♡ 𝒮𝓀𝓎 ♡

[tinyd3ath]

I’m Sky • 20 • Aries • she/her ⭒ A03 ⭒⠀

⭒⠀Bulking weight •bakugou x f!reader

-Bakugou gets a little insecure about the extra weight he gained while bulking, and you fuck the insecurity out of him.

⭒ Sex therapy • Kataang x f!reader

-Aang and Katara are having trouble in the bedroom so they decide to see a sex therapist. And what better way to make them more comfortable than fuck them

[sc3ptre]

Lessons on sex

Pairing: Scott Miller x Storm Par partner!reader

⟡ Main Index | ⟡ Archive for Earth-181938

a/n: Here’s my little “get well soon” gift for @kryptidfiles !! Imagine this wrapped in a huge bow with flowers sticking out from every side. EVERYONE GO FOLLOW HER BLOG and I hope you enjoy!!

Summary: You made the mistake of turning sex into casual conversation with your coworker and accidentally start the worst HR violation of your life.

Classification: Smut +18 | coworkers to lovers, several smut scenes, alcohol consumption, rude/arrogant Scott Miller, oral sex, fingering, dirty talk, rough sex, rough groping, protected and unprotected sex, doggy style, missionary, squirting, ass smacking, marking/bruising, praise, dom/sub dynamics, workplace boundary issues and emotionally repressed idiots in love.

Word count: 9,2k

There was a difference between good sex and great sex, the same way there was a difference between getting fucked and being made love to...

Good sex was what you expected from anybody decent enough to make it that far with you. It was the kind people talked about casually with their friends, the kind that came up over drinks after someone asked, “So, was he good?” Good sex happened on Tuesdays after work with the guy from Hinge who insisted on taking you out somewhere too expensive for a second date. You split a basket of fries, drank half a beer because you still had work in the morning, drove home with exhaustion sitting heavy behind your eyes, then let him fuck you well enough to sleep for four uninterrupted hours. 

Good sex was practical and predictable. It convinced your body you were living a normal life.

Great sex was different. Great sex happened after work parties when your mascara was already smudged and your heels were in your hand by midnight. It happened on weekends with nowhere to be the next morning. You never talked about great sex because it sounded exaggerated the second you said it out loud, like you were overselling a man nobody else would understand. Great sex made you cum or at least brought you close enough that your stomach tightened every time you remembered it afterward. You thought about great sex while driving long stretches of empty highway, your hands steady on the wheel while your mind wandered somewhere warmer. 

Great sex stayed in your body for days. You caught yourself replaying parts of it absentmindedly while standing in line for coffee or brushing your teeth before bed.

Then there was getting fucked…

There was no cleaner way to define it. It lived somewhere between fantasy and urban legend, passed around between women in half-serious conversations that always dissolved into laughter. Everybody claimed to know someone who’d experienced it but nobody could explain it properly. Getting fucked was the kind of sex that distracted you in the middle of the day badly enough to make you stop what you were doing and change your underwear. It sat dangerously close to the limits of what sex could actually be before the whole thing collapsed under its own weight. 

If a guy treated you too much like an object, it fell apart immediately. 

If you didn’t orgasm, it didn’t count. 

If you weren’t still thinking about him six months later at red lights and in grocery store aisles and during lonely hotel nights, then it wasn’t that either. 

Getting fucked sat at the very top of the scale, lit up like something obvious and somehow most men still missed it completely.

Being made love to was worse and more dangerous, honestly.

For somebody like you, it could become embarrassing fast. Storm season kept you on the road for months at a time, bouncing between states, sleeping in motels with stiff sheets and weak air conditioning. Off-season meant office buildings, weather models glowing across multiple monitors, long meetings about funding, new equipment and data collection. Your life moved constantly and men liked that at first. A woman who was smart, busy, gone half the year, financially stable and difficult to pin down. 

Men loved the idea of you because it excused the fact they never had to give very much. Most of them thought they were in love but really, they just liked access to somebody they found impressive.

Before all of that, you used to think being made love to meant passion…intimacy. That it was slow sex with somebody who knew your body so well they could pull an orgasm out of you patiently and confidently, like it mattered to them as much as breathing did. You imagined hands lingering at your waist, sleepy conversation afterward, somebody brushing your hair away from your face before kissing you again.

Instead, you ended up underneath men who mistook enthusiasm for intimacy. You stared at ceilings while they grunted above you, listened to them breathe your name like they were performing something instead of feeling it. Sometimes you felt your stomach turn from the boredom alone, your body rocking mechanically with theirs while your mind drifted somewhere else entirely to storm reports, grocery lists and whether you needed to change your oil before the next drive west.

You never let them finish once you realized you hated it, that was the one thing you refused to fake. You pushed them off, sat up and reached for your clothes while they blinked at you in confusion. You told them it wasn’t going to work, sometimes you said it gently and other times you just didn’t bother. Either way, you watched realization settle over them while they sat there flushed and humiliated, their ego bruised worse than their feelings ever were but somehow your harsh words still made them cum…

Needless to say, after a while, you stopped having sex altogether.

You were in your rental house after a long day spent staring at storm data and listening to Javi ramble about whatever breakthrough he thought he’d made this time. It was late, the entire house felt heavy and warm, every light dimmer than usual and lately, you weren’t alone nearly as often as you used to be.

Scott sat at your dining table with your laptop open, shoulders slightly hunched, completely absorbed in columns of numbers and radar models. You’d known him for two years and he’d been your partner for one of them. 

People were right about him. He was direct to the point of rudeness, arrogant enough to make most people defensive within five minutes and mean when he thought someone deserved it but unlike most men in your field, Scott had learned how to admit when he was wrong, far from gracefully or happily but still, he did it.

The two of you were impossibly stubborn in almost identical ways, so sharing space with him sometimes felt like being trapped in a room with a sharper version of yourself. Separately, you were both good at what you did but together, you were nearly impossible to beat.

You couldn’t pinpoint when “coworkers” had turned into Scott walking into your house without knocking, helping himself to your fridge and sitting at your table like he paid rent.

“Best orgasm you’ve had during sex?” His voice came from across the room, casual and flat, like he’d asked you about rainfall percentages. He didn’t even look away from the laptop while he said it.

You’d forgotten he was meeting you there before the two of you drove to the bar together, which was why you were still walking around in sleep shorts and a bra, trying to find something decent enough to wear without looking like you’d spent an hour trying.

You took a sip from the beer he’d already pulled out of your fridge and nearly snorted into the bottle. “You think men do that?” you asked as you disappeared into your bedroom.

“To you?” Scott finally looked up. His eyes tracked your movement automatically while he reached for the beer the two of you were apparently sharing now. “I hope so.”

He took a drink as his eyes followed your movement.

You walked back into view holding two dresses on mismatched hangers. “You’re a fucking idiot,” you said plainly. “And maybe a pervert.”

Scott pointed at you immediately. “You’re changing in front of me. I could probably keep count of your bras at this point and I don’t. That actually makes me less of a pervert.”

You disappeared back into your room. He could hear hangers scraping against the closet rod while you searched through clothes with growing irritation.

“Just because it doesn’t make you hard doesn’t make you not a pervert,” you called back, your voice muffled through the wall.

“How do you know I’m not?” he shot back instantly, sounding almost offended by the assumption.

Silence followed but about a minute later, you walked back out wearing a dress he’d never seen before. It was simple, fitted enough to make his eyes stop for a second before continuing downward automatically. You crossed the room toward him, letting your heels drop onto the hardwood before slipping them on one at a time.

“You’re not attracted to me, Scott,” you said flatly.

He looked up slowly then, his eyes dragging over the length of the dress with enough attention to make most people nervous. On you, it just made you impatient.

“You seem awfully confident about that.”

“I am.” You adjusted the strap on your shoulder before glancing toward his laptop screen. “So don’t say shit that makes me sound stupid.”

Scott looked back at the laptop fast enough to make the movement obvious. He pretended to scroll through data he’d stopped reading the second you started undressing in the next room.

“I’m ready,” you said. “Good to go?”

“Need five minutes,” he muttered.

You walked behind him toward the front door, tapping his shoulder as you passed. “The data will still be there tomorrow. C’mon, Scotty.”

The teasing grin in your voice made something in his jaw tighten. You disappeared outside before he could even think of an answer.

Scott closed the laptop harder than necessary and stood, quietly adjusting himself through his jeans with the irritation of a man betrayed by his own body. He shut off the lights one by one and grabbed your keys from the counter before locking the door behind him.

The porch light was off so you couldn’t see the tent in his jeans. Thank fuck for that.

“Scotty was an eight-year-old with chubby cheeks,” he muttered while locking the deadbolt. He glanced over at you waiting by the passenger side of his truck. “It’s Scott.”

“It’s whatever I decide it is,” you replied easily.

He rolled his eyes and walked down the porch steps, unlocking the truck with a sharp click.

“Come open my door.”

“Since when do you need me to do that?” he complained, already circling the hood anyway.

“Since you got comfortable commenting on my bras.”

Scott stopped in front of you to stare before reaching around your waist to pull the handle open. The movement brought him close enough to smell your perfume underneath detergent and beer.

You smiled to yourself while climbing into the passenger seat because for once, Scott didn’t have anything smart to say.

Talking about sex with your coworkers was probably the least professional habit you could develop but professionalism stopped mattering after twelve-hour drives, shared motel rooms, gas station dinners at midnight and enough close calls together to make normal boundaries feel unnecessary. There were barely any women in the field to begin with, which meant the few of you that existed clung together fast and Scott, despite being deeply irritating most of the time, was easier to talk to than most people. 

Brutally honest people usually were.

At some point, conversations that started as jokes during long drives turned into real discussions about relationships, sex, exes and every disappointing person either of you had ever slept with. It happened slowly enough neither of you noticed the line moving until it was already somewhere far behind you.

HR would’ve had a heart attack.

That night, you learned Scott Miller did not do good sex. If good sex existed to him at all, it involved two people fully clothed and standing on opposite ends of a room.

The bar was more crowded than you expected, packed wall to wall with storm chasers, meteorologists, researchers and people who somehow always smelled faintly like dust and gasoline no matter how clean they looked. Whenever women in the field found each other, there was an unspoken tendency to group together immediately, so you spent most of the night at the bar talking with another researcher from Oklahoma while music pounded so loud you felt it vibrate through the floor beneath your heels.

Eventually Javi appeared beside you carrying drinks you absolutely weren’t going to refuse. He handed one over before leaning closer, lowering his voice.

“What’s wrong with Scott?”

You blinked at him. The question caught you off guard enough to make your brows pull together immediately because nobody ever asked about Scott. People either tolerated him, argued with him or avoided him entirely. Whatever problem Scott had, he usually fixed it himself before anyone could notice it existed.

Your eyes scanned the crowd automatically until you found him near the back corner of the bar with a soda in his hand. Of course he wasn’t drinking, he stood half-shadowed against the wall looking deeply unimpressed by the concept of social interaction…and staring directly at you.

Your eyes narrowed slightly until Scott finally got the message and looked away first.

You turned back to Javi. “Do you mean tonight or in general?” you asked dryly. “Because I’m pretty sure he was dropped as a child, but you’d have to ask his mother for confirmation.”

Javi frowned harder. “I mean tonight. He looks tense and it’s making me uneasy.”

“It’s Scott. He always looks tense.”

“More than usual.” Javi glanced over his shoulder carefully. “Tell him to relax for once…and to make some friends. That’s literally why we came here.”

You pointed at yourself immediately. “Why am I responsible for that?”

Javi shrugged like the answer was obvious. “Because you speak ‘Scott’ fluently. Translate what I just said into something he’ll actually understand.”

Your gaze dropped to the drink in your hand. “You’re bribing me.”

