#wait what's with the different training tops
Text
𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓
𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ content warnings exhibitionism, fluff, descriptions of body insecurities, harassment, dubcon, fingering, power imbalance, power abuse, reader wears dress, she/hear pronouns.
᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ notes a little side story of a shopping trip after the event of sick favors. currently writing the revenge arc now.
᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ taglist: @missakward123 @lupitalove @i00bear @socialanxietyvictim @tourmalxine @labelt-san @ghostlyworld @kashxyou @chiiiiiiiiiiifuuuuuuuu @cute-sucker @skii-high @boyimjustaloserforyourlove @jossayuuu @bubblesandsand1-0 @ply4vnce @witchymermaid12 @luna-v-roiya @mariyumemi @sinfullygay @higurumapet @kvk6433qkcigv @s-j320 @bts-skz @imcreepininyourheartbabe @hazzelle-kento @cashcadaver @n1vi @kiruupon @vebbiewuzhere @its-princessmara @ssetsuka @unicornqueen05 @idkwhattimdoingere2 @sunnytyun @tomriddles-wh0re @ya-mamaaaaa @wateriswhatiam @red-writes @saltyladyflower @greyclouq @bahurani @lovayle @okayiamkassandra @sealikesushi @sanzuandmikey @spicana @luvysmai @uniquenicefangirl @ushijimaschubbs @lansy-4 @eggieshiteru @jellibean2018 @uchihabucketlist @sunadmoby @cupidscourt @divinedolliebun @rottmntrulesall @mmeharuno @haesify @sleighter
a shopping trip with the two sounds fun but it's actually not. you hope that it won't be hectic for you and it would be the first they are genuinely nice to you.
“wear something good.”
the text message in your phone says. sent by suguru first thing in the morning after your alarm rang. you have been dreading the later day since yesterday after they left and you're too worried too sleep and tirelessly turning then you slept. you only think of one thing. it would be humiliating for you. you've never done shopping.
shopping is fun. they say but to you is not. you have to deal with numerous disappointments such as clothes not fitting you right. it's either too loose or too tight. you would rather save yourself from the embarrassment of men and woman staring at you weird of the nasty look that people in the store would give you for simply shopping. now, it will be a lot worse. there's satoru and suguru who would make it worse and the next time you step inside in a clothing store you would faint.
hoping that plans will get cancelled for today is simply a far cry from a dream. there's a chance gojo would cancel but suguru, he's a different story. you would not dare tell a thing about it and you know what will happen if you simply ditch again even you recently recovered from being sick. they won't believe you and so, you forced yourself to rummage through the measly clothing you have. the meager clothing you packed since you left home were destroyed. it was either ripped or taken by them. trophies they treat all of your clothing except for the tattered ones. you didn't know where they get to be that strong enough to tear your clothes off.
it's only for today. you convince yourself and you decided to grab the clothing that you consider good for yourself. a black short sleeved knitted top paired with a dark flowy green skirt that rested in your ankles and your black combat boots. there's a small chance that they wouldn't rip this clothing off you. it's the only good one you have.
you were done thirty minutes before the time they scheduled and you grab your small sling bag to carry your own stuff and then you bid goodbye to your roommate and then went to the train station where you will waiting for them both.
you waited for five minutes before suguru arrives. stiffly greeting him like he wants and he orders you to seat beside him while you both wait for gojo who have a habit of running late for every time event. geto doesn't complain and only pulls his cellphone from his pocket to type a quick text to satoru.
“we're here. get your ass running.” he types before hitting the send button and putting it back to his pocket. you placed your bag in front of you. clutching it to lever yourself from what to come. suguru is particularly the harsher one when pissed and when he's silent you assume the worst when it comes to him.
there's a brief silence surrounding you both except for the incoming screeching of the incoming train and footsteps of people trying to catch up the train. it's a weekend and twice the people was crowding the train station. you were both seated in a nearby bench placed in the waiting area. you were getting a little weary of the silence coming from him and you stole a glance geto and you find he was staring at you. panicking you immediately whipped your head to the side. lowering your head in defeat. he was probably criticizing you for what you were wearing and how you looked.
“i'm sorry.” you muttered. “i can't find anything good.” you apologized. they were right, you were pathetic. you were apologizing for being you. your lips tremble and you let out a shaky breath. trying yourself to keep the tears at bay and not make it worse in front of him.
suguru chuckles at you for sounding so troubled, it's not like he cared what you wore. “it's fine. you look nice.” he commented. moving closer to you and rubs your back. before he could open his mouth again to speak. a voice calls him.
“suguru~.”
gojo's voice came booming. he arrives with his hands tucked in his pockets. geto's face turns into a scowl. “satoru, i told you to be early. what time is it now? tsk.” he clicks his tongue in annoyance and gojo just rolls at his eyes at him before glancing at you. “what were you and (y/n)-chan talking about?” he asked curiously. a little left out that you were both talking and he's not included.
“just talking about how she look nice. does she look nice, satoru?” geto is somewhat purring when he said that and gojo shrugs. “boring.” gojo said uninterested. “let's go now, suguru. we're taking (y/n)-chan to show the joy of shopping.” beaming with a mischievous glint in his eyes and your stomach drops. it was malicious when satoru would say something like that and you were already anticipating it and yet, you could never get used to it. then the announcement of the incoming train booming in the speakers rang in your ears and they dragged you inside with the dread coming with you.
it wasn't good. how the feeling of being trapped between them spikes your heart rate up. they intentionally shoved you in the closed train door while the other passengers filled the spaces now occupied and it was now crowded. it was sure a jam-packed weekend in the train and you were pressed against the cold automated doors of the train and your two bullies are in front of you. they sure towered everyone including you and they can't keep themselves from smiling from the close proximity of your soft body being squished against them. they were clearly enjoying your misery.
sure, it was clear as the daylight that this two, more like gojo satoru have his own chaffeur and a car that drives him whenever he wants and anytime. he was the heir of a huge company and it was provided for him without asking. he likes the luxury but it can never the compare of doing some he deemed as enjoyable to you in public with his bestfriend of course. call this somewhat of a fantasy.
suguru got your skirt hiked up despite the length of it. his hand between your creamy thighs. massaging the flesh before rubbing your clothed pussy. nobody can see what he was doing. obscured by both of their wide builds. you are biting your lips. your eyes silently pleading for them to stop but suguru continues to assault your pussy. plunging two of his fingers and you didn't think it would come to this today and in a public transportation.
your eyes were turning misty and it didn't help that your body like what suguru was doing to you and satoru was creeping his hand under your shirt to squeeze the bountiful flesh in your stomach. mercilessly assaulting your body and you hoped someone may take notice and intervene but no one, not even a single had noticed you in this transportation full of people and the ride continued like that. by the time you all reached the next station, they acted like nothing happened. annoyed by your turtle like movements, they put you in between them to match their strides and to avoid losing you in this crowd of a place.
they take you to what looks like a high-end shopping district in the part of the city where they easily navigated like they know where to shop and hang out. silly you to think like that. of course they know it. they frequent it like it was just a regular day for them and you were lucky to be here because of them.
you follow them mindlessly. unfamiliar with the place and you were wary of everything and you felt underdressed for some reason. various designer stores are littered in every corner and every turn. some are familiar and some you can't even pronounce. mannequins are clothed with the latest fashion trend. displaying for shoppers to admire and you realized that a single clothing in this area cost a year of your expenses and you have to work half of your life to splurge on these designers. you were suddenly conscious of the money you brought with you. it was enough for a fare money and meal to yourself. surely, these two won't expect you to pay for this shopping trip. you were just going to pretend you like everything they bought. this is a another prank to you they are going to pull.
they stop in a boutique where upon entering two attendants started taking measurements of you. confused, you stood like a statue until they were done and began skimming the clothes in the rack.
another attendant escorted you three in a private room. puzzled, do these kind of stores have their dressing room in just the corner. why is there a private room like this? you think this is the place where bored rich housewives spend their time with or where mistresses splurge the money of their wealthy boyfriends who doesn't have the time for them and a credit card will make up for it. you were neither of the two.
the attendant pretends like you weren't there. unceremoniously flirting to both of them where they only ignores her. when her attempts proven to be a fail, she left not without glaring at you first — why was it your fault?
before you could find your answer for that kind of reason, two employees came wheeling a two huge clothing racks filled with different clothes and they left it next to the dressing room and you look at them both.
“try all of them and show it to us, princess.” suguru orders you to and you nodded. stepping inside the dressing room and it was spacious. you didn't dare question them about this. asking begets punishment and you were no mood nor have the capacity to take it. you just have to play along for today. you were hoping they would leave you after you move the curtains away and see nothing on the empty couch.
you blindly grabbed a clothing item after you've stripped. putting it on and you didn't like what you see in the mirror, it feels wrong. funny you can think of your body as unpleasant when you're living in it for all of your life and it got worse when you crossed paths with the boys outside of this dressing room. you were going to cry like you always used to but you sniffle away the tears and take huge deep breaths before stepping outside to show them what you've put on.
you didn't dare to meet there gaze and for the last minutes you were going back and forth to the dressing room each time draped in the clothing from the rack the employees choose for you and you listened to what they approved and disliked. you can't voice your opinion in front of them and by the time you were done trying all of them. you were tired.
gojo bored out of his mind after that little fashion show coming to their favorite toy pressed the button beside in the couch. the attendants earlier came running and gojo gave them his credit card. dismissing them in a snobbish manner in which they paid no mind since half of their clients like him are like this. tolerable cause he's loaded. they can't say no to money.
you left the boutique shortly after and to your horror the two decided to hit a few shops. they bought you shoes and accessories that suit their tastes to you. they were like children picking out stuff that they like and made casual comments how a particular would not suit you. you were almost sighing out of relief when they made a final stop to a clothing store but instead your breath got stuck.
