A/N: I swear barely anyone writes for this man so I had to write something. I hope you guys enjoyyy.
-
The first week you start managing Stone Cold Steve Austin, everybody backstage looks at you like you got assigned a death sentence.
“Good luck with Austin,” one of the production guys tells you while clipping papers to a board. “Man barely likes talking to people.”
Another wrestler laughs. “If he likes you after a month, that’s basically marriage.”
You think they’re exaggerating.
They are not.
The first conversation you have with Steve lasts exactly twelve seconds.
“You the new manager?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Stay outta my way during promos.”
Then he walks off with a towel around his neck and two beers already in his hand before noon.
That’s it.
No smile.
No fake politeness.
Nothing.
At first, you think maybe he hates you specifically, but after a few weeks, you realize that’s just how he is.
Steve keeps everybody at arm’s length.
Locker room conversations never last long with him. He’ll joke around with people, crack a sarcastic comment, drink a beer with the guys after shows, but nobody really knows him. Not completely.
He lives by DTA.
Don’t Trust Anybody.
And somehow, you become the one person he slowly stops shutting out.
It happens little by little.
Small things.
He starts waiting for you before walking through gorilla position.
Starts handing you an extra water bottle without asking.
Starts looking over at you during promos like he wants to see if you approve.
Even the boys backstage notice it.
“Steve likes you,” one of the agents says one night.
You snort. “Steve barely tolerates me.”
“Nah,” he says. “That’s Austin being friendly.”
Friendly.
Apparently, for Steve Austin, friendly means grunting in your direction and making sure nobody talks over you in meetings.
Still, your relationship stays inside work.
The second shows end, you disappear.
Straight to the hotel.
Every city.
Every time.
And Steve notices.
“You ever do anything besides hide in that hotel room?” he asks one night while unlacing his boots.
You shrug. “I like my peace.”
He gives you a look. “You’re twenty-something years old.”
“And?”
“And it ain’t normal.”
“You drink enough for both of us anyway.”
That actually gets a laugh outta him.
A real one.
Low and raspy.
“Come to the bar tonight.”
“Nah.”
“C’mon.”
“I said no.”
“You scared you can’t hang?”
You narrow your eyes immediately. “That’s manipulative.”
“But is it workin’?”
“…Maybe a little.”
Steve smirks like he already won.
And somehow, a few hours later, you end up in a loud bar packed with wrestlers, road agents, and production crew.
The second you walk in, heads turn.
Not just because you’re beautiful.
But because you’re with Steve.
And Steve doesn’t bring people around.
Especially not women.
Especially not women he actually seems comfortable with.
You ignore the stares though.
You slide into the booth beside him while music blasts through the speakers.
One beer turns into two.
Then whiskey.
Then shots.
And Steve starts staring at you funny around your fourth drink.
“You good?” he asks.
You look offended. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He gestures vaguely at you. “You tiny.”
You burst out laughing. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Usually people your size halfway dead by now.”
“Please,” you scoff. “You think this is bad?”
Then you toss back another shot without even making a face.
The entire table loses it.
Even Steve’s sitting there looking stunned.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters.
“Told you.”
By the end of the night, you’re leaned back in the booth arguing with one of the wrestlers about college football while Steve watches you with this unreadable expression.
Not lust.
Not exactly.
Something softer.
Something curious.
Because for the first time, he’s seeing who you are outside the arena.
And he likes it.
A lot.
“You’re from where again?” he asks later while the group starts thinning out.
“South Carolina.”
Steve nods slowly. “That explains the accent.”
“I do not have an accent.”
“You absolutely got an accent.”
“You’re literally from Texas.”
“That ain’t the point.”
You roll your eyes, smiling into your drink.
Then the conversation shifts again.
You tell him about growing up with your dad.
About fishing before sunrise.
About learning how to shoot before you learned how to drive.
About hunting trips and muddy boots and venison in the freezer every winter.
Steve looks genuinely shocked.
“You hunt?”
“Mhm.”
“With what?”
“A rifle mostly.”
“You know how to clean one too?”
You give him a look. “Obviously.”
He leans back against the booth staring at you for a second too long.
Because none of this matches what he expected.
Not the jewelry around your wrists.
Not your soft voice.
Not your pretty face.
Not the way you carry yourself.
Steve’s used to women that are loud, flashy, easy to read.
Women he understands immediately.
But you?
You surprise him every single time he learns something new.
And he can’t stop thinking about it.
The ride back to the hotel is quieter.
