#tell me you play tennis without telling me you play tennis
Text
Injured (Jenni's Version): Future
Grace Clinton x Reader
Summary: You need to leave
"Mami! Mami! Mami!"
You smile slightly, continuing to pack your suitcase as your son lays back on your bed.
"Yes, my James?"
He grins at you. "Can I come?"
You shake your head. "You know you can't."
"But why?"
"Because Paris is a long way away from Lyon." You add another set of pointe shoes to your bag. "And I need you to do a very special job for me."
You sit down on the bed, patting the spot next to you.
James is more than happy to crawl towards you, leaning close to hear his special job.
"You're a very responsible boy, aren't you?"
He nods. "I helped Mummy pick up Ollie's poo yesterday on our walk!"
Ollie's your family dog. Grace had gotten him for you when the first two rounds of ivf didn't take and you'd been so down about it. You were right in the middle of your third round and losing hope when Grace had come home with a German Shepherd puppy.
You called Ollie your good luck charm because two weeks after you'd successfully potty trained him, you fell pregnant with your other golden boy, James.
"That's very responsible!" You tell him," Because I need a very responsible boy to help me out."
"I'm responsible! I'm responsible! What is it?"
"I need you to be in charge of the house while I'm gone," You tell him," That's why you can't come with. You've got to make sure Mummy doesn't order takeout every day and cleans up Olivia's toys when she's done playing."
Olivia's the other light of your life, your nearly one year old daughter.
You didn't particularly want to leave either of them but you'd been called up by the Paris Opera Ballet to be their guest Principal for one of the shows they were putting on and you loved dancing in their venue.
Originally, you were going to say no but Grace pushed you to accept. She was more than capable of looking after both of the kids at once.
"I'll make sure Mummy eats healthy and cleans up!" James tells you," Can I go tell her I'm in charge while you're gone?"
"I'm sure she would love that."
James goes bursting out of the room and you take the time to finish packing.
Ollie whines a little as you zip up the bag.
"I'm sorry, Ollie," You say, gently stroking his head," You know I'll back soon."
Ollie's the family dog, technically, but, secretly, you know he's yours. He had been incredibly protective over you when you were pregnant with Livy and he had been super excitable as a puppy when you were pregnant with James.
Fully grown now, he loved being in the same room as you. He adored the kids and Grace, of course, but you had always been his person.
Frankly, you were getting a little worried he was lonely in the house alone all day so you and Grace had been in talks about getting Ollie his own puppy.
It was only fair to Olivia as well.
Ollie grew up with James. It's only right to have a puppy for Olivia to grow up with too.
But, that was a conversation for when you got back and after your planned trip to Spain in the summer.
It would be nice, you think, to have a puppy for Ollie to be the best big brother too just like how James is the best big brother to Livy.
Ollie follows you down the stairs, his favourite tennis ball in his mouth as you start pulling your suitcase down.
Grace appears at the bottom, hurrying up to swap the bag with Livy and carry it the down for you.
"Careful, beautiful," She says as you swap," You don't want to strain anything before you go on stage." She winks at you and you roll your eyes.
"Did James tell you I've left him in charge?"
"He did," Grace replies with a grin," I think he's already planning on demanding Big Bed access."
"Don't let him," You remind her but your wife just shrugs.
"I don't know. He's making a convincing case. Says that it would be cold without you and he should be there to warm it up."
"If you get him in the habit of sleeping in our bed while I'm away, Grace Clinton, then you're in trouble and I'm choosing what breed the next puppy is."
"Oh, come on!" Grace is laughing though so you know she isn't taking your empty threats too seriously. "Cab's here though. You finished up just in time."
"Okay." You pull on your coat surprisingly well for someone balancing a baby in the other arm.
You litter kisses all over Livy's face as Grace calls James to the door.
"I'll miss you, Mami," He tells you and you crouch down to give him kisses too.
"I'll miss you too, James," You say," I love you, baby."
"Love you too."
He curls into your arms and your rock him side to side softly before pulling away.
"Remember, you're in charge, okay? So I want you to boss around Mummy and make her eat healthy, deal?"
He nods. "Deal."
"I'll see you in a week, amor," You tell Grace, pecking her lips a few times and laughing when she tries to chase your kiss each time.
"Love you, beautiful."
"Love you too."
364 notes
·
View notes
Text
autograph session - Lando Norris
summary; Lando Norris x reader
How can Lando change the situation from enemies to lovers?
warning(s); bad language, angst, fluff, maybe grammar errors
author's note; I NEED MORE LANDO REQUESTS PLEASE I'M BEGGING :(
--------------------------------------------------------------
"I would never date someone like her"
This is what Lando said to Daniel Ricciardo after you were gone. You waited a whole day to get a photo with Lando Norris, talking a friendly conversation at an autograph session and when you walked away, you heard this.
Sure you're just a fangirl. But it hurts. You're not a model, you're not as tall as Lando himself but you're smart and nice.
It's like the world hates you months later - Lando Norris is sitting in the restaurant with his team where you work as a waiter. You need to pay bills, it's definitely not your dreamjob. He's definitely not your dream guest.
"I'm not going to this table!", you swear to your coworker. She's looking amused, she's the only one knowing why you hate Lando Norris.
"He'll not recognize you!", she supports you, laughing at the end of saying.
It's hilarious how you stand in front of her, acting like a child.
"Show him you're better than him", she pushes your body forward to Lando's table.
The team hears your foot steps and the attention is on you.
"What can I bring you to drink?", you twist your legs, trying to stay humble. You want to smash the menu card after lando's smirk. Reminding yourself, you really need the money.
They order their drinks and food, you're staying in the shadow without saying much words. Usually you're joking around, having a good time with all guests but you're not feeling well.
"Do you want to pay with the credit card?", you ask Lando without friendly manners. "I'll pay cash, thanks", he shows you his million-dollar-smile. Too bad it bounces off like a tennis ball.
"Thank you, Sir", you nod in the round, ready to leave, Lando holing your wrist, "this one is for you". You can feel cash between your hands, pushing the money like a reflex back to him, "fuck you, Lando Norris!". Your voice is hissing in his direction.
His eyes are getting big, his team is laughing but you couldn't care less, waking back to the cabin, ready to leave your last shift of the week. "What happened?", your coworker comes around, completely in anger what you did. "He can throw his cash in his ass, Mr. I would never date her!", you're frustrated. In this moment someone knocks on your door, "hello?", both of your heads spinning around. "it's only for waiters!", you warn this person. "I don't see if you're naked, I swear!", Lando Norris standing there and holding his hands on his face to cover everything. "what do you want?!", straight eyes caught him. Your coworker pushes you again, "Sir".
Lando rolls his eyes, his rolex is glimmering on his wrist. "what's your name?", he asks you. "doesn't matter", you don't want to interact with him.
"Did I upset you or why are you hating me this much?", he asks again, trying to make this situation a little bit funny.
You don't want to laugh with him, you want to sleep after a ten hours shift.
"Because you play with fangirls feelings!", you scream in his face. He touches his hair, totally chill.
"How can I change your mind, that I'm sorry?", he bites on his lips. He looks so god, you want to kiss and kill him at the same time.
"Leave the restaurant, thanks", you tell him your mind, you get hitting on your shoulder again. You huff, rolling your eyes, "everything is okay", you fake a smile. He says bye and leaves the restaurant.
You're thinking about this situation, even days later back at work. Yes, you had your reasons to be like this but he treated you not like grass unser his feet.
"One guest is asking for you", your coworker searched you in the crowd. "We're not a private restaurant so this guest has to wait!", you bite on your tongue not to say more you'll regret later, "bet you want to know who he is", she grins like a devil. "fine!", shrugging the shoulders and walking to table 10.
"Are you kidding me?", you're pissed to see this face again. Lando Norris in a smoking.
"Hi, nice to meet you!", Lando smiles kinda worried, his eyes are blurried.
"Wish I could say the same but here we are. We're not the only restaurant in this area", you spew fire. He plays with his crossed fingers, his head is down. "what did I do?", he breaths in. "What do you want to drink?", you have to do your job. Nothing more. "I'd like to order food. Just food", he sounds disappointed.
But you have to pretend you couldn't care less.
After he ate his dinner, paying and saying thank you - he left. He didn't left like joking, he stayed quiet.
"You broke his heart, girl", your boss comes around after the shift is over. "Whose?", "Mr. Norris".
This conversation hunts you, still on the streets on the way home.
Lando Norris would never ever go to a restaurant without having a plan. Or at least a reason. Your fan merchandise is hidden in your wardrobe, you didn't wore these things for two years like its a plague.
Next work shift you're tired. You could sleep on your own feet. What if he's telling your boss, you need to get fired? Just because your emotions you could lose your job.
"He's asking for you", your boss pets your hair like a dog and told you it's table 3.
Lando Norris. Again.
He might has vacation, shouldn't he win races?
"Hello", you smile, asking your typical questions as a waitress. It's the same like last time; he orders food, pays cash and wants to leave.
"Have a nice day-", you want to end his time in your restaurant, but he interrupts you. "I asked my menager if i did something wrong to you. There's nothing on social media. I have no clue-", he talks in his british accent. To be fair, his accent sounds cute.
"You told Daniel Ricciardo at an autograph session you would never date someone like me!", gosh. It feels so heavy to speak out this.
Lando's face gets gray. He's biting on his lip. "I'm incredibly sorry", his voice cracks and is shaky. So thin, it could easily break.
"What can I-", you talk between his sweet nothings. "You're a bad person Lando Norris and I don't deserve this. I worked hard to be here with two jobs to pay my bills and I'm not perfect but I'm good enough someone would like to date me! But you would never understand because I'm out of your league with your millions", you scream and leave the restaurant.
You're sure: it was your last day at work.
Nobody called you for the next week, your boss only texted you "take some time, see you in two weeks".
He destroyed you, now you destroyed him. But why does it feel so wrong?
You're watching TV, ice cream in your hands and the blankets is around like a coucon.
"Mr. Norris, how are you today?", the reporter asks Lando with the microphone in his hands.
"I'm okay", he answers with a sick voice, his face is not shaved. "you'll start from p4, are you happy with the results?", Lando Shakes his head, "I'll try to win, like always", "you want to send the prize money to a kindergarten, why?", ok this question is interesting.
"I'm a bad person. I want to change it", he gets weak and walks to his car.
You feel bad. So bad. Maybe you hurt him, too.
Maybe he's crying right now in his car, helmet on.
The following next week comes earlier than you expected and now you're here; in your restaurant ready to make some people happy.
"Lando told me you're working here", a young boy with aussie accent standing here. "are you Oscar Piastri?", "psst please be quiet", he hides his face in his hood.
"He's a mess. He did an horrible mistake and he regrets it but he's not a bad person. I swear", he strongly says. "Thank you for telling me", you smile lovely.
"He wanted to ask you out since the team dinner. He came back here after the race of Australia and he had a jet leg and almost slept in the next practice but he didn't care because he thought you're happy to see him again", he spills the tea. He's not angry, he's calm. "What should I do now?", you feel rude.
"I can give you his number and his address, he booked a hotel room but is too afraid to come here", he whispers because guests are walking behind him. You nod and take the phone number.
"Why is he afraid?", "you ripped him with words". "Bye", he says in a hurry and leaves.
You decided to walk to him after your work shift, a luxurious hotel room in front of you.
You knock two times until you hear foot steps. "don't need room service but thanks", an exhausted voice talks.
"Open the door, Lando", you're freezing your ass off. It's cold tonight.
"What are you doing here?", Lando Norris standing here with nothing but in just his underwear.
"Oscar told me", you smile. You don't want to hurt him.
"Come in", he opens the door and let you in. It's clean, just some helmets on the ground, "I like your new helmet design", you smile again.
"I'll give them away", "why?", "I'm a bad person and want to make it better for my fans", he sniffles. "You love this helmet", you argue back. He told the media he would sleep with this helmet in his bed because it's so cool.
He's standing here, broken and lost.
"I want to treat my fans better..", putting his head down. "oh Lando", you can't help yourself and hug him. He's one head taller than you and lays his head in your neck, sobbing. "I'm sorry I told these awful things", touching his back, running circles over it.
"Everything will be alright", you breath in his cologne. "You're not a bad person", you correct yourself.
"I am and I just wanted to ask you out", he cries in your arms. You're watching out of the window. It's already dark outside, cold air. "Everything is alright, Lando", you burry your head in his hair.
"I'm such a pussy", he sniffs and stops hugging you. "you're not", you smile and whip his tears away. In front of you is a good looking, inside and out beautiful person.
"I swear I wasn't talking about you at this autograph session", he uses a tissue and smiles. "Oh what is this?", you catch a beige hoodie in your hand, lando's name on it. "its my new merch but it's not-", "I'll borrow it until you ask me for a date so you have to come along", you wink at him. He giggles his adorable laugh, "okay, darling".
Darling.
I might fell for his personality.
#lando fluff#lando norris blurb#lando norris imagine#lando x you#lando x reader#lando norris#lando angst#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#formula one blurbs#formula 1 imagine#formula one#lando blurb
103 notes
·
View notes
Text
I have seen enough. It is time for me to cancel this mfer once and for all
#benjamín vicuña#WHAT WAS THAT#MY EYES#THEY'RE BLEEDING#I'm in pain#this is a tragedy#tell me you play tennis without telling me you play tennis#tt#table tennis gone wrong#I hate everything about this#now let me say I'm his biggest hater 😤#I hate the way he stands the way he plays I hate the way he holds the racket I hate the way he celebrates
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Beyond The Play
college!Art x college!Reader
summary: Tashi needs some time alone with her man, which leaves you without a room for the night.
word count: 3.8k
rating: mature/explicit/18+
warnings: alcohol, fingering, dry humping, p in v sex with a condom, light praise, titty sucking, there's only one bed oh no!!
a/n: thanks for all the love on my first Challengers fic! hope you enjoy this one!
“You are so fucked,” Art says, taking another sip of his beer.
“Shut up.”
“He’s right,” Tashi agrees, sighing heavily, glancing at her cards.
You’re all sitting on the floor of your and Tashi’s dorm room, half-empty beer bottles littering the floor between you. You’d been playing poker for the past hour or so, swindling more of Patrick and Art’s money. It’d become a Friday night habit of yours, card games and beer with Patrick and Art. Patrick was always a maybe, he only came to visit his girlfriend a couple times a semester.
But you, Art, and Tashi were always a solid trio. Tashi and Art had met through tennis of course, and you had met Art through Tashi after rooming with her freshman year of college. You’d become fast friends, and roommates for the next several years. You got along with Patrick well enough, you had to once he and Tashi started dating.
You could tell that had been a sore spot for Art, at least for a while. You’d suspected he’d had a thing for Tashi, and fire and ice hadn’t been the same since. You’d once asked Tashi about it and she’d only shrugged. Even though she was with Patrick for now, you knew Tashi had only one true love.
Whatever Art felt for Tashi was easily molded into friendship, and the three of you became nearly inseparable. Which was good, even if you may or may not have developed some feelings of your own for the blond tennis player.
But your friendship was more important. Those feelings could be pushed aside.
“God damn it,” Patrick curses, “I fold.”
Tashi snickers, revealing her cards and Patrick swears once more.
“I need a smoke,” Patrick says, standing and leaning across Tashi’s bed to the open window.
“Oh no you don’t,” Tashi says, standing at lightning speed, “Outside, we are not getting in trouble for this.”
She grabs Patrick by the shirt collar, dragging him off the bed. He dramatically chokes, but lets her drag him towards the door.
“Art come on,” Patrick insists, reaching for his best friend.
“What? No, I wanna stay,” Art says, sandy hair falling in front of his eyes, “You don’t need a babysitter—”
“Yes I do,” Patrick insists, “C’mon five minutes, I swear.”
The boys tumble into the hall and you can hear their voices fading as they make their way outside. You stand from the floor, gathering up some beer bottles, and folding up the empty pizza box.
“Hey, d’you think you could sleep somewhere else tonight?” Tashi asks, brown eyes wide, “It’s Patrick’s last night, and y’know we really haven’t had any alone time.”
Your chest constricts at the thought. You totally get where she’s coming from but, it’s your room too. The thought of sleeping in the common area is less enticing.
“Or at least just for a couple of hours,” Tashi backtracks, seeing your expression, “Just so we can—”
“Yeah, Tash it’s fine,” you tell her, swallowing your annoyance. Tashi’s been nothing but thoughtful and kind as a roommate, and friend. It’s an inconvenient favor, but nothing crazy. “I’ll get out of your hair for a couple of hours.”
“You’re the best,” she says, kissing your cheek, “Seriously, I owe you one.”
“You sure do,” you tell her, “I expect full payment for this.”
“Do you mean a trip to the movies with slurpees and popcorn?” Tashi asks, raising her eyebrows.
“With extra butter,” you clarify and point at her, “You’re not cheaping out on me.”
“I’d never,” she insists, feigning seriousness before breaking into a grin.
You finish helping Tashi clean up and begin your excommunication from your room. Walking down the hallway you bump into Patrick and Art on their way back from Patrick’s smoke break.
“What’re you doing out here? You start smoking?” Art asks as Patrick keeps walking past you, picking up the pace, “Hey where…”
“Party’s over,” you tell him, as Patrick turns the corner, eager to return to Tashi now that she’s alone.
Art frowns, confused.
“But we were—”
“Art,” you cut him off and place your hands on his shoulders, shaking him slightly, “Party’s over. Unless you’re eager to be a third.”