“And that drink cost me twenty-five dollars,” he replied. “So yes. Go.”

You snorted into the rim of your glass. “Pretty sure stress is what’s making you bald, by the way…not Scott’s burning gaze.”

Javi adjusted his baseball cap defensively. “Just go talk to him.”

You shook your head, already grinning despite yourself and pushed through the crowd toward the back of the bar, which Scott noticed immediately. 

The music got louder the closer you got to him, voices bleeding together into useless noise, so instead of trying to shout over it, you reached forward and hooked one finger through the belt loop of his jeans.

“Outside,” you said simply, tugging once as you moved toward the exit.

Scott followed without argument, that alone should’ve concerned you more than it did.

The plan was for him to ask what you wanted once you got outside. Instead, somewhere between the crowded bar and the exit door, he got distracted watching you walk ahead of him. Your dress moved against your hips every few steps, exposing flashes of leg skin under the low bar lights and the muscles in your bare back moved subtly every time you pushed through another cluster of people.

Inevitably, Scott’s eyes dropped lower before he caught himself.

By the time the two of you stepped outside into the cooler night air, he still hadn’t said a word.

You finally let go of his belt loop once the two of you were far enough from the entrance that the music had dulled into muffled bass behind you. You turned to face him properly, folding your arms across your chest as you looked up at him.

“What’s your current issue?” you asked.

“Current?” Scott repeated, brows pulling together.

You nodded once like the question made perfect sense.

“When’s the last time you had sex?”

A startled laugh escaped you before you could stop it. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged carelessly, shoving one hand into the pocket of his jeans. “What? Are you the only one allowed to ask those questions?”

You laughed again, this time shaking your head as you pointed at him. “Yes. Obviously.”

Scott snorted.

“And those are long-drive questions,” you continued, motioning vaguely toward his truck behind you before pointing back toward the crowded bar. “Not ‘parking lot outside a packed bar’ questions.”

“You still need to answer.” He shrugged again. “Those are the rules.”

“Have I ever told you how stupid those rules are?”

“First time I’m hearing complaints since you’re the one who made them,” he replied with a grin.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered under your breath before taking another sip of your drink.

Scott stayed quiet as he just watched you over the rim of his own soda, patient and expectant in a way that immediately irritated you because he clearly thought he was getting an answer eventually.

“Are you seriously gonna make me answer?”

“I can’t make you do anything,” he said calmly. “But I can wait. I still have to drive you home.”

You looked up toward the entrance of the bar. Through the windows you could still see people packed together under neon lights, laughing too loud, talking over each other about work, storm patterns and equipment failures. You’d already reached the point of the night where conversations started blending together into white noise.

“Can we leave now?” you asked.

Scott didn’t answer verbally. He just pulled his keys from his pocket, unlocked the truck with a click, then held his hand out toward your drink.

“Get in and lock the doors,” he said as he took the glass from you and turned back toward the bar to return it.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you called after him while walking directly to the passenger side and doing exactly that.

Honestly, you didn’t mind answering the question. The problem was that once you actually thought about it, you realized you weren’t entirely sure how long it had been. It had been long enough that you had to start considering technicalities and long enough that the answer became embarrassing and unfortunately, thinking about sex while sitting alone in Scott’s truck immediately led your brain somewhere unhelpful…

Scott eventually climbed back into the truck and shut the door behind him. He didn’t start driving right away, he just sat there in the dark, one hand resting on the wheel while the dashboard lights cut sharp shadows across his face…waiting, because the thing about car questions was that silence usually came first.

“A year and a half,” you blurted out finally. “Give or take.”

Scott’s head turned toward you so fast it almost looked painful. “No,” he said immediately. “I don’t believe that.”

You laughed in disbelief and looked toward him. “Believe whatever you want, Scott. I answered the fucking question. That’s the game.”

“A year and a half?” he repeated, staring at you like you’d confessed to murder. “What the hell do you even do on weekends?”

“Currently?” you replied dryly. “Sit in your truck while you annoy me.”

“No,” he said, already turning the key in the ignition. “You’re irritated because you’re sexually frustrated.”

You barked out another incredulous laugh. 

“And you’ve been sexually frustrated since I met you,” he continued as he shifted the truck into reverse. “Which explains why you piss me off every single fucking day.”

“Excuse you?” You turned toward him fully now, half laughing from sheer disbelief. “First the bra comments and now this? What’s next? Are you gonna set me up with one of your friends so he can fix me?”

“Put your seatbelt on.” The command came out flat and automatic.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do, Scott. I’m not drunk enough to–”

The words died in your throat the second he reached across you.

His arm slid in front of your chest while the truck reversed smoothly with his other hand still turning the wheel. His forearm brushed against the underside of your breasts accidentally…or maybe not so accidentally and your breath caught hard at the sudden closeness. Scott grabbed the seatbelt beside your shoulder, pulled it across your body in one sharp movement, then clicked it into place at your hip without looking away from the rear window once.

You drove home in complete silence.

No radio or conversation, just the steady sound of tires against asphalt and the occasional flick of the blinker while Scott kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. You’d heard every version of his voice over the last two years, sarcastic, irritated or sharp enough to make grown men defensive in meetings but hearing him tell you to put your seatbelt on while his arm pressed across your breasts had done something deeply unfortunate to your brain.

This was entirely your fault. You were the one who made sex an acceptable topic between the two of you, you were the one who turned it into a game, into background conversation during long drives and late nights. Somewhere along the way home, your definition of good sex had rewritten itself around that precise moment. 

For most people, that probably counted as foreplay, but for you? It counted as a serious fucking problem.

By the time Scott parked outside your house, your thoughts had spiraled so badly that you barely registered the truck stopping. You stayed seated even after he cut the engine, staring forward blankly while the silence settled heavier around you.

Scott got out first without saying anything and walked around the front of the truck toward your side.

The passenger door opened. You looked up just in time to feel him lean in and reach across you again, fingers brushing lightly against the fabric stretched over your waist as he unclipped the seatbelt. The contact lasted maybe a second but that was already too long.

Only then did you finally move. You climbed out quickly, making an effort to keep close to the truck instead of brushing against him, then headed straight for your front door while digging through your purse for your keys even if it was practically empty and somehow that made it worse. You found lip balm…receipts…some loose cash, everything except what you actually needed.

Scott followed behind you quietly.

You still hadn’t found the keys when his arm appeared beside you, reaching around your body with frustrating familiarity. He’d had your keys the entire night, he usually did whenever the two of you went out together because you constantly lost track of them.

The metal clicked softly as he unlocked the door for you.

Your breath stalled as Scott stood so close behind you that you could feel the heat coming off him through the thin fabric of your dress. His chest nearly touched your back, one arm still braced near your shoulder while he turned the lock. It boxed you in completely, your body caught between the door and him and the worst part was that it felt good.

The sharp heat low in your stomach made that painfully obvious.

Good sex, apparently, was standing fully clothed on your own porch while your coworker unlocked your front door…all while standing right behind you.

The lock finally clicked open. You pushed the door open and stepped inside fast to put distance between you before turning back toward him. 

Determination sat stiffly in your chest now…You were staying dressed. Whatever this weird tension was had to be alcohol-fueled, temporary, deeply stupid or preferably all three and gone by morning.

Unfortunately, Scott looked unfairly good standing on your porch under weak yellow light.

At some point he’d taken off his cap, you didn’t know when and hadn’t realized until now. Why did he look dreamy!? His hair was messy from running his hands through it all night and the expression on his face had settled back into that unreadable calm that somehow made things worse.

“Night, Scott,” you said quickly, then shut the door directly in his face…very determined to remain dressed.

“Are you gonna set me up with one of your friends so he can fix me?” That sentence replayed in your head later for one humiliating reason: Scott Miller had never been the kind of man to hand off work he could do himself.

You’d been wrong earlier, completely wrong.

Great sex didn’t happen on weekends or after parties or during long-awaited moments with somebody you trusted. Sometimes it happened five minutes after you slammed your front door in a man’s face and tried convincing yourself you still had common sense.

You stayed standing by the door after closing it, palms warm against the wood, waiting to hear his truck start. You expected the familiar sound of the driver’s side door opening, shutting and the low rumble of the engine before he pulled away but nothing happened.

At first you told yourself you were imagining the silence because you were still too aware of him…then a full minute passed…followed by another and then three more.

Five long, miserable minutes where your brain refused to focus on anything except the fact Scott was still outside your house.

You opened the door expecting embarrassment or maybe annoyance, maybe him realizing he forgot something. Instead, he was still standing there in the same position with that same unreadable expression, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans like you hadn’t just shut the door on him…five minutes ago.

You stared at each other for a second too long.

You never figured out what exactly snapped first. Pride, self-control or curiosity…maybe all of it at once again.

One second he was standing on your porch and the next you were grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him forward hard enough to make him stumble into you as your mouth crashed against his.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, the fragile determination to stay dressed shattered. You didn't just invite Scott in, you practically hauled him across the threshold, pulling him into a kiss that tasted of alcohol and months of suppressed frustration. It was messy and desperate, a collision of teeth and tongues that left you both breathless.

You stumbled backward, the friction of your bodies fueling a fire that had been simmering for far too long. As you navigated the space, your heels clicked erratically against the floor until you kicked them off with frantic movements, one flying toward the wall and the other sliding away as you backed into the dining area.

You hit the edge of the heavy wooden table and Scott didn't miss a beat. He gripped your waist with bruising force and hoisted you up, the sudden elevation making you gasp into his mouth. He didn't stop kissing you but his path shifted, lips sliding down your jawline to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His hands were everywhere, frantic and demanding, sliding up the fabric of your dress and bunching it up around your waist until your thighs were bare and shivering against the cool wood.

You felt his fingers hook into the elastic of your panties, tugging them down with a sharp, decisive motion until you could kick them off, exposing you to the air. As he lowered himself, his mouth found the swell of your breasts through your dress, biting lightly against the fabric on his way down between your legs.

"You don't need to do that," you managed to moan, your voice trembling as he moved your weight, sliding you toward the edge of the table until you were perched precariously, your legs naturally falling open.

"Shut up," Scott muttered against your skin, his voice a low, arrogant growl that sent a jolt of electricity straight to your clit as he finally settled himself firmly between your thighs, the heat of his body radiating against your wetness. 

Then, he dipped his head. The first touch of his tongue was a shock of heat, it was wet and precise. He dove right in, tongue licking upward from your perineum to your clit in one long, sweeping stroke. You arched your back as a loud moan escaped you since it had been so long since you’d felt anything this raw, this focused. You were starving for it and Scott was feeding off of you with a primal intensity that blurred everything else out.

He used his hands to grip your hips, pulling you closer to the edge so he could bury his face in you as he kneeled. He began to lap at you with a rhythmic, punishing speed, his tongue flattening out to cover as much surface area as possible before narrowing into a sharp point to flick relentlessly against your clit.

The sensation was overwhelming. You began to squirm, hips jerking instinctively against his mouth as your fingernails clawed at the tabletop. You weren't just enjoying it, you were unraveling.

"Fuck…Scott...please," you whimpered, though you didn't know what you were asking for.

He responded by changing your position. He pushed you flat onto your back on the table, the hard wood pressing into your spine and hauled your legs up, draping them over his broad shoulders. The position left you completely exposed, your pussy flared open and glistening in the dark room.

He didn't stop the oral but added more by sliding two fingers deep inside you, stretching you open while his tongue continued to hammer away at your clit. The combination of the internal pressure and the external friction was too much. You were shaking, breath coming in short, jagged gasps as your feet drummed against his back.

He could tell you were close, encouraging him to increase the pressure, fingers curling inside you to hit your G-spot while his tongue sucked your clit into his mouth, creating a vacuum of pleasure that felt like it was pulling your entire soul out through your cunt.