The city lights blur past outside the window while the other wrestlers stumble around drunk ahead of y’all.
Steve walks beside you with his hands shoved in his pockets.
“You had fun?” he asks finally.
“I did.”
“Told you you needed to stop hidin’ in them hotel rooms.”
You smile a little. “Don’t get cocky.”
“Too late.”
There’s a comfortable silence after that.
Then you look over at him.
“You know… everybody says you don’t like people.”
Steve snorts softly. “Most people give me reasons not to.”
“But not me?”
His eyes shift toward you then.
Slow.
Heavy.
“You’re different.”
Your stomach flips a little at the way he says it.
Not smooth.
Not flirtatious.
Just honest.
Which somehow feels more dangerous coming from him.
Steve Austin doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean.
When y’all reach your hotel door, you stop and turn toward him.
“Thanks for inviting me tonight.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing, but his eyes stay on you.
“Yeah.”
Neither of you move right away.
There’s tension there now.
Thick.
New.
Steve notices the way your lashes lower slightly when you look at his mouth.
You notice the way his jaw tightens.
For a second, it feels like something might happen.
But Steve steps back first.
Because this feeling creeping up on him?
It scares him a little.
And Steve Austin doesn’t scare easy.
“Get some sleep,” he says quietly.
You nod once. “Night, Steve.”
“Night.”
He waits until your hotel door closes before finally walking away.
But the whole way back to his room, all he can think about is you.
Your laugh.
Your accent.
The way you held your liquor better than half the locker room.
The way you surprised him over and over again without even trying.
And somewhere between that bar and this hallway, Stone Cold Steve Austin realizes something he never planned on feeling again.
He’s falling for you.
-
The next few weeks feel… strange.
Not bad.
Just different.
Because after that night at the bar, Stone Cold Steve Austin starts avoiding you.
Not completely.
He still talks to you during shows.
Still checks in before promos.
Still makes sure nobody backstage gives you a hard time.
But the easy conversations stop.
The lingering looks disappear.
And the second work is done?
He’s gone.
Like he’s trying to put distance between y’all before something gets outta control.
At first, you try not to take it personally.
Steve’s complicated.
Everybody knows that.
But after almost two weeks of him acting weird, irritation starts replacing confusion.
Because you know he feels something.
You saw it that night.
And now he’s pretending he didn’t.
One evening after a live show in Chicago, you finally corner him backstage near the production crates while everybody else starts filing out toward the parking lot.
“Okay, what is your problem?”
Steve looks up from taping his wrists slower than usual.
“My problem?”
“Yes, your problem.” You fold your arms. “You been acting weird as hell.”
“I ain’t actin’ weird.”
“You absolutely are.”
“Nah.”
“Steve.”
Just hearing you say his name like that makes his jaw tighten.
Because you’re looking right at him.
Too close.
Too pretty.
Too damn observant.
He sighs heavily and tosses the tape into his bag.
“You wanna know the truth?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t need to be around me like that.”
Your eyebrows pull together immediately. “Like what?”
“Outside work.”
You stare at him for a second. “That makes no sense.”
“Makes perfect sense.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Steve shakes his head once like he’s already frustrated with himself.
“You’re a good girl.”
You almost laugh. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“And what exactly does that have to do with anything?”
“People around me get dragged into bullshit.” His voice lowers. “Politics. Drama. Trouble. I don’t got the energy for it anymore.”
“That sounds like your issue, not mine.”
His eyes flash toward yours.
“You don’t understand—”
“No, Steve, you don’t understand.” You step closer. “You don’t get to decide for me what I can handle.”
That hits him harder than he expects.
Because most people back off from him.
Most people get intimidated.
But not you.
Never you.
“You think I’m scared of you?” you ask quietly.
Steve goes silent.
“I grew up around stubborn southern men my whole life,” you continue. “You are not that special.”
And somehow that almost makes him smile.
Almost.
“You should stay away from me anyway.”
“But you don’t actually want that.”
That one lands directly in his chest.
The hallway suddenly feels too quiet.
Too close.
Steve stares down at you for a long moment, his face unreadable, but you catch it—
That look.
The same one from outside your hotel room weeks ago.
Want.
Conflict.
Restraint.
And suddenly you’re tired of pretending not to see it.
“You know what I think?” you say softly.
“What.”
“I think you’re scared.”
His eyes narrow instantly. “I ain’t scared of shit.”
“You’re scared of liking me.”
The air between y’all goes dead still.