Art’s cheeks flush and he glances away, forcing out a laugh. Something tugs at your heart watching his half-smile appear.
“Uh yeah ... .no thanks,” he says and you pat his shoulders before releasing them, “Wait but where are you going to go?”
You shrug, “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“You can’t just wander around campus, it’s like 2 am,” Art says, beckoning you with his hand, “Come back to my room, at least till they’re done.”
“Really?” you ask, “Cause if you’re tired I can just—”
“Don’t be silly,” Art says, poking your shoulder, “C’mon.”
Art’s room is in a separate building on campus, about a five-minute walk from you and Tashi’s building. Art is lucky enough to have a single; you’d been there a handful of times before class or practice. He keeps his room neat, aside from some clothes scattered on the floor from quick changes before practice. You smile as he hurriedly picks them up, throwing them into a hamper in his closet.
His bed is unmade, navy sheets messy as though he’d just woken up.
“Sorry bout the mess,” he says, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.
“I’m not judging, you’re cleaner than most guys I’ve met,” you tell him and he laughs.
Suddenly, it hits you how late it is, sleepiness hitting you like a train as you yawn. This triggers Art’s yawn and the pair of you stand awkwardly in front of each other.
“Um,” Art says suddenly, “It’s late.”
“Yeah,” you agree, stomach sinking, “I can just—”
“You should stay.”
You’re silent at that. You stare at him, as he nervously plays with the hem of his t-shirt, waiting for your reaction. You’re not sure what to say. It’s fine, right? Just a friend, helping out another friend.
A friend whom you have a big fat annoying crush on.
“I mean….it’s just late and you’re tired and who knows when they’ll be done.”
“I don’t have anything with me,” you tell him, voice sounding softer, meeker than you’d like.
“Oh, here I got you,” he says, walking to his dresser. He shuffles through the drawer a moment before revealing a shirt and clean boxers, “Just did laundry today. You can….you can change in the bathroom. I even have an extra toothbrush.”
You roll your eyes at that, taking the clothes from him.
“Okay,” you agree.
“Bathroom’s right there.”
You nod, quickly making your way across the room and into the bathroom. You close the door and quickly change, finding Art’s spare toothbrush unopened in a goodie bag from the dentist shoved into a spare drawer. You quickly wash your face, brush your teeth, and change into his clothes. The shirt is baggy, with Stanford Men’s Tennis written across the front. It smells like him, like his detergent and his cologne and you can’t help but greedily inhale.
When you exit the bathroom, Art dips in, leaving the door open as he brushes his teeth. You place your clothes in a pile on his desk, awkwardly waiting for him. When he emerges, he’s wearing only his boxers and a gray t-shirt.
“I’ll take the floor,” Art says, his face turning beet red, “You can have the bed.”
“Art no,” you insist, “It’s your room. I’ll take the floor, it’s only fair—”
“Yeah that is not happening,” he says, satisfied smirk on his face, “Tashi’d kill me if she found out I made you sleep on the floor.”
“We could…..” you wet your lips, struggling to get the words out, “We could share the bed?”
Art watches you, his eyes wide. You watch his Adam’s apple bobs as he contemplates your question. Suddenly your pulse quickens, and embarrassment floods your body, and your face flushes. You turn away from him, scooting onto the bed.
“I mean only—”
“—if you’re comfortable,” Art finishes and you shut your mouth. You both giggle at the overlapping sentences.
“Yeah, I’m comfortable, Art,” you tell him, patting the space beside you, “Come on.”
Art moves onto the bed and you push closer to the wall. He’s so close when he lies down beside you, stretching his arm above your head. You’ve grown accustomed to the moonlit room and at this distance, you can almost count each eyelash that frames his blue eyes.
“Is this okay?” he whispers, minty breath wafting over your face, making your head spin.
“Mhmm,” is all you can manage as the heat of his body warms you under the covers.
He’s silent then and you lay there for a moment, watching each other, listening to your shared breathing. Art chuckles then.
“What?”
“It’s just…” he trails off, “Nothing, it’s silly.”
“What is it?”
“You’re the first girl I’ve shared a bed with,” he admits, shyly glancing away from your gaze.
“Art Donaldson,” your tone is teasing, “I find that rather hard to believe.”
“It’s true,” he insists, brows furrowing together, “I mean….I’m not saying—wait” he wets his lips nervously, “I’m not a virgin—”
Your eyebrows raise, a smile curling at the corner of your lips. No, you did not doubt that.
“Not that anything’s wrong with that, I just—wait and not to imply—”
“Art!” you cut him off, reaching forward and pressing your fingers against his lips, “I’m kidding. Don’t freak out.”
“M’not,” he mumbles, lips moving against your fingers.
“I’m fucking with you, Donaldson,” you whisper, taking your hand back, “I know you’re a gentleman.”
“Thank Christ,” he says with an exaggerated exhale causing you to giggle once more. He watches you, a smile on his face, eyes flickering to your lips.
Your face heats up as he wets his lips. Suddenly, nervousness flutters in your belly, and your heart flutters in your chest.
“Goodnight,” you tell him, turning away from him to face the wall.
You wait for his response, hoping he’s not disappointed. Disappointed about what, you’re not sure.
“Goodnight,” he says softly and you close your eyes.
You wake up early. Birds are chirping outside the window, golden sunlight is beginning to bleed into the room, and Art’s chest is smushed firmly against your back. His arm is curled around your middle, hand splayed under your shirt and on your tummy, face buried in the crook of your neck. He’s so warm, his presence so comforting, you just want to close your eyes and melt back into him.
Art groans in his sleep, moving his hips slightly and your eyes snap open.
Oh, Art.
He’s pressed firmly against your backside, rock-hard, hips unconsciously grinding against you. Your mouth falls open slightly feeling him against you, the hard outline of his cock bullying against your ass. Art groans again, hand on your stomach pushing you closer to him.
A breathy sigh escapes you and your head falls back against him slightly.
“Art,” you breathe, answered with another groan, this one edging on a whimper. His hips gyrate, cock pressing against you with need, “Oh God…”
You swallow, breathing becoming more shallow. Your pussy clenches, and you can feel the growing wetness in the boxers Art had lent you, thighs pressing together desperate to relieve some of the pressure.
“Art wake up!”
Art wakes with a start, head pulled from your shoulder. You can’t see him, but you feel him tense, the warmth of his body ripped from yours as he lurches backward, right off the edge of the bed. He falls with a yelp, hitting the floor with a loud thud. You sit up turning toward him.
“Fuck!” he says, scrambling to sit and hide his erection, “Shit, I’m so sorry!” His face is red and he grabs a pillow, placing it over his lap, “God–fuck, I’m so sorry I was asleep—” He keeps stuttering, unable to meet your eyes.
“Art.”
“It’s just biological you know, just morning wood, I would never do anything without your explicit consent–enthusiastic consent!”
“Art…”
“And I would never want to ruin anything between us, ever–”
“Art!”
His head snaps toward you then, eyes meeting yours. His mouth hangs open, eyes watery as he looks up at you. He looks so sad, so embarrassed, and disappointed. And something else as well. Worried, perhaps.
“Get back up here,” you tell him.
Art’s mouth remains open in shock as he glances at the bed.
“Now?”
“Yes, right now.”
Art scrambles to rejoin you on the bed, lying beside you. He faces you just as he did last night, sandy hair falling across his forehead. You smile softly at his disheveled appearance and his flushed cheeks.
“I’m sorry—”
“Stop talking,” you tell him, reaching forward and brushing some hair from his face. You let your hand trail around to the nape of his neck, fingers curling in his hair. “You have my consent.”
Art’s eyes widen, lips parting in shock.
“Yeah?”
“Mhmm,” you tell him, pulling yourself closer. His hand drifts to your hip, anchoring himself to it. “Explicit, enthusiastic, all yours.”
The last word has barely left your lips before he’s leaning forward, pressing his lips against your own. They’re warm and soft, he kisses you with innocent eagerness, the hand on your hip pulling you flush against him. You lift your leg, hitching it around his thigh, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging slightly, earning a moan against your mouth.
“Fuck,” he moans against your lips, “You don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.”
Something deep inside your belly warms at his admission.
“Yeah?”
“Mhmm,” he answers, kissing you again, “Since freshman year.”
“Why didn’t you…..oh fuck..” your question trails off as Art mouths your neck, sucking and biting the tender skin.
“Didn’t want to ruin anything,” he mumbles, kissing your collarbone.
You hum at his answer, tilting your head to give him better access. His hand moves from your hip bone, up under your shirt—his shirt.
“Is this okay?” he asks, mouth returning to your lips.
“Yes,” you tell him, “Please touch me.”
You can feel his smile against your lips as he does what you ask, fingers grazing the underside of your breast. Pushing against him, his hand cups your breast, squeezing lightly. You pull away from his lips briefly, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it to the end of the bed. Art’s eyes devour you and he kisses you desperately as he continues to play with your tits.
“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing down your neck until he reaches the top of your chest.
Art’s lips move across the tops of your breasts, as though he’s struggling with choosing which one to lavish with attention. Luckily for you, he decides rather quickly and latches his mouth to your right nipple, thumb, and forefinger, tweaking the opposite. Your back arches as he gently bites down, sucking the hardened peak harshly before releasing it with a pop.
“Art.”
He simply moans, ignoring your cries as he brings his mouth to your opposite nipple, repeating his previous action. Pleasure winds a current in your lower belly, your thighs clench as he repeats his little torture, alternating back and forth between your breasts. You grab his hair, tugging him not too gently until he glances up at you, cheeks red, lips glossy and puckered.
He’s too pretty.
You pull him back to your lips, kissing him feverishly while trying to rid yourself of the clothing you have left. Art feels you squirming and assists, hands moving the boxers down your legs until you’re able to kick them off at your ankles. Your hands move to him next, eager to even the playing field.
You tear his shirt over his head revealing his toned stomach from countless hours on the court. Your mouth waters at the sight before Art is on you once more, lips capturing yours in another heated kiss. His hand returns to your hip, curling against it before he reaches further, squeezing your ass.
You smile against his mouth as he squeezes again.
“You’re just fucking perfect, aren’t you?” he murmurs, returning your smile.
His hand grazes down the back of your thigh before venturing to the front where your legs meet. Your breathing becomes more labored the closer he gets to your hot center.
“Can I?” he asks, so softly, you nearly drown out his question with your heavy breath.
“Yes,” you tell him, and that’s all he needs.
Art slides a curious finger between your wet folds, gently circling your clit. Your mouth falls open as he continues.
“You’re so wet,” he remarks, dipping his finger lower, and finding your entrance.
He lets his middle finger sink into you, met with little resistance. Your walls greedily accept him as he curls his finger upwards, beginning to pump it in and out. Stars explode behind your eyes and you moan, clutching onto his shoulder.
Art smirks, eyes aglow at the pleasured noises you emit.
“That feel good?”
“Yes—fuck,” you squeak as he presses another finger inside of you, “Oh god.”
“Yeah?”
Art crooks his fingers against your velvety walls, pressing against that special spot inside of you that has your head lolling against him, moans spilling from your lips. His thumb joins, caressing your sensitive clit in time with the strokes of his fingers.
“Feels so good,” you moan, “I’m so close.”
“Yeah? You're gonna come for me?” he asks, kissing your neck. Your fingers tangle themselves in his blonde hair, tugging harshly, your orgasm building deep in your belly, “Come on baby, come on my fingers, I wanna feel this pretty pussy come.”
His words send you over the edge and your pussy clenches around his digits as you come, thighs shaking from the intensity as warmth floods through you.
“That was so hot,” Art says, kissing you, still buried to the knuckles inside you, “You’re so hot. Let me fuck you, please.”
You hum against his lips as he carefully removes his fingers from your warmth. He pulls away, bringing his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean. You watch him awestruck as he moans, eyes closing at the taste of you.
“Get inside me,” you tell him, “Right now.”
Art doesn’t need to be told twice, sitting up and pulling his boxers off as you lay on your back. Your eyes drift down his stomach to his cock. It’s pretty, just like the rest of him. Long, girthy, a neat tuft of dark sandy colored hair at the base. The tip flushed red and weeping as he strokes himself.
“Condom?” you ask, and he nods, walking to his desk and rummaging through the first drawer.
He comes up successful, ripping the wrapper with his teeth and rolling the condom on his length before crawling on top of you. You spread your legs for him as he lines himself up, rubbing the tip along your soaked slit.
“Art, please put it in,” you whine, hips lifting.
“Jesus, I’m not gonna last long if you keep that up,” he says, shaking his head.
Your responding giggle is short-lived as he slowly sinks inside of you, filling you to the brim.
“Oh god,” you whimper, as he rests his forehead against yours.
“You okay?”
“More than okay,” you answer, cupping his cheek. He mirrors your action and you smile, a sudden burst of tenderness exploding in your chest, tears welling in your eyes.
Art rotates his hips, pulling back and sinking back into your inviting warmth.
“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs, kissing your lips, “I’ve dreamt of this for years.”
“Me too,” you admit, wrapping your legs around his waist, “God, Art, I’ve wanted this forever.”
This spurs him on, his thrusts becoming quicker, more eager at your confession.
“Yeah?”
“Yes,” you whimper as he pounds into you, “Wanted this for so long—used to talk to….to Tashi about it—”
Art moves his hand along your side, reaching your thigh and hooking your leg over his shoulder.
“What’d you tell her?”
The new angle sends him deeper, the head of his cock rubbing perfectly against that spongy section of your walls that has your mouth dropping open in pleasure.
“Wanted you,” you manage as Art holds one of your hands above your head against the pillows, “Wanted this so bad.”
“I’ll give it to you,” Art says, his breath catching, “Fuck—oh god you’re so pretty like this, fuck.”
“Art!” you cry his name as your second orgasm builds, sneaking up on you as he slows his pace, “Why’d you—”
“Wanna savor this,” he says softly, kissing the tip of your nose. His thrusts have slowed, hips moving with leisure.
The pressure in your belly continues to build as he smirks down at you. Tennis has done wonders to his stamina; he fucks you like he could keep this pace for hours, barely breaking a sweat. You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows as he kisses your neck, your hamstring burning deliciously with the stretch.
“Please come for me,” he murmurs, right next to your ear, “I’ve got to feel that sweet little pussy come around my cock, please.”
You do as you’re told, spurred on by Art whispering praises and encouragement in your ear and you fall apart, clenching around his cock and milking him for all he’s worth. You feel his hips stutter, cock twitching inside your warmth as he follows your release with his own. Art’s lips find yours then, and you can taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you like a drowning man coming up for air.
You stay like that for several minutes, his cock softening as you kiss one another, before he slowly pulls out. He takes a moment to take off the condom, tying it off and tossing it in the trash before he rejoins you in bed.
“C’mere,” he says, pulling you across his chest.
You lie with your cheek pressed against his pec, listening to the gentle beating of his heart. He strokes your arm with his fingers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
“Did you mean what you said?” he asks, face buried in your hair, “About wanting me? This?”
“Mhmm,” you answer, putting all your cards on the table, “I may have harbored a small crush on you.”
Art picks up your hand measuring it against his own before lacing your fingers together.
“I wish I knew that earlier,” he admits, still holding your hand, “I’ve been in love with you for ages.”
You glance up at him between your lashes and he grins.
“It’s true,” he says with a smile.
“And here I thought Patrick was the only one who owned your heart,” you tease, causing him to playfully bite your wrist, “Hey!”
“Not the only one,” he admits, rolling you over onto your back, “I’m glad you got kicked out of your room last night.”
You lean up, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.
“Me too.”
link to other stories from me!
To be notified when I post something new, be sure to follow @sapphire-writes-updates & turn notifications on 💙
likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected 🩵
#art donaldson smut#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson#challengers x reader#challengers#challengers fanfiction#challengers smut#challengers fic#challengers film#challengers movie#challengers 2024#challengers x you#art donaldson x you#art donaldson challengers#challengers imagine#art donaldson fic#art donaldson imagine#tashi x reader#mike faist#mike faist smut#challengers fanfic
3K notes
·
View notes
Note
could you please write something where maybe bombshell!reader hears one of the team members teasing about how she’s torturing spencer and she kinda backs off with the flirting and maybe it’s his turn to hold her hand and call her cute names because even though he always says he doesn’t mind, maybe he does and he just doesn’t want to tell her
tysm for requesting, 1k
Spencer's hair is brown silk in the sun. You bite your tongue to hold in a compliment rearing to come out, saccharine and completely true. Looking sweet, Spence.
You love to compliment him and especially while Hotch is out of earshot. He and Derek play pairs against two agents from a different unit, their tennis racquets a shiny FBI navy. You start to speak and bite it back —a memory flashes, a shouting stop sign.
You'd been teasing Spencer as he left the room, something about his indecisive hair. He's cut it shorter but left his curls without product, and you love it.
Poor guy, Emily'd murmured, lips set against the rim of her coffee cup.
What's the matter with him? you asked, perplexed.
Nothing, just that he spins into a total meltdown every time you guys are within ten feet of each other. He must be exhausted.
She was joking and you know that, but something deep down worries she's right. It's not fair for you to keep winding him up… Especially when Spencer might be going along with you because he isn't sure how to say no.
What if you're forcing yourself on him?
You're sitting together on a small blanket in the grass with Anderson and a few of the other less competitive BAU agents. You bring your bottled iced tea to your forehead to cool down, condensation wetting your hot skin. The top of your head feels as though it has the full concentration of the sun beating against it.