“Holy s-shit!” Your head thrashed from side to side, a loud, unrestrained scream tearing from your throat as the orgasm hit you like a freight train. It was violent and all-consuming, your internal muscles clamping down hard on his fingers as waves of intense pleasure crashed over you, leaving you whimpering and twitching on the table.

As the peak slowly subsided, Scott didn't pull away immediately. He stayed there, his breath hot against your sensitive skin, slowly lapping the remaining juices from your pussy. He cleaned you thoroughly, his tongue lingering on every inch of your swollen cunt until you were completely spent, lying limp and shivering on the table, finally satisfied.

He straightened slowly from between your legs, chest rising hard with uneven breaths that matched your own. His mouth was swollen and wet when he licked across his lips absentmindedly, eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made heat crawl back under your skin even while your body still twitched from the orgasm.

From your place sprawled across the dining table, you stared up at him in stunned silence. Your thighs were still trembling now against his sides and you were almost certain your expression looked ridiculous, wide-eyed and dazed in a way you hadn’t allowed yourself to look around another person in years.

Scott held a hand out toward you and you took it automatically.

He helped you sit up first before guiding you carefully off the table, one hand steady on your waist while your legs struggled to cooperate beneath you. The second your feet touched the floor, your knees nearly gave out entirely.

Scott wiped his mouth with his palm. “Goodnight,” he said and the gentleness of it caught you off guard more than anything else that night had.

His hand slipped away from your waist and the two of you just stood there for a second, staring at each other while trying and failing to breathe normally again.

Then Scott turned and walked toward the front door.

You stayed frozen in place while he opened it and left your house without another word. A few seconds later you finally heard the sounds you’d been waiting for earlier, the truck door opening, shutting and the engine starting before he drove off into the night.

You tried walking toward your bedroom afterward and immediately realized your legs barely worked. You ended up half stumbling down the hallway, one hand dragging along the wall for balance because your entire lower body still felt weak and oversensitive.

Great sex…that had been unbelievably, painfully great sex.

You thought about it constantly afterward. In the shower, during calls and meetings, while sitting in traffic or lying awake at night staring at the ceiling with your thighs pressed together. You didn’t mention it to your friends or talked to Scott about it, even during the long stretches of silence that filled the truck during drives. The two of you understood what happened without discussing it directly, you’d crossed a line and both of you seemed aware that talking about it too much would probably drag you over it again.

The following mornings, you waited for him outside on your porch instead of letting him walk into your house like usual. Mostly because you’d spent the entire week masturbating to the memory of him between your legs on your dining table before getting ready for the day and you didn’t trust yourself to survive seeing him inside your kitchen before sunrise.

For one solid week, you slept perfectly. No insomnia or late-night work spirals, no pacing around rooms or answering emails at one in the morning just to keep your brain occupied. Whatever tension usually sat under your skin had disappeared completely and now it sat between you both instead.

Every drive felt heavier, the silence stretched longer and every sharp inhale from him made your stomach tighten unexpectedly until eventually you got sick of pretending neither of you noticed it.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you interrupted suddenly.

Scott glanced toward you briefly, eyes leaving the road for barely a second before returning forward. “Do you want to?” he asked.

“I don’t,” you admitted. “I feel like you do though.”

“You’re right.”

You snorted quietly and looked back down at the laptop balanced across your knees. 

“I thought you liked being right.” Scott added.

“Fucking love it,” you replied automatically before grimacing. “Usually.”

Silence settled again until you broke it. “Okay,” you sighed eventually. “Maybe one thing.” You turned to him properly this time. “I wasn’t that drunk that night. Actually, I wasn’t drunk at all. I had that one beer before we left my place and the rest were mocktails.”

Scott turned his head enough to study your face for a second. “I wouldn’t have touched you if you were drunk,” he said flatly. “I’m an asshole, not fucking stupid.”

You leaned back against the seat slowly. “Even that’s changed.”

His brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“The coffee for starters,” you said. “The lunches, too. You stopped buying disgusting gas station sandwiches and now we actually eat dinner out like normal people.” You gestured vaguely toward him. “You used to hand me coffee with five sugar packets on the side because you couldn’t remember how I took it. Now it’s magically perfect every fucking morning.”

Scott adjusted his grip on the steering wheel.

“I thought eating around other people would make this less weird,” he admitted. “And I got tired of sugar packets all over my truck.”

“Our truck,” you corrected automatically before pointing at him accusingly. “And nothing about this is normal, Scott! You ate me out on my dining table!”

“Stop yelling at me.” His tone stayed frustratingly calm.

“Why?” you shot back. “Is it making you hard?”

Scott shifted in his seat hard enough that you noticed instantly. Both his hands locked tighter around the steering wheel while he stared straight ahead at the road. The tension in his jaw became visible because unfortunately for him, you weren’t wrong.

The last week had changed things. You looked less exhausted and less tightly wound. You hadn’t snapped at him once during work and he hadn’t gotten a single unhinged one a.m. email from you all week because for the first time since he’d met you, you were actually sleeping.

“So when are we doing it again?” he asked finally, against every ounce of common sense he had left.

NEVER…that should’ve been the answer. It was the logical answer, the responsible one, the answer two coworkers with already questionable boundaries should’ve landed on immediately.

It just wasn’t the truth.

You had always maintained that getting fucked couldn’t happen in motel rooms. It didn't matter how good the sex was, the second cheap carpet, bad lighting and a rattling air conditioner got involved, the whole thing dropped several levels automatically. 

Motel sex could be great, sometimes even memorable but it couldn’t be that, so the next time it happened definitely wasn’t in a motel room.

The weather that day had turned bad enough to keep everyone grounded but not dangerous enough to send your team chasing storms through three different counties. There was heavy rain, low visibility and too much lightning for comfort but not enough rotation to justify going out.

At some point, without either of you actually saying it outright, waiting the storm out in Scott’s apartment became the plan instead of sitting cramped inside the truck for hours pretending the tension between you didn’t exist.

You still couldn’t pinpoint who made the first move once the elevator doors closed behind you.

One second you were standing beside him soaked at the edges from the rain, listening to distant thunder through the concrete parking garage and the next, Scott’s hand was inside your pants like it belonged there.

You gasped hard into his mouth as his fingers slid against you immediately, already somewhat familiar with exactly what made your hips jerk forward. The kiss that came after barely counted as one, it was messy and distracted, interrupted constantly by your breathing and the quiet sounds you kept failing to swallow down.

The elevator ride lasted less than a minute but by the time the doors opened onto his floor, your orgasm was already hitting you in sharp waves around his fingers while your forehead pressed against his shoulder to keep yourself standing.

If you weren’t already fucked, you were about to be.

You’d been inside Scott’s apartment before. A handful of times after late nights working or when weather reports needed reviewing somewhere quieter than a crowded diner. You remembered the big windows first, stretching across the living room area with a full view of the skyline in the distance. Tonight they framed heavy gray clouds and rain pouring so hard that it blurred the city lights into smears of white and yellow.

Scott barely gave you time to look around because the second the apartment door shut behind you, his hands were on you again. He walked you toward the living room with rough impatience, pulling your pants down from behind while you stumbled against the edge of an armchair. Your underwear followed immediately after, dragged down together in one quick motion before pooling around your ankles.

The air in Scott’s apartment was heavy, charged with the static of the storm raging outside. The gray light of the overcast sky filtered through the windows but the atmosphere inside was scorching.

"Kneel," he commanded as he pointed toward the armchair, his voice a low, authoritative rumble.

You didn't hesitate. The tension that had been building between you for weeks, the unspoken glances and lingering touches, had finally snapped. You sank to your knees on the plush seat, your heart hammering against your ribs. You leaned forward, gripping the headrest with both hands, body already trembling in anticipation. You were completely exposed to him, your ass tilted back and waiting.

Scott disappeared for a moment, leaving you in a silence broken only by the distant roll of thunder. When he returned, the sound of a foil packet tearing echoed in the room. You heard the metallic click of his belt unbuckling and the slide of a zipper.

The anticipation was agonizing. You heard him roll the condom on, followed by the wet sound of him spitting on the head of his cock to make the entry smoother.

He stepped up behind you, heat radiating against your backside. He lined himself up and then, with one powerful, decisive surge, he thrust deep inside you.

You let out a sharp, strangled whine, your fingers digging into the fabric of the headrest. It had been so long since you’d felt a man inside you and Scott was massive. The initial stretch was borderline painful, a blunt force that filled every millimeter of your tight, starving pussy. You blinked rapidly, tears pricking your eyes as your body struggled to accommodate his size, your breath hitching in your throat.

Scott didn't give you time to adjust. He reached forward, his large hands clamping onto your hips with bruising force and yanked you backward, pulling you deeper onto his cock until there was no space left between you.

"I wanna see you," you moaned, your voice broken and desperate, trying to twist your torso around to look at him.

He didn't let you. Instead, he leaned in and sank his teeth into the skin of your shoulder, a sharp bite that made you moan despite your best efforts. His hand moved from your hip to your jaw, gripping it firmly to keep your head pinned forward.

"Just focus," he rasped calmly against your skin, the contrast of his steady voice and his firm grip sending a shiver of submission down your spine.

He let go of your jaw and began to thrust. He didn't start slowly, he hit you with a rhythmic, punishing intensity. The apartment was suddenly filled with the sound of your sudden, loud moans and frantic curses. You collapsed forward, your chest pressed against the headrest, your body jarring with every hit.

As he hammered into you, Scott reached around, his hands finding your breasts. He didn't bother undressing you further, he grabbed your boobs firmly over your clothes, squeezing and kneading them with a rough, possessive grip that matched the violence of his hips.

"I'm gonna fuck you on every surface of this apartment," he growled. "You'll be seeing a lot of me."

The sex quickly became raw and primal and so, so fucking good. The sound of skin slapping against skin, mixed with the wet, rhythmic thud of his pelvis hitting your ass filled the room, competing with the roar of the thunder outside. Every thrust shook your entire frame, quaking your body from your head to your toes. You were whimpering loudly now, the pain of the initial stretch having completely melted into an overwhelming, white-hot pleasure you never thought you could feel.

Your eyes watered, staring out into the distance of the room, the world blurring as the friction built. It was fast, harsh and so perfect that you found yourself wanting to bite the armchair, your teeth sinking into the fabric as your back arched violently. You were unraveling, the long period of abstinence making you hypersensitive to every inch of him.

"I'm right there, keep going! Scott, please! Don’t fuckin’ stop." you whined, voice echoing through the apartment.

He didn't, he instead increased the pace, his thrusts becoming shorter and more frantic, drilling into you with an obsession that felt like he wanted to merge his body with yours. The thunder peaked with a deafening crash that seemed to trigger something inside you.

Suddenly, your internal muscles spasmed. A wave of heat exploded from your core and you felt a sudden, uncontrollable gush of fluid. You were squirting, something that had never happened to you before, the hot spray soaking the armchair and your own thighs. You began to shake uncontrollably, your legs giving out as you sobbed out of pure pleasure into the headrest.

Scott let out a guttural groan, the feeling of you flooding around him driving him over the edge. He loved it, hell, he was obsessed with the way you were falling apart under him. He kept going, ignoring your tremors, continuously driving himself into you as you peaked into a mind-blowing, screaming orgasm that left you completely breathless.

With a final, deep thrust, he groaned loudly, coming hard into the condom.

The momentum stopped abruptly. He stayed buried inside you for a long moment, both of you frozen, chests heaving in unison.

Slowly, he withdrew, the wet sound of his exit punctuating the silence with an obscene pop.

You both watch the rain lash against the glass, the gray light illuminating the wreckage of your passion. You took a long, shuddering breath, body still twitching from the aftershocks as your pussy twitched around nothing, back arching further needily, earning a smack from him.