Steve lets out this rough exhale through his nose and looks away for half a second like he’s trying to regain control of himself.
Which tells you everything.
Your heart starts pounding.
“Steve…”
“Don’t.”
But his voice sounds weak this time.
Not commanding.
Not convincing.
You step closer anyway.
Close enough to smell beer and leather and the faint soap from his shower earlier.
Close enough that if either one of you leaned in—
“You keep lookin’ at me like you wanna do somethin’ about it,” you murmur.
His throat moves when he swallows.
“Cause I do.”
The confession comes out rough.
Honest.
And the second it does, something shifts.
Your hand slides lightly against his chest.
Steve’s eyes drop to your mouth immediately.
“Then stop fighting it,” you whisper.
That’s all it takes.
His hand suddenly grabs your waist hard enough to pull you flush against him, and then his mouth crashes into yours.
Hot.
Immediate.
Weeks of tension hit all at once.
You gasp against him when his other hand moves to your jaw, tilting your head so he can kiss you deeper.
And Steve kisses like he wrestles—
Intense.
Possessive.
Like he’s been holding himself back too long.
The sound he makes when you kiss him back nearly knocks the breath outta you.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters against your lips before kissing you again.
You clutch the front of his shirt while his hands tighten around your waist.
For a man that keeps everybody out emotionally, the way he kisses is devastatingly honest.
Every bit of want he’s been burying comes pouring out through it.
The hallway feels too hot.
Too small.
Your back lightly bumps the wall beside the equipment crates, and Steve immediately crowds closer without even thinking about it.
One thick hand braces beside your head while the other stays firm on your hip.
“You got no idea what you do to me,” he says roughly.
You smile a little, breathless. “I think I’m starting to figure it out.”
That earns you another kiss.
Slower this time.
Still deep.
Still dangerous.
But softer underneath it now.
Like he’s finally letting himself feel this instead of running from it.
When he finally pulls back, both of y’all are breathing hard.
Steve rests his forehead against yours for a second, eyes shut tight like he’s irritated with himself.
“This is a bad idea,” he mutters.
You lightly touch his jaw. “You keep saying that.”
“Cause it’s true.”
“But you still kissed me.”
His eyes open slowly.
And the look in them almost melts you alive.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I did.”
-
A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed. Leave some love. PEACE&LOVE
Trailer Park AU headcanons for Stone Cold Steve Austin x Reader.
NOTE: I've been potentially wanting to develop a fic series of one off stories for stone cold steve austin but have never known what. I have in my head always had a trailer park au for shawn michaels which i've never really posted about BUT i realised recently that austin also fits a trailer park au. SO. here we are. if this gets enough traction, i may write an actual fic in the future
♡ You both live in lot 6 in a beat up single wide trailer. He's personalised it somewhat with rattle snake decals on the mailbox and a busted neon BUDWEISER sign he stole from a bar in '98 that still kinda works.
♡ When Steve’s feelin’ sweet (which is more often than he’ll ever admit), that gravel-rough Texas drawl drips “darlin’” like honey over broken glass. But the second some asshole neighbor revs a dirt bike at 3 a.m. or lets their pit bull shit on your steps again, it’s “Woman, go get my goddamn shotgun ’fore I beat somebody with it.”
♡ He built you a porch swing outta old pallets and chains. It's crooked as hell and squeaks like a dying cat, but he sits out there every evening with you on his lap, boots kicked up, watching the stray dogs fight.
♡ His mama still sends you both care packages and it pisses him off until it doesn't. It's usually things like Jesus candles, bible verses and off brand sausages. He grumbles about it but you both eat all the sausages and light the damn candles when the power goes out.
♡He says “I love you” exactly three ways: drunk and soft at 2 a.m. with his face buried in your neck, hungover and grumpy over burnt toast with a gruff “you’re alright, I guess,” or just to keep you on your toes he’ll flip you double birds with a shit-eating grin and walk off like that settles it.
♡ Ninety percent of nights he doesn't make it to the bedroom. Passes out dead on the couch, boots still on, TV screaming Cops reruns, one thick arm flung wide like he’s saving your spot. You always crawl in, wedge yourself under it, and fall asleep to the sound of him snoring like a chainsaw and William Shatner narrating police chases.
♡ Got a Polaroid of you knocked out cold on his chest, hair a mess, drooling a little, one tit half out your tank top, taped inside his wallet. Man will flash that picture at the gas station, the bar, the damn probation office, bragging “Look at my ol’ lady, ain’t she somethin’?” like he’s showing off a trophy buck.