Spencer looks up at your movement. He's been reading a book for pleasure, or so he says, so he isn't going a mile a minute but he's still way faster than the average Joe. "Do you want to go find some shade?" he asks.
"You look comfortable," you say, putting your iced tea aside.
Which is to say, I don't want you to come with me, it would disrupt you. Spencer nods and turns to the brown leather of his familiar satchel, popping the buckle open to dig around inside.
"Do you think this would be okay?" he asks, bringing out his baseball cap.
The fabric is starchy and the brim stiff as you accept it and wedge it over your head. You don't immediately cool, but your heart spins strange loops. "Thank you," you say. Thank you, handsome, gorgeous, baby, all beg to be said.
Spencer stays looking at you for longer than normal.
"Do I have something on my face?" you ask, swatting self consciously at your cheeks.
"Nothing. You look really pretty," he says.
"Thank you." Another loop. You point at his book, fingertip hitting a creamy page with a small thud. "Is this any good?"
"I think you'd really like it, it feels like that last book I borrowed from you, and you loved that. They're very similar. I can lend it to you when I'm done."
"Don't rush it for my sake."
Spencer gives you a private smile. "I won't. Just because you could watch a movie at two times speed doesn't mean you should."
Your returning smile isn't half as nice. No shared lightness, no bright eyes. You're feeling awkward and unhappy —you really like Spencer. Like, you think you could be happy together for a long long time sort of like. He's charming and sweet and no one is ever as kind to him as he deserves, which is why you're trying to be kind now by putting distance between you.
You'll be brash forever. You can't change that, and Spencer doesn't need the stress of dealing with you, not on top of everything else.
His smile fades as yours does. Quiet, without fuss, he scoots back on the picnic blanket, putting you knee to knee. The subtle muscle of his arm presses to yours and his hand wraps gently around your wrist as he dips his head down, his cheek touching briefly to your shoulder.
"I know it's nice, but if the heat is getting to you we should go inside," he says, his fingers sliding across your palm to slot between your own. He squeezes your hand. "Heat stroke isn't obvious at first. Do you feel woozy?"
You stare at your twined fingers. He surprises you again, being this soft with you, and being uncharacteristically forward. Or maybe not uncharacteristic at all; Spencer won't let something like timidity stop him from comforting someone that needs it.
"Spence," you murmur, closing your eyes, face angled down.
"What?"
"I'm sorry if I… If I've been messing you around. But I don't think this is a good idea."
"What's not a good idea?"
You can't make yourself say it. Instead, you rub the back of his hand, more for your own comfort than his, your tongue like a useless lump in your mouth.
"You're sorry? Are you sure you're okay?" Spencer asks, no heed to the people sitting with you as he lets go of your hand to put his arm behind your shoulder like a shield.
"I don't want to torture you," you say.
Your friends love that word. You torture Spencer with your flirting and your easy affection.
Spencer makes a face, eyes squinting and nose wrinkled. "They're just kidding when they say that. Emily, Morgan, they like making fun of me, it's like, sibling bonding or something. They don't say it because there's actually something to feel sorry about." He lowers his voice, bashful but sincere at once, "If you're torturing me, I guess I'm a masochist."
You laugh without thinking, a breathless, girlish sound you'd regret if you had the wherewithal. "You're a masochist?" you ask.
He takes the brim of your borrowed hat and pushes it up to unobstruct the view of your eyes.
"If that's what it takes," he says. A hint of wryness creeps into his otherwise smooth tone.
Despite his brave talk and his steady eye contact, his face has started to blush. A rosy hue kisses the tops of his cheeks and his nose, a dusting of pink splodges stark against his paleness. The curve of his lips seems extra tantalising now. He's very, very pretty.
And he doesn't mind stepping in to take the reins when you're unsure of things.
"We really should sit in the shade for a bit," he says. "Let's get drinks from the gazebo. Yeah?"
You're halfway through a nod when he kisses your cheek too quickly for you to respond. You follow him to the gazebo without any more reluctance, weaselling your hand back into his, and attempt to pull another kiss from him.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
5K notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello hi!
Can you do a challengers fic?
Art x reader, where he and reader had a flirty relationship but he started to experiment with tashi and patrick and she was like "well, it happens" but the trio didnt work out so he tried to recandle that dinamic between him and reader but she lost all the atraction to him.
(lots of groveling)
Thank you!
Thank you for the request!
Warnings: Mention of an injury, curse words.
You and Art have been friends since middle school and since then he was always by your side. Your shared interest in tennis and joint decision about applying to Stanford resulted in you two being inseparable best friends. Well, maybe not really. Your relationship was quite hard to describe. People constantly mistook you for a couple but in reality you were just really close. Sure, there were a lot of flirtatious moments, some may even say romantic, but you never thought about it too deeply, thinking that it’s just the way Art is.
Each morning he knocked vigorously on your dorm room door. “You need to wake up! We need to go.” The sight that he sees when you open the door always makes his heart skip a beat. Messy hair and a toothbrush in your mouth give him a glimpse of what it would be like if he was living with you. “Good morning!” He gives you a beautiful smile as he hands you a coffee in your favorite thermos. He insists on doing it because “it saves time in the morning as he’s up anyways”. Oh and also when you finish he takes the cup back to clean it so he doesn't bother you in the morning. His friend Patrick has always made fun of him for those small gestures but he recently got a girlfriend so he’s busy. Actually, you have heard of Tashi. She attends your school and you were supposed to play against her in a local tournament. You have heard that she’s really good but people also always point out your skills.
You head to the canteen, sipping your coffee as Art tells you about Patrick’s new girlfriend. It’s not like you are jealous but hearing your male best friend ramble about another girl is weird. You keep quiet, after all there was nothing romantic between you two. You eat your breakfast without saying much which goes unnoticed to your friend. He stops eating, looking at your face for a moment, trying to figure out what’s going on in your mind “I saw they had watermelon in the fruit section. I can bring it for you if you want. Did something happen? You know you can always talk to me. I will always be there for you.” The gentle tone in his voice almost feels like he is talking to a lost child, scared to make you withdraw. “No, no. It’s fine. I’m just a bit less confident about the next match. You know, after what happened a few days ago, my leg still sometimes cramps up a bit.” you halfy make up a lie. You were stressed about the match but it had nothing to do with your calf. “You should have told me earlier. I will massage it before we train today. You are going to do amazing".
He didn’t listen to your begging not to knead your muscle so you ended up with him rubbing it firmly enough to “help you” but gently enough not to hurt you. As you trained he could sense your frustration. Sure, it made you more confident on the court as you transferred your anger into each fore and backhand. Then suddenly you stop. Your opponent gives you a confused look as you out of the blue ignore the ball. “I don’t feel well. I’m gonna call it quits. I have a test tomorrow anyway that I should study for. I can’t be hitting a ball with a racket my whole life.” you look at him, his expression as shocked as a moment ago. “See you in the evening?” You two usually had some evening tennis sessions or just went for some walks as there were not many people around that time and you could freely chat about anything. “Well. I can’t actually make it today. I’m really sorry. Patrick invited me for some drinks. He wants me to meet Tashi”. His eyes looked like they belonged to a puppy. “Oh, yea. I mean. That’s fine. See you tomorrow then.” you say without giving him the usual light hug as a goodbye.
The following morning Art didn’t knock on your door. You assumed he must have been tired from the day before but it still felt unusual. You decided to push it aside and focus on yourself and your preparations to play against Tashi. The match started at 2 pm so you still had some time to get ready. You followed your usual routine with only one exception - your regular companion.
The tennis court simmered under the midday sun, a gentle breeze whispered through the air, carrying a promise of an intense match. It was one of the most anticipated matches of the season on the Stanford campus. It was the end of a debate of who is the best tennis player among students but most importantly it was evidence of passion for sports and competition. You looked at Tashi coming on the court, getting a bigger applause than you did. You didn’t let it bother you, it didn’t matter who was the fan favorite, it mattered who was better. You were first to serve. Silence established itself on the court, a neon yellow ball bounced a few times between your hand and the ground. You looked deeply into your opponent’s eyes. It wasn’t a game of tennis, it was a battle for dominance.
A thunderous serve from you, the ball sliced through the air with precision. Tashi returned it with equal force, the ball skimming just inches above the net. Back and forth you played, each stroke a testament to your skill and determination. The crowd watched in silence, fully immersed in the spectacle unfolding before them. As the match wore on, the intensity only seemed to grow. Tashi unleashed a powerful forehand, sending the ball to the other side of the net. But you were quick to react, sprinting across the court with lightning speed to return it with a perfectly executed backhand. The crowd erupted into applause, recognizing the sheer athleticism on display. The game continued in this fashion, each player refusing to give an inch. Your muscles burned like they were on fire as you chased down every shot, your mind focused solely on victory. On letting her know who Art belongs to.
Then, in a heartbeat, disaster struck. As Tashi ran to return a particularly fierce shot, her foot slipped. Time seemed to slow as she stumbled forward, her knee buckling beneath her weight. With a sharp cry of pain, she collapsed to the ground, clutching her injured leg. She started crying like a hurt animal, unable to think what people thought of her. You stood there in pure shock, unsure of what to do. In the corner of your eye you saw Art running up to her and trying to calm her down.
You felt really bad for her. Not liking her didn’t mean you were happy for her injury. After asking the medical team about her, you got to know that she’s waiting for an ambulance. When you found her, your heart immediately dropped at the sight of Art holding her hand. “I just wanted to say, I’m so sorry it happened, I-” you started to apologize, “Out! Out! Out!” she screamed at you “But-” you tried to say something but Art stood up “Get the fuck out!”. He had never raised his voice towards you. He was always your gentle, soft, good boy. You silently walked away as hot tears rolled on your cheeks. The echo of your sobs filled your room for the whole night.
For the next few weeks you didn’t see Art. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to see him, you did actually, but he was always accompanied by Tashi or Patrick. It did make you feel a bit lonely but you focused on training and improving. You actually started to do really well and moved up the rank. Despite an opportunity to get an apartment you stayed at Stanford. You told everyone that you would feel lonely living alone, but the truth was you just didn’t want to leave Art. He would still sometimes catch your glimpse across the canteen or the training hall but no words were exchanged.
He found you one evening, your silhouette illuminated by the artificial glow of the light. You were alone, your movements fluid yet tense as you practiced your strokes with precision. Taking a deep breath, Art approached you cautiously, unsure of how you would react to his presence. "Hey" he said softly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. You turned to face him, your expression stone cold. You said nothing. A hint of bitterness in your eyes. "I-I just wanted to see how you were doing," he said, his words stumbling over each other in his nervousness. "What do you want?" you snapped, you tone sharp and cutting. Determination glinting in his eyes. "I saw you playing alone, and I thought... maybe you could use a partner," he offered hesitantly. You scoffed, your grip on the racquet tightening as you glared at him. "And why would I want to play with you?". Art took a step closer, his gaze unwavering as he met your overwhelming stare. "Because I miss playing with you, I miss you" he admitted softly. "And because I'm sorry. Truly sorry for what I did." You hesitated for a moment, your eyes narrowing as you considered his offer. “Don’t you have to take care of your little Tashi’s leg?” you said under your nose. "Fine. But don't expect too much" you warned.
As you began to play, your movements were sharp and precise, your shots landing with deadly accuracy. Art did his best to keep up, but he couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. You had always been better than him but he could sense something else. After all, tennis was the most intimate out of all sports. Suddenly, you unleashed a powerful forehand that sailed towards Art with an alarming speed. Instinctively, he raised his racket to block the shot, but it ricocheted off the strings with a resounding thud, leaving him staggering backwards. "Are you trying to kill me or something?" he exclaimed, his heart racing as he moved closer to the net. You turned around - a little habit you gained, you never looked at your opponent after scoring a point. "Maybe," you replied nonchalantly, your tone betraying a hint of amusement. Art chuckled nervously, rubbing his sore arm where the ball had made contact, as he got closer and closer to you. "Well, you can kill me if you want," he offered, making you chuckle. He reached to touch your hand, his expression pleading, as you turned. "Please. I know I messed up, but I can't stand not having you in my life. I... I have feelings for you. And I need you to know that. I don’t see you as just a friend." You felt your heart skip a beat at his confession, your breath catching in your throat. You had suspected as much, but hearing him say the words out loud sent a jolt of electricity through your veins. "I... I don't know, Art” you responded, torn between the anger still simmering inside you and the warmth of his words. "You ditched me for her. "Art nodded, his eyes brimming with regret. "I know. And I'm so sorry. I was weak and I thought you would never look at me the same way I look at you. I'll do anything to make it right, I swear." he got on his knees, both hands holding yours. “I will never leave your side, I will show you how much I love you and I will buy you this diamond bracelet you always wanted.” You chuckled “Art, get up. I don’t need a bracelet from you. I will give this a chance.” A smile broke across Art’s face, relief flooding his features as he reached out to wrap you in a tight embrace. "Thank you, I promise, you won't regret this." he murmured, his voice thick with emotion and eyes wet with tears. You returned the hug. The two of you swayed for a moment before you broke the silence with your dead serious tone. “Never raise your voice at me again, understand?” He looked deeply in your eyes. “Understood, maam. I’m incredibly sorry”.
April 29, 2024
#writers on tumblr#challengers imagine#challengers x reader#art donaldson imagine#art donaldson x reader#mike faist x reader#mike faist x you
674 notes
·
View notes
Text
Double the Interviews - Oscar Piastri x GreekOlympicTennis! Reader
Plot: WAG duties consist of you literally being in more interviews than Oscar because of your outgoing and bubbly personality.
Credit to lewdo for the GIF
"Y/N can we have a minute of your time please?" an interviewer asks pulling you away from your friend who you look over at. She smiles at you and nods, making her way back to the McLaren garage.
"How are you feeling about the race tomorrow?" he asks and you put a serious face on.
"Yeah, I think the car's got good pace, looking to be in some top positions and I'm excited to see what happens!" you nod and the interviewer holds back their laugh.
"Spoken like a true driver!" he chuckles and you start to laugh as well.
"How are you feeling knowing come summer you'll be competing in the Olympics for Greece in Paris while Oscar is also competing in his own sport?" he asks and you nod, carefully listening to the question to not misunderstand him.
"Yeah of course. You know it's always hard when you have those conflicting schedules especially in athlete relationships. You know I'm still competing in ATP and I have been for a while, and then going into the Olympics on top of that is just immense. I get to travel with my best friend who I've played tennis with since 3 years old but at the same time Osc isn't there all the time. I think that's why today is just so important to me, to be here to support him at his home race!" you smile to the man in front of you who slowly pulls the mic back towards him.
"Will we be seeing Oscar at the Olympics this year?" he asks.
"I think at this stage it's hard to tell, F1 has the longest and busiest schedule to date this year and there's more stress and pressure on the drivers than ever with all the changes taking place ahead of 2025 and 2026, so you know I'd love Oscar to be able to come and see me take home another medal, but again it's one of those moments where you can't be in two places at once!" you explain, knowing he'd already planned to come for your first event of the summer, and would try and stay with you, until it ended for you. But even he didn't know when McLaren would request for him in Woking, or if he'd go home to spend a little needed time with his family.
"Well, I think it's safe to say we are all wishing for Gold for you again this year. Good luck to you and Y/BFF/N who we did see earlier, but dipped away last minute before i could invite her!" he smiles at you, and you smile back.
"You'll see us at the Olympics up at the very top. We promise!" you give the camera a cheesy grin before saying your goodbye's and leaving him to question the next driver who was eagerly waiting behind you.
"There you are!" you hear the Australian accent you knew all to well from your left.
"Hey baby!" you smile, leaning up and placing a soft kiss on Oscar's cheek.
"Saw Y/BFF/N come back without you, when she told me you were stolen for an interview i thought i'd come see if you needed saving" he softly tells you placing a light and gentle hand in your smiling softly down at you.
"Ah, you see baby that is where we are completely and utterly different. I love talking to all your work colleagues!" you say, pulling his hand along so you can both walk back together. You wave at people as you walk past saying small hello's and posing for any camera's you spot in your peripheral.
"You consider the media work colleagues of mine?" he asks with a low laugh that has you cocking your head to one side in question.
"You don't?" you offer back.
"No, my colleagues are my team and the other drivers!" he admits with a blank look on his face that just screams that no cogs are turning up there.
"I mean, you work with the media every time your here. I'd say you work with them, they might not be on your team but they are still apart of your sport!" you admit, he goes to argue but you put a soft finger on his lip.
"Would you consider my ball boy's as my colleagues?" you ask, and he thinks for a second before sighing and nodding.
"There you go then! F1 interviewers are your work colleagues and i like talking to them, they always have very insightful questions!" you smile.
"Insightful or invasive?" he queries looking across at you, brows a little furrowed.
"Damn, you really are a young Kimi Raikkonen. I see what the fans mean now!" you laugh at his expression which quickly tries to change but the frown lines remain.
"God, we need to go back to my mum's for some rest and relaxation" you sigh, starting to massage his wrist and up his arm making him sigh.
"Mmmm, we do I really miss that one dish that she makes us!"
"The Tzatziki with the roasted meat and vegetable kebabs or Moussaka?" you ask looking over at him knowing he enjoyed both.
"Oh! I was thinking of the Moussaka, but the Tzatziki is good. My trainer actually said that it was the perfect mix!" he admitted, still holding that blank expression.