it was fairly a busy day for the store. women are hovering clothing racks and when you're bullies stepped inside they were suddenly quite. followed by giggles and whispers. checking the two out and you look at both of them. both of in a dress shirt paired with black slacks and dress shoes. geto in a black one and gojo in a white one. they were classy in their own way and you can see from the way they dressed they came from a good and wealthy family.
they both make way to choose what they were buying for you today unlike the earlier assistance of employees. both of them were choosing the clothes. stacking them in their arms as they gave it to you to try. nodding you were back in the dressing room again. you take a peek behind the curtain after putting the first piece of clothing and you see them being both flirted in which you understand. you hope it will be a blessing in disguise and if they were successful they could take them both and ditch you so you can go on your merry way back to your dormitory. they were beautiful of course, the women. far from you. they were what you define as girls who really took care of themselves and aware of how they look and uses it with their seductive gaze that leaves men wanting them and that includes the two but they're more interested to you and you sure taking your sweet time to change.
satoru was the first to break. casually showing the girl who was flirting to him that he's not interested and it left him eventually. it's easy to fend the women to geto's part. glare at them like they were beneath you and they will get the part. he's getting annoyed by it from incessant yapping of flirting plus you were taking too long.
they find you backed in the corner. trembling. posture hunched and your are swelling with tears. “what's wrong?” suguru asks you. you shaked your head. “nothing. just nervous.” he raises a brow and ignored it. “nervous for what? we've gone different stores and this is where you chicken out?” satoru reprimands you and suguru glares at him. sometimes satoru could be this insensitive but the asshole was insensitive from the start and it just extends to you.
explanation aside, you look beautiful in that dress you were wearing. he grabs your hands and positions himself behind you. a little crowded since this was a dressing room and the bitches outside should fuck themselves for joining you.
summer dresses suits you.
the baby blue color of the dress added by the small purple flowers dotting all over it suits you nicely. flattering the plush figure you have and can you see yourself the way to see you. satoru shuts up the moment he sees you in this dress.
“a dress and you look nicer than you usually do. it's generous for us to offer you this right. no more boring clothes for you.” his finger tracing the curve of your chest and then to your stomach. giving it a firm squeeze. suguru kisses the juncture of where your neck and shoulder meets. you shivered at the gesture. you were completely bare in front of them despite the clothing you have on. the mirror and the reflection doesn't do any good in your current situation.
you meet satoru's and suguru's gaze. “they wouldn't care if we fucked here right now, won't they?” satoru's voice is crisp. his lips brushing to your own. taunting you to make a move but you remained unmoving. he nibbles on your lips. hand creeping up to feel the supple skin of your thigh before raising it to put in the side of his torso. grinding his bulge to your clothed cunt.
“satoru, i'm sure they won't mind but let's do it for a another time. we don't want to ruin our princess looking so pretty in her dress. i'm sure (y/n) will return the favor.” suguru reasons and satoru begrudgingly accepts it. “we're wasting time here.” suguru added.
“i need to change.” your voice tiny and the two raises a brow at you. “you're keeping the dress.” satoru commands you and you nodded. they step outside and you followed. satoru grabbed the clothes you were supposed to try and went straight to the cashier to ring it up. suguru and you trailing mails behind him as he swipes his credit card without a care. he looks at you both.
“where to next?”
surprisingly they took you to the aquarium after a quick bite. there's more time before you all return to the university and it won't be shopping all day cause it would get boring and they already bought clothes that would suit you so a change of sight would be better and so, you're here. it wasn't bad. it reminds you of a distant childhood memory. you were afraid that they would ruin this for you. a cherished place of yours.
various ocean life swam in the vast space of the aquarium and you can't help but to stare in awe. it's like you were back again being a child. always fascinated by the sea life and if it was your choice you would have a career that relates to this but due to certain circumstance you were forced to take a degree that is practical. things happened but you didn't regret it. you enjoyed watching the different species of sea animals in one place so much that you wandered on your own forgetting that you were here with the two.
they know it wasn't intentional for you to let go. you were lost in this paradise and judging from your reactions it was your favorite place. you wander side by side. reading the educational signage about the species that are placed in the huge aquarium. you stand in the middle when you see a huge sting ray swims above you and gojo would regret it if he won't take a picture of you in that position. the camera clicks and it generates a picture of you. the ocean blue background adding the beauty of the photo. he continued to take candid photos of you. at this point his gallery were full of your photos. a album dedicated for you.
suguru finds your antics adorable. the way your eyes lit up when a shark or a school of fish swims in front of you. it added to your personality and he see you being beautiful and just you. in the middle of this all and for once you were genuinely happy. how can his selfish urges destroy this moment and he thinks it can wait for a later time to act on it. they let you to enjoy yourself and it was worth threatening you for this trip.
you ended up in a isolated part of the aquarium where jellyfishes are glowing brightly in their tanks. a luminescent glow. colors varying to pink, dark blue and purple. their tentacles moving in slow motion and it was like they were hypnotizing you. realizing where you are you turn around and you see them behind you.
they were checking the place and guarding you. afraid that you'll leave them. you know the drill when they did something good for once to you. there's an exchange for their kindness and you decided to give it now. a way that they will let you easy the next time you will do something wrong in their eyes.
“thank you for bringing me here.” you shyly muttered. you stood in front of them. in your tippy toes you reach for suguru in which he bent his body for you to reach him. you place a chaste kiss in his cheek. “thank you, suguru.” and then you went to gojo also in tippy toes but the latter have something in mind. he grabs you by the waist and he pulls you for a kiss. his lips hungrily claiming your own. you opened your mouth voluntarily knowing how he likes it when he's kissing you like this and he didn't hesitate to put his tongue inside your mouth. his wet muscle moving in circles and his grip on you tightens.
when he was done suguru had done the same to you. wanting a taste of yours in his own. you were glad for being in the deserted part of the aquarium. no one's here to see you being like this. when they're this gentle to you, you pretend they were kind and were your lovers but they're not. they're your bullies who back in the university, in the campus where they do as they pleased to you even when you're crying, squirming, begging for them to stop. you were just playing along for them. to avoid being punished for fighting back. they weren't exactly who tolerates but abuses it.
when they were both satisfied to you. satoru positions his phone in front of you three. a photo he say. he wants a memory of it. to commemorate this day and you oblige. you were in the middle between them. sandwiched by their towering bodies and your force a smile for the picture. cause no matter how this day made you temporarily happy it won't make up for the misery they put you through.
when they decided to go back in the campus. satoru called his driver. a limousine pulling up in front of the aquarium and inside are the shopping bags containing the clothes they purchased for you. you were now seated between them and for once they didn't made any advancement towards you.
your body is tired and you refused to rest. you were with the two and being asleep is where you get violated but the pull is strong. your eyelids are forcing you to close your eyes.
noticing your drowsiness, suguru held your cheek and pulled it to rest in his shoulder. “sleep.” he orders and despite the urge to stay awake you gave up. you will know when you arrived at the campus gate but it didn't. throughout the ride you were asleep and both of them chuckled as you were dead asleep. they did really tire you out and by the time they reach the campus you were still asleep. it was already night time and there would be no students in the campus at this hour. suguru decided he would carry you much as to satoru's displeasure but accepted it. grabbing the shopping bags and they both went your dorm room.
unlocking the door of your room with the spare key in your purse, they both went inside and there's no sign of your roommate which they were glad for. suguru carries you to your bedroom and satoru places the bags in the floor of your room.
geto tucks you in your bed. not bothering to change you out of your dress. you look beautiful on it. they both stayed for an hour. admiring you in your sleep and just touching you. they would have you for tomorrow and they let you rest for today. you were tired and where would be the joy of fucking you if you're tired to take them both.
suguru kisses you in your lips and then to your forehead. covering you with your blanket and satoru did the same. stealing a kiss from you and they left.
what a day. they enjoyed being with you and seeing you clothed in different kind of dresses and they can't wait for you to wear what you've brought them. the money was really nothing for satoru. all he knows is he spent it so well to you. he should splurge on you sometimes.
suguru on the other hand is happy to seeing you enjoying yourself earlier in the aquarium. he didn't felt this being genuinely happy for so long and he was okay with it. not wondering where this random burst of happiness came from.
the money and influence they have is nothing when they see you smiling earlier and maybe they did it cause they were a little bit of guilty for being so rough to you the other day but for now it was nothing. they were all about making amends. well, it's not really making amends knowing it's nothing for the things they put you through. they know they were forgiven for what they did to you and they're about to commit again.
what about it? you can do the same thing again and again if you have the money and influence. there's nothing to really sweat about it. really.
#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x chubby reader#jjk smut#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo smut#jjk gojo#geto suguru x reader#geto x reader#jjk geto#geto suguru#gojo x reader x geto#x reader#anime smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x chubby reader
181 notes
·
View notes
Note
CAN YOU PLEASE DO SOMETHING WITH OLDER BROTHER DAMIAN WAHNE?? LIKE 11 ISH YEAR OLD READER?? Reader is also an ex child weapon. Just a silent cutie pie. I just wanna see Damian spoiling them. Or something with like reader not following his orders and telling Damian to go away and does reckless stuff that Damian did when he was younger and his older siblings are just laughing at the irony
Brotherly Love
⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤
Note: Sorry again for the wait! but two in one day woo.
Warnings: Just fluffy
Word Count: 800.
ALSO THIS IS MY 100TH FIC 🎉🎉
⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧
⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤
“If you walk out that door I swear to God-” Damian curses as you slink out of the door of the batcave. He had explicitly told you that he didn’t want you going on this mission because he had deemed it ‘too dangerous’ as soon as Bruce gave the details. For a boy who claimed he ‘didn’t give a shit’ he was rather protective. Of course, being the highly trained, and rather confident 11 year old you are (which basically meant you were an adult) you had decided that you weren’t going to listen to him. With a sly smirk, you slipped out of the door. “God dammit!”
Damian kicks the wheely chair beside him. It slides across the room. And then there’s laughter.
