- slow and dripping. He looked at the mess he made on his hand, and then licked his fingers clean with a satisfying groan.
“Your sleeping in my bed tonight,” he said simply, begging to unbutton his shirt at last. “And tomorrow? You’re not walking anywhere.”
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Soft Obedience
Sub!Brahms Heelshire x Dom!Fem Reader
Masterlist
Warnings: NSFW, Smut, handjob, restraints, slight mommy kink, controlling dynamics, mild degradation, aftercare, praise kink, possessiveness
The manor was cold again.
Even with the fire flickering behind its grate, even with the heat turned up in the east wing, it didn’t matter. Brahms wasn’t by your side, and when he wasn’t by your side, the house went still. Tense.
You found him in the same place he always retreated to when he wanted your attention without asking for it- on the rug in the attic room, curled next to the doll.
He didn’t even look up when the door creaked open.
“Brahms,” you said softly.
His shoulders twitched at your voice. The porcelain mask sat just beside him, forgotten. His real face was flushed and sullen, his lips pink and parted. He didn’t speak. Just dragged his fingers along the edges of the doll’s tiny outfit.
You stepped in. Slowly. Calmly. Locking the door behind you.
“You don’t have to hide from me,” you murmured. “You know better.”
Still, he didn’t answer. But you noticed the shift in his posture- the way his thighs pressed together, the tension in his fingers. He wanted to be punished.
Good.
You crouched behind him, brushing his curls back gently. He stiffened at first… but then leaned into your touch, like a stray cat trying not to beg.
“You’ve been ignoring your rules again.” You reached down and cupped his jaw, “Do you want to to tell me why?”
His voice was barley audible. “I wanted… I wanted you to come find me.”
You hummed. “And what if I didn’t? What if i left you up here all night, all crying and needy?”
He whined softly- an almost pathetic, breathy sound that went straight between your thighs.
You stood up and walked towards the old lounge chair. You sat with slow intentions, legs crossed, arms resting on the armrests like a throne.
“Come here.”
Brahms scrambled up from the rug, crawling to you on his hands and knees. His eyes flickered with something wild- worship and guilt and desperation all knotted together.
When he reached you, he waited, kneeling between your legs.
“You know what to do.” You said simply.
He nodded, hands trembling slightly as he reached to undo his pants. You caught his wrists before he could.
“Use your words.”
His breath caught.
“Please,” he whispered. “I want to be good, I want to- I need your hands. Please…”
You guided him up until he was standing between your legs. You tugged his pants down his pants and boxers down in one go, exposing his cock- flushed, hard, twitching already.
“Such a mess already,” you mused, wrapping your fingers around his base. He quivered violently. “All this just from being ignored?”
He nodded quickly, lips parted in anticipation. Your hand tightened around his cock.
“Say it.”
“Yes- yes, Mommy- i got hard just from thinking about you. I couldn’t help it.”
You rewarded him with a slow stroke.
Good boy.
Brahms whimpered at your touch, his hips twitching at as you set a slow, teasing pace. His fingers dug into your thighs, seeking grounding.
“You like being good for me?” You murmured, watching the way his stuttered with every upward flick of your wrist.
“I love being good for you.” He chocked out. “Please, please don’t stop-“
“I won’t,” You purred. “Not unless you’re bad again.”
His eyes rolled as you twisted your wrist on the upstroke, teasing the sensitive head with your thumb.
“Mommy- I- I don’t think I can last-“
“Then don’t.”
His whole body seized as he spilled across your fingers, moaning your name like a prayer, like it hurt to say it, yet worse if he didn’t. You stroked him through it, soft and slow, until he collapsed against your chest, trembling.
You kissed the crown of his head.
“There’s my sweet boy.”
He clung to you. Breathless. Shaking. But safe.
He always felt safest when you were in control.
#smut#yeaiamme2#x fem!reader#brahms heelshire smut#brahms heelsire x reader#fem reader#brahms smut#x black reader
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