"Holy fuck," you both breathed simultaneously, the weight of the encounter settling over you in the heavy, humid air.

There was no going back after that day. Not to abstinence, not to disappointing hookups or to pretending sex was something casual and forgettable that fit neatly between work schedules and storm reports.

Once Scott got his hands on you, everything else lost appeal embarrassingly fast.

What started as isolated incidents quickly turned into a pattern neither of you seriously attempted to stop. It was a terrible idea professionally, obviously, but somehow the two of you functioned better afterward. Meetings became easier, long drives felt lighter and you argued less viciously because the tension always had somewhere to go now instead of festering under your skin for weeks.

You started going home together most nights under the excuse of saving gas money. Then showering together afterward became another practical decision because apparently water bills mattered too now. Somewhere between shared coffee in the mornings and him keeping spare clothes for you at his apartment, things moved quietly into something neither of you had planned for and the worst part was that it worked.

The sex stayed incredible. Sometimes rough enough to leave hickeys along your skin and fingerprints fading across your thighs and hips by morning, or other times slow enough that you ended up tangled together for hours afterward while thunderstorms rolled outside the windows. Every now and then he fucked you hard enough to leave you shaking afterward, staring blankly at the ceiling while he stood in the kitchen making you food like that was a normal sequence of events but eventually you realized it wasn’t just about that anymore.

You started having actual dates without calling them dates, it was dinner after work that lasted until restaurants closed around you. You went grocery shopping together because both of you were too exhausted to go separately and you began falling asleep on opposite ends of his couch while weather models played quietly on television screens neither of you were really watching.

Off-season made it worse.

Without constant travel, motel rooms and adrenaline keeping you both distracted, there was finally time to explore whatever this thing between you had become. You drifted naturally between your house and his apartment depending on whose place seemed closer to the office that day. Half your belongings somehow ended up at his place and vice versa. You texted each other constantly during meetings despite sitting twenty feet apart, phones hidden beneath desks while coworkers talked around you.

Scott started bringing your coffee to your desk already made exactly how you liked it before you even decided you needed one. You started buying his preferred cereal without asking if he wanted any. He slept better with you in his bed and you stopped grinding your teeth in your sleep when he stayed over.

So naturally, being made love to finally happened exactly the way you once thought it would and it wasn’t some exaggerated version of romance men convinced themselves they were capable of after two drinks and mediocre conversation.

It sort of snuck up on you. It was Scott pulling you into his lap while both of you were exhausted after work, kissing your shoulder absentmindedly while you read through data on his laptop. It was him waking you up slowly on Sunday mornings with his hand sliding under your shirt and nowhere either of you needed to be. It was sex that lasted forever because he knew your body well enough to take his time with it, knew exactly what made you gasp, what made your legs tense and what made you hide your face against his neck when the pleasure became too much.

He paid attention and it made all of the difference. Scott learned your body like he learned storm patterns, thoroughly and obsessively, until touching you became instinct to him and it showed…

The morning light filtered through the curtains of your bedroom in soft, golden slats, painting the sheets in hues of amber and cream. The house was silent, save for the rhythmic sound of your shared breathing and the distant chirp of birds welcoming the dawn. You were tangled together, skin on skin, the warmth of the duvet trapping the heat of your bodies in a private, humid cocoon.

There was no rush, no storm to outrun and no urgency born of desperation. There was only the heavy, sweet weight of Scott pressing you into the mattress. You were both fully naked, your limbs entwined in a lazy, possessive knot.

Scott began slowly, his lips tracing a path of fire across your collarbone. He wasn't just kissing you, he was tasting you, tongue swirling against your skin in slow circles that made you shiver. He moved lower, mouth finding the sensitive curve of your breast as you let out a soft, airy moan. He took your nipple into his mouth, sucking firmly while his thumb and forefinger pinched the other peak, twisting it just enough to send a jolt of electricity straight to your core.

You arched your back, your fingers sliding into the thick hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. The friction of his chest against your breasts was intoxicating, the rough hair of his torso grazing your sensitive skin.

He shifted, sliding his body up so he could look into your eyes. His gaze was dark, filled with an intensity that felt more overwhelming than any of the rougher encounters you'd had. He didn't move to flip you or push you into a different position, instead, he settled between your thighs in a classic missionary stance and pushed inside. There was no latex barrier this time, no clinical snap of a condom. It was raw, wet and absolute. 

The sensation of his bare skin sliding against yours was a revelation. You gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt the full, throbbing heat of him filling you completely. It felt different, more intimate and permanent. The lack of a barrier made every ridge of his cock feel amplified, every pulse of his blood echoing against your own internal walls.

He didn't start with the punishing pace of the past. Instead, he began to rock, his movements slow and agonizingly deep. He pressed his palm flat against your stomach, pushing down firmly to tilt your pelvis, ensuring that every thrust hit the deepest part of you.

"Gripping me like a fucking vise…so perfect." he groaned, his voice a gravelly morning rumble that vibrated through your chest.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking your ankles to pull him even deeper. You were lost in the rhythm, the slow, sliding friction creating a build-up of tension that felt like a tightening coil in your belly. You ran your hands through his hair, your nails lightly scratching his scalp as you moaned into the first rays of the morning sun.

The intimacy was suffocating in the best way possible. As he continued to rock, his movements grew slightly more urgent, the slow glide turning into a passionate, driving force. He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours, tasting the salt and sweetness of your skin while he continued to pinch and tease your nipples, hand roaming your curves with a familiarity that spoke of a deep, obsessive knowledge of your body.

It didn’t take long for your breath to become shallow, chest heaving as the pleasure began to peak. You could feel the walls of your pussy clenching around him, milking him with every deep stroke. Your body tensed, toes curling into the sheets as a wave of heat crashed over you. You cried out, a long, melodic sound of surrender, as your orgasm ripped through you in slow, pulsing waves that left you shaking beneath him.

Scott didn’t slow his pace as his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily. He continued moving, the intimacy of the connection almost too much to bear.

"Want to be done?" he whispered, his voice strained, muscles trembling with the effort of holding back.

You looked up at him, eyes hazy with pleasure and affection. The thought of him pulling away felt wrong because you wanted everything. You wanted the weight, the heat and the mark of him.

You shook your head with an escaped whimper, pulling his face down to yours. "Don’t you dare pull out…’want you to come inside." You breathed.

The request broke the last of his restraint. Scott let out a guttural sound, a mix of a groan and a sob and began to drive into you with a renewed, primal intensity. It was a desperate, loving hunger. He hammered into you, movements strong and deep, each thrust a claim and a promise.

As he reached his limit, his grip on your hip tightened, fingers digging into your skin. He thrust one last time, burying himself as deep as physically possible and you felt the hot, thick bursts of his cum flooding into you. The sensation of him filling you from the inside out was the most intense feeling you had ever experienced, a physical manifestation of the bond that had grown between you.

In the height of his release, as his body shuddered violently against yours, he gasped out the words he had been holding back.

"I love you," he choked out, the confession raw and unplanned.

The world seemed to stop for a heartbeat. You felt a surge of emotion that rivaled the intensity of the orgasm, a warmth that started in your chest and radiated to your fingertips. You tightened your hold on him, pulling him down for a deep, searing kiss.

"I love you too," you whispered against his lips.

He collapsed onto you, heart drumming a frantic rhythm against your own, both of you spent and glowing in the morning light, finally and completely entwined.

A few years ago, you would’ve hated the idea that Scott Miller of all people would end up teaching you everything worth knowing about sex. It would’ve bruised your ego badly, especially considering how seriously you once took those stupid categories and scales in your head before Scott showed up and ruined all of them completely.

Good sex stopped mattering. 

Great sex became expected.

Getting fucked became routine enough that you lost count somewhere along the line, usually around the third orgasm of the day and definitely before he started dragging you into his lap halfway through work calls just because he felt like bothering you…with his hands and dick.

But somehow, even after all the rough sex and ruined schedules, Scott still managed to make love to you exactly the way you once imagined it should feel.

So if somebody offered you the chance to go back and do it all over again, you would without hesitation.

You were an absolute HR nightmare now and what a fucking delight that was!

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, feel free to explore the archive for more! Liking and reblogging helps others discover my writing and comments always make my day, they’re a huge encouragement for me to keep creating. Thank you so much for reading!

Look at him just chewing the FAWK out of that gum 😭 (wait chew me next)

[tinyd3ath]

Can someone teach me how to make my fics look cutesy?

[tinyd3ath]

Sex Therapy- kataang x f!reader

* Content: 18+ nsfw, smut, slight dom!reader, threesome (ffm), oral (male receiving), a lot of spit, sub! Katara, slight breeding kink

*Summary: Aang and Katara are having trouble in the bedroom so they decide to see a sex therapist. And what better way to make them more comfortable than fuck them

*wc: 2k

*Author: wrote and posted this while on my third 12 hr shift, so bare with me if their grammar or spelling errors. I’ll fix it once I get some sleep.



After a few somewhat painful first time, Aang and Katara decided they needed help. Going to Sokka was a definite no; Toph would spend more time insulting them for their lack of style than actually giving helpful advice. So that left only one person, Zuko. Calling an emergency diplomatic meeting with the fire lord was the easy part. The hard part was finding a way to bring up the couple’s troubles without either of them fainting from embarrassment. 10 stall minutes of awkward eye contact passed before he realized that if he didn’t open the conversation, they couldn’t get anywhere.

“Not that a surprise visit is unwelcome, but what exactly is the emergency that was so serious I had to be pulled from a meeting with my generals?” Shocked, both Aang and Katara shared a nervous look before the woman spoke.

“Zuko, you’re a man.” A brief pause was followed by her words before the fire lord motioned for her to continue. “Yes.”

“Well me and Aang have recently decided to take that step.. In our relationship. And while it's been a very interesting um.. endeavor. We thought we could use a little guidance.” Her rambling did nothing but leave their long-time friend even more confused. Sang felt like he was going to explode from embarrassment at the whole ordeal. The longer Zoku stared at them in confusion, the worse the pit in his stomach felt. Deciding to rip the bandage off the avatar spits out for the whole room of advisers and Zoku to hear.

“We need help having sex!” The whole room froze for a beat too long. Cleaning his throat, Zuko dismissed everyone, leaving just him, the avatar, and Katara.

After collecting his thoughts, he asked,

“Exactly what do you need help with?” Seeing the lack of judgment or disgust in his face took the unbearable weight off the couple’s shoulders. Katara found her voice once again.

“It's not that we don’t know what to do exactly. More so, how to set the mood. It just always comes out clumsy and awkward.” Nodding in understanding, the fire lord thought for a second before speaking.

“Have you two entertained the idea of a sex therapist?” Leaning forward at Zoku’s answer, Aang joined in.

“Honestly, we didn't even know that was an option.” Nodding his head to reassure the couple, it was indeed an option. Zoku stood and moved over to a drawer of the far wall, where he pulled a card from the bottom of a stack of papers. He returned to the couple before sliding it across the table.

“This is a car for the agency. You'll find the best therapist in the Fire Nation there.” Taking the card, the two gave their thanks. This gave them a boost of hope for their future sex life. “And please send a letter next time instead of scaring half my advisers with an emergency meeting with the avatar.”

ʚɞ ʚɞ

It took a week for Katara and Aang to build up the courage to go in and set up a meeting. Once they walked into the stone building located in the nicer side of the nation, they felt their nerves settle more, seeing other couples also there seeking help.

Once at the counter, the receptionist stopped mid-introduction in shock. Not only was Master Katara the one, but also the avatar. She quickly excuses herself to grab her manager. The pair were soon in a luxury office.