♡ Proposed exactly how you’d expect: cracked a fresh Coors, tied your ring to the cheap one he bought on layaway for six months to the pull-tab with fishing line, handed it over like it was just another beer. “Drink up, darlin’. We’re gettin’ hitched.” You almost choked on the tab laughing.
♡ Friday nights mean tailgate down on his rusted-out Silverado, sleeping bag thrown in the bed, stars so close you could touch ’em. He fucks you slow and filthy under that Texas sky, radio turned low enough that Duane Allman’s guitar cries over the sound of skin on skin and the wet drag of his mouth on your throat.
♡ Man’s a goddamn biter. Leaves purple-blue teeth marks everywhere his mouth can reach, collarbone, tits, the soft inside of your thigh, that spot right above your ass, so every busybody in the park knows exactly who you belong to when you’re walking to the laundry room in his too-big T-shirt.
♡ Trying to shower together in that plastic coffin of a stall is a lost cause. Water barely hits you both before he’s got you pinned to the wall, big hands under your thighs, growling “my dirty little trailer-park queen” while he splits you open and the showerhead just spits sad lukewarm drops on his back.
Has 100% poured beer straight from the can down your chest just to chase it with his tongue, licking sticky trails over your tits while you laugh and call him a nasty bastard. He just grins, all teeth and sin, and does it again.
♡ Breeding kink off the charts. Neither of you are even ready to have children but he loves finishing deep and plugging you with two fingers after, rasping “gonna keep every drop in my girl”
♡ Loves bending you over the kitchen counter while you’re trying to cook. Doesn’t matter if it’s ramen or deer steak, just hikes your little shorts to the side, spits on his hand, and slides in, and fucks you so hard the cabinets rattle and the Jesus candle falls off the windowsill again.
♡ Will eat you out on the crooked porch swing at 2 a.m. You straddling his face, hands gripping the rusty chain for dear life, his tongue fucking relentless while the swing creaks like it’s about to snap and the neighbor’s security light flickers on you both.
♡ Loves when you ride him reverse cowgirl in his ratty recliner. Boots still on, both hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise while he watches himself disappear inside you and mutters “fuckin’ look at that pretty pussy swallow me whole.”
♡ If y’all argue, makeup sex is immediate and brutal. He’ll pin you face-down on the mattress, yank your head back by the hair, and pound you till the headboard puts another dent in the wall, snarling “still mine, ain’tcha?” until you’re sobbing “yes, Steve, fuck, always yours.”
stone cold possessive sex 🤤🤤 he’s kind of inexperienced with his feelings and doesn’t let you know how jealous it makes him feel when other people from the roster flirt with you. he needs to have you for himself but he gets so chocked up with his words when your presences graces his view, further intensifying his desire for you
I’ve been waiting for something like this 😖😩 ty for sending this in :D
tw: afab!reader, jealousy, possessiveness, unprotected sex, mirror sex, choking, scsa sucks at processing his feelings lol, established relationship
nsfw below the cut, mdni
Austin was tired.
Tired, exhausted, and pissed off—which in itself was nothing unusual if it weren‘t for this weird, nagging feeling in his chest that had been bothering him all evening.
It had started when he walked in on Kevin Nash and you in his very own locker room. No, he didn’t catch you two doing anything particularly indecent, but there was something in the air.
A few weeks ago, you had started getting involved in a storyline with the NWO. So, chatting with Nash backstage was only normal. But he could swear there was a mischievous glimmer in Nash‘s eyes, sizing Austin up when he walked into the room. The condescending pat on Austin's back by Nash before he left the room didn't go unnoticed.
During the car ride after tonight's show, Austin kept to himself mostly. He drove in silence, while you seemed to be overflowing with emotions, almost talking his ear off.
He didn‘t register what you were saying, absently nodding to whatever it was you were telling him about, as he was too busy with reminiscing about tonight's events in his head.
When it came to you, Austin had eyes on the back of his head. He wasn’t oblivious to Nash's stares. And it wasn't just Nash, it was damn near the whole roster, even that sleazy sumbitch Flair.
He hated it—hated their lingering eyes on you, hated their advances toward you when they thought he wasn‘t looking.
Your carefree laughter echoed through the car, seizing him out of his thoughts. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes, finally listening to you. Of course, you were talking about the storyline, excited you‘d be scheduled for more TV time. You seemed so happy.