"But he tells you off for the Honey Cake!" you sigh knowing that it was a delicacy you didn't get very often too, being an athlete and all meant that you had to have a very strict diet and couldn't lie to your trainer about cheat days you'd have.
"Okay but that Honey Cake is lethal! You cant stop when you start eating it!" he says before starting to quietly ramble about all his favorite foods as you enter the confides of his driver room away from the public eye.
You cant help but just watch and smile at him, people rarely get to see this funny talkative side of Oscar that could actually out ramble you sometimes which should be near impossible as you were very much a yapper. Especially when you got passionate and would slip in some of you mother tongue without realizing.
"What?, Why are you staring at me?" he asks, after realizing he'd started to rant.
"I just love watching you talk, you nose scrunches when you get passionate about a topic and it's cute" you smile, looking down knowing he'd be a blushing mess.
"Shut up! You are the yapper here, start yapping!" he says, making you burst out laughing while he goes to sit down on the small sofa.
"I'm going to miss you next week!" you sigh as you sit down on his lap where he wraps his arms tightly around you and rests his head in the crook of you neck.
"I know, but I'll come see you at your next tournament after the triple-header!" he smiles, kissing against your neck your body relaxing against his.
"It's just hard, god I'm clingy!" you attempt to laugh the tears away.
"Lando wants to know if you and Y/BFF/N are down for a rematch" he smirks changing the conversation to a more light-hearted one.
"Oh you boys are so on!" you grin.
y/user
Liked by oscarpiastri and landonorris
y/user: Photo Dump from the boyf’s homeland! Love you Australia 🇦🇺
View all 278 comments
oscarpiastri: it was fun playing doubles with you and y/bff/n. Best you next time
landonorris: these guys are kinda good at tennis yo!
-> y/user: does the gold medal mean nothing to you?
-> landonorris: not really :0
-> y/user: well … Osc?
-> oscarpiastri: don’t involve me :(
Your Instagram Story Caption:
Double Trouble in Stralia 🇦🇺
Taglist:
@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1#formula one#formula one fanfiction#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri one shot#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri f1#oscar piastri#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri fluff#op81 fluff#op81 imagine#op81 x reader#op81 fic#op81
673 notes
·
View notes
Note
A little fluffy piece of reader who normally takes her coffee black vs Spencer having a ton of sugar in his? The two of them getting their drinks mixed up and almost spitting it out at the pure amount/lack of sugar? 🤭
OMG I was actually planning to include a similar scene in one of my upcoming oneshots, but you know whattt!!! I'll write them again here anyway bcs it's such a cute concept 🥰
Warning(s): gn!reader but reader wears lipgloss, profanities, fixation over lips, bashful spencer bcs he's my babygirl <3
This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.
Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist
"What the fuck?"
Spencer strode over just in time to see you spitting something out into the kitchenette sink. There was no concealing the disgust on your face as you eyed the cup in your grasp suspiciously.
"Hey." Spencer's voice tore through the air in a shaky ball of nerves. It sounded meek amidst the buzzing busyness of the BAU bullpen, yet still, you snapped your head up as soon as the single syllable left his mouth.
Your eyes instantly melted when they flickered towards his face.
"I think our drinks got switched," Spencer added, a little louder this time.
Your gaze played a tennis match between the identical cups in both your hand and Spencer's. The grimace you rewarded him in the next second was possibly the cutest thing Spencer had seen in the past few months.
"This is yours? That explains so much. Ever heard of diabetes, Dr. Reid?" you joked as the two of you returned each cup to its rightful owner. "What the hell is in that, anyway?"
"Um, coffee?"
"Right." You rolled your eyes. "I may know practically nothing compared to you, Doctor, but I know for a fact that was not coffee. Tell me, how many sugar canes had to be chopped down to satisfy your abominable preference of sweetness?"
"It's not that bad."
"Not that bad? Do you even know what real coffee tastes like?"
Before he could produce a reply, you suddenly thrust the cup of coffee in your hand right in front of Spencer's nose. The man staggered rearwards until his back met the wall with a thud.
"What are you doing?"
"Try it," you said sheepishly.
"What?"
"Try the goddamn coffee, Reid."
Spencer didn't actually need to try the goddamn coffee. After all, he knew your order like the back of his hand: iced americano with an extra shot of espresso, maybe one pump of syrup if you were feeling adventurous. He could already imagine how revolting the drink would taste.
But as you continued to peer at him behind your lashes, eyes twinkling with mischief and lips glossy from your favorite cherry lipgloss—the limited edition one that you had proudly boasted about in front of the entire team—Spencer could feel his IQ depleting in a rapid descension. He accepted the cup without a word and took a courageous sip.
"Well?" you questioned expectantly.
"Please don't force me to do anything like that, ever again."
Laughter exploded deep from within your chest when Spencer shoved the coffee back into your awaiting hand. He didn't have a lot of time to mull over the nauseating bitterness, however. Not when you proceeded to wrap your own lips around the lid—the same one he was just drinking from—and downed a generous sip.
Spencer averted his gaze away.
"Hey." JJ peeked into the pantry area, unaware of the rush of blood and inner turmoil that Spender was battling. The blonde waved the file in her hand before gesturing at the conference room. "We've got a case. Hotch wants everyone in five."
You skittered away after JJ's announcement, leaving Spencer dumbfounded and pathetically bothered by the image of your enticing lips. He followed after your footsteps, leading himself towards the conference room where the rest of his team was gathering. He drank a large sip from his own coffee to calm his racing heart, unaware of the reddish stain in the shape of your lips marking the area around the lid of his cup.
For the rest of that day, Spencer could taste traces of cherry on the tip of his tongue.
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x gn!reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x fem!reader#criminal minds x gn!reader#criminal minds x y/n#criminal minds x you#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid one shot#criminal minds fluff#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds oneshot#zara's birthday bash and road to 1k
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
5 minutes (Art Donaldson)
Description: Y/N tells art she’ll be back in 5 minutes but he gets concerned when she’s gone longer
Warning: Smut
Word Count: 1,542k
Author’s note: Send in Challengers request please!
When Art divorced Tashi he didn’t have a place to stay so his best friend Y/N offered to split a house payment with him. Art and Y/N have been friends since college. She was there when Tashi and him began dating, when they got married and when he divorced her. Y/N had her thoughts about the relationship but never said anything to him until after the divorce. “She was like using you because she couldn’t play.” “She never loved you, she loved Tennis. You deserve better.” “She was always so bitchy all of the time.” It made Art laugh.
He agreed with her and was upset that he couldn’t see it before. Another thing he couldn’t see before was how in love he was with his best friend. She never showed interest in him like that so he thought it was off the table and even now living together she still didn’t show interest. He wondered if she thought of him as just a bestie and nothing more. He also wondered if she was hiding her feelings because she always had to because of Tashi. Tashi was never jealous of their friendship. She thought it was sweet that Art had someone to talk to that wasn’t her.
A part of Art thinks that this is what Tashi wanted. He watched as Y/N ran around the kitchen trying to cook dinner. “Are you sure you don’t want help?” He asked, she nodded and took off her apron. “Positive. Now let me go change.” She said and ran out of the kitchen. He laughed as she did so. It would be 5 minutes until he started to worry why she wasn’t back yet. He got up and walked to her bedroom door. He knocked on the door before he decided to enter it. She didn’t answer so he decided to open the door. “Y/N?” He called out but still nothing. As he entered her room he noticed that she was in the shower.
He took a minute to look around her room. It was filled with nerdy stuff that she liked and was painted purple. It was so pretty. He sat on her bed and admired how comfortable the mattress was compared to his. He didn’t hear the shower stop and when she opened the door they both gasped. She drops her towel to reveal herself to him. It was the perfect cliche moment between them. He just stared at her, he didn’t even look away or apologize. “Art?” He snapped out of it. “Yeah?” She gave him a look. “Is there a reason you’re in my room?” “I was worried you only said you were changing.” He said. She nodded and cleared her throat picking up the towel. His eyes still weren’t looking away from her.
She walked up to him, noticing that his eyes were glued to her boobs. “Art are you okay?” She asked. He looked up at her and it made her melt. The look he gave was one of lust and need. His breathing was a little heavy. She cupped his chin with her hand. He didn’t stop her nor flinch. “Do you want me Art?” She asked in a soft voice. He nodded against her hand unable to speak without whining. She pushed him back on the bed so he was laying down. She crawled on him and straddled him. Her body was still wet from the shower making him wet as well.
But he didn’t care not when he had her on top of him. She leaned down and kissed him. His hands went to her back as he kissed her back. Her wet hair covered their faces. Her hands were cupping his face as they made out. Once she needed to breathe she pulled away but he followed her lips wanting more. “I’ve always wanted you Art.” She whispered against his lips. “Really?” He asked. She nodded and her hand traveled to his PJ bottoms. He felt himself shake as she reached into his pants and touched his hard dick. Her hand felt amazing.
His hips bucked up into her touch as he let out a loud moan. It was pathetic. He was already falling apart and she was barely touching him. She kissed her way down to his dick. “These are in the way.” She said talking about his PJ pants. He nodded in agreement and she pulled them down. She looked up at him with a smirk as she grabbed his dick again. He hissed out and bucked his hips. He wasn’t looking at her, his eyes were closed. She licked the base of him, making him take a sharp breath. Her hand was still on him making him beg. “Please.” He whined softly. His whines were so pretty she wanted to hear more.
“Please what?” She asked, well knowing what he wanted. “Your mouth.” He begged. “You want my mouth here?” She said and took him in her mouth. “Oh yes fuck!” He moaned. She hummed against him and took him deeper until he hit the back of her throat. His hands went to her still wet hair. His hips bucked up, almost making her gag around him. She pushed his hips down so he couldn’t do that and she proceeded to give him the best blowjob he’s ever gotten. He wasn’t quiet about anything. Not that he had to be but he was very loud. The poor man probably never had anyone focus on his pleasure. It only took him 2 minutes before he was begging her to let him cum. She pulled her mouth off him and replaced it with her hand. “You wanna cum?” She asked, he nodded.
He couldn’t form words. “I wanna hear you say it.” She tells him. “Please baby let me cum.” He babbles. “Cum for me Art.” She said and replaced her hand with her mouth again. His hips bucked again and all his cum went down her throat. He whined her name as she let him ride out his high. She swallowed and pulled off him looking up at him. His eyes were closed and his breathing was hard. “Holy fuck. That was amazing.” He breathed out. She chuckled and straddled him again. “You’re so pretty when you moan.” She whispered in his ear and bit it playfully. He looked at her with all the love and adoration in his eyes. “I wanna taste you.” He says. She puts her finger against his lips, “another time. I need you inside of me.” She says. He got excited at her saying another time. She positioned herself right above his already hardened cock again.
He placed his hands on her hips to steady her. She slowly slid down on him causing them both to gasp. For both of them it’s been a while since they’ve had sex. Her pussy was tight, squeezing him in. He loved every second of it. “Fuck Art. You’re so big.” She whispered as she sat on him, fully taking him in. He looked at her as she adjusted for a second. “You’re so beautiful.” He tells her, she felt her cheeks heat up. She started slowly moving her hips taking her time. He threw his head back and little pleasurable sounds filled the room. She started moaning too and looked down at where they connected. “Art baby, look at how perfect you fill me.” She moaned.
He managed to open his eyes and look at where they connected. It made him whimper. She was taking him so well and looked so hot while doing so. “It’s so hot.” She moaned. His hands gripped her hips, definitely leaving bruises as she sped up. She let her eyes close and her head fall back. The bed started rocking with them making noise. It turned them on even more. “Art, do you think you can take over?” She asked as she felt herself get weak. Without answering she flipped her over and started pounding into her.
Her moans got so much louder as he started hitting her g spot. His name fell from her lips like a prayer. His mouth was right by her ear whining. Her legs wrapped around his hips pushing him in deeper. She felt herself getting closer and closer to her release as he pounded into her. “Art, I’m so close, baby.” She moaned out. He hummed, acknowledging her but not being able to respond. He’s been on the edge this entire time but he wanted her to cum first. Her pussy clenching around him didn’t make it easier.
Her hands gripped his shoulders for dear life as she let herself go all over him. He sighed in pleasure and relief as he let himself cum as well. Her moans were extremely louder as she rode out her high. Art pulled back from her neck to watch her. Her eyes were rolled back and soft moans fell from her lips. He stared down at her as she came down from her high. She gave him a soft tired smile as her high subsided. “Wow.” She said. He cupped her face and leaned down to kiss her. “Oh my gosh Art.” She pulled away. He looked at her confused. “What?” “Dinner!”
#challengers movie#challengers 2024#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson imagine#art donaldson x you#art donaldson smut#mike faist#josh o'connor#zendaya#tashi duncan#patrick zweig
454 notes
·
View notes
Text
Agreement prt1
Art Donaldson x Fem black reader
Warnings: cursing, infidelity(kinda), slight smut (fingering) sub ish Art. Slight he loves her more trope, needy Art and probably some other stuff
Word count: 2k
Summary: Despite being engaged to one of the top and richest tennis players in the US, you feel unfulfilled. But everything changes when you transfer schools and meet Art Donaldson, who just can’t quit you.
Author note: GUYS GUYS, PLEASE DON’T KILL ME. MY WRITERS BLOCK HAS BEEN SO BAD YOU DONT UNDERSTANDDD, But I’m finishing all my requests and unfinished fics soon so stay tuned. 😚
Sitting on the bed in your brand new silk pajamas, you found yourself distracted, just like you had been the day before and the day before that. You played with The edge of the book you were attempting to read,mindlessly repeated the last sentence over and over in your head trying to retain anything. The loud television and the whirring of the ceiling fan only added to the chaos. Plus the freezing cold air conditioning of the hotel room made it impossible to concentrate.
In a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of focus, you clumsily reached for the remote, hoping to silence at least one of the distractions. your eyes falling on your fiancé who was sleeping peacefully, his dark hair all messy, in his crisp white t-shirt that matched perfectly to the expensive hotel sheets, he looked so sweet,so innocent. You thought if he slept more, maybe everything could work out
Mike slept while snuggled into your side. Like he often did when you two shared a bed, You had attempted to remove him several times but every time he ended right back at your side so you gave up, In any other scenario his action would seem romantic but they only made you feel worse than you were already feeling. In an effort to relieve some guilt you liked to reminded yourself your engagement was never out of love but business. But then again the line did blur in the beginning of your relationship. Before you left for Stanford, you and Mike got caught up in the act of pretending be in love.
After that you could never really tell real from fake with him, he didn’t like you talking to other men. He’d shower you with really expensives grift but then leave town and not answer your calls or text for days. But when no one was watching he’d try to hug and kiss you. The whole thing was confusing, You had known idea how he persived your relationship but you knew You Felt guilty, without all the technicallys, you knew that you still lied,
The people ate up the role you and Mike played. occasionally you’d have to leave campus and go out in public holding hands or sharing kisses in the rain. But it was all for show, at least on your end. Your Dad made sure to reminded you That, it was the love sick tennis player in love with his coaches daughter that sold tickets. kept the stands full of women hoping to catch the world win romances in action. Also Brought in a large number of his clientele. He promised It wouldn’t be forever unless you wanted to be. And Really how could you complain? 20 years old engaged to One of the wealthiest and most talented tennis players in the world and he wasn't bad looking either. Before all this, you weren't too keen on love anyway, so what were you really missing out on?
~~~
Ten months before
Patrick serves but Art's attention is elsewhere. The ball zooms past Art for the second time, prompting Patrick to turn around and finally see who's behind him. His gaze lands on you, playing tennis alone on a smaller court. The sun shining off your smooth, glistening skin, and your pink tennis dress gracefully flowing with each jump and run.
"Oh, I get it," Patrick chuckles, glancing back at Art. "She's hot. You should talk to her, maybe offer her a lesson. She could use it," Patrick suggests, looking back at you as you let another tennis ball from the machine fly past you . "I think I've seen her somewhere before," Patrick mutters, tapping his racket against his leg.
Still in a daze, Art jogged over to your court. "Oh, you're serious," Patrick murmured watching as he went over to you following closely behind him. "Hi," Art greets, slightly out of breath walking up to the net. "Hi?" you respond, slightly confused, giving him a small wave.
"Are you new here?"
"To the school or the court?" You ask
"Both."
"I'm new to both” you say a little breathless wiping sweat from your forehead.
“I just transferred," you explain.
"Where did you go before?"
"A small community college in Virginia."
"What about tennis?"
"You have a lot of questions," you laugh, tapping your tennis racket against your leg.
"Im just curious “Art jokes.
"I'm just doing this because my fiancé is a tennis player. I thought I'd try to learn," you reveal.
“Finance?” Art questions.
“Yep”
“ how old are you like 20?”
“ actually 19, I turn twenty in a couple months”
“And you're getting married?” Art asked clearly dumbfounded
“Yes” you laugh at his forwardness
", is he a pro or college?", Art asked, assuming the answer would be college.
“Pro," you replied, letting your curls fall freely from your hair tie. Art couldn't help but admire how beautiful you were,too young to be tied down
"Anyone we would know?" Art asks following you as you walk over to the bench with your tennis bag. "Hmm, maybe," you hum, sitting down to tie your shoe. "Mike Fitts."
"Your fiancé is Mike Fitts!" Patrick exclaims a little too loudly. "Mhmm," you confirm, starting to tie your other shoe. "If Mike Fitts is your fiancé, why are you here?"