“What brings the avatar and his wife, master Katara, into our humble business?” Nothing in this building screamed humble. From marble floors to the dazzling wall of fire in the waiting room. Everything in the building made money. After quickly discussing their sexual struggles, the older woman in front of them recommended their best therapist. While young, she was by far the best. With all her clients giving raving reviews. Hell, she was the one who helped with the fire lord and Lady. Get over their awkward stage, and now they have a beautiful daughter. After scheduling a date, the two left feeling accomplished.

When the couple first met you, they were stunned. You were gorgeous. They found themselves even more embarrassed on the matter because of that. How could they tell this gorgeous girl, who looked to be their age, that they were having issues fucking. Something that’s supposed to come so naturally. But there was a reason you were considered the best. You found a way to get them out of that anxious energy with just a few jokes.

You’d send them home every session with homework. The first two were a breeze. Girl they've been cuddling and holding hands for decades. It was the third session that stumped them. They were assigned to cuddle naked. And while the thought was excited, the awakard tension killed their mood instantly. They came back to the fourth session ready for your disappointment.

You listened intently to their retelling of the event before speaking with nothing but honesty and love. You have grown fond of the couple, and yeah, some of that might be because they’re both insanely hot, but they were also good people who loved each other deeply. And they deserved to express that love physically.

“If I may be honest, I believe your problem isn’t a lack of knowledge or excitement but too much respect. From what I’m gathering, you too feel uncomfortable around one another sexually because you’ve already come in thinking you're lacking. You’re scared to disappoint the other sexually.” Based on their shuffling and avoidant eyes, you figured you were right.

You knew it was a risky move, one that could cost you your job if your gut was wrong. If everything you caught them staring when they thought you were busy was just friends. Or the way their breath would catch when you were too close. Deciding to take the leap of faith, you got up from your chair and stood in front of them. They weren’t going to initiate anything without an outside factor. You were going be the outside factor they needed.

“Aang kiss her.” Shock consumed both their faces. A chorus of what and huhs came from the two. “You two obviously have a hard time getting started out of fear, so I’ll do it for you. Once again, Aang, kiss your wife or I will.” Now they had to be dreaming. There’s no way the woman they were both secretly pinning over just threatened to kiss Katara openly. This had to be a joke. They took too long to decide for your liking, causing you to make good on your threat and pull his wife up from her chair. Katara was so caught off guard that it gave you the opening to spin her around and lift her on the table behind you two.

Grabbing a fistful of hair, you pull the waterbender into a kiss. She couldn’t catch the groan that slipped past her lips fast enough. You took her melting into your body as a good enough sign to continue. The kiss started hesitantly. To help her ease her into it, you pulled her full hips into yours. Breaking away from her lips, you trail soft kisses from her neck to her ear, before giving it a little nibble. You break away from her soft skin to meet her eyes.

“Tongue out for me, baby.” She doesn’t hesitate to follow your instructions. Cooing sweetly at her show of obedience. “Such a sweet girl, you listen so nicely.” Turning to meet Aang’s eyes that look like they're gonna pop out, you smirk at his reaction. “Isn’t she Aang?” He nods quickly while trying to discreetly readjust himself. Giving him one last smile, you return your attention to the woman in front of you, waiting desperately. Tongue still out, drool falling into her cleavage, watching you with expectant eyes.

Gripping her by the chin, you tilt her head back some before spiting right down her throat. Katara lets out a choked noise before you bring her into a sloppy kiss. She feels herself go jelly under you. Her arms meet around your neck as she leans into the kiss.

She starts to feel lightheaded from the lack of air. But not wanting you to break away, she leans back against your desk, dragging you along with her. Katara opens her legs wider giving you space to bunch both your skirts up. You pull her hips closer pulling a moan from both of you as your clits rub against each other. The wet spot on you panties grows from both yours and Katara’s juices. You reach you without breaking the kiss to pull one of her full plump tits from her shirt. When you give the perked nipple a rough little tug Katara loses it. The woman’s hips began roughly fucking themselves against yours. this point, Aang doesn’t even care to hide his erection. Shamelessly rubbing himself to the sight of his wife and therapist dry humping on the desk while slobbing into each other’s mouths. Deciding that Aang deserves a little attention, you pull away from Katara’s kiss swollen lips. You give her a loving peck when she whines at the loss of contact.

“Shouldn’t you give Aang some love, too baby?” At the mention of her husband, she perks up and looks around your shoulder to make eye contact with Aang. He gives you two a lazy smile while still rubbing himself to you two. Skirts bunched up around your hips. Breasts squished tightly against each other as your tops fight to keep them in.

Dragging her up with you, you guide her to sit with you on the floor in front of the couch, where Aang was sitting. He opens his legs wider to give you both room to sit between them. He exhales a gust of air and closes his eyes at the sight in front of him. He squeezes his cock to keep from cumming then. Katara has always been the hottest person ever to him, but seeing his wife’s eyes hazy with lust after making out with an equally hot woman was going to make his heart explode.

After stilling his raging heart, he returns his gaze to you two. When his eyes lock on your face and sees the look in your eye, he knows he’s fucked. Speaking to him, you ask sweetly.

“Have you ever gotten a blow job before, Aang?” Shaking his head no, you knew it was time to move on to step 2. Nodding your head at Katara to unzip his pants, the woman eagerly jumped to follow directions. She’s such a good girl, your heart squeezes at the fact you can’t keep her. You pause in shock when his cock strings free. You expect the avatar to be big but fat as well! My gosh, this made you second-guess your plan. But seeing the excitement and arousal in both their eyes, you couldn’t back out now.

Aang yelps when you leaned forward to pepper kisses on his rosy tip. When you push Katara’s head down to join you, his hips jump as he tosses his head back. You pull back to speak to Katara directly.

“Now I want you to watch, okay, because after I’m done, it's your turn.” Nodding her head, the woman sat back on her heels and watched as you gave her husband’s cock one long lick from bottom to top. You suck the tip of his cock into your warm mouth, dragging a shaking moan from the man. You allow him to push your head down and rut further into your mouth until the tip hit the back of your throat making you gag. You pull off him to slap the heavy tip against your tongue and wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“Katara baby can you spit on it for me.” The woman collect a glob of spit that she lets fall onto her husband’s cock. Katara keeps eye contact with him all the while doing this. Aang thinks he’s gonna pass out. This is too much for one man to handle. It’s all too warm and wet. All he can think about his blowing his load on both y’all’s face and then fucking his fat heavy cock into your pussies. He’d give both yall load after load until you’re full and sleepy. Fuck, then he’d have to ask to marry you so he can knock you both up at the same time. The thought of two pregnant beautiful wives is driving him crazy. He’d be such a good daddy for you both.

Bring him back to your lips you look Katara in the eyes making her watch y’all’s her husband’s cock disappear down your throat. Bobbing your head up and down a couple of times before you pull back one last time to spit on his tip, making it even messier.

“He’s all yours,” you tell Katara. Aang doesn’t even get the register the trade off before Katara is forcing him down her throat. “Fuck yes, Katara, please baby more,” he pleads. You let her have her fun before sucking one of his full balls into your mouth. That’s what sends him over the edge. He didn’t even have time to realize he was cumming. His thick load goes straight down her throat. You quickly pull her off his cock and into a kiss to get a taste. The salty-sweet taste of his cum is so addicting, you only pull back because of the Aang’s breathy ‘spirits’.

You all share a fucked out look as you catch your breathes.

“When can we schedule the next session?”

D3ath: I was literally just saying where’s the kataang x reader fics. Y’all took to long so I locked in half way through my shift. Y’all welcome. Lmk what yall think.

[mikaelvr]

adult toph x bimbo!reader (pt. 4)

content: 18+ nsfw modern au, fwb!toph, bimbo!reader, bitch x bitchier, scissoring, intimate sex, some fluff, reader is super pierced, ass slapping, nipple play (on both of you), praise, degradation, teasing, bit of slut shaming, strap usage, jealousy, possessive!toph, rough (revenge) sex, body marking, lowk toxic!toph.

summary: lesbian sex. then more angry lesbian sex (with a sprinkle of fluff)

author’s note: no seriously it’s 90% porn, that’s the plot. enjoy!!

wc: 5.2k // prev. part here.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

lewd moans quickly fill the room, the kisses sloppy and ridiculously wet. your grinding doesn’t stop, dragging your aching cunt over her clothed leg for friction and whimpering into her mouth at the pressure of her bouncing.

“mhm,” she nips at your bottom lip, soothing it with a swift lick, “you taste like cherries. that your lipgloss?”

you can only whimper, dazed with need when her fingers slip through the gap of your panties, unbearably slow, “come onnn..”

she grins, swallowing your desperate sounds with her tongue. “aw, to think you were acting all high and mighty just a few seconds ago.. crazy what a mess my thigh alone made of you.”

“stop speaking,” you groan, shushing her with a longer kiss. “just fuck me.”

she hums, finally reaching your dripping slit, “where are your manners?”

a shaky moan slips out of your lips when her middle and ring finger finally graze your folds, and your eyes flutter shut, your pace growing more frantic.

you lift your hips to sink down on them, but they keep slightly slipping to either side. your brows furrow in frustration at your repeated attempts, believing it to be due to your trembling or how wet and slippery you were, until you briefly catch a small smirk tugging at toph’s lips.

“toph!” you whine, nails digging into her thigh, “what the hell are you doing!?”

“nothing,” she whistles, coaxing another moan out of you when long fingers part your puffy lips open, feeling you clench around nothing. “i just think you could be more polite.”

“toph, are you serious right n—”

“never been more serious.” she cuts you off with a mocking peck to your cheek, her other hand still squeezing the fat of your tit. “go on. be good, baby. say please.”

you scoff, torn between anger and arousal, “i fucking hate you, you’re so— no no no!” you cry out, quickly grabbing her wrist when she begins to pull away.

“doesn’t sound like begging to me.”

“you— i’m gonna— ugh!” you groan loudly, trying to pull her hand back to you but it refuses to budge an inch, “why are you so— just— ugh… p-please.”

she smirks, and you hate how it gets you wetter.

“aw, there we go. such a good girl.” she coos, tauntingly patting the entirety of your pussy. the embarrassment doesn’t get to settle fully before all your thoughts are flung out of your head, a startled moan leaving your lips when she firmly flicks your clit, following it immediately with toe-curling rubs.

your eyes roll back, feeling two of her thick digits finally prod at your entrance, stretching your gummy walls as she scissors you open.

you mewl, desperately riding her hand and thigh all while her thumb deliciously presses and circles around your puffy bud.

“what the fuck,” you hear her sputter, but you’re honestly far too gone to care about what caught her attention, eyes squeezed shut as your hips roll and snap with incredible rhythm.

your eyes are forced open in surprise though, her previously busy hand leaving your breast to roughly grip your jaw. you stare at her, confused and kind of hornier at whatever the gleam in her eyes meant.

she lets out a sound between a scoff and a laugh, “fucking hell, you’re even pierced here?”

huh?

oh.

oh!

you blush, feeling her thumb fiddle with the metal above your clit, “well.. yeah.”

“and literally why would you do that?” she gives it another tap, “does it give you extra pleasure?”

“well, no.” you state matter-of-factly, slowing down your erratic finger-riding to educate her, “christina piercings are ornamental, so it doesn’t touch my clit or anything.”

she scoffs, her gaze almost demeaning, “then why?”

you hum, and she feels you spasm around her fingers. “ ‘cause it’s hot. and people’s reactions to it also turn me on.. but yours could use a little work.”