He shifted in his seat and tried to shove his thoughts into the back of his mind.
But he couldn’t. Nash's stupid face flashed before him, making his gut boil.
That fucking asshole. He wanted to knock his shit-eating grin right off his face.
Fuck him. Fuck all of them.
He gripped onto the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white but remained silent.
For now.
There was a right time and rightplace for everything.
After unlocking your shared hotel room with his keycard, he ushered you inside.
Austin's demeanor wasn’t out of the ordinary. These days, he usually fell straight into bed after a show, dozing off quickly, so you didn't suspect anything by his silent behavior. He was probably tired, you figured.
You were just about to unpack your bag when suddenly, Stone Cold was walking up to you with quick steps and a stern look written on his face.
The hotel room door fell shut with a deafening noise. Suddenly you found yourself pressed up against Austin, with his hand on the back of your neck staring you down.
"You‘re so naive."
His voice was calm, but you could hear the underlying irritation in it.
What the hell was he talking about?
You were confused. Mere seconds ago, everything was just fine.
Looking up at him all doe-eyed, you asked, "What‘s wrong?"
Stone Cold blinked slowly and opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, only to close it again seconds later. Instead of replying, he only let out a small grunt and clenched his jaw.
"You okay?“ you asked again.
A few moments passed and nothing happens.
Then everything seemed to happen all at once, very quickly.
You were pulled in for a kiss. His lips were hot and heavy against yours, causing your heart to sink to your stomach. You gasped at this sudden outburst and had no idea what had pushed him over the edge like this. The hands on your neck started squeezing, not enough to hurt you but enough to make you moan into his mouth.
Placing your hands on his chest, you broke the kiss by backing off slightly. He didn‘t move away an inch.
"W-What-," you stuttered but lost your train of thought when his icy gaze bore into you.
"Wanna show you something," he murmured.
Dropping his hands to your lower back, he guided you towards the dresser besides the bed. You stumbled a few steps backward until the back of your legs bumped into the piece of furniture.
You stare up at him expectantly, eyes wide and sparkling with curiosity.
The look on your face had his insides twitching again. You were in his head more than he was willing to admit.
He silently cursed not only himself but also you. He knew fully well that whatever the two of you had going on wasn‘t going to last. Sooner or later you were going to leave him. Austin wasn't easy to deal with. This whole thing was bound to backfire.
His hands were on your skin again and he grumbled to himself at the thought. He didn‘t want to think about that. Not right now.
With one swift motion, he reached behind you, knocking off the useless clutter on the dresser.
Cradling your body in his arms, he kissed you again, so feverishly it made your knees buckle. His hands were roaming hungrily all over your body, pressing his firm frame into you, reveling in the cute, muffled noises he drew out of you. But this wasn’t enough. He could never seem to get enough of you.
Soon, he was biting your lower lip, then along your jaw, before biting and sucking along the sides of your neck. You felt dizzy.
You were sure this was going to leave marks. Realizing you didn’t mind, you melted into his touch.
Austin broke away and slid his hands under your shirt, taking it off. Cool air hit your skin, but you felt yourself heat up under his gaze and you wanted to kiss him again. You leaned forward, but he spun you around, making you face the mirror behind you.
You were met with your reflection, with Austin right behind you, his hands on your shoulders.
You shuddered as his hands slid down the sides of your body while squeezing your soft, exposed flesh.
You watched as he put one hand around your neck while hooking his fingers into one of the belt loops of your jeans, tugging on them slightly.
"Take 'em off," he instructed while not breaking eye contact.
His touch had left a trail of goosebumps on your skin and you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed under his stare, so you hesitated. Burning up from the inside, you reached down and fumbled awkwardly with your jeans, averting your eyes to unbutton them.
"Eyes up here," he chided. You flinched, but complied.
You raised your gaze as you slid down your jeans but kept on your underwear.
He stared at you through the mirror for what feels like an eternity. You wondered if he was waiting for you to pull down your panties.
Just before you were about to do so, he let go of your neck and took your face in his hand instead, squishing your cheeks. His other hand was splayed on your stomach.
"What a pretty sight, huh?"
Running his thumb across your lip he continued, "I can't blame anyone that wants to have a piece of this."
The hand on your stomach wandered downward at a tantalizingly slow speed. Eventually, he reached your panties and started toying with the waistband.
"But they don‘t get to see you like I do," he spoke, his breath fanning across your cheek.