It was Jason, geared up in his suit, minus the signature hood. He was leaning against the wall, an amused smirk on his face.
“Finally getting a taste of your own medicine, huh Demon Spawn?”
“What?” Damian half snapped, his temper wearing thin as he spun around to face his brother.
This made Jason’s grin widen. “Don’t act as if you weren’t exactly the same.”
Damian glowered. “That’s different.”
Jason just raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”
“....shut up. Where are you going anyway?” Damian nods towards Jason’s suit.
“Someone has to go and get them. And it certainly won't be you.”
~
“Hi Dami.” You smiled as you sat yourself beside him on the couch. He was still in a grump, grumbling about your excursion. Jason had gone to find you, but instead of bringing you home, he let you finish the mission. This royally pissed Damian off, and he was almost 100% certain that Jason had done it just to spite him. But as much as he wanted to, Damian just couldn’t stay mad at you. Especially when you looked up at him with those bright and mischievous eyes. You very much reminded your other siblings of Damian when he was your age. Though of course, now he would claim he was all grown up and always has been. And, even though Damian wished he could keep holding his grudge against you, his face couldn't help but melt.
“Hey, kiddo.” he greeted, looking down at you curiously.
“What are you doing?” You ask. You had always been fond of your older brothers, but you had an especially soft spot for Damian, as he did for you.
Damian held up the book that he was half reading, but then gestured to the TV that he kept getting distracted by. “I don’t even know why I bothered trying to be honest.”
“Oh.” You acknowledged before reaching forwards to pick up the video game controllers. You raised an eyebrow and held one out for him to take. He snatched it up and turned it on. Damian was very clearly competitive, however he let you win the first few rounds before he decided he had had enough and wanted to take all of the glory for himself.
At some point, the two of you deemed it time for a break. It didn’t last long, but it gave the two of you long enough to stretch your legs. When you returned, Damian was already back on the couch. On the coffee table he had placed two steaming mugs of hot cocoa, topped with cream and marshmallows. He had also haphazardly placed a bunch of crisps in a bowl and had collected an extensive array of snacks that he had chucked onto the table too.
You raised an eyebrow, looking curiously at him.
“What?”
“You got snacks.”
“Yeah….well you looked hungry.”
Your face melted at Damian’s tenderness. Damian rolled his eyes as you took a sip of the hot chocolate, getting whipped cream on your face. He chuckled and gestured for you to wipe it away. You grinned up at him again.
“Thank you, Dami.” you beamed, nudging his side affectionately.
“Yeah, well. Don’t get used to it.” He grumbled, unable to hide the sliver of a smile creeping up onto his face.
The two of you eventually fall asleep, still in front of the TV and half gripping the controllers as the game idles on without you. It’s Dick who pokes his head around the door to see what the noise is. He is surprised to see you with your head on Damian’s shoulder as the two of you snooze. With a soft smile, he turns off the TV and places a blanket over the two of you. But not before snapping a quick picture of the two of you which he would definitely use to wind up Damian some point in the not too distant future.
⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤
BATFAM TAGS
@hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff @alicedawitchbish
⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤
#batfam x reader#batfamily x reader#batfamily x sister reader#batfamily x brother reader#damian wayne#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne x sister reader#damian wayne x brother reader#batfam x sibling reader#damian wayne x little sister reader#robin#robin x reader#jason todd#jason todd x reader#red hood#red hood x reader#dick grayson#dick grayson x reader#nightwing#nightwing x reader#tim drake#red robin#dc#dc x reader#fluff
120 notes
·
View notes
Text
Leg Day
Pairing: Art Donaldson x Female Powerlifter!Reader
Summary: You first catch Art Donaldson's eye in the university gym when all you want to do is hit back and biceps before class, the tennis player finds himself quite caught in your physique.
Warnings: foul language, smut, oral (f receiving), Art eats pussy and likes your thighs a whole lot. Reader is described as muscular. One line describes reader as not looking like Tashi in terms of physique.
Word Count: 1k
Author's note: Forcing myself to get back into writing at the same time im forcing myself to get back to the gym :') take this lil ficlet as a sign of my love for those who still follow me on here lmaoo.
Art adored your thighs.
You didn’t look like Tashi. Not that there was anything wrong with that in his mind, of course. But the physiques differed greatly. The star tennis player of Stanford had a lean build from her years of training and perfecting her sport. Long legs that covered the court in smooth strides and toned arms that delivered a vicious backhand.
The same body he and Patrick had nearly shared that one fateful night in a dingey hotel room when they should have been sleeping before their match in the morning. The same body he had found his gaze lingering on a touch too long to be appropriate for his best friend's girlfriend.
And the same body you called him out for drooling over in the campus gym when all you wanted to do was a simple arm workout before your 10 am.
“So are you actually going to use the bench or are you just gonna sit on it and stare at her like a fucking creep for another twenty minutes?”
You were not Tashi Duncan.
Strong arms crossed over one another as you waited for him to either say something or move, neither of which his brain could comprehend as you stood before him expectantly. A powerful, if not a tad intimidating physique supported by thick, muscular quads built from years of lifting heavy in sweat-filled weight rooms since you were a little girl that grew tired of soccer.
Then cheer.
Then volleyball.
The gymnastics.
Powerlifting was the one sport that finally stuck.
“It makes me feel strong.” You had explained your love for the sport to him one night. With his head laying in your lap, the textbook he had carried with him to your dorm under the excuse of needing help studying now laid discarded on your floor as he listened to your story. “Seeing how much I can lift, how it feels to finally make a weight you’ve been struggling with for so long. It feels like you’re proving something, you know? Especially when you’re one of the only girls in the weight room.”
Art could feel the testament to your craft under him. The thick corded muscle of your quads beneath his head as your fingers carded through his hair absentmindedly. Legs that were hugged by every pair of shorts you wore or hidden beneath the same pair of Stanford sweatpants whenever you felt a chill in the air. He found himself dreading the coming of winter as the two of you began to spend more time together.
He wasn’t sure when the admiration began to shift into something deeper, slowly turning from one athlete showing respect for another’s commitment to their sport into a hormonal college freshman staring at your ass in spandex shorts each time he bumped into you at the campus gym.
What he did know was that the night he finally found himself between your legs was one he would never forget. How quickly the pair of you shed your clothes in one anothers embrace, turning your room into nothing more than a collection of discarded study packets and kicked off Stanford merch telling the story that Art would no doubt replay in his mind for the entirety of winter break.
The soft smile on your face as he crawled on top of you, pressing fervent kisses to every inch of your body that you would allow him access. How he memorized each microscopic reaction, that a kiss to your neck would make you giggle but turn into a shuddering gasp if he dug his teeth into the skin. How you softened in his arms when he ran his tongue along the scar lining your hip, one he would have to ask you about someday.
But dear God, he could write poetry about your legs.
The feeling of them wrapping around his head while he lapped at your cunt with tentative kitten licks that soon turned into devouring you with a desperation that could no doubt be heard through the walls. Your muscles twitching and trembling from his touch as you cried out his name with an arched back and scrambling hands, desperately trying to reach him until you found purchase in his soft curls, gripping just tight enough to verge on being painful. His own moans mixing with yours, poor bastard getting so lost in giving you pleasure he didn't even realize when he began to grind his hips into your mattress, desperately searching for a release while helping you reach your own.
To hear your voice pitch into an airy whine as your thighs tightened around his head. Tighter and tighter as he pushed you over the edge of your orgasm, hips twitching against his mouth still working away against your dripping cunt in a way that verged on being gluttonous until you pulled him away with a sharp tug on his hair.
In the aftermath, a silence settled over the two of you like a soft blanket. Spit-slicked lips laid feather-light kisses against the still twitching muscles of your thighs, pressing against the blooming bite marks that he knew would just barely peek out from the cuff of your shorts you wore during your morning training sessions. A minuscule stake of claim that he had no business branding you with given that he was too chickenshit to take you out on a real date.
Had you opened your eyes, you’d see that his were already trained on you with a softness you weren’t yet ready to see. Admiring the rise and fall of your chest with a faint smile on his face and the desire to take you out properly. To scrounge up enough money from his bank account after the room & board payments bleed him dry to some small burger shop or maybe the local theater to see you outside of the walls of your dorm or the university gym, wearing something nice and laughing at his jokes before kissing him goodnight. To sit in the stands of his next match as his girlfriend and congratulate him on his win with an overly obnoxious kiss that he would swear was humiliating but made him preen under your praise like a peacock during mating season. To do all of the downright nauseatingly romantic bullshit every nineteen year old boy wanted to do with the girl he was too afraid to actually make a move on.
But not yet.
“Have you ever considered wrestling? You’ve got a killer leg lock.”
#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#art donaldson x female reader#men be like aaaaa i cant be serious with my emotions so im gonna stare deeply into your eyes with so much love its suffocating and#then ill make a silly little joke so you dont see me for who i ammmm#anyways- art donaldson with a muscular bad bitch who lifts heavy send tweet!!#anyways come talk to me about tgis man plsplsplspls
57 notes
·
View notes
Text
In case you're worried about the that last post, Daisy and Faz made up and are now best of friends
#wait what's with the different training tops#why does Daisy's say hyundai and faz's says virgin Australia???#faz are you a#wait no#why is Daisy's several times bigger than his petite frame and faz's is a kids size 8#is this the Annual Carlton Intraclub Hyundai vs Virgin Australia Cup#collingwood do black vs white for practice games and Carlton just battle sponsors against each other#matt Kennedy captaining the virgin Australia team#he picks his team based on how much they adhere to virgin lifestyle#Daisy is on the hyundai team and they do burnouts in the car park in their hyundais#hyundaisy okay I'm sorry#The Hyundai team are the cool players like Daisy and Jack silvagni and Charlie cheesecake and#sam walsh is on virgin Australia because he spends Sunday nights having roast dinner at his sponsor's house#Kennedy picks paddy wow as well because they're housemates
0 notes
Text
It would be hilarious if villains loved Nightwing and were terrified of Officer Dick Grayson.