“i’m sure you slept with your piercer right after, you whore.” she spits out, to which you huff, “you’re just jealous, bitch. unlike you, i’m not some sex-crazed slut who fucks anybody who speaks to me.”

she laughs and you can hear the cockiness dripping off each of the syllables, “oh, clearly. not desperate at all, fucking the leg of a girl you met a few hours ago.”

your eye twitches and before you can argue back, svelte fingers finally plunge into your velvety walls, your garbled sounds music to her ears. she smiles filthily, “yeah, that’s right, just shut up and moan like the horny whore you are. you being angry only makes you tighter for me.”

you’d love to snap back at her, you really would. but unfortunately that would have to wait because oh my god, her fingers and disgusting mouth alone had you closer to cumming than most of your previous partners ever did.

your mouth crashes back on hers again, drool leaking out of your lips that she eagerly licks up and swallows, heavy tongue entwined with yours as your sopping cunt sucks her in like quicksand.

“mmh, take off,” you mumble dazedly between kisses, panting against her cheek. you tug at the material of her pants, “o-off, please.”

she chuckles, gaze heated, “so polite.”

her fingers continue pounding your needy pussy, her other hand coming to tug at her waistband, and you practically clench at her exposed v-line, defined like an arrow pointing to your gradually appearing prize.

your impatient hands join her useless one, pulling harder at the material and she laughs, lifting her hips to indulge you and you waste no time in discarding the fabric.

“ugh, this is uncomfortable.” she shifts, her sweat-slick thighs sticking to the chair, “need a bigger surface.”

her big hand supports your back, pulling you flush against her and you wrap your arms around her neck immediately. her other one leaves your poor, aching slit, but the promise of what’s to come makes the wait worth it as she stands up, hiking your thighs up to loop around her naked waist.

“guide me,” she murmurs, and the command is so oddly intimate your breath slightly hitches. you nod, flustered, whispering the directions into her ear.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

she drops you down on the bed with a small “oof”, and her fingers lazily hook around the sides of her panties, sliding them off so tauntingly you whimper at the sight.

she only grins, crawling over you to pry your legs open, “like what you see?”

your skirt is easily ripped in a quick move you can’t even begin to comprehend, and you whine as she busies herself between your thighs, “tophh! that skirt cost me an arm and a leg, you could have just taken it off!”

she ignores you, repeating the same thing to your damp panties, “it’s like four inches of fabric. i’ll pay you back the three dollars, jingle bells.”

you groan, “you know nothing about fashion! you just— mngh!” a dirty moan leaves your lips and so does any concern over your clothes, her fingers slipping back into you so naturally like your pussy was home.

“you’re right, i know nothing about fashion. kinda hard to when you’re blind,” she crosses your plush thigh over hers, stretching you out a little more just to hear the filthy squelch, “what i do know, though, is how to fuck a whiny ass girl like you.”

that strikes a nerve again. but your protests, once more, die on the tip of your tongue when you feel her folds smush against yours, her fingers giving way to her warm, slick pussy rutting up feverishly against your own.

you make no effort to be quiet, loudly mewling at the delicious bumping of your clits together, the grunts and moans it earns from her only heightening your arousal.

“fuck,” her voice breaks into a shaky whine, her fingers tightening around your waist as her pace increases, “fuck! so good, you’re so good. your pussy’s so sweet, so perfect. oh, so fucking good. i’m sure it must look so pretty, all soaked and dripping with my wetness and yours.”

you didn’t expect toph to be so.. vocal. taunts and degrading jokes, you expected, but this weirdly adorable display of her desperation came as a not so unwelcome shock.

if anything, the duality only served to tighten the big knot in your lower abdomen.

her voice may crack and her praise may be sweet as syrup, but the way she was fucking you was anything but.

you never knew how flexible you were until today, her hands easily manhandling you into different positions to ensure every inch of your pussy was thoroughly soaked with her slick, your hamstrings threatening to snap at the pressure of her strong palms against the back of your thighs, stretching your legs open into the worst of splits.

“mmph— tophh.. g—gonna cummmm..” you drawled, eyes rolled so far back, saliva trickling down the side of your cheek as you let her scissor you in whichever way she wanted.

the pad of her thumb would occasionally join in to add to the pressure of your swollen clit against hers, and it would send sparks of pleasure up your spine, all of it pooling deep into your gut and threatening to spill over.

“i know. i know you will,” she groans, one hand pinning your thigh to your torso while the other found your pierced nipple to roll and pinch, her rhythm unrelenting.

“come for me,” two fingers slide between where you two were joined, effortlessly sinking into your overly wet cunt, curling against your spongy spot with terrifying precision that leaves your thighs spasming and your breath knocked out of your lungs, “now.”

you don’t keep her waiting, your vision flashing white as thick gushes of cum spray over her swollen pussy. she uses the extra slick to fuck you faster, chasing her own release, your folds sticking together in a mess of arousal and slight sweat, the hot smell of sex filling the room.

when she cums soon after you, you already feel heat pooling in your stomach again at the sight of her so wrecked and spent on top of you.

her tank top had long since joined the pile of torn clothes on the floor, your eyes travelling up her bulging abs to set on her heaving, sweaty chest, pebbled nipples resting on the swells of well-toned breasts.

you made a note to ask her if she was an athlete later.

you were both panting, neither of you moving off each other yet, and you let your hands slowly slide up her abdomen to her tits. you give them a tentative squeeze, cupping the soft flesh, looking at her face to gauge her reaction.

when no refusal was uttered, your thumbs found the peaked buds, gently swiping over them to hear her breath hitch. “beautiful,” you whisper lowly, splaying your hands to fully grab them, “you’re very beautiful, toph.”

“really?” the question is just as gentle as your praise, milky eyes half lidded and set on some spot next to your ear.

“yes,” you answer without delay, one of your hands finding its way to her hair to pull her closer to you. with her chest more lowered now, you press a soft kiss to the top of her right breast, “very beautiful.”

for once, toph didn’t feel like ruining the moment with her snarkiness. she simply stayed quiet, indulging you a bit more before finally untangling your limbs and laying by your side.

she rolls over on her back, folding her flexed arms behind her head. “that was great.”

“yeah,” you turn on your side, your back facing her. “you’re good.”

“just good?” you hear the rustling of sheets behind you, then a hand soon finds the curve of your hip. “i deserve better than that, i think.”

you bite back a smile, nuzzling your pillow, “yeah yeah. you’re really good.”

“oh come on,” she shakes you by the hip, scooting closer until you feel her pout against your nape. “be honest, am i not the best sex you’ve ever had?”

the claim isn’t ridiculous, but the last thing you want to do right now is stroke her ego. you hum pensively before shrugging, “.. eh. i’ve had better.”

“you’re lying,” she barks, giving your thigh a light smack. “i can sense it.”

you sigh dramatically, rubbing the spanked spot, “jeez, toph. it’s okay! you don’t have to best for everyone. i’m sure many people think you’re the best sex they’ve ever had. don’t take it personally, it’s just a matter of preference.”

“stop lying!” she groans and you giggle, another smack landing on your ass this time. “admit it! say i’m the best sex you’ve ever had.”

you sigh again, shaking your head, “is your ego that fragile, toph? that it hangs on being someone’s best fuck? that’s a little pathetic, even for you.”

you tense in preparation for the coming spank, and then burst into laughter when it predictably arrives. she scoffs, “you’re very tickled for someone who was humping my leg like a cheap whore earlier.”

and that wipes the smile clean off your face.

you blush, rolling over to face her with a matching pout, “shut up, don’t bring that up.”

she grins, “ ‘oh, toph! please, more! give it to me, tophh! ahhh!’” you whine loudly, pushing her face off yours as she delightfully mocks your sex noises, increasing them in pitch. “fuck off! you were just as loud!”

“as loud as you?” she laughs, taking your hand off her face to smirk all up in your face, “please, i could barely hear myself over your screams and your fucking jewelry’s banging.”

you flush a deeper shade of red, “stop ittt!”

“see?” she pokes your nose, the biggest of smiles tugging at her mouth. “even outside of sex, you’re so fucking noisy.”

you huff and roll over again, refusing to face her as your hand reaches for the sheets to cover yourself. “whatever. good night.”

“but it’s not even night.”

you pinch your nose bridge, squeezing your eyes shut, “did i seriously just sleep with you?”

she chuckles, patting your hip, “and you loved every second of it. here’s to a good friendship,” she cups your face, tilting it back her way to press a kiss to your lips, “nice to meet you.”

you blink, very slowly. “.. nice to meet you too.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

your banter eventually melted into an oddly pleasant conversation you couldn’t believe you were having with such an annoying woman. you asked each other questions, gradually finding out stuff about yourselves, which was always a nice bonding activity after scissoring a stranger!

you found out she was indeed an athlete; and a wrestler at that. it did make a lot of sense, since most of the other sports required some level of sight, while wrestling — she stated — was more hands-on and physical, hence why she excelled at it.

she even invited you to come watch sometime, to which you obviously agreed, very curious on how she fought. wasn’t her blindness still a big handicap? wasn’t it still much harder for her to predict her opponent’s moves? you were aching to see it all for yourself.

you also found out she uses a white cane, that she somehow forgot in the bus after your outburst.

“how the hell do you forget that?” you frowned, puzzled.

she shrugged, “after that scene you caused, i wanted to catch you before you disappeared, so i kind of rushed and forgot it. i had it under the seat by my feet, so i didn’t feel it.”

you huffed, “that cane is literally how you see, you can’t be that dumb.”

“it’s because i don’t use it that much,” she continued, and that piqued your attention. “i suppose it’s because i fight without it, so i also learnt to do more stuff without it from there on. i can get around my neighborhood just fine since i remember all the roads here, so i basically only use it when i go out somewhere else i’m not familiar with.”

“oh,” you nodded understandingly, then looked down. “well.. i’m sorry for making you forget it, i guess it’s kind of my fault. so allow me to pay you back for it, yeah?”

“awww, such a sweetheart. that’s so kind and generous of you. truly.” she coos, pinching your cheek.

“nevermind, i hope you fall over.”

your gaze flitted to the window, noticing the now starry dark sky. you quickly sat up, eyes widening when you saw the clock on the wall read eight pm.

you’d been talking for almost five hours?

“oh god, it’s so late. and we haven’t even showered yet, ew.” you grimace, getting off the bed to limp towards your bathroom.

she chuckles, smelling herself, “yeah, we reek.”

“you get happy about very fucking weird stuff, toph.”

after a much needed shower, you ended up suggesting for her to stay the night, finding it to be the safer option since she didn’t have her cane. to which she eagerly acquiesced, though for way less innocent motives than yours.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

as the days went by, you two proved to be a much better match than expected. she’d quickly become one of your closest friends, often crashing at each other’s places to either spill tea or get drunk — and the latter often ended in tainted sheets and melted makeup.

your ankle had gotten better too, and you could finally go back to wearing your cherished heels.

toph had just asked you to wait for her outside this shop, she told you she’d be quick and you didn’t need to follow her in, so there you were; leaning against a nearby lamp post as you absentmindedly scrolled on your phone.

after a few minutes, you were snapped out of your doomscrolling by someone poking your shoulder. you lifted your head, only for an incredibly hot woman to meet your gaze. you immediately straightened up, patting your skirt down to look more presentable.

shit, you didn’t like being caught off guard by a hot woman hitting on you.

“sorry for disturbing you,” she starts, and her voice has that low distinct rasp, just like toph’s, that never fails to make your stomach flip. she smiles, leaning down to your height, “i just wanted to tell you you’re very beautiful, you look unreal.”

“oh,” you smile back, sweet yet purposeful, “you’re too kind, thank you. you’re quite attractive yourself.”

you didn’t break eye contact, and the implied message was clear as day.

“a pretty girl like you must be taken,” she looks at the shop you’re waiting in front of, then back at you. “waiting for your partner?”