He yanked down your panties causing you to suck in a sharp breath of air. You felt so exposed - and how couldn’t you, with your panties pooled around your ankles and Stone Cold looming over you from behind in front of the mirror? Exposed and helpless.
And aroused.
"They don‘t get to have you like I do," he spoke slowly and placed his hand on your hip.
Who the hell was he even talking about?
You frowned. Was he… jealous?
Sure, there have been occasional flirty remarks here and there by some guys backstage, but as far as you were concerned they were always lighthearted. Nothing more. Besides, you'd never betray him and cheat on him. No reason to get jealous.
He scoffed as if he had just read your thoughts.
"You‘re so naive.." he repeated for the second time this evening. "But that‘s okay. I'll always be close by."
Austin pressed himself into you. You could feel his erection poking through his jeans.
"Can you feel how much I want you right now?" he mumbled lowly
"Every guy back there wishes he was in my place," he paused.
He rumbled, his voice thick with desire, "You don‘t need anyone else but me."
His voice always had a way of making you go weak in the knees. He couldn‘t wait any longer. Neither could you.
His hands fumbled with the zipper of his jeans, hastily freeing his cock, which was already leaking precum at the tip.
He adjusted your hips and you propped yourself onto the dresser, giving him easier access. He exhaled sharply as he dipped his fingers into your cunt, realizing how wet you were. As he coated his dick with the gathered slick on his fingers, he didn’t fail to notice how impatient you were. You arched your back and pouted at him through the mirror.
He aligned himself at your entrance, gripping your hips with both of his hands. You yelped when he shoved his cock into you abruptly, without warning.
He remained like this for a few seconds before slowly pulling out again, only to ram himself back in, groaning at the way your walls stretched around him.
The pain quickly subsided and you moaned at the full feeling of him inside you.
His speed started slow but his thrusts were brutal, knocking the air right out of you. He had you heaving for air in no time.
"How‘s it feel?" he teased, "Huh?"
"Tell me how I make ya feel."
You bit your lip, struggling for words. You couldn't answer.
Austin’s movements came to a halt, almost pulling out fully. He dug his fingers into your skin, as you were still panting heavily, trying to catch your breath.
In an attempt to get him back deeper into you, you grinded your hips against him. He could obviously tell you were enjoying this, but he wanted to hear you say it.
Needed to hear you say it.
"Don‘t I make ya feel good?"
Still biting your lip, you nodded.
His gaze was glued to your reflection. Seeing your dazed-out expression, eyes clouded and glazed over with lust, made his cock twitch, and it took him a great deal of self-restraint not to immediately thrust back into you.
"M-More," you finally managed to mewl, grinding your hips. "Please," you huffed.
Complying to your pleas, his hands slid up your back, pushing you forward. Now, you were halfway lying on the dresser on your stomach. This way you could see him towering over you in the mirror, easing himself back into your dripping cunt. He grabbed your wrists, pinning both of them behind your back with just one hand.
"Look at you," he growled and rutted into you, setting a fast, merciless rhythm. Your body struggled to keep up.
"Look at you," he repeated and chuckled darkly. "Such a pretty lil‘ thing. And so desperate.."
"Only f’me," he groaned in between thrusts. "Ain‘t that right?"
You moaned. His words opened you up even more.
His other free hand reached forward again, encircling your neck and pulling you up slightly.
"There ain't nobody that can make you feel like I can," he mumbled to himself as if he needed to reassure himself.
As soon as he started squeezing your neck your legs turned to jelly. You were so close.
His grip on your wrist got more possessive. At this point, his breathing had become unsteady too. He was fighting the urge to come right then and there.
"Look at me," he barked.
Your eyes shot up to the mirror, but you barely managed to keep them open. Everything was too much, the tension building inside your stomach becoming unbearable. You came with a series of wrecked noises and he kept fucking you through your climax, almost collapsing under him.
But with your walls pulsating around his cock, he couldn‘t help but come shortly after you.
When he pulled out, there were strings of his come dripping out your swollen cunt, and he groaned in appreciation.
Hello dear!! This is my first time to send a request, and English is not my native language, please forgive my poor word choice.First I want to thank you for your fanfic! You don't know how much happiness your articles have added to my boring life😭
Still SCSA!
Let’s get to the point: what if you wake up in the morning and find out he is doing something dirty to you? Or, about controlling your orgasm? (Please forgive my rudeness or inappropriate words, but I hope you get my point! God, I swear I want to be tortured by him like this)
(If you think my subject matter offensive or uninteresting, please ignore my request - that's okay!Thank you for reading and have a good day from the other side of earth!)