Dick Grayson- who is used to open spaces and adrenaline- being stuck in a boring bleak office, surviving on shots of coffee and red bull with caffeine that would make Tim concerned.
The thugs soon realised that unlike most of the other cops - Dick was from Gotham.
No one fucks with Gothamites.
Villain *shooting at Dick with machine guns*
Dick *appearing from the shadows behind him*: Boo.
Villain: THIS IS A FIVE STOREY BUILDING HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET HERE
Or
Thief *throwing a counting down bomb at Dick*
Dick: *catching and tossing the bomb at a safe distance before turning round and shooting it so it explodes mid air while running after thief*
Thief: .. what the actual fuck
Dick: Gee look at all that time you had! Shame you threw it away :D
Thief:
Dick: I’m from Gotham
Thief *realising they fucked up* : Please don’t steal my bones
OR
Shooter: *sets elaborate booby traps throughout the houses in an active hostage situation*
Dick *using his training as robin and inhuman flexibility to surpass them with ease*: Ah been a while since I got to have a nice stretch thank you.
Shooter:
Dick:
Shooter:
Dick: .. Hi :)
Shooter: Are you Satan?
AND
In interrogation room
Murderer: I think I’ll take your eyes and add them to my collection
Dick *running on spite and caffeine that could give Superman a sugar rush* : Funny.. I was going to say the same thing to you
Murderer: .. what
Dick: I wouldn’t take your eyes though.. they look like the inspiration behind the whole Medusa’s “look at it and you turn to stone” thing-
Murderer: Hey! Take that back before I gut you
Dick *smile stretching wider without blinking* : oh? Or what? I know everything about you. Who says I can’t kill you and walk out with everyone being none the wiser? I know how to kill someone too..you aren’t special.
Murderer:
Murderer: I’m scared for my safety.
Because the thing is, Nightwing is who Dick really is. It’s who he can be free as, be himself as without red tapes and regulations. Where he can give as good as he gets, and he’s kind and empathetic. He gets to help the downtrodden and goes easy on most of them if they give up right away, not to mention the fact that he never causes permanent damage.
But officer Dick Grayson is a different story. He runs on sleepless nights and no self preservation. Seeing an officer with an uncanny skill set they’re scarily good at, not to mention the cheery attitude he always has scares the shit out of criminals. Cuz no way in hell is a smiling Gothamite not a deranged one. He chases crimes like a bloodhound, and isn’t afraid to make good on threats he makes to ensure they never hurt anyone again.
Bonus if the batfam doesn’t know about this.
Red hood: Shit I can’t believe we ended up in Bludhaven
Red Robin *tying up the corrupt politican* : Since this is a sensitive case, we need someone we can trust to make sure it is seen through.
Red hood: .. So we paying a visit to Officer Grayson?
Politician *screeching* : NO NO NO NO! PLEASE NOT HIM!! JUST KILL ME INSTEAD AND TAKE ALL MY MONEY I CANT DEAL WITH HIM!
Red hood: .. is he fucking serious?
Henchmen: Sir he is. And we agree. Please take our bones and kill us but don’t take us to Officer Grayson.
Red Robin: Wait what did he do?
Henchman 1: He asked boss if the hat was sentient.. and said that if it was would it make that hat the top and boss the bottom.
Henchman 2: Last time we met I tried to shoot him but suddenly my gun was blank and he raised his hand and let the ammo drop
Red Hood: Well even I could do that-
Henchman 2: They were my bullets. I had selected the colour personally.
Red robin *growing concerned*
Henchman 3: He sang a lullaby to a child when we were holding the station hostage, and replaced the people with my family members. He even sang their social security numbers!
Henchman 4: He’s the most dangerous of them all. I ain’t shitting ya when I say he’s as scary as the bat from Gotham.
*all nodding in agreement*
Red hood:
Red Robin:
Red hood: Nah that doesn’t sound like Dick
Red Robin: Agreed. Let’s go there Hood.
*villains’ sobbing intensifies*
#batman#dick grayson#jason todd#red hood#nightwing#tim drake#batfam#red robin#officer dick grayson#batfam headcanons#dick Grayson headcanons#dick grayson police officer
22K notes
·
View notes
Text
nobody knew simon’s name, his cold glances penetrating souls whenever someone on the force even dared to call him by his first name. he preferred it this way. he wasn’t the kind to blend personal life and work, he didn’t want to look at himself in the mirror without his mask and still see a murderer. his hands were clean, protected by the gloves ghost slipped on each time he reached base. it was soon that the other soldiers almost forgot his name, agreeing that their lieutenant was indeed a ghost.
that was until your worried voice called for him.
you didn’t know of the ghost identity, it had never even crossed your mind that your simon, your sweet and caring boyfriend’s personality would switch into a cold blooded killer as soon as he set foot at base or in the field. of course he never mentioned it with you, he sporadically talked about his job and his missions. you knew he was a strict lieutenant, but you had been kept away from more by the person with the skull mask and balaclava.
“simon?” you asked for the third time the receptionist. she apologetically looked up at you and shrugged. “oh cmon, simon riley. i know for a fact that he’s here. please, i need to see him.”
“i’m very sorry miss but…” the woman shook her head again, “let me call the captain.”
you sighed and sat down by the waiting area until a man walked in and talked to the woman.
“who’re you looking for?”
you stood up. “simon. simon riley.”
“ghost?”
you shook your head, almost clueless. “no, simon riley.”
“yeah, that’s him…” he said, “he’s training the recruits now. shall i deliver a message?”
“no, i need to see him personally. i wouldn’t have come all the way here if it wasn’t important, captain.”
you'd seen price a few times, simon's loyalty to the man was almost like a dog's one, always following orders and rarely complaining. he often talked about him when he was at home, all he shared with you about his threatening job was the friends he made along the way: johnny, kyle, price, gary, nikolai. he'd often go out for a pint—or two—with johnny and kyle, who also occasionally would come to your shared apartment for dinner with their temporary girlfriends.
"follow me." price sighed. you eagerly followed him, as close as his shadow, and the courtyard came into sight. dozens and dozens of soldiers in scarlet training uniforms were running laps of the immense open space under the pale sun, and that's when you spotted a tall and muscular man in black tactical gear. hell, he was hard to miss.
"another lap, smith!" his mancunian accent was stronger than his will to neutralise it. "if my gran was alive she'd be faster than ya."
you'd recognised the voice, of course, even if it was much harsher than usual, but you couldn't recognise him.
you realised, that was ghost. his cold eyes were studying each of the recruit's tired and red faces, his arms behind his back as he barked for five more laps for the ones who didn't look sweaty enough. even his voice was different, but what shocked you was the black balaclava with the white skull drawn on top.
you'd seen the mask once or twice over the years, shoved on the bottom of his duffle bag or drying on a windowsill, but you've never given it much thought, why would you?
"si?" you asked, standing directly behind him as price stood a few feet from you.
his head snapped in your direction at a worryingly fast speed, his eyes immediately becoming soft, then confused.
"what're you doin' here?" his voice spoke, much sweeter.
you kept staring at him, not recognising the man you loved.
he immediately grabbed the crown of the balaclava and yanked it off without a second though. holding the black piece of clothing in his hand, both of them came to cup your elbows, drawing you closer to him.
"love?" he called you.
still at loss of words, you reached to the balaclava and twirled it between your fingers.
"love, talk to me." his voice sounded worried.
"ghost?"
he shook his head. "simon, love."
"we'll talk about that at home." you raised your eyebrows, attempting a smile.
he looked at you impatiently, his fingers brushing up and down your forearms.
you fished in your bag a small plastic bag and gave it to him.
this wasn't like one of the times when he'd forget his lunch at home so you'd drop by and give it to johnny so he'd give it to an always so busy simon ghost; he could see it in your eyes that this was something more.
he unwrapped the plastic bag that you had rolled up on itself. his eyes looked brighter than ever when he took with shaky fingers the finally positive pregnancy test.
#simon ghost riley#simon and ghost are two diff people#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost cod
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
Random fic idea
Tim drake but instead of loosing his spleen he lost part of his leg.
Tim thought it was obvious he was missing his right leg from the knee down. It was a whole leg that was missing after all. Sure he was wearing a prosthetic made by Ra's' best people.
One he painfully earned after that crazy fucker made him fight a bunch of his assassins one legged in order to "proof himself as the true heir of the bat he saw in him" or something. So sure, the leg might be more advanced than most, and it imitated natural steps a lot easier and even made it possible to easily run without switching to a different leg. Truly it was a perfect leg be vigilante with. But he never even bothered to give it human like appearances.
But apparently the Fam didn't notice. When he returned with Bruce everyone was too reliefed to give Tim a closer look and it just never came up afterwards.
Tim thought they just didn't want to ask about it in a weird attempt of being polite or even caring. Bruce surely did enough research on how it happened on his own. The man spend the whole travel back to Gotham with Tim after all. Tim truly believed the world's greatest detective would have noticed his missing leg.
Except he didn't. Not if he interpreted the way they looked so incredibly disturbed by is nonchalant way of handlinh the boiling hot chemicals that landed on his metal leg. He just brushed it off, the battle continued and since nothing seemed to be injured no one pressed him when he said "Must've missed me after all"
Now, how do you deal with a family that didn't notice you're missing a leg? That's right you fuck with them.
First thing he did was buy himself a few more realistic looking prosthetic leg. It had to be custom made to fit his stump so it took a whole but it was a worthwhile investment.
The first one was Jason. Call it a twisted revenge for trying to kill him but Tim just really wanted him to be messed with the most. So one day when he knew it was only Jason and him on patrol he strategically set himself down to fall. Crunching some spaghettis to ass in a sickening way only to stand up and walk away as if nothing ever happened.... With his foot toned the wrong way around. Insisting on nothing being wrong and Jason being delusional whenever the older boy tried to get him to get medical treatment. He switched it up the whole evening, whenever he was out of sight he turned the fool right and wrong. Driving the guy insane.