"Are you referring to the court or the school?" you ask, looking up at both Art and Patrick.
"Both," Art and Patrick respond in unison.
You chuckled as you stuffed your tennis racket into your bag. "Well, whether I'm engaged or not, I always planned to graduate college. And Mike is too busy right now to teach me, so I'm trying to teach myself."
The two of them nod in understanding as you stand up. "It was really nice meeting both of you, but I have class," you announce, throwing your tennis bag over your shoulder. "By the way, it would be great if you guys could keep the whole fiancé thing on the down low. I'm trying to keep it as quiet as possible for now."
"Yeah, no problem," one of them replies.
"Of course," the other adds.
"Thanks, I really appreciate it," you say giving them a small smile before turning around to leave the court.
just as you're about to walk away, Art calls out after you, "Wait! You said you're trying to learn, right? we could coach you if you want” Patrick gives him a look and Art ignores it waiting for your response.
You pause, considering the offer.
”the both of you?” you asked gesturing between them. Art gives you a nod. at that moment The risk didn't seem too big so you said
. "Sure," with small shrug
"How about tomorrow at 12:30?" you suggest, checking the pink Bvlgari watch Mike got you.
"Perfect," Art responds with a shit eating smile
“Ok see you guys ” you laugh walking out the court
~~~~~~
“Yeah see” Patrick says reading a newspaper. “Olympic coach, Dylan yLn, Daughter engaged to Olympics gold medalist Mike fitts” Patrick reads next to a photo of you and Mike smiling as you showed off your huge
engagement ring. “She wasn’t bull shitting”
“Let me see” Art says grabbing the newspaper. “She didn't have on her engagement ring when we saw her...” Art trails off
“You can't be serious” Patrick laughs
“What?”
“She’s engaged Art, not to anyone either,” Patrick leaned in on the table so only he could hear. “she’s engaged Mike Fitts!”
“I didn't say anything,” Art defends
“ you don't have to” Patrick says stealing a fry off Arts plate plopping it in him mouth.
”I know you,”
~~~~~
After that day, everything seemed to blend together. Art and Patrick dedicated themselves to training you throughout the weekdays for three entire months until you got tired of it and decided on once a week. You told Mike you found a coach but never told him who. Since they were kinda the only people you knew in the entire school, the three of you grew close fast. You started going out to bars and parties together. you had your most memorable college moments with the two of them. And then, your birthday arrived. Patrick had left for some torment and it was just you and Art.
You two were just having so much fun that night. On thing led to another And before you realized it, the two of you were constantly having “fun together”. It didn't matter where - in the dorm, in the shower, or even on the floor. It was bad, but you two couldn't stop
Trying to clear your mind you Let out a sigh. you carefully remove Mike from your side sitting up to taking a sip of you're water on the nightstand. Trying to ignore the ache of your core. This is how you spent every night away from him, needy, uncomfortable. You heard a knock at the door which almost caused you to spill water on yourself. You Quickly put your drink down and run to answer it before the person could knock again careful to be quiet not to wake up Mike.
You swung the door open to find Art standing there, hair slightly damp, with huge smile on his face. "Are you out of your mind?" you whisper, stepping out of the room and shutting the door quietly behind you. You can't help but notice his thin athletic hoodie and gym shorts. Slightly wet clinging to his skin as if he just stepped out of the shower.
"It's past one ,"Art huffed out , his voice filled with urgency and desire as he leaned in for a kiss. his hand gently cradling the side of your face in the process.
When the realization of what was happening washed over you, you pulled away, but still stayed close enough to feel his breath against your skin. "Art," you breathed out, eyes darting down the hall to check if anyone saw. Your hand instinctively found its place on his strong chest, you savored the feeling and the look of your manicured nails there, not knowing when you be able to do it again.
"I like these," Art hummed, playing with the hem of your pajama shorts. He rolled the fabric between his fingers, his big hand gracing you thighs in the process. The little touch sent shivers down your spine. You somehow composed yourself pushing him away gently with your index finger, creating some distance between you two.
He looked at you with sad eyes like a rejected puppy. "Mike’s sleeping inside," you whisper, worried someone could hear. "What does that mean?"
There was a long pause as you carefully choose your next words. Art stared at you intently, trying to decipher your expression. "You slept with him?” Art asks, as if he already knew the answer.
"No, I didn't sleep with him!” You whisper yelled, “He just showered and fell asleep," you explained,
"What's bothering you then?"
"I feel guilty."
"You didn't feel guilty at Stanford."
"Mike wasn't at Stanford."
“You care about Mike's feelings now ?" Art's asks furrows his brow, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and hurt.
" I don’t know… he’s been nicer lately and were supposed to be married in three days”
“You’re actually thinking about going through with it?” Art asked the hurt now evident in his voice.
“There’s nothing I can do now, I signed contracts, this isn’t just about us anymore I’ve told you this”
“What about the private investors?”
"That's just a 'what if,' a perfect 'what if,' but we don't even know if he's seeing someone."
“ If I win tomorrow?”
“Art If you win are lose tomorrow it doesn’t change anything, my Dad expects me at the alter on Sunday regardless, nothings gonna change that”
“But you don’t love him ”
“ I could” your words come out more a question, maybe a hope. “I loved you?”
“You love me” Art corrects
"There's too much at stake now, Art. This is my father's career. We don't come from money, this is all he has."
“You honestly believe this will ruin his career?”
“It could” you reply with a small shrug your voice cracking slightly.
“It won’t” Art response
“You don’t know that”
“ Don’t do this ” Art whispered closing the small space between you. He sounded so tortured, like he was pleading with you.
you hadn't realize it but tears welled in your eyes Threatening to spill any moment. When You blinked an a tear fell down your cheek. Art tenderly brushed it away with his thumb. The stress of the last two weeks had finally caught up to you. “it wasn’t supposed to be this hard” you murmured, your voice barely audible, tears streaming down your face as Art wiped them away.
“Do you love me?” his questions sounded genuine but you knew, he already knew the answer. ”more than i’d too” you joke, using the back of your hand to dry your eyes.
“Then let me make you feel better,” Art whispered leaning down so he was directly above your ear.
“You’re right about what you said earlier, Mike wasn’t there at Stanford”. He paused for a second moving a piece of your hair out the way, “I was,” he hummed brushing his face against yours “just me and you” he whispered leaving a trail of kisses on the outside of your earlobe down your neck. Causing Your breath catch in your throat .“We had fun right?” Art question, his voice deep and breathy causing you to instinctively press your legs together as you leaned back against the door. “Art” you mumble trying to shake the sexual haze that was swirling inside you.
“I missed you” he whispered his free hand slinking up the side of you short griping your thigh, hiking your leg up slightly. “So bad…All day”
“we can't” you manage to breathe out unconvisingly.
“I’ll beg,”
“Art” you warned
“I’ll do anything baby” he mumbles leaving slowly kisses on your neck. “Anything you want me to” he says kissing under your chin. “ I need you” he hums kissing down your neck, ”don’t you need me?” Art asked kissing below your ear. You don't respond giving small nodd biting the inside of your lip. “Can I hear it?” Art asked, the way his voice sounded so desperate, Damn near whiney had you looking for friction. ”I need you so fucking bad” you basically moan pushing your body against his.
“I love you so much you don't understand” Art said smiling against you cheek. sliding his free hand down the front of your shorts. He rubs his fingers through your folds collecting your wetness on his fingers. You throw your head back with a quiet moan, quickly biting your lip to silence yourself. “Fuck your so wet” Art groans before pulling his hand from your shorts, sucking his fingers clean like it was second nature. You clenched around nothing at the sight.
“I missed that taste” he groans returning his hand to your heat. “Can I make you cum right here” Art huffed out peeping down the hall.
"Yea,” you breathed out, nodding your head feverishly. He could have asked you to drive to the moon in that moment, and you would have said yes. Art slowly pushed two fingers inside of you creating a medium pace before bringing his thumb to rub your clit, you moan lifting your hips to meet his fingers. “Fuck I could eat you out right here” Art groaned watching you Practically fuck yourself on his fingers. “Promise me you won't ever let him see you like this” Art goans leaving kisses on your collar done. “this is mine”
”You can bearly hear a word he's saying the feeling of his thumb on your clit and finger damn near touching you cervix was too much to bear. “I’m gonna cum” you moaned out grabbing Arts shoulder hard in an effort to ground yourself. “I can feel it,” Art breathed pressing his forehead against yours. He presses down harder on your clit causing you to buck into his fingers, letting out a loud moan You cum. his movement don't falter, he continues to pump them in and out while still rubbing your clit until he feels like you've finally had enough.
he removes his fingers from your pussy returning them to his mouth. “I’ll never get tired of that” Art laughs leaning in for a kiss, you return it, taste yourself on his lips. He gently places you leg back on the floor and you stumbled slightly grading his shoulder for balance. He instantly goes to your waist holding you steady. “You ok?” Art ask slight consern on his face. You don't respond afraid of what your voice would sound like after an orgasm like that.
You nod with a smile and Art led you to the hotel room directly next to yours, pulling out a key card from his pocket with a grin.
“You didn't,” you exclaimed as he opened the door.
“I did,” he replied, motioning for you to enter.
“How did you even know our room number?” you ask, stepping inside.
“I have my ways,” he answered, closing the door behind you.
“How did you afford this?” you asked, looking around.
“Are you going to keep ask questioning or are you going to take of your clothes” Art laughs , watching as you sit on the bed.
“You first,” you countered, settling back .
“Yes ma’am,” Art chuckled, starting to undress.
~~~~
Morning arrives and you found yourself back in your original room. Mike was in the bathroom getting ready while you fix your dress in the mirror of the bedroom. As you adjust the straps, you notice a hickey you hadn't seen before, one you forgot to cover up after coming back last night. You laid your hair over it and walk towards the bathroom to retrieve your makeup bag, slightly tripping as your sore legs gave out on you. "You good?" Mike asked, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, I think I'm just sore from tennis practice," you say, reaching past him to get your makeup bag.
"You know no one expects you to play," Mike laughs while drying his hair with a towel. "I'm not doing it for anyone, I want to learn," your words come out more offended than you intended. "I just mean you could spend your time doing something else."
"Like what?" You respond plainly, walking out of the bathroom back to the mirror. "Like calling your dad and asking him what time he'll be here," Mike says from the now open bathroom. "Is your phone not working?" You asked rhetorically, pulling out your concealer . "I don't want to fight today, okay," Mike Replies sternly, looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. "This is a big match," he mumbles while running his toothbrush under the water.
"I thought you said it was going to be 'nothing,'" you chuckle dryly, applying the concealer as his face was turned. "It is, but from what your Dad's been saying, he's been getting good. So I'd like to be on my A-game and not have you trying to start shit."
"Whatever you want honey" you respond, quietly laughing in disbelief. He had resorted right back to his old ways,How could you ever agree to marry someone like him, someone so vastly different from the man you spent the night with.
~~~~
soon as you and Mike were finished getting ready, your father called you to come downstairs to join him for breakfast. You and Mike both stood in line, slightly overdressed, picking out your favorite breakfast items. Mike only getting avocado and toast due to his strict diet. Suddenly, you heard a familiar laughter and turned around to see Art chatting with your father near the entrance. Your heart sank as your father motioned for you both to come over. After dropping off your plates, you and Mike walked towards them, feeling Mike's hand slip around your waist.
"I'd like you to meet someone," your father announced with a smile, putting his arm around Art's shoulder. "This is Art Donaldson," he introduced, "the man I'm competing against today." Mike stated extending his hand for a handshake, and Art reciprocated. Your stomach churned at the sight. "This is Mike, you know him, he's also my daughter's fiancé." Your father says with a smile.
"Stressful, huh?" Art jokes. "Oh, you have no idea," your Dad replies, laughing. "You're both at the same college, right? Stanford?" your Dad asked, nodding towards you. “maybe you could try your luck at training her because I just can't get through," your dad jokes. Art's eyes rake over you, as if looking at you for the first time. "It be my pleasure" Art smiles, looking directly at you. You to discreetly warn him with your eyes but You notice Mike's grip on your waist tighten, clearly not pleased. "Actually, I've been training y/n already, she's improving every day," Mike says, planting a quick kiss on your head.
"Really?" Art inquires, trying to keep up the act to the best of his abilities. "Monday through Friday," Mike replies with a smug grin. “How do you manage with your Busy schedule?” Art asks tilting his head to the side slightly in the process.
“You find time for the people you love,” Mike says with a fake smile. You had to physically hold back your laugh. But you played it off as wiping your face. He had taken a line straight from media training. Silence filled the air as the two have a silent conversation with their eyes.
“Well I wanted to introduce all of you, as I will officially be coaching Art starting next fall,"
Your Dad says in an attempt to break the tension. But it only makes it worse, Somehow Mike's grip on you tightened even more, now you were concerned he’d leave a bruise . "When did you make this decision?" Mike asked, his face showing no emotion but you could tell he was angry. "two weeks ago, and I've been waiting for the right moment to properly introduce you two. I know the timing is awkward with the match, but it's better to do it now than later."
Mike doesn’t say anything giving an expressionless nod. There was another awkward pause before you decided to speak up. "It was nice meeting you…Art?" you trail off , purposely sounding unsure. He nodded with a knowing smile. "But our food is getting cold," you joked, trying to escape the suffocating tension. "I wouldn't want to keep the couple from their food," Art said, while a smiling again only looking directly at you. You wanted to scream, he was being so obvious and the way Mike was already acting, you knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. "You two eat, I have to go handle some things, I won’t be long" your father said, gesturing for you and Mike to sit at the table before walking off with Art.
Once the two of you sit back at the table you feel caught. "I don't want you near that guy," Mike says, taking a sip of his coffee. You roll your eyes and stab at your scrambled eggs. “He was basically eye fucking you the whole time, and it doesn’t help that your dress is so tight”
“I think you forget sometimes this isn’t real,” you reply, taking a bite.
"Lower your voice," Mike warns, glancing around to see if anyone heard.
"You didn't care about it being real when you accepted the gifts," he scoffs, "or in Virginia."
"It was once, Mike. And every day, you make me regret it."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. You don't get to control me just because you buy me shit. Anyone can buy me shit."
“I told you i’m not doing this with you today” Mike laughs dryly standing up from the table. "I'll see you later, okay babe?" he says a bit louder, forcing a fake smile as he plants a kiss on your head before walking away. You try your best not to flinch when he touches you. Once he's gone, your phone buzzes, and you glance down to see an unsaved number. It's a text from Art.
“meet me at the restaurant next door in 20, alone.”
Author note : GUYS FEEL FREE TO COMMENT I LOVE READING COMMENTS
#black reader#art donaldson#art donaldson smut#challengers#challengers fanfic#art donaldson x reader#Art Donaldson x black reader#Art Donaldson x black female#art donaldson x female reader
337 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi sanne!!! my mind has been rotting with assistant!reader x dick, and i literally can’t get it out 😭. i'm in love with your writing and reblog everything! thank you so much, have a great day!!
cute idea! I gave it a little twist ;) hope u enjoy!
dick grayson x gn!assistant!reader. flirting, secret identities, sparring.
****
Bruce Wayne is evasive on a good day and downright invisible on a bad one.
So when you see him down the hallway from his office, attempting to escape without being caught, you nearly trip on your feet trying to catch him.
"Mr. Wayne!"
His shoulders rise with tension. You pity the guy, you really do. Being a gazillionaire is tough.
"Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne, Sharon has been hounding me about the charity dinner. Please, if you could just go to this one dinner... you haven't been to an event all month."
And you're getting the brunt of it from all of WE's clients.
Bruce turns, his smile looking more like a grimace. "Hn. Hello. A dinner? I was sure I had a shareholder meeting that day—"
"All month? B, what happened to the two event minimum? That's your rule."
The new voice comes from behind you. Dick Grayson walks down the hallway, wearing jeans that probably cost as much as your monthly rent.
"Mr. Grayson," you say, nodding primly. "How are you?"
You shift the files in your hands as they start to slip. Dick is quick to catch them, balancing the stack.
"We've been through this," he says with a smile. "You know you can call me Dick."
Yes, you've been through this. Every time Dick shows up to Wayne Enterprises, he tells you to call him by his first name. And every time after that, you call him Mr. Grayson.
"Right..." you say, taking back the files. You turn to Bruce. "Mr. Wayne, if you would just consider the dinner..."
Dick gives Bruce a severe look. "B, this is ridiculous. You're such a stickler for rules and yet—"
"Oh, look at the time." Bruce scoots past you and Dick. "I've got that meeting with Lucius. Where does the day go? Please tell Sharon I'll get back to her."
You can't understand how a guy whose biggest exertion is made by playing tennis at the country club can slip through your fingers so fast. He's around the corner before you can blink. You sigh.
"Don't worry," Dick says. "I'll get him to go. And I'll get one of my siblings to tag along to make sure he doesn't duck out early."
You smile briefly. "I'd appreciate that, Mr. Grayson."
"Dick. So!" He trails behind you as you make your way back to your office. "Do you have any plans for tonight?"
"Working."
"O-kay..." Dick jogs ahead to hold the door open for you. You push through, trying not to frown. "What about tomorrow night?"
You toss your scarf on the hook. It ends up on the floor. You ignore it.
"Still working."
"How 'bout I ask B to give you the day off then?"
Now it's your turn to give a severe look. "If you're implying that I'd be obligated to go out with you in return for a day off, you've completely misjudged my character, Mr. Grayson."