“oh, no no,” you wave your hand dismissively, stepping more into her space. “i’m just waiting for my friend. i don’t have a girlfriend.”

her smile widens, emboldened by your confirmation and your body language. her hand finds your chin, thumb swiping across your pierced lip, “i see. and do you think there’s any chance my friend over there could get your number?”

she points at some empty spot over her shoulder, and you chuckle, leaning into her touch. “totally. i think your friend’s pretty cute.”

“sweet,” she fiddles with the labret, and your glossy lips playfully pucker up to peck her finger. you notice the flicker in her expression, and of course, you know exactly what you’re doing.

she clears her throat, flustered, letting go of you to fish out her phone.

you smile and take it, long nails tapping against the screen, when a very familiar hand suddenly lands on your ass with a soft smack, giving it a rough squeeze right after.

you’d tensed for a second before groaning, resuming your typing, “tophiee, i told you to stop doing that in public. i keep thinking it’s a creep.”

“my bad,” her arm slides up to hang low around your waist, face scrunching in confusion when she senses the person in front of her. “who is this? are they bothering you?”

“not at all,” you chuckle, putting in the last digits. “she just asked for my info. she’s real smooth with it, i gotta tell you.”

“... huh. interesting.” you don’t pay attention to her grip tightening around your hip in warning, until the phone is abruptly snatched out of your hands the moment you were about to press ‘save contact’.

“sorry buddy,” she deletes the number, sightless eyes set with insane accuracy on the baffled girl in front of you. she tosses the phone at her, making her scramble to catch it in a panic, “she doesn’t have a number.”

you’re just as dumbfounded as the poor girl, who breaks the silence first. “but she was just typi—”

“chop chop.” toph cuts her off, snapping her fingers. “mhm. sorry, no can do. better luck next time. a shame, really. bye.”

you scoff at her, brows raised in shock and anger, “toph? what the fuck do you think you’re—”

“be quiet,” she glares down at you, and it’s deadly. “i’ll get to you later.”

you can’t find any hint of her usual sarcasm or her playful teasing — just a terrifying pair of teal eyes freezing you into place.

it effectively shuts you up, so she focuses back on the very unlucky soul who had the sole misfortune of crossing paths with you today. “what? just leave already.”

her eyes dart in confusion between you and toph, and you can only shamefully look down, giving her a small apologetic wave to end this humiliating interaction sooner. this was so fucking embarrassing.

“what the fuck??” is the last thing you hear from her as she walks away, and you’re genuinely just as confused as her.

when she leaves, you finally glare up at toph properly, pretty features twisted into a frustrated frown. “now, do you wanna explain whatever the hell just— ah!”

you don’t get to finish your sentence before a calloused hand wraps around your wrist, dragging you off with steps as angry as the thudding of her cane against the ground.

you stumble behind her, trying not to trip over your heels at her brisk pace. “t-toph!” you call out to her but she doesn’t answer, and you can only watch her dark hair whip in the air, a hint of fear mixing with your anger.

“toph, where are we g—”

“my place,” she cuts you off, her steps growing faster. “i forgot something.”

your brow raises, questioning. “that’s it? then why the fuck did you interfere with the girl getting my n— oof!”

she stops abruptly and your forehead bumps against her back. you rub it soothingly, “geez, toph. what’s—”

“did you want her to be your girlfriend?” she turns to face you, so close you felt her hot breath hit your cheek. “do you see yourself dating that woman?”

you blink, then you scoff, incredulous. “what? i don’t know, i just met her. i’m not really looking for a serious relationship so—”

“then what?” she spits it like venom and you flinch back. she glares deep into your eyes, “what were you being so sweet and giggly for? for sex? do i not fuck you good enough?”

you stammer, heat creeping up your cheeks. “w-what the fuck, toph?? what does that have to do with—”

“nobody can fuck you better than i do.” she doesn’t let up, invading your space further when you try to step back. “nobody, and certainly not that whore.”

okay, okay. what the hell was going on? perplexed wasn’t good enough a word to even begin to describe how utterly lost you were.

“toph, what the fuck is wrong with you today?” you manage to spit back, returning her glare. “who do you think you are, deciding who can or can’t get my number?”

“i just think it’s stupid of you to pursue sex with someone else when i’m right here.”

you throw your arms up in the air, exasperated, “what?? toph, me sleeping with you doesn’t make you entitled to mess with my love or sex life. with the way you’re speaking, it’s almost like you want me to be your girlfrien—”

“fuck no,” she barks, too quickly, brows furrowing in disgust. “not at all. i just don’t get the point.”

“and you don’t have to get it! you can just fucking suck it up.” you snap, and you immediately regret it with the way her gaze goes cold.

you let out a shaky sigh, trying to rein yourself in. “toph, what i’m trying to say is—”

“stop talking.” her grip tightens around your wrist, and the next thing you know is that you’re being pulled again, too focused on not falling over to argue back.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

you’re both panting when you get to her apartment, and while she fumbles with the key, you take the small opportunity to resume your lecture. “seriously toph, you had no right to butt in. that girl could have possibly been a great match for me. what if i did want her to eventually become my girlfriend?”

“you just said you weren’t looking,” she scoffs, the key repeatedly missing the hole.

you roll your eyes, “that’s not the point. you still can’t butt in, you never know what the future holds. it’s my life, toph.”

the door opens with a click, and it’s instantly shoved open as she barges in, her fingers around your wrist like a cuff.

you sigh, “like i said, you can’t just— mmph!” you’re interrupted by a brutal kiss, all teeth, the force of it making you stagger back until your back hits the wall.

the cane hits the floor and her hands feel you up in a frenzy, mapping out every inch of exposed skin as she sucks the very oxygen out of your lungs.

“it’s because you dress like that,” she pants against your lips between heated kisses. “you’re just begging for attention.”

she swallows the angry protests bubbling up in your throat, her tongue swiping over your palate and teeth and everything in between, and you hate that you can’t help but moan into her mouth.

“these bare legs,” she runs her hands up the back of your thighs, ditching your lips to press wet kisses on your neck, “too exposed. that’s why they hit on you.”

and once again, right when your face scrunched up in irritation, she quashes down any objections by trailing her hand up to your clothed cunt, possessively cupping it.

you uselessly mewl, heat pooling in your gut as you grind on her hand before she swiftly picks you up, taking you to her room.

how were you expected to conjure up any proper argument when this unfairly hot woman was already positioning you to her liking, wordlessly pushing your face into the pillows and adjusting the arch of your back?

“wait right here,” she whispers raspily into your ear, patting your waist to excuse herself, leaving you bent and exposed.

you huff into the pillows. what could you possibly do other than ‘wait here’?

this was ridiculous, you thought to yourself. all your arguments ended like this — unfinished, with your pussy full. you knew better than to keep letting her get away with this, thinking she can win you over by simply fucking you into oblivion and never addressing these accumulating issues.

you will stand your ground.

the bed dips under her weight, and you let out a soft moan when her hands return to your hips, lifting your skirt up.

you will stand your ground, tomorrow.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

sex with toph was always mind-blowing. but this time — on your great grandmother’s grave — you swore you felt your tailbone crack.

“t—toph!! oh my fucking— tophhh!!” you uselessly cry out, leaving sweat-damp marks on the sheets you were clinging to for dear life.

“take it,” her fingers are so tight around your hips you knew they’d bruise the next day.

she hikes them up even higher, earning a pained scream from you that quickly morphs into a pleasured string of moans, the tip of her strap striking your g-spot like a dart to a bullseye.

she leans down to take your ear between her teeth, her pounding relentless. “you’ll take it, my stupid whore. maybe this’ll remind you who this greedy pussy belongs to.”

you’d always hated claims of ownership. they irked you out to no end, and not only did you find them demeaning, they also never failed to make you feel so trapped and helpless.

but right now? with tears and drool soaking your pillows, you wanted nothing but to be thoroughly owned by her.

you don’t feel the words slip out of your mouth until they do, “y—yours. it’s all yours.”

her hips stutter for a second before she moans, loudly. her hand comes down on your ass in a sharp smack, appreciating the ripple and your startled gasp, “say it again.” it’s almost desperate, with the way she pants against your damp nape, “say it.”

you swallow your pooling saliva, “i—it belongs to you, toph.”

“does anybody else fuck you like this?” she spits against your ear with punishing thrusts against your abused walls.

you shake your head, sniffling, “n-no. nobody. mngh!”

her head had left its spot behind your nape, lifting herself up to spread your cheeks wider, and she wished she could see your creamy slick coating the pumping toy.

the wet squelches of your cunt were an auditory tease that made her yearn for sight more than anything else in the world.

with the next rough thrusts, and her hand sliding down to rub circles on your neglected clit, your eyes cross and roll back as you gush all over her strap.

her furious pounding calms down, the rocking of her hips more gentle while your orgasm sends pleasant tingles to the ends of your limbs.

you slowly relax, blissed out, letting yourself enjoy the sweet thrusts to ride out your high.

then a startled squeal escapes your lips, eyes blowing wide open when the sting registers.

did she just—

“ah!” you yelp again, flushing with need and embarrassment at the realization. she was biting your ass!

“shh,” she fondles the fat of your plump backside, alternating between right and left as she bites down on it, leaving angry red marks in her wake. “need to mark you.”

she slips out of you with a filthy pop, casually fingering some of your own cum back into you, then her sticky hands are on your hips again.

you feel the brush of her hair as her kisses and bites descend further down the back of your thighs, littering the canvas of your soft skin with twin markings on each side.

“toph..” you swallow a whimper when she goes back up, coaxing your legs further apart to get to your inner thighs as well, repeating the same process.

she stops at your still spasming pussy, then presses a long, deceptively sweet kiss to your sensitive folds before spitting on them. and your knees immediately give out.

she smiles, pulling back as if to look at your entire spent form. her fingers brush over the dented traces of her teeth on your ass, and she sighs softly, pleased. “now, they’ll know.”

who were “they”? know what? you had no energy left in you to ask, so you only laid limp on her bed, eyes fluttering shut. you felt her weight leave the bed as she walked away, the toy hitting the ground with a wet thud.

awful, awful cramps set in the next morning, dull painful throbbing from all your bones and muscles, and you couldn’t walk for six days.

and while you didn’t want to doubt toph’s goodness since she did stay by your side this whole week, helping you out and pampering you until the pain subsided, you almost felt like she reveled in your inability to leave the house.

or maybe not. maybe she just happened to be very happy to spend time with you.

after all, a friend wouldn’t be that cruel, right?

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

* heh did you miss me guys.. is this a good enough apology for the wait??

[tinyd3ath]

Where are the aang x reader x katara fics at! I know I’m not the only one wanting this. Writers lock in!!!

[katarasdoll]

aang x black reader, sokka x black reader, toph x black reader, katara x black reader, zuko x black reader, gaang x black reader, and korra x black reader. TAG ME IN THEM STORIES

[dracuira]

pussy limited edition because i’m going to fucking kill myself

[holmesandtheroman]

NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.

[tinyd3ath]

Even though I’ve only finished one I’m still proud I wrote that shit from the doom

[thatboisus]

me logging onto tumblr after consuming a new piece of media

[shawnhatosyy]

[ruerecs]

BRING BACK LONG FICS. IM TIRED OF SHORT DRABBLES 💔

[negansbestie]

I hadn't seen it in the fandom yet, so I had to take matters into my own hands.

[georgeharrisonsamericangirl]

god I need him so bad, edit is made by k1llt9pia on tiktok 💞

[tinyd3ath]

🎀🩰 Bulking Weight 🎀🩰

“Come on mama, fuck! Just be a good girl and take it so I can give you all my cum. That’s what you want right.”

Or

Bakugou gets a little insecure about the extra weight he gained while bulking, and you fuck the insecurity out of him.

Originally posted on A03

🎀🩰

“This was so much fun.” You practically bouncing with joy. It’s been forever since y’all have been on patrol together.