Jason did not sleep well that night. He was also top weirded out and unsure if what he saw was real to talk about it with anyone else.
Then, he challenged dick to a flexibility contest seeing how far they han bend their knees and feet. Even Mr bones are a social construct gymnast Richard Grayson looked horrified as Tim stood there, food bend almost in half, knee twisted to the impossible and what looked lihe a bend in the middle of his leg. Dick claimed cheating except the thing that greeted him when he demanded Tim to puch up his pant leg to expose his trick was a normal looking leg. The first Robin did lots of stretches in the following weeks. His pride was hurt after all.
Finding a way to mess with Damian was a bit more difficult. The brat still made a bunch of harsh comments again and again and he really wasn't close enough with Tim to be easily gaslit. The kid was a trained assassin and was probably used to a bunch of weird shit considering everything Ra's. So Tim decided he could go a bit more gory on Robin than the others. So one night he sat in front of Damians room, in the dark hallway and waited till one of his pets passed him. Once Alfred the Cat came along he made some louder coping noise that would Definetly make the kid look out to check on his animals. It worked just as planned, Damian peeked out his door to see Tim, crosslegged and barefoot on the floor, seemingly cutting off his toe to feed the cat. In reality it was nothing more than a cat treat and carefully picked, animal safe food coloring.
The kid scremed at him, threatened to stab him, punched him real good for harming his cat and took off with said cat to find Alfred so the older man could check on the poor kitten. Of course not beforeaking sure Tim was in an adequate amount of pain on the floor, with his 'injured' food secured to the floor with another knife. Only to return with a worried Alfred on tow to see Tim, standing two whole bare feet with a confused expression and a bag of cat treats in the hall.
Tim got a broken nose for it but it surely was worth it. Especially once he quietly whispered a 'no one will ever belief you' to the kid in passing. He might have traumatised the boy a little but Tim fought it justified for all the attempted murder he suffered.
#batman#batfam#tim drake#red robin#fic drabble#dick grayson#jason todd#damian wayne#crack fic#fanfiction#fic draft#brain fart
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧��: sugar daddy!Ari Levinson x naive!reader
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: sugar daddy Ari, age gap, smutt, daddy!kink, ab riding, dirty talk.
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your sugar daddy decides to dress you up in a costume of his choice for Halloween.
𝐀/𝐍: Random spontaneous Halloween "drabble" that is 3.8k words long lol. Inspired by the hottest daddy of them all, Ari Levinson, and his gorgeous abs. Hence the gif. Enjoy! And Happy Halloween, despite the fact that this drabble is not spooky at all.
“Twirl for me again, princess.”
Ari leans back against the headboard of his king-sized bed, his blue eyes dark as navy as he brings his glass of scotch up to his lips and takes a sip. His gaze is stuck on you as he lounges relaxedly, still dressed in his suit from work. Well, you’d taken his jacket off and loosened his tie for him before he’d patted you on your bum and sent you to your dressing room to try on the new costume he’d got for you.
You’d only been seeing Ari for two months. And by “seeing” you meant you’d only been his sugar baby for about two months, when you’d met him at the cocktail bar where you worked as a waitress. He’d come by one night with a bunch of his colleagues (all of them in expensive suits, clearly extremely wealthy). That notion had been confirmed when he’d pressed a few hundred-dollar bills into your hand at the end of the night, his eyes looking at you expectantly as if he knew you’d give him your number.
You had, of course. What followed was two months filled with expensive gifts, a hefty weekly allowance, a new designer wardrobe, glittering jewels and some incredible sex to top it all off. You’d gotten to know Ari in many different ways these past sixty days. But what you didn’t know he was so big on Halloween.
Your “costume” was for Ari’s eyes only, as he’d warningly told you when he’d handed you the shopping bag. And there was no way you could’ve worn it anywhere else: the baby pink satin negligee barely reached mid-thigh, but it was so breathtakingly pretty, so dainty with the lacy white trim and matching satin white gloves. The back was almost completely exposed, showcasing the pretty pink lace panties you had on underneath (with a heart-shaped cut-out that exposed your bum). A sparkly tiara on your head completed the look.
He'd dressed you as his little princess.
“How come you don’t have a costume, Ari?” You ask as you twirl around for him slowly, trying not to topple over in the expensive white pumps he’d also made you wear.
Ari licks his lips, beckoning you closer with just a look. He’d trained you well in the two months he’d had you, moulding you into his perfect angel who leapt at his slightest command. It was easy, since you were so cute and innocent, and so happy to please him. All he had to do was look at you a certain way and you’d jump to obey him. He watches you closely now, looking so precious and hot in your little princess costume (or lingerie, rather) and your lips part as you eagerly move closer to him, almost tripping in your heels to do so.
He chuckles, “I’m too old to be dressing up for Halloween, sweetheart.”
You pout, “You’re not old, Ari! You’re just perfect!”
He can’t help but smile at your cuteness and naivety; he really had plucked up the prettiest and most innocent little girl with a heart of pure gold.
“That’s real sweet of you, baby. Now turn around and bend over for me so I can see that cute baby ass.” He takes another sip of his scotch. You’d made him his favourite drink the moment he’d walked into his penthouse apartment where you’d been waiting for him like the delectable little treat you were – sweeter than any Halloween candy, and he could ravage you forever without ever feeling sick.
You giggle, feeling slightly rebellious. You’d had a few sips of wine before he’d come home, your anticipations running high whilst you waited impatiently for him. He was like a drug to you, with his rugged good looks and muscular body and charming smile. You were also incredibly attracted to the power he wielded; Ari owned and was the CEO of multiple companies across the globe, and for the life of you, you couldn’t imagine how he’d ever decided to ask for your number that one fateful night two months ago.
“But Ari, since I’m a princess tonight, that means I’m royalty. Which means I don’t have to follow anyone’s orders but my own, right?” You smile triumphantly.
Ari looks infinitely amused as he runs his hand through his unruly hair, his other hand inching down to palm his clothed crotch.
“Little princesses like you still have to take orders from their daddy,” he informs you, a smirk playing on his lips as he watches you teeter in your high heels. “Which, by the way, is what you should be addressing me as. You call me Ari one more time and I’ll take you over my knee. I don’t care if it’s Halloween.”
You pout harder, looking so extra cute that Ari has to pace himself from reaching over and grabbing you right then and there. He’s waited to dress you up in this costume for a while now, though, and he knows he needs to savour it.
“That’s a good little princess,” he murmurs in approval once you turn around and bend over, giving him the perfect view of your cute ass. “Look at those pretty little princess panties, hugging that cute baby ass. You like your panties, baby?”
“Y-Yeah,” you pant, and he knows you’re turned on by his words. “Thank you, daddy, I really like them.”
“You like being my little princess?”
“Yes, daddy. Wanna be your princess forever.”
Ari can’t help but crack a smile at how cute you are, and when you say things like that, he just wants to gather you in his arms and plant a thousand kisses to your face, cuddle with you and buy you whatever you please. But he has to keep a strong resolve tonight, because he’s been waiting for an opportunity to ravage you in your princess costume for ages now, and he’s been working overtime at the office and he knows he deserves this.
“Daddy? Can I stop bending over now? It’s startin’ to hurt.”
Ari swirls his glass of scotch around absentmindedly, a wicked look crossing his face, “Soon, baby. First, I want you to spank yourself.”
You gasp, and then there’s a pause.
“M-Me? Spank myself?”
“You heard me, baby. I won’t repeat myself.”
You reach back gingerly, squeezing your eyes shut because you’ve got your back to him and you know he can’t see (usually, he always demands you keep your eyes open). You give your behind a tentative little slap, feeling embarrassed to say the least.
“Harder, sweetheart. How can you be a princess if you don’t have a firm hand?” You can hear the smugness in his voice, and it just turns you on more. You know your new princess panties are soaked through, and you wonder if he can tell.
“B-But I don’t wanna have a firm hand,” you whimper, already feeling very submissive. You like it when he spanks you (although it hurts but it hurts so good). But you spanking yourself? It’s embarrassing. It turns you on because you’re doing it for him, but it’s still embarrassing.
“Are you talking back to me, baby?” Ari’s eyes are hooded with lust as he openly palms his dick.
“Sorry, daddy,” you bite your lip before giving your ass another slap – harder this time. And Ari exhales slowly as he watches your ass jiggle cutely, and he commands you to hit yourself again, to not stop until he says so. And he watches you spank yourself, turned on beyond belief at your complete submission.
“Fuck, you have such a cute ass, baby. Squeeze it for me.” He orders you, voice gruff and strained because of how horny he is.
You obey, squeezing the soft flesh through your barely-there panties. Ari’s fingers itch to touch you himself, make you mewl with pleasure just with his touch the way only he could. Because he’s the only one who’s ever touched you like that, who ever would touch you like that. You were his baby, his little princess and he’d take care of you forever.
“Stop. Now come here.”
You swallow, straightening up to walk over to him, except he stops you again by just a look.
“No, baby. On your knees. Daddy wants you to crawl.”
You decide to test your luck one last time, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes, “But daddy, I’m supposed to be a princess and not a kitten. And princesses don’t crawl.”
Ari rolls his eyes, “You’ll do as I say. Baby princesses like you still need to obey their daddy because you’re not in charge, got that?”
“Y-Yeah, I got it.” You sink down to your knees and slink over to him, making sure to sway your hips as you crawl because you know he loves that. And you love how he looks at you darkly, his eyes so blown out with lust and want. As if he’s restraining himself from just grabbing you and fucking you. Because you know how virile he is, how high his sex drive is.
“That’s my good little girl,” he coos, making you feel all special. You stop at the foot of the bed and he reaches down, petting the top of your head, stroking your hair like you’re some kind of pet. Your sparkly tiara falls lopsided, but manages to stay on your head. But you like how he strokes you, you like how affectionate it feels, and so you nuzzle up into his palm, wanting him to stroke you some more.