Hi!! Tysm for your kind words :D I‘m so happy you enjoy my silly little posts lol :) I love your idea so, so much and I hope you like how it turned out <3
tw: afab!reader, somnophilia (consensual!), edging and orgasm denial, fingering
nsfw below the cut, MDNI
It was still dark outside.
Austin had been trying to fall back asleep for the better part of an hour. He groaned into his pillow before he finally gave up. Slowly, he sat up, propping himself up against the headboard.
It wasn't unusual for him to wake up in the early hours of the morning and struggle to drift back to sleep. Most of the time he'd have to find some form of distraction to pass the time.
It was one of those nights, he realized.
And then his eyes shifted to you. Ever since you had stepped into his life, the question regarding what form of distraction he'd turn to, was usually resolved rather quickly.
You were sound asleep right next to him, with your back turned to him. At first, he merely watched you. The thin blanket covered you but failed at hiding your form, only accentuating the curves of your body.
He reached out to remove the blanket, revealing the oversized t shirt you wore, which he promptly started hiking up. Austin let out a pleased hum the moment he saw you wore no shorts underneath, only underwear. Pretty, but the extra layer of fabric needed to go.
He put his hand on your ass, gently squeezing your skin before skimming his fingers along your outer thigh down to your knee.
He grabbed it and opened you up to him.
Your breathing was still steady and deep as he laid his hand on your inner thigh, gently caressing your skin as he made his way upward. Carefully, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulled them down, discarding them somewhere on the ground.
You wouldn’t need them for a long time anyway.
Returning his attention back to you, he spread your legs and positioned himself in between your thighs.
His eyes lit up at the sight before him, and he groaned.
He brushed his thumb over your clit ever so slightly, enticing the tiniest gasp to fall from your lips. Your face was still nuzzled into the pillow.
Parting your lips for better access, he flicked your clit again with his thumb before he started circling around it slowly. He wanted to draw this out for as long as possible as he warmed you up for him.
Which seemed to be working. You were already grimacing and moaning softly in accordance with his movements. He'd alternate the pressure and speed with which he massaged and stroked your clit, and smirked to himself at how responsive you were to his touch.
Keeping his eyes on you, his fingers slid down your lips right above your entrance, but he didn't slip them into you just yet. Instead, he dragged his fingers up again, applying a bit of pressure as he rubbed his fingers up and down between your folds. As he continued teasing you like this, your moans became gradually more unhinged.
Keeping his movements slow and deliberate, he slid his fingers down your slit one more time before finally sinking two of his fingers inside your entrance.
Your body seemed to react on its own when you started mindlessly grinding your hips under his watchful gaze. His eyes tracked every tiny movement.
He began to gently work his fingers deeper into you. Each pumping motion of his fingers was met with your whimpers and moans as he stretched your walls, filling the room with wet, squelchy noises.
When he eventually pulled his fingers out of you, they were sticky and completely slick with your arousal. You were so wet and didn't even know it yet. He returned his attention back to the most sensitive part of your cunt as he spread your wetness on your clit when he drew lazy circles around it, earning him a few more muffled moans from you in return.
Finally, you shifted beneath him. Your eyes fluttered open, blinking and trying to understand what was happening.
You rubbed your eyes and groaned—your skin was burning. It took a couple of seconds for your eyes to adjust to the darkness.
“How’d you sleep?” Austin rasped, and you realized just who was looming over you.
He paused. Stone Cold withdrew his hand, leaving your unattended clit swollen and needy.
Your mind was still mushy, but you whined at the loss of contact nevertheless. The ache between your thighs was beginning to take over.
You let out a shaky breath as you slipped your hand between your legs over to your throbbing clit, trying to satisfy the burning urge yourself.
“Don’t,” he muttered and swatted it away.
Shoving his hand between your legs again, he murmured, “Let me fix that for ya.”
You opened your mouth to say something, but he indirectly shut you up the moment you felt his fingers curl inside you, causing your brain to short circuit.
He knew exactly how and where to touch you. With each motion, he stroked your g-spot and sent shivers down your spine. Your body seemed to lit up.
Everything fused together, and your vision became blurry. You felt so incredibly hot, your forehead was covered in sweat, and your stomach was in knots already.
Chasing the high you were so desperately anticipating, you couldn't help but start grinding your hips. But he wasn't willing to give you what you were chasing yet.