"Whoa, okay." He holds up his hands. "You're right, that didn't come out right. How about I get him to give you a day off, no strings attached?"
You dump your files and sit at your desk. "That's at your discretion."
"Hey." Dick leans on your desk, puppy eyes at full power. "Maybe we've gotten off on the wrong foot. Did I do something that put you off? I'd like you to tell me if I have. I hope the fact that I'm Bruce's son isn't stopping you from being honest."
You put down your pen and look at him. "Look. You seem like a nice guy, and you're handsome with a rich dad to boot. But I'm just not available, okay? You're looking for someone to go to Tahiti with. I respect that. But I'm not that person. I'm just not interested in that."
"You think I'm handsome?"
You sigh and open your laptop.
"Right! Sorry. Not the point." Dick sinks into a crouch next to you. He pulls the oddest poses sometimes, like he's made of rubber bands. "Okay. You're not looking for a trip to Tahiti. Got it. I don't take many vacations anyway. So how about having a friend?"
"And why would you want to be my friend? I'm just some assistant."
"Well, I..." Dick scratches his neck. "I like you. Is that so hard to believe?"
Very. But okay. You can throw him a bone.
"I guess not," you say.
Dick frowns. "You don't believe me."
How does he do that?
"Can I please get back to work?" you ask, only a little worried about being rude. "I'm sorry, I'm just very busy."
His face falls briefly before he stands and nods.
"Of course. No problem. I'll see you around? And I'll get B to go to that dinner."
"Thank you."
You don't notice his lingering looks, or the fact that he picks up your scarf and places it on the hook on his way out.
****
3...17...64.
The safe clicks. You smirk. Easy peasy. The hotshots always use their own birthdays for combinations. Predictable. You bet Bruce Wayne does the same.
It's a blessing that you were able to duck out early today. Bruce gave you the rest of the afternoon off. You suspect that was due to some outside meddling.
You take out the files from D.A. Colson's safe. You always say that if crooked district attorneys don't want their documents stolen, they shouldn't put them where anybody can find them.
...Maybe you were too harsh with Dick. He's sweet, no doubt. It was nice of him to get you off early. But you kind of feel like he'd take issue with the fact that you spend your weeknights breaking and entering.
"You know, cracking safes is already Catwoman's shtick," a voice says behind you. "You might wanna find a new gimmick."
A thrill shoots through you. You toss your head as you turn, leaning against the open safe.
"Catwoman steals diamonds." You hold up the documents. "I just steal files."
"Files from the district attorney," Nightwing says, crossing his arms.
"The dirty district attorney," you correct.
"I'm supposed to let you off on a technicality?" He sounds amused.
Your shrug one shoulder, a little coy. "You could. I hear you're the nice one."
He laughs. Nightwing has a pretty smile. It's the first thing you'd noticed about him.
"Oh, yeah? Anything else you've heard?"
"Plenty. But I'm in a bit of a hurry tonight, Wing. As much as I enjoy our little chats..."
You dart to the window. Nightwing easily blocks your exit.
You're not quite sure what overtakes you when you run into Nightwing. Ignoring the fact that he manages to be the one to chase you almost every time (and what a chase it is), there's a tension between you. Or maybe it's just one-sided on your part. It certainly doesn't help that he's got a nice smile and bouncy hair.
"You know I can't let you go," he says, hands on his hips. "Put it down."
And he's extremely good at what he does.
"Make me," you say.
He never uses his escrima sticks, which you know is a courtesy to you. But that doesn't mean you can't hold your own.
"Alright," Nightwing says, smirking slightly.
He takes three steps, blocks your immediate kick, and takes the documents.
Something swoops in your belly. You kind of get why Catwoman exclusively fights Batman. Once you go bat, you never go back.
"Got them," he says cheerily. "Now what?"
You throw a glass bird tchotchke at him from Colson's desk. He catches it with his free hand, but it's enough of a distraction for you to slide into his legs. Nightwing stumbles less than you would like, but you push him down against the desk.
He grunts as he hits the wood, then rolls you over in the next breath, hands catching your wrists.
"Stealing... makes you no better... than Colson," he says, hair falling over his mask. All of him is pretty, really. It's too bad he's so firmly on the blind side of justice.
"If these documents are released, Colson will win his case and bury his own crimes in the process. Is that what you want? Another crook in court?" you ask.
Nightwing frowns. "You know that's not fair. We can't toss a case for the sake of putting Colson behind bars. And if we pick and choose whose lives to play with, what gives us the right to carry out justice?"
"I dunno, Wing," you say, a little breathless. Nightwing's hips are politely shifted off of yours, chest to yours. "Seeing you go rogue would be kind of exciting."
You can tell he's glaring at you. "Not in your dreams."
"Been in my dreams, have you?"
You gain enough leverage to push Nightwing off of you. He's back on you immediately, trapping you against the wall.
"How is doing something like this not crooked?" he asks.
You scoff. "It's for charity. I'm donating residents to the county jail."
You twist in Nightwing's hold and land a kick. In the three seconds he's distracted, you grab the documents. No sooner do you do that does Nightwing tackle you. The documents slip out of your hand.
"I can do this all night," he says, knee wedged between your legs. "Might as well yield."
"Yield? You're not even playing at your full strength, hotshot."
He smiles. "No, I'm playing nice."
You roll your eyes. "Well, play fair."
And then you jump out of the window.
Your tuck and roll isn't the worst but it's not the best. Especially when Nightwing neatly lands a few feet away without a wince.
"Showoff," you say.
"Give me the documents," he says. "I want to put Colson away, too. But this isn't how to do it. He's still a civilian, and his client's life matters."
You get up and wobble on a loose brick on the edge. Stupid historical buildings.
You're desperate. If he keeps this up, you're bound to land yourself a night in the police station and lose the documents.
So you dust yourself off. And you stop. Right at the edge of the roof.
"Okay," you say.
Nightwing takes a careful step forward. "Okay?"
You toss the documents to him. He catches them in surprise.
"You're surrendering?" he asks.
You shrug. "Like you said: you can do this all night. And I guess there are better ways to catch Colson. More permanent ways."
He tilts his head. "You're not gonna kill him, are you?"
"No! Jesus, man. Ye of little faith."
"I'm just trying to understand why you surrendered."
You sigh. "Because you always win anyway. You're a better fighter than me. And I'm cornered. I just feel like cutting my losses early. You're a lot more convincing than Batman."
"Is that so?"
"Oh, yeah. I much prefer you chasing me."
"Uh-huh." He nods towards the building. "Come on, then."
"Okay, sure."
You take a step. And you fall.
The brick is loose under your foot. It doesn't take much for you to keep going.
Panic surges through you, but that only solidifies your acting.
"Wing!" you cry, toppling over the edge.
"Shit!"
Nightwing lunges and grabs you by your waist, then uses momentum to haul you both to safety. His cheek against yours for a moment, body pressed to yours. It really is a damn shame he's such a Boy Scout.
You knock him in the stomach and snatch the documents, then separate from his grip. You watch his face contort in realization as you land and bolt.
"That wasn't playing nice or fair!" he yells, landing on the opposite side.
You're already gone, laughter echoing.
#dick Grayson x reader#dick Grayson x you#Nightwing x reader#Nightwing x you#Nightwing fanfiction#nightwing x y/n#dick Grayson fanfiction#dick Grayson imagine#dc fanfiction#batman fanfiction#inbox#blurb
344 notes
·
View notes
Note
I've been looking everywhere for new challengers content so I'm GLAD you're asking
idk if you just want thoughts or like fic ideas (I have both if you want to let me know) but I'll start with the thoughts cuz I needed to talk about patrick zweig 24/7 sorry
I can't stop thinking about marking him/him marking me LET ME EXPLAIN just in every way possible, hickeys, bite/scratch marks, all kind of bruises (given very lovingly and consensualy ofc)
him being so cocky for basically branding and claiming you BUT being even more proud of the marks on his own body, wearing slightly shorter shorts on the court the next day so it's showing a little etc...
anonnnnn this is too good to be true thank u (college!patrick x college!reader)
you and patrick zweig were not exclusive.
he ran around his tennis court, campus, parties, the city, getting in bed with whichever warm body welcomed him—you never knew him to be picky—and you did similarly, just not nearly as indulgent as he.
but for being just friends who fool around from time to time, patrick was awfully careless. his hands would get greedy and leave lasting bruises on your hip-dips (love handles, as he likes to call them), and his cologne lingered due to his insistence on you wearing his clothes while he fucked you.
all of the tell-tale signs of his familiarity with your body weren’t fooling anybody, but more than anything it was the marks. he loved displaying his whereabouts on your body with his mouth, and there wasn’t much that could top hearing the stutter in your voice when somebody points out the nasty rash on your collarbone. there was not much, but there was something.
the one thing patrick zweig adored more than marking you, was your marking of him. it wasn’t even the product of the love-bites he liked the most, although he was quite fond of those, but it was the feral cloud that overtook you, the heat of the passion getting to you and throwing your caution to the wind. it was the eagerness you had to really fuck him well, the best. making him feel your need and desires and all of your experiences without words through your sex was his favorite part—one of yours, too. and if that meant hurting him (at least a little bit) for him to get the sentiment, you could do that.
and even when he claims you went a little bit overboard, patrick still shows up to practice with you, shorts a little shorter due to what only could have been an intentional scrunching, spreading his heavy legs on his seat with his crotch and inner-thigh hickies exposed.
art shook his head and laughed when he saw them, and the look on your face seeing them, too. all his brunette friend could say in response was “you wish that was you, huh?” nodding down to art’s glares’ subject.
the retort was taken in good jest, but the flush of his friend’s cheeks at the comment made patrick wonder what both you and art would look like with matching stains of skin, whether it be hickies or bruises on love handles. he smiled at the thought, and stood to play.
#.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐚 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 !#unproofread.. 😴😴#art always finds his way in#kaia writes patrick#challengers#challengers fanfiction#challengers smut#patrick zweig#patrick zweig smut#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig imagine#patrick zweig drabble#josh o’connor smut#josh o'connor#angelnon 🤍#kai's got mail <3📑
161 notes
·
View notes
Note
i lowkey need to see stripper!reader and spencer again
for you gorgeous ♡ fem
cw adult themes
Hotch and Spencer draw attention at the strip club for the same reason but in varied fonts. They're both reminiscent of your regulars, Hotch the picture of a businessman with a wife to forget and steam to blow, and Spencer the silent sweetheart, pretty but too shy to talk to normal girls.
He doesn't need a normal girl when he has you.
You're glad for your cover up clothes as you lean against the dressing room door. One of the bouncers peers at you from the corner of his eye.
"Trouble?" he asks.
"Not sure. Probably not." You wave until Agent Hotchner notices you. To your delight, he raises his hand politely.
You step around the bouncer and bypass the stage to the lighter area of the club where they stand in wait. "Hello. I could've met you outside."
"Would you?" Agent Hotchner asks.
You don't need him to explain. It's not the most professional thing, loitering in a club like this. You follow them out of the club and onto the street, cold even in your sweatpants as the wind rails. Spencer lets you squeeze his fingers in greeting, but that's all.
"It's nice to see you again, Agent Hotchner," you say honestly, giving him a smile.
He doesn't return the pleasantry, but Spencer swears he's softer than he looks so you choose to run with it as Agent Hotchner says, "We need information on one of your patrons."
"Tennis Lawley," Spencer adds.
"Tennis," you repeat. "I thought my pseudonym was bad."
Spencer gives you a quick look. I'd laugh if I weren't at work, it says. "We think he's involved in a string of killings in Washington DC. What do you know about him?"
It's not an exaggeration to say you've played therapist for Tennis and a ton of guys just like him. Being a stripper, an exotic dancer, whatever anyone wants to call it (though Spencer usually just calls it your work) has pros and cons. You've felt it to be heavier on the con side, but this is a big plus, being able to assist someone you care about with something important. It makes you feel useful for once, like you're more than the froth of the city. "Ask me anything," you say, hiding your cheek from the cold with a deft hand.
Spencer and Agent Hotchner ask you all sorts of questions, personal to their suspect and less so, and for the most part you're able to answer them. You can tell from the look on Hotchner's face that he's both surprised and extremely satisfied by your knowing, and he emphasises his thankfulness with a touch to your upper arm before he says goodbye. "Your help is invaluable, Y/N, thank you."
Spencer, your sweetheart, stays for a more thorough farewell.
"Have you eaten yet today?" he asks, the hand you'd squeezed earlier leaping for yours. "You look tired."
"It's getting close to midnight, Spence. I'm alright. You and Agent Hotchner should head home and rest yourselves…" You bring your hand to his cheek but think better of yourself, pushing your arm over his shoulder instead for a hug. His own arms contract around you immediately. "I miss you lately, where have you been?"
"Everywhere. I miss you too," he says. Despite the months of knowing one another, and the many states he's seen you in, you know without looking that Spencer is blushing profusely.
You kiss his cheek as your heels return to safe ground. "Come and see me again soon, okay? And bring your rich friends. The older one, Rossi, is he really a millionaire? A divorced one?"
"Yes, he is," Spencer says with a laugh, his voice climbing higher, "but I don't think he's looking for another wife right now, sorry."
"Maybe Agent Hotchner–"
"Stop calling him that."
You look Spencer straight in the eye, nearly caught off guard by how sweet and soft they meld at your touch where your hands linger in his.
You often think that you and Spencer aren't meant to be. Your life, whether willing or unwilling, by choice or design, is entirely focused around your body, and Spencer's world revolves around his mind. You know that what you do for work isn't anything to be ashamed of, but you have the same doubts as anyone else. You know what people think of you. You wouldn't blame Spencer for thinking the same things. And you wouldn't expect him to want to be with you in any aspect that wasn't physical.
But when he holds your hands in his like this, as though they're made of something delicate, something he wants to map every detail or by fingertip alone, you wish things were different.
You clear your throat. "I really do miss you when you're away," you confess.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be." Your hands miss his the millisecond you pull them away. "I guess I shouldn't keep you. Your boss will be wondering where you are."
"Are you okay?"
You can't even pretend it's a strange question; you're acting strange. "I'm fine, Dr. Reid. My nice new boss knows I know the feds, and all the girls are jealous of me when you guys come to visit. They think I'm on your payroll."
Spencer quirks a puzzled frown, brows pulled together tightly. "You're harder to read than most people. Have I ever told you that?"
"I guess it's 'cos I spend so much time pretending I'm a different person," you say, smiling to prompt him into smiling back.
"Maybe." He pulls his bag from where it rests against his hip and opens it, rummaging through the contents with a confused murmur until he pulls out the shape he'd been looking for. "Here. Don't go to bed hungry, okay?"
Spencer puts a protein bar in your hand.
He steals a quick hug and leaves not long after that, crossing the dark parking lot to the mass of the dark SUV he arrives in. With one hand, you clutch the protein bar until it takes a new shape, and with the other you blow two sweet kisses, a cheesy, gaudy gesture that never fails to make your favourite special Agent blush.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
When are we getting the next part of Ruin??
right now actually 😁
Ruin (5)*
warnings: corruption, smut, sex toy use, squirting, soft dom h, aftercare
ruin masterlist | main masterlist | harry styles masterlist
a/n: sorry it's been so long, i really just did not have the motivation for this and it was hard to find a place to continue without just jumping into the full blown hanky panky
~
A soft yawn leaves Harry’s lips as he sits up in bed, a hand coming up to rub at his eyes that are blurry with sleep. As soon as his vision clears up he's taking in his surroundings, confused for just a moment until he realizes where he is and remembers the events from yesterday. With the remembrance comes concern, as YN is not in bed with him and her ensuite bathroom is empty as far as he can see. So he gets out of the bed and begins his search for her, checking every room in the house before he makes it to the kitchen, and he doesn't find her there, either.
A look of confusion and a furrowed brow takes over his face as he begins to worry he's scared her off, deciding to peek out the living room window in search of her car. Just as he looks out, he slumps in relief as he sees her grabbing some Starbucks bags and cups out of the car before closing it and making her way back to the house. He can't help but notice her attire; a Rolling Stones t-shirt that she's cropped shorter herself, and some cute little athletic shorts that show off her ass. Most importantly, he can see the way her nipples are prominent through the material of the shirt, informing him that she'd gone braless.
His thoughts start to spiral immediately, picturing how she looks without the barrier of clothes between them, the sweet sounds she'd make if he were to play with her nipples. He's so lost in thought that he doesn't realize she's back in the house. Not until he hears the door close from the entryway, and he turns his head to see YN with the cutest look of conviction on her face as she tries to slip out of her tennis shoes with both of her hands full. He hurries over to her as he sees her struggling, grabbing the items from her hands, and she looks up at him with a sweet smile of appreciation before leaning up to press her lips to his.
Harry gladly returns the kiss and heads to the kitchen to sit everything down at her island, hopping onto a stool to wait for her to join him. He waits no more than a couple seconds before she's sliding into the one beside him and grabbing a coffee and one of the small bags with food inside of them. "I didn't know what you liked so I just grabbed some of the little egg bites, they're pretty good in my opinion. I used to have them sometimes until I started getting the spinach feta and egg white wrap," she rambles, and Harry thinks it's just the cutest thing, the way she gets all excited telling him her thought process.