Instead, he grabs a handful of your hair and yanks you up, manhandling you as if you’re his little baby, till he’s got you nestled on top of him, and you can feel his hard dick underneath you. A wicked look in his eye, he straightens your tiara before patting your cheek condescendingly.
“How’re you enjoying Halloween so far, princess?”
You mull over it, trying not to focus on his hard dick directly underneath your butt. “It’s nice. This is the first time in a few years that I’ve stayed in for Halloween, instead of going to a party.”
This was true, since being at college for the past two years meant that you always went out on Halloween.
“Oh yeah? You’d rather be at a frat party right now?” Ari’s hands land on your hips, grinding you down against his dick so that you’re effectively dry humping him. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head, and you made grabby hands at him but he holds you at bay.
“No, no, no!” You answer desperately, trying to lean forward to kiss him but he holds you in place firmly, “Would much rather be with you, daddy. I love you so much.”
Ari can feel his heart melting fast. You’re just so delectable and cute, blinking up at him with those gorgeous eyes of yours. And it had been so easy for you to fall in love with him, you’d told him so only two weeks into your whirlwind romance. He’d taken you out on his private yacht, and he’d bought you the prettiest sailor outfit, and you’d clung to him because you were scared you might fall overboard because of how clumsy you were.
But you’d looked so pretty as the salty sea air rushed over your face, and how you just wouldn’t let go of his hand. You couldn’t stop smiling either, and when he’d kissed you on the deck, holding you firm against the railing as the sun set into the ocean behind you, that’s when you’d whispered it breathlessly against his lips. Like you couldn’t keep it in any longer: I love you.
You’d tried to tug away from him after that, embarrassed at how you’d let your inner feelings slip out so soon into your relationship with him. But you couldn’t help it, he just made you feel so safe, so alive, so wonderful, so you. You’d tried to make a hasty exit, making up an excuse that you had to make a phone call, and praying he hadn’t heard you whisper those three forbidden words…
But Ari had heard you, and his heart had swelled in a way he never thought it could. He’d entered this relationship with you because he needed someone to take care of, and well, you were so hot the night he’d first seen you. So pretty and innocent and lovely. And then he’d gotten to know you, and you were so lively, and made him feel so youthful, made him feel so powerful and important, made him feel like he had to protect you while you danced around his life and made him laugh and cheered him up the way only you could.
He’d held you tightly against him that night on the yacht, not letting you slip away as he’d cupped your beautiful face in his hands, and he’d told you that he loved you too, more than he’d ever loved anyone else. And the look on your face, that look of utter devotion and awe, like you had stars in your eyes – he wished he could bottle it up inside a jar and keep that look safe forever.
That’s how you’re looking at him now, in your cute little princess lingerie, and your lips are begging to be kissed. Ari can’t stand it any longer, and he grabs you by the back of the neck and pulls you down, pressing his lips on yours in a heady kiss.
“You’ve been waiting for tonight, haven’t you?” He breathes against your lips.
You swallow harshly and nod. Of course you had, the moment he’d texted you this morning telling you to be ready for him at his apartment when he got home. That was obvious code that he was going to ruin you tonight, and the pretty princess costume was just the cherry on top of the cake.
Biting your lip, you shyly untuck his shirt from his pants and lift it up, revealing his toned, hairy abs. God, he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen – with an amazing, buff body that was twice the size of yours. He was bigger than you in every single way possible, and you sigh as your fingers run over the deep ridges of his tanned six pack.
Ari snorts, “Like what you see, princess?”
“Uh huh. You’re so hot.” You blurt out.
“Thank you, baby. Why don’t you give me your panties?”
The way he so casually redirects the conversation has your cheeks feeling hot and your pussy clenching in anticipation. Taking your panties off while straddling his crotch proves to be difficult, but you’re nimble enough to make it work. The lace is wet with your juices and your cheeks heat up even more as you hand your panties to him.
Ari brings the lacy material up to his nose, sniffing in your pretty scent. God, he wanted to be buried with your scent if it was possible. He can’t help but find the gusset, sucking the silk into his mouth and tasting your juices.
“You’re so sweet, princess.” He mutters, before shoving the panties in his pocket.
“I’m all wet, daddy,” you pout, knowing your wetness has seeped over to stain his pants as you sit on top of his crotch.
“Oh yeah?” Ari feigns disinterest, busying himself with another sip of his scotch. “Is your little baby cunt getting needy?”
“Yeah!”
“You want daddy to take care of her? Your little cunt?”
You throb at his words, “Yes, please!”
He makes no move to put his scotch away. “I think I’d rather watch you, princess. You can rub yourself on me to make yourself cum.”
You shudder at how casually he says it, but at the same time bite your lip, “B-But daddy, I feel so empty down there. Need you inside me, pretty please?”
Ari pretends to mull over it, “I don’t know, gorgeous, your baby pussy’s awfully tight. I don’t think I’d even get a finger in.” (That was true, you were super tight, but he could work you open in a matter of minutes. He always did, after all, but he wants you to work for an orgasm tonight).
You grab his hand and push it between your legs, feeling like you’re about to go into heat by how turned on you are. “Y-You could stretch me open, daddy, I-I don’t mind! Just wanna feel you inside me.”
“Maybe later, sweetie,” Ari murmurs, indulgently brushing your hair off your face and pulling your cheek when you pout. Of course, he definitely intended to fill you up real good, fuck both your holes silly with his cock and his tongue and his fingers. But the night was still young, and right now he wanted a show while he enjoyed his drink. “C’mon, baby, it’s Halloween. Even a princess has to work a little to get her treat.”
He picks you up by your waist, placing you on his hairy abs, which are rock hard just like his cock which is still in the confines of his pants.
You grab on to his shoulders to steady yourself, before you start moving. And oh, it feels absolutely heavenly, your quivering pussy rubbing against his hard abs, the hair on his torso catching against your swollen clit and immediately making you moan.
“F-Feels so good, daddy,” you whimper, and it makes Ari smile at how cute you are. How much you love it when he makes you feel good, how you selfishly chase after your own pleasure whenever you can because he knows it’s never felt this good for you before. You don’t have to tell him that he’s the best you’ve ever had – he can see it in your eyes every time.
“Yeah? Is your cute baby cunt getting some relief? You enjoy using your daddy like this?” He mutters lowly, pinching your hip to make you move faster as he takes another sip of his scotch. His cock is incredibly tight still confined to his pants, and he’d have loved for you to grind against his cock instead but he knows he would’ve blown his load because of the friction paired with how hot you look right now.
“You enjoy dressing up like a little princess and giving your daddy a show?” He continues, feeling the beast inside him awaken as you whimper so cutely on top of him. With his fingers gripping your hip tightly, he roughly drags you back and forth over his abs, “That’s right, slutty baby, make a mess all over daddy, you like that, don’t you?”
“Yes!” You cry, getting to that point where everything that leaves your mouth is either a plea or incoherent gibberish and crying. That’s when you get so submissive that there isn’t a single thought in your head, and Ari’s sure he could make you do absolutely anything when you’re in that mindset.
His stomach is wet with your cream, and you’re grinding against him desperately now, and he knows you’ll cum any second because it doesn’t take much to get you to cum. He remembers doing this a lot with you in the early days of the relationship, when he knew for a fact you’d need a lot of prep before you could take his big, fat dick inside your pussy. So he’d made you grind on his torso instead, like how you were doing now, as a sort of practice before the real sex. And it’s like you’d never been pleasured before in your life because you came so quickly, over and over again, squirting all over him and begging for him to put it inside you.
Clearly, nothing had changed in two months.
He downs his scotch before setting the glass aside on his bedside table. Then he licks his lips, hand slipping down between your legs. He spreads your folds and you gasp, rocking your hips faster as you feel more now, your clit rubbing deliciously against his abs.
“C’mon, princess,” he urges, moving you up and down on his abs harder, “make yourself cum, baby, squirt all over daddy like the good little girl I know you can be. Like all good princesses squirt on their daddies. You wanna be a good princess, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do!”
“Say it, then.”
“W-Wanna be a good princess for you, daddy. Wanna be so good!” Your face is glistening with sweat and tears, and you’re working so hard for your release. He knows all he has to do is rub your clit once or twice, or even just press against it and you’d cum. But he wants you to work for it, so he can praise you for it and then reward you for making yourself cum with minimal help from daddy.
“You’re daddy’s sexy little princess,” Ari murmurs lowly, pulling you down by the neck till your face is buried in the crook of his neck, and you bite at his skin and cry and moan his name as he talks, “you’re doing such a good job, baby, rubbing that baby cunt all over daddy’s abs. You’re so good for me, baby, so fucking good and I love you so much. Daddy loves you so much, honey. More than anything in the world.”
You squirt all over his stomach, your sweet cream covering ever ridge and dip of his muscular torso. You cry and cry, like how you often do when you’re overwhelmed when orgasming, grabbing at his face and kissing him, and he kisses you back fervently, allowing you to make out with him because he knows how overwhelmed and good you feel.
“That’s such a good girl,” he praises you, rubbing your back as you quiver in his arms, and he can feel your pussy quivering too, “such a good fucking girl, you worked so hard, baby and I’m so proud of you.”
“L-Love you so much, daddy,” you whimper pitifully, your poor tiara finally falling off your head, and Ari wants to chuckle at how spent you look, how exhausted you look from rubbing your pussy on him for a couple of minutes. He reminds himself to get you a bottle of water in a few minutes once you’ve calmed down, because he knows he’ll be keeping you busy for the better part of tonight and he wants you to have the energy for it.
But for now, he’ll let you rest for a few minutes. You snuggle up into his chest, breathing hard as you try to catch your breath. Ari pours himself another scotch, and lights up his cigar, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke out in your direction.
“Happy Halloween, sweetheart,” he grins wickedly, and you lift your head up slightly to offer him a weak smile. “Now put your tiara back on, princess. The night’s not over yet.”