“Whatever dumbass, don’t slow me down.” You throw a glare his way.

“Don’t forget I’m still your wife, your ass will be on the couch if you keep talking to me like that.”

He scuffs in response knowing not to test you, but still wanting to have the last “word”. You giggle at him. You find it cute how unbothered he tries to seem.

Today seemed to be a pretty calm day for patrol. So far you’ve only broken up two fights, saved a cat, and taken pictures with a few fans.

You guys got a call that you can end the day early since it’s been pretty slow all over the city. You two are walking back to the agency now. Bakugou can feel the excitement rolling off you. He can’t help, but crack a little smirk. Seeing his pretty wife practically glow with excitement lights something inside him. He thought he’d be over all the puppy love by now, but watching you walk down the street smiling while the sun hits your skin making your cheeks look like those caramel/chocolate commercials makes him just wanna sink his teeth in you. In a good way of course.

“What are you so excited about anyways?”

“I was planning on watching the new game of thrones series when we got back, and now I get to watch it earlier than planned” You squeal.

Gosh you’re such a nerd. He never understood why you like those British shows. They all look like their bodies, and breath smell like ass. Yeah, the fight scenes are cool, but other than that what do you watch it for?

He was too busy thinking about how weird your taste in television was to notice a group of teenagers boys walking down the sidewalk towards y’all. He’s shaken out of his thoughts by the force of the tallest in the group shoulder checking him.

“Watch old man.” The tall box dyed blonde says to Bakugou. The kid’s friends all snicker. Bakugou stops , and turns to the group.

“Didn’t your parents teach you to respect your superiors? Especially the ones out here keeping your ass safe.”

The blonde teen just rolled his eyes.

“You should be less worried about my parents, and more worried about your beer belly. Fat ass.” Before he can stop, and think about it Bakugou goes to grab the kid by the collar. But you are quicker, and grab his arm before he can do so.

“Come on I wanna go home.” You plead with your eyes for him to let it go. He really wants to teach these fuckers a lesson, but his need to please you outweighs his need to rub some random brat’s face in the dirt. He grunts in agreement, and lets you drag him away. He can hear the boys laughing as y’all walk away. But all he cares about is getting his pretty wife on the couch surrounded by your favorite snacks.

You use your quirk to knock the kid on his ass before you guys get too far. Teenagers fucking suck.

—

While sitting on the couch with you later he couldn’t help replay what that brat said earlier. He noticed he’d gained a little fat, but it’s because he’s bulking. Was it really that noticeable? Why haven’t you said anything? He started to feel as if he led you on.

When you first meet back in school he wasn’t all jacked, but he was far from fat. The body you feel in love with. The one you loved so much your panties would get wet just from looking at isn’t the same anymore.

Did you still even find him attractive?

Bakugou can’t bring himself to ask you about it. He says that he’ll just watch you carefully to see any signs of discomfort . The problem was you look so unfazed. He can’t tell if it’s because you haven’t noticed, don’t care, or if you’re trying to look unbothered to not hurt his feelings.

His feelings weren’t hurt, maybe his ego was a little bruised. But the fact you’re the type to go around problems that aren’t problems to protect other’s feelings only adds to the uncertainty.

What Bakugou didn’t notice was that you picked up on his discomfort. You noticed the long looks in the mirror after every shower. The not wanting to cuddle every night like he usually does. Most of all the lack of intimacy.

You guys haven’t had sex in almost a week. Every time y’all start to get hot, and heavy he just eats you out the rolls over and says goodnight.

Head is great. But fuck, you wanna feel the weight of your husband on top of you as he makes love to you.

You decid you’ve had enough. Whatever is worrying him so much you’re going find out and fix. At dinner you decide to finally speak about it.

“Katsuki.” Almost immediately Bakugou looks up at you.

“Yes?” Worry lines your face. Bakugou starts to panic thinking something happened to make you upset. Just as he was about to ask if you were okay you cut him off.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been acting different. You haven’t been as affectionate or intimate. Are you not attracted to me anymore?”

Now he really starts to panic. How could you, his beautiful perfect wife ever think you were the problem? How could he not be attracted to you? You were hand crafted by God himself. You are the only woman he could ever love. Never once had he ever questioned your beauty. Even in school when he thought you were annoying, he still found you breathtaking.

“Are you crazy there’s no way I couldn’t be attracted to you.”

“Then what’s the problem?” He pauses, and shaky breath in. Should he lie, or let you know that some punk made him a little insecure?

No, he can’t lie to you. For this whole ‘death do us part’ thing to work he’s gonna have to be honest with you. Even if it makes him uncomfortable.

“…I’m afraid that you don’t find me attractive now that I’ve put on some pounds.” He’s too embarrassed to even look up from his plate. There’s silence for a minute. He starts to worry that he’s actually right. But when he looks up to see your face it’s filled with nothing, but love. You get up from your seat, and walk over to him. You reach out to stroke his cheek.

“There’s nothing that would make me stop loving, or finding you unattractive. And I have noticed the extra pounds, but honestly it’s kinda doing it for me.” You giggle at his stunned face. You pull him in for a kiss. It starts off tinder. Full of the love you two share. But with new found confidence Bakugou starts to get impatient. He missed this. Your body against his. The kiss becomes more intense as he pulls you closer to him.

He lifts you by the back of your knees, and carries you to your shared bedroom. You let out a squeal as you’re dropped on the bed. Bakugou chuckles at you, but you aren’t given enough time to say anything about before he reconnects your lips. He starts moving his kisses lower, and nips at your jaw.

Between nibbles, and kisses Baukgou breathes out “God I’ve missed this”.

You let out a startled moan when he goes lower, and sucks your nipple through your thin shirt. You feel his lips curve into a smirk at your reaction.

You start to get impatient from all the nipping,and kissing. You’ve been deprived of him for too long. You whine as you tug on his shirt letting him know you want it off. Bakugou can’t help,

but coo at you, and give a kiss to your pouty lips.

“I know pretty girl, I know. Just let me taste you first baby.” He peels your clothes off before laying between your legs. His mouth waters every time he see your beautiful cunt. He watches as more slick leaks from you. He uses his thumb to spread it across your lips, before giving your clit the tiniest rub. It’s a ghost of a touch, and it drives you crazy. You start whining down at your husband begging with your pretty eyes for more, and who is he to tell you no? He replaces his hand with his mouth.

He loves the smell, and taste of you. He never thought there’d be a day he would be obsessed with a vagina, but after y’all’s first time he’s been hooked. He licks you like it give him just as much pleasure. The room is filled with your moans, and the sloppy sound of your dripping hole and his mouth . You grab at his hair, and start rolling your hips up into his face. Bakugou’s eyes rolling back at the feeling of you rubbing your juices all over his lower face and nose.

Bakugou sucks your clit between his lips while flicking the tip of his tongue against it. The clinching in your stomach gets tighter, and you know you’re close. But when he slightly nibbles on your clit you know it’s over. You cry out as you ride your orgasm out on his face. After you calm down Bakugou sits up on his knees to see your fucked out expression, and heaving chest.

As good as him eating you out was, it wasn’t what you wanted. You tug at his pants with pleading eyes, expressing what you really want.

“What pretty girl you can’t use your words?” He says in that mockingly sweet voice. He likes seeing his pretty wife like this. All desperate, and sparkling eyed. It’s impossible not to get hard while watching you squirm, and beg for his cock. It’s when you pout up to him all big eyed, and desperate that he gives you what you want. No matter how hard he tries he can’t say no to you. His beautiful sweet wife. If he could he’d give you the universe. He pulls his shirt off, and tosses it across the room. He then removes his belt, and pants leaving him in just his underwear. He starts to feel a little uneasy showing all this extra skin to you, but seeing the hungry look on your face burns it all away.

You feel yourself getting wetter as you stare at your husband’s changed body. You felt the extra weight, but seeing it makes you so much more hornier than you expected. All his bulging muscles. Instead of being lean like before he’s fuller. His stomach has become slightly rounder, and his shoulders, chest, and biceps meatier.

“Fuck I need you.” A evil smirk breaks out across Bakugou’s face.

“Come get it baby.” You tug his underwear down causing his cock to flop out. The swollen pink tip leaks with precum. You give him a few strokes before leaning down, and giving the tip a sweet kiss. You suck the tip into your mouth while wiggling your hips in the air knowing how much he loves seeing your ass move. Bakugou groans at the display. But you only get two head bobs in before he’s pulling you off, and pushing you on your back.

“That can wait for later. Weren’t you just begging me to fuck you. I gotta give my baby what she want.” He smugly says to you.

Bakugou pushes your knees apart and, taps his fat dick on your pussy. He enjoys watching the slight jiggle of your fat lips. He sit his dick between your lips, and lets his dick sit snug between the two. He thrust slowly. His tip catching your clit with every upward thrust. He loves watching the contrast of his dick sliding between your brown lips.

After an impatient “Katsuki” he lines his tip up with your hole, and slowly pushes into you. You both can’t stop the low whines from leaving your lips as he stretches your tight spongy walls around him. He looks to make sure he wasn’t hurting you, and almost blows his load right there.

Seeing your mouth agape, and face scrunched up in pressure causes his dick to twitch inside you.

He can’t stop himself from breathing out a “Fuck baby” at the sight of you laid out so pretty. He starts moving at a steady pace. He leaves kisses all over your face, and shoulders. He can’t stop himself from telling you how good you are between kisses. Something about your gummy walls makes his mind go foggy, and his tongue loose.

“You’re doing so good baby.”

“Taking all of me so well.”

“Come on pretty girl give it to me.”

“Can’t believe this pretty pussy is all mine.” The steady pace was amazing while you were getting use to his size again,but now you were getting impatient and wanting more.

Bakugou is caught off guard when you suddenly pulled him down by his neck, and cross your ankles around his waist. You can’t stand the no skin to skin. All you want is to feel the weight of your husband on top of you while he beats your walls in.

You look up at him with glossy eyes, and beg “please Katsuki, i need more”.

And who the hell was he to tell you no. He gives you one last peck before getting up on his elbows, and thrusting into you like it was his only purpose in life. Your squeals plus the sloppy sound your cunt starts making, makes his mind go hazy. All he can think about is getting you to cum on his cock then stuffing you full of his cum.

You reach between your bodies to give your clit the attention she’s throbbing for. The added sensation makes you squeeze even tighter around him. It’s too much for you both. Bakugou can’t even hold himself up anymore causing him to lay his full body on you,and starts humping into wet soft heat. He subconsciously starts sucking and licking on your neck like a fucking virgin that’s having their first kiss.

You can’t stop your sobs. It’s all too much, and not enough at the same time. You feel so full, yet you want to suck him in deeper. His tip rubbing against your cervix isn’t enough. You want him inside it, smearing his cum against each area of it.

“Katsuki, fuck!” you wail.

“Daddy please!”

“It’s okay baby you can take.” He coos at you.

“No I can’t, it’s too much!”

“Come on baby take it for me.” He pulls you into a sloppy kiss. When you pull apart he says

“Come on mama, fuck! Just be a good girl and take it so I can give you all my cum. That’s what you want right.”

You get out a little ‘mhm’ between sobs.

You feel your climax on the tip of your tongue. He can tell you need a little something more. Bakugou reaches his hand up, and rolls your nipple between his fingers before giving it a pinch.

Your climax hits you like a wave, and drags Bakugou down with you. He continues thrusting making sure he covers all your walls with his cum.

You two lay there holding each other after coming down from your highs. You run your nails through his hair while waiting for your heartbeats to go back to normal. After a few minutes you decide to break the silence.

“You know, nothing could make me stop loving you.” Bakugou feels an intense swell of emotion in his chest. He tries to hide his red cheeks, and teary eyes by burying his face between your breast.

“Fuck how’d I get so lucky?”