"Well thank you, angel. I'm sure they're delicious, and that was very thoughtful of you," he makes sure to show his appreciation for her efforts and kindness, beginning to dig in as well. “Y’look so pretty, too,” he compliments her, popping one of the eggs into his mouth. The sentiment earns him the softest sweetest smile he’s ever seen, and she thanks him quietly before taking another sip of her coffee and following up with a bite of her wrap. He knows she’s getting shy on him so he doesn’t push it, and they finish up breakfast in comfortable silence, occasionally making small talk about the day they have planned.
Harry watches with a pout on his lips as her shoulders deflate when he says he has work today, and it takes everything in him not to call in for the day, but he knows he shouldn’t. So he does the next best thing; he takes YN into his arms and holds her there until he absolutely has to leave, and he even does that begrudgingly.
“Do you think you could come back over tonight? Spend another night with me?” YN breaks the silence in a peep against his chest, her muffled words making him chuckle. Nuzzling his face into her hair, he takes a deep breath before he responds.
“Yeah, I’ll come over tonight. Want me t'cook something for you?” he questions, laughing at her as she nods enthusiastically before leaning up to press her lips to his. He returns the kiss happily, and their little bubble is popped almost instantly as they realize he has to go.
They kiss goodbye and when he leaves YN heads into her office to begin working for the day, hoping the time goes by quickly until he returns.
~
Harry texts YN that he's on his way around 6 pm, and she practically squeals in excitement as she waits for him. When he arrives, they spend a while in the kitchen as he cooks her some salmon, potatoes, and asparagus, kisses stolen throughout the entire process. They eat while the food is still hot before moving into the living room to watch some TV, YN sat atop Harry's lap as they watch.
They end up watching a random movie for a bit, and said movie has a bit of a steamy scene in it. The characters on the screen before them start to get YN worked up, and neither of them really notice when she starts to squeeze her thighs together before trying to gain some friction by moving her hips onto his thigh. Not until her movements get more frantic and focused, whines of frustration leaving her when she realizes they're not in the best position for her stimulation.
So he decides to mess with her a bit, removing one of the hands that’d been wrapped around her and bringing it between her legs. He simply runs a finger over her thin shorts with the softest touch, feeling the way she’s getting wetter and starting to soak through them. Harry chuckles at her before he's using his other hand to pause the movie and speaking up.
“Do y’want to go upstairs? Gonna let me get you in bed?” he whispers, trying to keep himself composed as she starts to buck her hips up to meet his soft and teasing touch.
“Please,” she whines, turning her head in search for his lips, needing him as close as possible.
“Alright, sweet girl. Let’s get you upstairs. Have some new things for us to try,” he hums, easing them up before grabbing her hand and guiding her toward the bedroom. He helps her get her clothes off before telling her to hop on the bed while he grabs the new toys, but not before taking a moment to practically drool over how good she looks, just for him.
He’s rummaging through the bag for what he needs and she’s just looking over his shoulder curiously before something catches her eye.
“What’s this for?” she asks quietly, reaching into the bag and pulling out a small silver butt plug with a pretty pink stone on the end. She hears Harry chuckle next to her, gently grabbing her jaw to make her look at him.
“We won’t be needing that for a while, Bunny,” he responds, a soft smile on his face as he runs a thumb along her bottom lip. “That’s for when you’re more experienced and want to try new things,” he finishes, words careful and soft as to not hurt her feelings. She still pouts at his response, causing him to chuckle and brush a thumb over her lips to wipe it away.
“Why can’t we use it now? ‘s pretty,” she grumbles, examining the toy curiously.
“Because, I don’t want you t’get hurt. You don’t want that, do you?” he questions carefully, his eyebrows shooting up at the way she hesitates for a moment. The thought crosses his mind for a split second that his sweet girl wants him to hurt her before he’s shaking it off, deeming the idea as ridiculous.
“No,” she finally sighs. “Well what are we using today?”
He’s still a little lost from her moment of hesitation, but he clears his throat before he’s reaching for the bag and taking out the three things he needs for today; a vibrating wand, a small dildo, and some lube. He places the two toys in her hand for her to examine them, giving her room to back out if she’d like. When she doesn’t seem uncomfortable with them, he takes them from her to go clean them in her bathroom.
“Gonna go clean them, I’ll be right back,” he tells her, pressing his lips to hers for a moment, having to pull away with a chuckle when she tries to deepen it, whining into the kiss and squeezing her thighs together. She has the cutest pout on her face when he leaves.
Harry takes his time to thoroughly clean the toys, drying them off before he’s heading back into the room.
When he returns to the bedroom, he doesn’t expect to see YN lying down on the bed with a hand tucked between her thighs, rubbing away at her clit. Her eyes are closed and her free hand is over her mouth, as if she was trying to keep quiet so he didn’t know what she was doing. “Angel,” he chuckles, the name tearing a whine from her throat as she quickly pulls away and snaps her legs shut. “No, no. You can keep going,” he permits, placing the toys on the bed before sitting at the end, right where he can see all of her. It takes a bit of coaxing but she soon gets back into it, chasing her orgasm once more.
“Good girl, just like that,” he praises, watching as her fingers glide around her slick bud faster than before as she chases her peak. “Close already? Y’learning so fast, sweet girl,” he praises, a dimpled grin on his face as he watches her face contort. Her whines and whimpers have now turned into full blown moans as she brings herself closer and closer, but just as she’s about to fall over the edge it begins to fade away. The tight feeling deep inside of her belly starts to loosen, the heat going away.
“No, no, no,” she whimpers, her fingers unceasing on her slick bud as she tries to find the feeling again. Tears are now building on her waterline, her palms flying up to cover her eyes in frustration.
“Oh, poor thing,” Harry tuts, reaching up to thumb away the tears that have begun flowing down her face. “Jus’ leaking all over the place. Do y’really need me that bad?” his voice is teasing as he reaches between her legs and runs a finger through her sodden folds, a moan getting caught in her throat at the action.
“Please,” she’s begging him now, her hips chasing his hand as he pulls away. “No more teasing, please.”
“Why should I help you, sweet girl? You weren’t patient and didn’t wait for me to come back before you started making yourself feel good,” he tuts, acting as if he’s really upset with her.
“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again! It’s just…,” she trails off, her eyes anywhere but on him.
“Use your words, what is it?” he reminds her, placing a warm hand on her thigh.
“When you were cleaning the things I couldn’t help it anymore. Your arms and your back looked really good and you were super focused I couldn’t help it. I’m sorry,” she explains, and Harry feels even better than he did before, pretending to think about whether or not he’ll forgive her.
He sees the way she’s genuinely sorry for her actions, so he decides to stop messing with her. “Alright, I guess so. Let’s start with this one, hm?” he suggests, grabbing the wand and clicking it on. He plays around with the speeds for a few seconds before deciding on one and helping her get comfortable before using his body to keep her legs open and placing the toy on her clit. She gasps at the feeling, this toy being much more powerful than the bullet they’d used the night before. He keeps the toy there for a while, gauging her reactions.
She’s silent save for some moans and whines as she tries to get used to it, and he lets her get a feel for a few minutes before he’s checking in. “How are y’feeling? Talk to me,” he tells her, pressing down a bit harder with the toy to see if that changes anything. It definitely does, a loud cry falling from her lips followed by a small jerk of her legs.
“It’s so much, but it’s in a good way,” she explains, her voice shaky and high pitched as she tries to speak through the pleasure. “I feel it all the way in my tummy and it’s really wet down there too,” she finishes. Her words are even more breathless as her moans pick up, a telltale sign of her orgasm.
“Yeah? Do y’like your new toy? It’s making you feel really nice?” he coos, beginning to move the toy around the throbbing bud instead of staying stationary. The stimulation of all of the nerves sends her into a frenzy and her moans pick up before she’s trying to close her legs around the wand with a hoarse shout as her orgasm takes over.
“That’s it, darling. Cumming so well for me,” he praises, keeping the buzzing toy on her until she pushes him away from the overstimulation. Aftershocks wrack her body in small waves, her dripping hole just fluttering around nothing. “Was that good?” he teases as he watches her chest heave, a chuckle falling from his lips when she just whines and nods, thighs still pressed together tightly.
"Yes, it was really good," she breathes, trying to catch her breath again as well as the feeling in her lower half. "'m really shaky," she notes, a bit of concern lacing her words.
"I know, angel," he chuckles, beginning to massage the muscles in her legs so that they don't cramp up. "It's normal, don't worry. Are y'ready to call it a night?" he questions, fully ready to get her cleaned up and ready for bed, but she shakes her head. "No?"
"No. Want to try the other one before I sleep," she explains, sitting up on her elbows as a way to let him know she's well and ready to move forward. He's nodding at her confidence before grabbing the toy from its place on the bed as well as the lube he'd picked up.
“Do y’think you can pull your knees up and hold them there? Want it to feel really good for my best girl,” he grins, and she nods eagerly before doing as he asked, her already ruined cunt on full display for him. “Always such a good girl, don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he praises, watching as she turns her head away from him in embarrassment.
“Stop saying things like that,” she whines, but he doesn’t miss the way her cunt clenches around nothing at the praise.
“You have your legs spread for me to see all of this pretty pussy and you blush when I call you a good girl?” he chuckles. “You’re cute. But you’re even cuter when you do that little pout you do when you’re close,” he teases, causing her to playfully kick at him.
"Alright, I'll stop teasing," he promises before he's serious again. "Let me know if anything is too much or we need to stop. I won't be offended or anything, this is for you and only you," he tells her seriously, and she's agreeing with his words immediately.
Pouring some lube onto the toy, he rubs it in a bit before adding some onto her body as well for security, despite her not needing it. Then he's running the tip of it between her swollen folds, a small moan leaving YN's lips when it touches her sensitive clit. He repeats the action a few times to get her even wetter if possible, and then he's easing the toy inside her, keeping an eye out for her reactions.
She just quietly gasps as it breaches her hole, readjusting her grip on her legs as he slowly goes deeper and deeper. "How's that, baby?" he questions, hoping her slack jawed-ness is out of pleasure and not pain. "Talk to me, what are you feeling?"
YN struggles to find the words for a few seconds, but by the time she does the toy is now bottomed out inside of her, causing her to let out a loud guttural moan as she feels it pressed right up against her g-spot. "I'm so full," she explains, trying her best to keep her grip on her thighs when all she wants to do is rock her hips down against the toy that's inside of her. "'m so full but I want more, please move it."
And with that, Harry wastes no more time going slow, pulling it out until just the tip is inside of her before slamming it back in, all while gauging her reaction still. This unveils the loudest moan he's ever heard from her, and he sees one of her hands let go of her leg to aide him in pushing the toy in and out of her. So he picks up the pace, and when he feels like she can handle it, he brings his free hand up to begin quickly rubbing at her sensitive clit.
“Please, don’t stop. Feels so good,” she’s nearly screaming now, each word laced with a whiny undertone.
“Know you’re close, angel. You can let go for me. I’ve got you,” he coaxes, watching her eyes roll back into her head as both her stomach and pussy clench impossibly hard, not stopping the movement of his hand with the toy. A few moments later he sees and feels some clear liquid start to come out of her and onto his hand and even up his arm, making him nearly lose the grip on his toy.
But he doesn’t let go, he actually grips it even tighter before pushing it as deep as it will go, and that’s when YN stops breathing. He holds it there for a few seconds until she squeals and starts to tap at his hand, only then does he pull out. The moment the toy is completely out of her, the longest and most powerful stream by far squirts from her, a loud cry of ecstasy leaving her lips.
More of his arm is wet now, as well as some of his chest and her stomach from the intense stream that left her body. She is completely spent before him, her arms letting go of her shaking legs, causing them to lay out beside her, bent at the knees in a butterfly position. Harry notices that she’s practically passed out before him, and seeing her so absolutely spent from him just using toys on her, it completely ruins him and begins to ruin his boxers.
A painful whine leaves his lips as he finally frees himself from the confines of his boxers and begins to stroke himself. It takes all but four good strokes for him to let out a grunt of pleasure as he paints her messy cunt with his cum. His stomach is clenching and unclenching almost painfully as he empties his balls all over her pussy. Some spurts even land on her stomach and thighs, his strokes erratic.
When he’s finally done, he pulls his hand away from his now softened and aching cock with a wince, taking a moment to catch his breath before he’s climbing out of the bed and heading to the bathroom. Flipping the light on, he begins his search for the softest washcloth he can find, and when he does he runs it under the tap for a few moments. Once the warm water soaks the towel, wrings it out before making his way to his sleepy girl, still in the spot he left her in.
He’s very careful with cleaning her up, but still making sure none of their mess is left on her skin before he’s running to the kitchen to grab some water, gently waking her up. “Cmon, pretty girl. Up you get. Need to get some fluids in you,” he whispers, helping her sit up against the headboard.
She does so begrudgingly, a sleepy whine leaving her lips as he holds the cold water to it and helps her drink. Only able to finish about half, her head falls back against the headboard in exhaustion before she feels an arm grab beneath both of her legs and another on her back. Harry’s gently lifting her up so they can head to the guest room, not wanting her to sleep in the mess they’ve made of the bed.
YN is barely registering his actions, and her mind is still fuzzy as he tucks her in there with a sweet kiss on her forehead before slipping out to go clean up her bedroom. By the time he’s got everything all cleaned and returns to the guest room, YN is deep into her slumber, soft snores leaving her swollen lips. Turning the light off, Harry softly closes the door behind him before climbing into bed with her and taking her in his arms, falling asleep.
~
it’s literally been over a year i’m sorry
#harryistheonlyoneforme#harry styles fic#harry styles fic rec#harry styles smut#harry styles#smut#harry styles filth#harry related writings#dbf harry styles#dbf harry#ruin#ruin masterlist#doctor harry#doctor h#doctor!h#doctor!harry#doctor!harry styles#dr harry styles#doctor harry styles#harry styles one shot#gynaecologist harry styles#gynaecologist harry#harry styles x innocent reader
510 notes
·
View notes
Text
He’s just a bit older
𖤐Pairing: Soap x Younger F! Reader
𖤐Pronouns: She/Her
𖤐Warnings: smut, older Soap young Y/n, age gap, P in V, eating out, language, dads' best friend
AN: If you’re not comfortable with this age gap type of stuff this isn’t probably for you. By age gap I mean early 20 year old Y/n and early 40s Soap
Y/n is Price’s daughter and she’s had a bit of a crush on her dads best friend, John Soap MacTavish
But Price is caught up at work that he forgot him and Soap are meeting up to watch the soccer match (football for the Europeans)
Could Soap and Y/n get away with fucking each other without Price ever knowing
——————
———————
“Y/N! I’m going to work!” Price yells at his daughter.
“OKAY!” She yells back. She had gotten out of the shower and was going to hang out with her boyfriend Hunter.
It was their 10-month anniversary, and she was very excited to hang out with him. Sure, they hang out almost every day, but she was just excited for today.
She brushed her teeth and blow dried her hair, she even spread her favorite lotion on her skin to smell good for Hunter. She even put on some light make up on as well.
Y/n grabbed a bright pink tank top and white tennis skirt. Hunter and Y/n were going to see the Barbie Movie together and she was very excited.
Y/n grabbed her purse and went downstairs and was going to wait for Hunter to come and get her for the movie. She played on her phone and looked at the time, sure she got ready a bit early at least she'll be ready.
As she took a couple of photos of her outfit and captioned them with 'Date Night with @/h.hunt14' she smiled seeing the likes and comments she was getting from her friends.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
"PRICE!" She looked up from her phone and looked at the front door hearing a thick Scottish accent.
"Soap?" She asked as she got up and opened the door.
"Hey, Y/n. Where's your dad?" He asks with a case of beer in his hands.
"Umm work? Why are you here?" She leaned on the doorframe, crossing her arms and looking at her father's best friend.
"He invited me to watch the football game."
"Well again, he's not home," she mumbled.
"Yeah, I see that. So, could I still come in? Your dad already knows I'm supposed to be here."
"I guess," Y/n let him inside and he placed the case of beer of the kitchen counter.
"Where are you going?" He asks, cracking open a beer.
"To the movies. Hunter and I are going to see the Barbie Movie together for our 10-month anniversary." She smiles when she brings up Hunter and Soap smiled hearing that she found someone to be with.
"That's cool," he smiles before taking a sip of his drink.
"I'm going to text my dad and see if he knew you were supposed to come this early."
"Yeah," he agrees.
Y/n: *Dad, Soap is here. Is he supposed to be here this early?*
Price: *Ah shit, I told him to come early, I didn't expect him this early, tell him I'll be home around 2-3*
Y/n: *K*
"My dad said, he'll be home around two or three. Just make yourself comfortable," she says as she went back to the couch. "I'll be leaving around one for the movies." She yells him.
"Okay, yeah sure," Soap said as he watched Y/n head back to the couch. He looked at her skirt seeing it raise up went she plopped down on the black couch.
He saw her white panties and smirked just a little bit but soon wiped it away. He remembered this isn't right, this is his best friends only daughter.
---------
Some time has passed, and Y/n was now waiting on her boyfriend to show up. She was texting him asking him where he was and all but no answer.
She ran her hand through her hair and let out a soft sign, Soap had turned on the TV to watch a pre-game before the actual game. He looked at Y/n seeing her being distressed.
"What's wrong?" He asked.
"He's not answering the movie starts in a like 30 minutes..." she said.
"Did you try calling him?"
"I didn't want to bother you though."
"It's fine, go ahead," he says as Y/n went upstairs and called Hunter.