AKSHDSAJGA WHAT DO YOU THINK???? PLEASE LET ME KNOW THIS WAS EXTREMELY SPONTANEOUS AFNKLAGNSKAL I JUST AM OBSESSED WITH SUGAR DADDY ARI AND HIS ABS BYE.
anyways lemme know what you think and pls do reblog and leave any feedback thank you ily
#ari levinson#ari levinson x reader#chris evans#chris evans fanfiction#steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#sugar daddy ari
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
"Shells and Secrets"
Pairing: Show!Luke Castellan x posideion!fem!reader
Summary: you and your best friend luke take your daily walk together but this time its different
Contains: kisses (making out), fluff, swearing, angst
Word Count: 1180
A/N: im back again! And in case you can't tell im obsessed with luke and the beach so here we are!
"Come on Starfish," Luke's voice reaches you before he does, grabbing your arm and dragging you along to the beach. "I don't care that you want to sleep, it's five o'clock in the afternoon you can sleep later."
You mumble your disagreement. Nothing should stand in the way of a girl and her sleep - especially not her needy best friend. Even if she's in love with him. A girl and her sleep should never be separated. A conversation you've had with Luke many times - not the in love part though - that is just for you to keep for yourself.
"I'm going to jump you in the middle of the night," you grumble to him, ignoring the grin that spreads across his face.
"Hmm, a beautiful girl jumping on me sounds pretty damn good," Luke smirks.
"But you're forgetting the best part," you say as your feet hit the sand - you're now on the beach. "The best part is her jumping you with a shiv or smothering you with a pillow."
Luke's grin grows even wider. "Yeah but see I'll fight back so you'll need to be in a place of control and you know what that means? A beautiful girl jumping on me and straddling me."
You fight the urge to blush because he just called you beautiful twice. Ignoring the butterflies in your stomach you take off in a run down the beach. Luke yells after you and starts to chase you.
"You can't escape me, Starfish!" he cries, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you to a stop. You try and wriggle free but end up just tripping over and pulling him down onto the sand.
You're flat on your back and Luke is braced above you, his hands on either side of your head, his mouth inches from your own. The moment freezes between you two and your breaths mingle.
Why isn't he moving? Luke has never shown interest in you before, he's always had girls lining up to date him - sure he's never dated any of them - but he's never looked at you the way he looks at them.
But now, now that he's inches on top of you, his mouth inches away from your own, his dark curls tickling your forehead. He's looking at you in a way he's never looked at anybody.
You clear your throat and that seems to snap the bubble that has surrounded you. Luke clears his own throat and stands up helping you up as well. "You uh, you okay?" he asks.
"Yeah I'm fine!" you smile and start to walk ahead again trying furiously to cover the blush that's spread across your cheeks.
Luke watches you walk ahead with a soft look on his face. He's been desperately in love with you since the day you had accidentally dunked him in water when you were learning to control your powers. You had instantly cracked a joke and quickly apologised when you noticed the way he was staring at you. In that moment all other people had fallen out of Luke's head so he was staring at you for much different reasons than you thought.
Up ahead, you stop to look at a shell and your hair falls in a curtain around your face. Luke stops and watches as you pick the shell up and walk to the water washing it off to get a better look. He smiles at you admiring shells and not worrying about training, or other people just being yourself.
Eventually you sit down on a log, and wait for Luke to catch up to you. "Hurry up you slow shit," you call out to him and he shakes his head jogging over to the log you're sitting on. He sits down next to you and rests his arm- Your arms are touching. Every thought falls out of your head. Your arms are touching after literally lying on top of each other before - whether it's intentional or not it still sends tingles up your arm.
"How are we going to celebrate your new half-brother Starfish?" Luke asks, nudging your shoulder with his own. You hum in thought resting your head on his shoulder, not noticing how he's slowed his breathing down to make you more comfortable.
"Maybe we could dunk him in the ocean, oooh or we could get Annabeth to do something!" you say laughing.
Luke chuckles, his laughter rumbling through you. "I think we could get her on board." You lean further into Luke unconsciously and he basically stills - this you notice.
"Luke?" you pull back and look at him with concern. "What's wrong?"
He starts to mumble under his breath but at your insistent look he clears his throat. "Uh, nothing."
"Luke?"
He avoids your gaze, dropping his head to look at the sand. "Luke?" you say placing a hand on his thigh. He tenses up again so you instantly rip your hand away worried that he's hurt. "Shit sorry, are you hurt." Luke's hand whips out and grabs yours.
"No! Its, its not that," he says as his gaze settles on your mouth. He rubs his thumb in circles on the back of your hand.
"Then what is it?" you say placing a soft hand on his shoulder. "You can tell me y'know? I'm your starfish." You run your hand over his shoulder and up his neck.
Luke seems to ease into your touch. "Luke?" You lean forward hoping he will tell you. Instead he just stares at you with the same look from earlier. Sighing you slip your hand into his hair and run your hands there a few times. "Alright, take your time. I'm here when you're ready to talk." You stand up and let go of his hand walking to the shore letting the waves lap gently at your ankles.
"Y/n," Luke's voice is soft when he stops at your side. You twist to look at him but are met with the soft press of his lips. You pull back stunned and Luke starts to swear.
"Shit sorry, Starfish I- I don't know why I did tha-'' You shut him up by basically launching yourself on him. Your lips smashing onto his own, hungrily kissing his mouth.
It takes Luke a few seconds to realise what's happening and then all at once it's like a leash snaps and he wraps his arms around your waist pulling you impeccably closer. He parts your lips letting his tongue explore your mouth with heartbreaking softness.
Your hands slip into his hair and you stumble backwards tripping over each other's legs until your back hits the sand and once again Luke is on top of you.
You pull back slightly, catching your breath. "Well, that was well said."
Luke smirks and looks at you with such adoration your heart melts. "Right back at you Starfish," he winks and fights the urge to kiss you again, instead a large smile grows on his face.
"We should probably talk about this, hey?" you say grinning back up at him.
"Yeah let's talk..."
#luke castellan x y/n#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x you#luke castellan x fem!reader#pjo fanfic#percy jackson fanfic#percy jackson fic#pjo#fanfiction#fanfic#emma writes ₊˚⊹⋆
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
training wheels.
this is an old draft that i wrote a long time ago, about ellie using the strap on you for the first time. ♡‧₊˚
warnings: strap on sex (r!reciving) , first time , praise kink (for both) , soft and loving dom top!ellie , sub bottom!reader , cock grinding , thumb sucking .
──★ we have to make it clear on the fact that ellie was so unbelievably thrilled, yet so incredibly tentative when she first fucked you with her strap on. she’s been waiting for it, waiting to be the one claiming you from inside. she’s had it sitting snuggly in a box tucked below her bed for a while now, and she’d always eye it, have some sort of stare down with the black box. should she? or should she not? she wondered, but when three of her fingers were scissoring inside of you and you muttered that “please, d- deeper” she knew that fuck it — she should.
──★ so expectably, the first words that came out of her quivering lips when she aligned the silicone shaft with your sopping entrance, were “are you sure? i need to know you want this, please”, and you — being so eager yet so timid, only responded with two fervent nods. clearly, it wasn’t enough for ellie, in fact, it wasn’t enough at all, so her voice got very stern all of a sudden. it was that tone she only uses when she’s commanding someone to do something on patrol, when she’s directing someone on where to go, or showing them how to polish a precious weapon. it carries a deepness to it, raspy, it’s strong and forceful, nothing that falls short of intimidating. it's a different side of ellie, one that you don't know quite as well. “use your words, m’not doing this unless you use them”, and when she notices how you thickly gulp, huffing out a shaky breath from your nose, she soothes you with a delicate kiss on your temple. you whine, that kiss makes you want more. as soft as it may be, it makes you buck your hips inwards and let go of a needy high pitched moan. ellie shushes you with her sweet “i know babe, i know” — and you know that she knows, so why won’t she just put it inside?
──★ perhaps it’s the need to affirm herself that you do want this, or maybe it’s this greed she holds and the yearning to hear you say it. she’s looking deep into your blown out eyes, your dark irises, nods her head twice and waits for your words. meanwhile, whilst she waits, she slides her thumb down to caress just above your clit. she’s circling your skin with a touch to soothe, or perhaps signaling you what she’ll do when it’s inside, she'll never neglect your little button. when you look down, she hums. “words, mhm?” she murmurs. you can tell she’s all tensed up, fighting the urge to just slide it inside because she knows she can, she knows you need it by the way your chest heaves up and down, and by the way there’s a small puddle of slick that formed on the flimsy bedsheet below. moreover, she has prepared you for it, first with her skilled tongue, then with her skilled fingers. “want it, i need…” you whisper, voice airy yet cracking. ellie removes her finger from your pelvis, brings it up to your cheek and caresses softly. “need what, pretty girl, huh? need what?”
──★ truthfully, you don’t really know how to call it, she’s never really referenced it by it’s name, just called it a “thing” you “might need” when she realized how eagerly your hole pulls her fingers inside, and squeezes like she might run away if you don’t. so when you see the deep, dark purple shaft (with two distinct veins on the side) you simply giggle out of inexperience, and a tinge of embarrassment. ellie smirks, looking down at you, then grins with her eyebrows arched up in amusement. “ellie… i dunno, uh, how to call it… i mean —“ and she stops you mid sentence, smacking your lips softly with hers. she chuckles, matches your giggle even, a deep blush appearing on the apples of her cheeks because fuck — what if you laugh, what if you don’t like it, or what if you don’t want to use those dirty words she likes calling her silicone buddy by. “uh… shit babe, it’s, well you can call it…” she stammers, now attempting to stifle her laugh. you look up at her and form a tight line with your lips. your chest’s heaving and stifling giggles because fuck it, she’s cute when she’s embarrassed, and how fucking precious is it that you can laugh with her even in a moment like this. you cunt can ache for her and you can still be silly together and giggle like kids because you trust her and she trusts you.