“Enjoyin‘ yourself?” he suddenly asked, and his voice seized you out of your trance.
Despite him raising this question at you, he didn't really intend on waiting for an answer. Whatever would have come out of your mouth would have been an incoherent string of words anyway.
“I could just stop and leave..,” he teased, enjoying the display of shock on your face as you widened your eyes. “How’s that? Would you like that?”
You wailed at this proposition.
“No? Ya gotta talk to me.”
Stone Cold stopped abruptly and pulled his fingers out of you again.
“Don‘t-,” you blurted out, scrambling for words, “..U-uh, don‘t stop.”
“Why?” he inquired with a hint of a devious smile ghosting his lips.
As soon as you felt his fingers slip inside you, you let out a series of weary moans that almost got overshadowed by the wet noises of his fingers pumping in and out of you. His thumb was now stroking your clit as well, and you cursed under your breath. Your stomach was beginning to tighten again.
“I'm gonna- ,” you bit your lip before continuing, “I need t-to come.”
You shut your eyes, your core ready to burst any second - until he stopped.
“Want to or need to?”
What?
You frowned as you tried to figure out the difference. Was there any? Since your mind was veiled with lust, it was admittedly hard to sort your thoughts. Your clit was pulsating and throbbing, craving his attention again, and your mind was blanking as you tried to find the right answer. This felt like torture..
“Both..?” you shakily settled for an answer.
Austin chuckled lowly in response.
“Hmmm, you're right. I don’t wanna leave just yet. That would be no fun.”
You were writhing under him, trying to rock your hips back and forth in tandem with his movements, attempting to get his fingers deeper inside you. You didn’t even notice that you had started drooling at this point.
Oh, it most definitely was torture. At least he started working his fingers into you again, which had you sigh in relief.
It didn’t take long for you to get close again. Austin, on the other hand, had other plans. He enjoyed this sight way too much to give you what you desired just yet.
Whenever you started bucking your hips, Austin changed the speed of his movements or stopped altogether, keeping you right on the edge but never giving you that extra push you needed, turning you into an incoherent mess.
You wanted to come so badly, the heat pooling in the pits of your stomach was slowly becoming too much to bear as the constant back and forth drove you crazy. Every pause made you hungrier for him.
He grinned at you, and for a moment you thought he would finally have mercy on you. A series of heatwaves rushed through you, your orgasm was building again… only for Austin to snatch it away at the last moment, watching you struggle while being unable to finish once again when he slid his fingers out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing.
You whimpered softly while looking at him with pleading eyes. Couldn't he hurry up already?
This back and forth continued for… god knows how long; you certainly didn't know anymore.
There were tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and you begged for him to keep going.
“I hate you,” you whined. “C-an‘t.. can‘t you keep going..?”
Feigning pity, he seemingly pondered his words.
"S-so unfair," you protested, slurring your words. "Just let m-me come. Please?"
"I could. But I won't.”
The cockiest, most complacent grin was plastered on his face as he studied you. This was to die for. Even though he was sure you felt as if he was the biggest asshole on earth right now, he knew it was going to be worth it in the end. He just had to push you a little bit more.
“Please, just k-keep going,” you huffed, humping against his hand.
You inhaled sharply when you felt him inserting a third finger into you, stretching you even more.
"Ask me nicely, an’ I‘ll think about it," he mumbled.
"Pleaseee," you mewled, dragging the word out in frustration.
He shook his head and slowed his movements once again.
"That’s all ya got?"
"Nononono," you sputtered. "No, please, d-don‘t stop again," you nearly sobbed.
"Can't take it—," you moaned as he increased the pressure on your clit, "..anymore."
All you could do was beg and whine, and so you did.
“There you go, that’s a good start,” he snarled.
“You wanna come?"
Your eyes widened at his words. “Yes,” you blurted out.
“Right now? How badly do you want it?” he teased, but this time he kept going.
You frantically grabbed the bedsheets as the desire within you became almost unbearable again.
“S-so,” you choked out, the desperation written right across your face, “sosososo bad—.”
“Please, uh, I’ll do anything—”
This was all he needed to hear.
He palmed his cock through his boxers with his free hand while he finally decided to give you what you needed, coaxing and teasing you towards your climax with both his words and his actions.
And when it finally hit you, you were on the verge of passing out. Your whole body went limp as the long-built-up anticipation finally culminated in a mind-numbing orgasm, washing over you and leaving you breathless in the process.
You did well, but he wasn't done with you for tonight.