But it went straight to voicemail. "Hey, Hunter, are you coming to get me, or did you forget about me?" She kind of laughs at the 'forgetting' part. "Just text me or call me back and let know what's going on."
She walks back downstairs sitting next to Soap again. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back ignoring her phone now. Maybe he's on his way and can't answer her?
"Everything okay?" He asks.
"I don't know," she said as she looked at Soap. "If you think something is going on with your partner...would you keep texting them or would you ignore them?"
"What do you mean? Are you expecting him of something?" He asks, placing his beer on the table in front of them.
"No, but...he's just been...distant I guess."
"How so?"
"Like now, he's ignoring me, sometimes will just flat out not talk to me for a long period of time, I have to start conversations, I have to make plans and invite him to join-LIKE NOW I asked we should see the Barbie movie, he said 'cool that's fine' like he wasn't really interested." Her eyes looked red and glossy; she seemed like she was about to cry.
"Hey, hey, it's okay...the best thing to do is get rid of the problem...if it was me...I'd break up with them, but you love him, I know you do. I can see it in your eyes that you love him. But that's up to you," he said.
The tension between them was hot now because they understood each other. Was it sexual? No, it couldn't be. Price would kill both of them if he caught them.
Soap looked down at Y/n's lips seeing lip gloss on them, her lips were plump and looked so soft it he kissed them. He bit the corner of his bottom lip as Y/n played with her fingers. It was like she was thinking about something, and she was.
She looked down at his crotch seeing his bulge in his pants. She gulped and looked up at Soap.
Y/n didn't hesitate, she crawled on top of Soap's lap. Soap put his hands up he didn't know what to do with them. She just smiles and moves them to her waist.
She then placed her arms around his neck and ran her fingers through his hair.
"Wow...your fingers...they...they are like magic, this is so calming," he chuckles.
Y/n giggles too. "I mean...I don't know? I do it to myself sometimes, it feels so good."
"Yeah," he coos, he looked up at her. His hands moved from her waist down to her butt, she moans slightly. He leans forward and kissed her neck, earning another moan from her.
He pushes up the bottom of her white skirt and grabbed at her soft bare ass cheeks. His lips felt so good on her collarbone and neck.
"F-Fuck-" she moans.
Soap then snapped back into reality. Soap looked up at Y/n staring into her eyes. "W-we shouldn't b-be doing this," he stutters a bit.
"My dad won't know...and neither will Hunter. This will between you and I, Soap."
"No, no, we can't," he moved his hands back to her waist trying to push her off his lap.
"Fine..." she got off his lap. She stood at the doorway before walking to her bedroom, but she turned back to Soap, she brought her leg up and flashed her panties to Soap.
"Don't-Don't do that, Y/n."
"Oh, come on, Soap. You know you want it," she says as she began to walk away, and Soap got up and followed her to her bedroom.
Y/n sat on the edge of her bed, she crossed her legs and looked at Soap with a smirk on her face. She uncrossed her legs, and she lifted up her skirt again exposing the front of the panties.
They were white, lace with a small pink rose in the middle.
"Come on, Soap, my dad won't know," she smiles at him.
"Fuck," he closed her bedroom door and Y/n smirked knowing he finally got his attention.
"Come on, Soap," she said.
He walked to her, and she started to remove her tank-top and Soap grabbed her skirt and pulled it down. His hands went to her panties and pulled them off as well. He rested his hands on her thighs and looked up at her with a smirk.
"Are you sure, he won't know?" Soap asked.
"Promise, he won't be back so soon, and he always values his work first."
"That's not true, he values you."
"Not really," Y/n closed her legs and covered her exposed area and looked down at him. "Why do you think him, and my mom got a divorce? Because he worked so much and valued his work over mom and me, that...they called it quits..."
"But...he talks about you a lot when we hang out."
"Doesn't matter...he sure as hell doesn't show it..." She looked down at him, his hands slid up her thighs and rested on her exposed hips. His hands soon went around to her butt and gently squeezed, earning a soft moan from her.
"He talked about you when you were high school and how you were so nervous in freshman year, you were scared if you and your friends would drift apart but you all stuck together through high school..." Soap lifted up the end of the skirt. "You were nervous about your Prom thinking Hunter wouldn't show but he did..."
Soap then moved forward closed to her area, she could feel his hot breath on her. "...Your Senior year...you were crazy nervous about a test that was 100% of your grade...you passed...and...he took you out for dinner..." he then licked between her folds earning a moan from her. She grabbed his hair and leaned on her elbows.
"S-Soap-"
"Senior Prom...you left early because you were homesick...you wanted to spend the rest of you night with your dad because you...he may be lonely when you were out..."
Y/n's grip tightened on his hair that she got a groaned from him. She looked down at his eyes as he kept licking her and talking to her about what her father has said about her.
Y/n always thought that Price valued his work over her...Price is a good father, he's been to all her soccer games even when he had tuns of work, he'd put everything on hold just to go watch her play.
Even when she joined the dance team, he put everything on hold just to go and watch her.
She realized how more present he was in her life versus her own mother...hell...her own mother told her that she should go live with Price because she didn't want to deal with Y/n and all her actives during school that Price was there even when she didn't want her there.
Soap licked between her folds some more and started to insert two fingers inside of her. He started to move them in and out of her quickly, she moaned his name and let go of his hair and started to grip the sheets on her bed.
"H-Holy fuck," she moans.
"He was mad...when you and Hunter first broke up...he thought he would...have to kill him because he...broke his little girls' heart..." Soap mumbled. He looked up at her and hummed a little bit.
He stood up and pushed her on her back. His hands slid up her shirt, he felt her bra and unhooked it with one hand and got it off her chest. He pushed her tank top up exposing her breasts to him.
She ran her fingers up her stomach to the tank top to keep it out of his way. His hands went to her sides and looked down at her small body as his big, veiny hands just caressed her.
"You fit my hands so perfectly," he mumbles and kissed her neck and moved up to kiss her lips.
His hands roamed all over her, his hand then started to fiddle with his belt and started to remove his belt and pull his pants down, he removed his shirt and then pushed himself against her clit.
"H-Holy-" she moans.
He started to fish himself out of her boxers and pulled his boxers off his lower half.
"I-It's not f-fair that I'm fully clothed and y-you're not..." she moans.
"You're not technically fully clothed...you're just in a skirt and tank top, you don't have panties and a bra on..."
"Half naked but still."
"Fine," he quickly rips her skirt off her lower half and pulled her tank top over her head. "There...now we're even," he smirks.
"G-Good," she mumbles and Soap without warning pushed himself inside of her.
He thrusts were sloppy but soon started to pick the pace even more and she let out a satisfying moan that made his head spin. Hearing her moans make him feel like he's doing such a good job.
To tell the truth. Soap wasn't that experience. Price always teased him about how needs to get out more and have some more experience with a woman. He only had 2 girlfriends in his life and a wife and wasn't that experience.
His hand cupped her face and rubbed his thumb under her eye, he watched her face and smirked seeing her face become so red and watching her expressions change as well.
"Goddamn, I d-didn't think I w-was that good," Soap groans.
---------
Price looked at his phone seeing the time, but he also knows that Soap's 'waiting' on him at the house. Price looked at his computer and saw he has 5 more emails and then he can be done.
He answered them and then texted Y/n.
Price: *Hey, I'm almost done soon, let Johnny know I'm coming soon, and we can watch the game*
Y/N: *.....*
Price just looked at the dots on the screen letting him know she was typing.
Y/n was on her stomach as Soap was hitting her from the back, she was a moaning mess as she couldn't even type properly. She only got a few words typed out but couldn't even hit the 'send' button.
"H-He's a-about done s-soon..." she moans as Soap gripped her hips and smacked her butt watching his handprint form on her left cheek.
"Then...w-we better h-hurry..." she could feel him smirking behind her.
She dropped her phone on her bed and gripped the bedsheets. She felt her stomach start turning, she was about to cum. He could feel her about to cum, he gripped her hips even tighter knowing he was going to cum as well.
"Holy fuck," Soap moans and so does Y/n. She felt herself leak onto his dick and he pulled out and she felt his cum leak on her lower back.
Y/n was panting trying to catch her breath as Soap rested his forehead between her shoulder blades and kissed her shoulder.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"No...I'm okay...I need to c-clean up..." she sat up and moved off her bed, Soap fell on his back on her bed and looked up at the ceiling and heard the water start.
He looked at her bathroom seeing the door open, and he could see her figure in the shower, he rubbed his temple and grabbed his boxers and jeans putting them back on.
DING DONG
"SOAP, CAN YOU GET THAT!?"
"Yeah," he grabbed his shirt and put it back on and walked downstairs to go answer the door. He looked through the glass and saw Hunter. He opened the door with some force making Hunter jump a little.
"The fuck you want?"
"Who are you?" Hunter asked, he looked around to make sure he has the right house. "Is this the Price's?"
"Yeah, it is," he crossed his arms over his chest.
Y/n had a towel wrapped around her waist and a towel in her hair. She walked downstairs and saw Hunter at the door and Soap intimating him.
"Hunter?"
"Who the hell is this guy?" Hunter asked pointing to Soap.
"He's...my dad's best friend..." she said.
"Why are you wet? Did you get out of the shower?"
"Wow, no shit Captain Obvious," Soap said.
"Soap..." Y/n warned. "What do you want Hunter?" She asked him.
"Just wanted to come by and say I'm here...come on...let's go to the movies but I see...you're not even ready...and...this guy is here," Hunter tried to intimidate Soap back but of course, Soap isn't scared of some random ass kid.
"Are you...KIDDING ME! WHY THE HELL WOULD I GO TO THE MOVIES WITH YOU NOW!! YOU IGNORED ME FOR THREE HOURS AND ALL OF A SUDDEN YOU SHOW UP!! I AM NOT GOING ANYWHERE WITH YOU!!" She slammed the door in Hunter's face and leaned against the door. "Holy fuck...is he fucking serious?" She asked, looking up at Soap.
"I see now what Price was talking about."
"What?" She asked.
"You can definitely handle yourself to where...you don't even need a guy..." Soap smiles.
"He said that?"
"Again, kid, he talks about you all the time...even when you think he doesn't think about you or talk about you, he does...and he's very grateful and thankful to have you in his life," he said, leaning down and kissing her lips.
"I know, he loves me and all...but like I said...he only loves his work...I have to go get dressed now..." she said, walking up the stairs.
--------
1:30PM
Price got in the driveway and saw Y/n's car and Soap's car, he smiled at his daughter's car, a 1967 Chevy impala, it was Price's first car and he found back it in a garage at his old home where it lived for probably 20 or more years, he fixed it up just for her. She takes care of it like it's her child.
He grabs his keys before entering his home. He unlocks the door and opens it seeing Soap on the couch, a beer in hand and Y/n sitting on the love seat far from Soap reading her book, her legs to her chest as she looked up from her book seeing her dad walk in the door.
"Hi dad," she says with her usual sweet smile on her face.
"Hey, lovely..." he sets his stuff down at the door and grabbed a beer from the fridge. "Has the game started, MacTavish?" Price asked as he plopped on the other side of the couch.
"Nah, not yet Price..." He smirks before taking a sip from his beer.
"Damn, if I knew you were coming this early, I should have been home earlier."
"Nah, it's good," Soap looked at Y/n who hid her red face behind her book.
Y/n left the living room and headed to her bedroom.
Price looked at Soap before taking a swing on his beer.
"I know you two had sex while I was gone," Soap spit it his drink out, he coughed and wiped his chin before staring at Price.
"What?" He choked out.
"Soap, I have cameras around the house for Y/n's protection while I'm gone...I saw them go off when you two were alone and I have one outside her bedroom door, you two went in and you shut the door, you came out an hour later fixing your shirt and opened the front door to Hunter asking for her, you both handled it pretty well, I should say...Just...don't let that ever happen again, you got it?"
"Yes, sir...and...sorry..."
"It's fine."
"Are you going to tell her, that you know?"
"No, I'll let her know that you two didn't do anything..."
#cod modern warfare#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod x reader#fandom#fanfic#call of duty#mw2#cod#john soap mctavish x reader#soap call of duty#soap mactavish#soap mctavish#soap cod#soap x reader#john soap mactavish#soap mw2#john soap mctavish x you
376 notes
·
View notes
Text
Pregnant with Patrick’s Daughter (Challengers)
Description: Y/N is pregnant with Patrick’s baby but she’s with Art.
Word Count:986
Request: "Maybe something with a pregnant reader and like Patrick’s the dad. It could be fluff or angst, idk I’m just curious to see how the dynamic between Patrick and like his child would be lol!”
Author’s note: I added a twist in it. Hope you like it!
Y/N looked down at the pregnancy test in shock. Her and Patrick used protection or did they? She honestly couldn’t remember but this was bad news. She was with Art and fucking Patrick. Though she knows that it’s not Art’s kid because he’s been too busy with Tennis to even fuck her. Art would know that the kid wasn’t his, especially if the kid looks like Patrick. Truth be told, Y/N loved Patrick and she also loved Art. It was hard for her to choose between them when they both wanted her as well. She looked at the engagement ring that was placed on her finger. She twirled it and played with it as she thought of what she was going to do.
Art was practicing for his match today so Y/N called Patrick. The two weren’t friends anymore which made the situation worse. He thought she wanted to have sex again so he kissed her hard as soon as she opened the door. She pushed him back and he gave her a confused look. “We need to talk.” She said, he nodded and followed her to the kitchen. “Take a seat.” She demanded. “Ohh I love it when you get all dominant with me.” He smirked. She gave him a look and his smirk dropped. “Listen I don’t know what to do about this or why I'm even telling you at this point but I’m pregnant.” His jaw drops at her words, “And it’s yours because Art and I haven’t had sex in awhile.” He got up from the chair and pulled her in for a hug. “That’s great. I’m gonna be a dad.” He whispered. She pulled away from the hug, “Patrick, I’m with Art. He’s not gonna be happy about this.” Patrick didn’t really care. He hated Art for taking Y/N from him. That pathetic bastard got everything he wanted. “Well he’s not gonna wanna be with you since you’re carrying another man’s baby. My baby to be exact.” She glared at him. Of course he’d be happy about this. He hated Art.
“What?” Art screeched as he stood up from the couch. It didn’t make sense why Patrick was here but now it did. “Art, I’m sorry this isn’t how I wanted you to find out.” She tells him. Patrick had a proud smirk on his face. “Found out what? That you’re fucking my ex best friend and having his baby?” Y/N looked at him with a guilty expression. She really did feel bad. “Art it’s hard for me.” She said with tears in her eyes. “You’re crying? You’re fucking my ex best friend and you’re crying?” He yelled. “Art, I love you both.” Patrick didn’t know that she loved him, nor did Art. “What?” Patrick whispered at her confession. “I love you both and I know that you guys hate each other but I can’t live without you guys.” She said, tears still streaming down her face. Patrick stood up and looked at Art who looked so broken at the news. Y/N’s eyes flickered between the two of them. “Art, please say something.” She begged her fiance. He shook his head and laughed. Both, Y/N and Patrick looked confused. “Get the fuck out!” He told them. “Art, please-” “Get the fuck out!” He screamed at her.
She laid in Patrick’s bed with tears streaming down her face. Her belly bigger and full with Patrick’s baby. It’s been 6 months since Art kicked her out. He hadn’t spoken to either of them, not that she thought he would. He had the right to be upset with her. She cheated on him and got pregnant. But it still hurt her a lot, she loved them both and it was selfish that she felt sad because she had Patrick. But she wanted both. The front door opened and she quickly wiped her tears. Patrick made his way to the bedroom to see Y/N and her tummy full of his baby. He smiled at the sight. She saw him enter the bedroom and smiled at him. He came and collapsed on the bed next to her. He turned towards her and stared at her stomach. “I can’t wait til she’s born.” He said and placed his hand on her tummy. She smiled and agreed with him. She placed her hand on his and the baby kicked. They both gasped and looked at each other. This was the first time they baby kicked for Patrick. Tears started forming in his eyes as he smiled. “I finally felt her kick.” Y/N nodded and ran her fingers through his hair.
Y/N watched as Patrick gave their 4 year old daughter a racket. She chuckled as their daughter kept dropping it but everytime Patrick gave her it again. He was so patient with her and so sweet. It made Y/N’s heart melt. She giggled as their daughter almost hit Patrick with the racket. He looked at his wife and smiled at her. She got up from her seat and walked over to them. “Try not to kill daddy, sweetheart.” She joked. Their 4 year old giggled and gave the racket to Y/N. Y/N took it and melted when she ran into Patrick’s arms. Patrick smiled and hugged her back. Y/N felt happiness in her life, ever since their daughter was born. She didn’t think of Art anymore, unless she saw him on the news. He was a pro tennis player like Patrick and he married Tashi Duncan. She was happy for him, truly. “Hey uh I guess now would be the time to tell you that I’m playing in the challengers and Art will be there.” Her smile dropped at his name. She had a bad feeling about this and almost told him not to go. But she would be by his side with their daughter to support him. She wouldn’t let Art being there ruin this for them.
#challengers movie#challengers 2024#josh o'connor#mike faist#zendaya#patrick zweig#patrick zweig imagine#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig x you#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson imagine#art donaldson x you#tashi duncan
195 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
thetravelmateholidays
Untitled
dktronic
dktronic
hereforthefree-porn
Not looking for anything but free porn
moniqueisdabomb7179
Official Monique Desiree Taitague fan Club
botyapp
BOTY App