──★ she buries her face in the crook of your neck, groaning yet giggling and nearly falling on top of you. when her hips slightly buck down, in result of her laughs, the silicone shaft grinds itself up against your slippery slit, and you whine her name so loud her giggles stop like she’s been hit on the face with a rock. now, you can hear her harsh breaths in your ear, loud with anticipation and want, lips resting on the pulse of your neck. she realizes you must fucking love the grinding of it all, so she moves her hips back and forth to grind up against you some more. “uh huh, like that?” she murmurs, and to every whimper she responds with a groan like she can feel it, like she can actually feel your greedy wet lips wrapping around her. she nibbles on your earlobe, making you shiver, and breathes deeply before speaking into your ear. “fuuuuu” she gasps and it’s breathless, like she’s trying to form actual words but they only come out as muffled gibberish. she breathes again, gaining her courage. “my cock… say you want my cock”.
──★ it really is lewd, “her cock” — as if it’s hers, attached to her, as if she can feel it. it makes your tummy tie in knots, makes your throat feel clogged, your breaths come out harsher and bordering on wheezing before you murmur those words. when the mushroom like tip bumps up against your clit, it’s oh so delicious and fuck it — you want, as lewd as may be, you need her cock. “i want your cock, ellie, inside” you cry for her, and she nearly growls in your ear. although it’s bordering on perverted now, she asks you a simple “inside where?”, it makes you hiccup against her skin, and you don’t even realize she’s smiling so bright inside the crook of your neck. she understands that if she eggs you on, you will fucking say it, so she repeats with a raspy; “c'mon, where?”
──★ when it becomes crystal clear to you that unless you voice everything out; she won’t give it to you, and you’re practically clenching in and out over nothing — you whisper “need… ellie, i need it in my pussy, please, please, please” and god, she nearly regrets making you say it because she might burst inside her boxers if you keep begging for it like such a needy girl. she takes a moment to think about it, needy, needy, needy, needy for her, for her cock — needy for her to fuck you, needy for her inside and christ sake you’re begging and she didn’t even ask you to. you’re feeding her ego with every plea, with every quivering breath and you don’t even know it. meanwhile, whilst she’s busy thinking about how to pull back on her goddamn nearing on untouched orgasm, she doesn’t even realize your hand is wrapped around her dick and you’re nearly pushing it inside. when she sees it, she nearly goes cross eyed. she grabs your hand and pushes it up, chasing your eyes with hers. “what are you doing, huh?” she drawls, affirming her dominance with an iron grip on your wrist. you’re actually helpless, caught in the act, wiggling your hips and rolling them upwards. “p-please, ellie!” you beg, and the knots inside ellie’s own stomach feel like they’re tightening more and more they might break like glass. she wraps her own hand around the shaft and nearly pushes the tip in. you wince — and to that ellie shushes. “look at me, jus’ look at me”, and how can you not? she looks so adoring, a squiggly smile on her lips when she realizes the tip damn near slipped from how soaked up you are. the actual noise it makes, moist and sticky, makes ellie whimper out your name. “y’hear that?”, she murmurs and of course you can, in fact it makes you embarrassed but she praises you once more, making the embarrassment nothing but a fleeting little feeling. “sounds so good baby, s’all for me?” — all for her.
──★ she pushes the tip inside, no longer gripping your wrist above your head, intently guiding it to hold her wherever you want. you decide on one hand on her bicep, the other one on the back of her neck. there’s a pinching pain inside of your cunt, but it’s so fucking delicious because it’s her thats creating it — that when you wince it comes out as more of a blissful moan and a gasp. she won’t let you suffer, not for one second more, so she slides her hand down to caress your clit as she pushes more inches in. “mhm, ‘s, ‘so good baby… you’re so good, doin’ so good for me, you got this… yeah? i got you” she’s rambling, searching and scanning your face for any sign of pain or regret, and when she catches that you’re smiling, actually smiling with a tear shedding from your eye, she moans so loud you have to seal her lips with yours or else the whole town of jackson might hear.
──★ the more inches she slides inside, the more ellie lets loose of her gritted teeth. her mouth goes slightly agape, “stay open for me, jus’ like that, fuckyou’resogood” she croons, still circling and toying with your puffy clit from below. your thighs are nothing but trembling and shaking like jelly, body, flesh and brain turning into mushy pink and ellie shaped goo, and the fact that she doesn’t stop with her praising and sweet nothings, repeating how good you are, how brave, and tight — makes your heart flutter inside of your chest. when all of it’s length is finally inside of your gummy walls, she lets it sit there for a few faint moments before she begins thrusting. “just for me, got that? just for me, this is mine, all mine” she murmurs more to herself than to you, but you make sure to affirm her nevertheless. “m’yours, please ‘mo— ‘more”, you’re begging for that sharp friction, for that movement, but ellie needs to treasure this moment so she simply looks down. it’s all inside, it’s her cock that’s inside — claiming you, so she marvels, examines and thoroughly looks at your pussy clenching on her dick like it’s a goddamn work of art. if you squeezed down on her fingers like they might run away, the squeeze you have down on her cock — “god damn” she whispers, might need to take a picture and fucking frame it. finally, she catches your pleading gaze. “gonna move now, babe, c— can i move?”, and you whine, because it’s beginning to feel unfair, so she connects her lips with yours and slides her hot tongue inside. she breaks the kiss, grinning like she won the apocalypse lottery. “mhm, gonna move, gonna give you what you want”
──★ at first, she thrusts agonizingly slow like a snail. moves her hips backwards and doesn’t slam it fully inside, lets the tip hang nearly outside of your entrance and then slowly but deliciously slips it in again. you wail, actually wail for her to go deeper, and it clicks in her head when you scratch her back in a way that makes her hiss. she bottoms out fully, moving backwards and then slides inwards again. she won’t stop looking into your goddamn eyes, then stares into your lips that are now “o” shaped. she’s flushed and she’s biting her bottom lip so hard it might draw blood, but then she asks you “t’feels good?” and doesn’t add that cocky “huh?” that she loves to murmur when her fingers are the ones your cunt is hugging, because she actually needs to know. “mhm, good ellie, you’re so good to me” you praise, which sends ellie into a goddamn frenzy — eyelids fluttering and falling heavy as a deep, throaty chuckle escapes from within. “god fuckin’ damn, how did i even…” then she slams it again, which makes both of you gasp. her right thigh shakes, “fuckin’ get so fuckin’ lucky with you?”, she wont stop cussing, slurring up her words and misplacing her “fucks” and her “fucking”s. the louder your moans get, the braver ellie grows, pumping her cock harder now, milking every thrust and every whimper, “who’s f-f fucking you, hm?” she asks, and her thumb neglects your clit but you don’t even need it anymore since she’s giving it to you so good from within. her digit meets your face, caressing the corner of your lip, which makes you take your tongue out and ellie realizes you want it inside as well. you seem to want everything inside, huh? she thinks. her cock, her fingers, her tongue, her goddamn thumb. she complies out of want, curiosity, how slutty would you look sucking on her finger. admittedly, she’s had dreams about it, about you; bent down on your knees sucking on a popsicle in july, sucking a lollipop as she watches from above. she gazes at your cheeks hollow in as she slides her thumb in and out, but you bite it and she gasps — keep it inside cause you’re about to suck it, then she loses it entirely. “you’re fuckin’ gonna make me fuckin’ cum” she whimpers, she says it like she's scared, like she's surprised or confused because heavens how could it be possible?
──★ knowing that you were about to make her cum untouched makes the coil in your stomach nearly snap. you're prideful now, but your pussy feels like it’s quivering so much you simply don't know and can't grasp on how to be cocky about it like she does. another praise escapes your lips, "love your dick s-s- so so much", and ellie growls, she feels depraved and sick, absolutely pussydrunk and on the verge of a heart attack. her rule, however, is that she cannot under any circumstance come before you do, so she speeds up. grabbing both of your cheeks with her hands, she squeezes them together and coos. "you're gonna cum for me" she commands, so your eyebrows furrow together and your eyes close shut. she's dominating you to the verge of tears, so when ellie tells you to cum, you will do as she says. "g, g- gonna cum, it’s, s'-so much" you warn, absolutely breathless, toes curling inside of your socks.
──★ you could call her delusional or crazy, but when you nearly reach your orgasm, she feels your walls hugging her tightly. fortunately for you, ellie is nothing but talkative. it may be odd, because she’s not much of a blabber mouth, but when she’s inside and you’re being fucked out on her strap, talking you through it is all she seems to wanna do. “can f-feel that little pussy hugging me, fuck, gonna give me a big one? pretty girl? give ellie a big one, c’mon”, she’s relentless with it, fast and chasing her own high, not knowing where to goddamn look — your eyes that scream “i love you” or your pussy that’s begging to be filled up some more, or maybe your lips that are covered with drool. she settles however, on your eyes. you nod profusely, “gonna give it to you… mhm” you hiccup, which ellie deems as nothing but so fuckin’ cute, to the point where she wants to break you in half just to hear that “cuteness” some more. when your eyes roll back to the top of your head, cunt filled to the brim — ellie swears something to herself. she’s gonna fuck you every day. if humanly possible, she would have fucked you all the time. so you give it to her, a real big one, one that leaves you paralyzed, not even moaning — sweet sticky mouth fully agape with a choked up scream of her name. she wants to warn you that she’s about to cum too, but you’re too quick to notice. “cum for me, ellie” you beg in that sweet voice of yours and she cums with a huge , lovey-dovey, cumdrunk smile plastered across on her face.
──★ when you’re done, she cleans you up with a wet towel and kisses you everywhere. then — “i picked up a new book and it has a bunch of pics of cool bugs, y’wanna see?”. you’re fucked and in love.
#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams smut#ellie x reader#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie williams x you#ellie tlou#ellie x yn#ellie williams drabble#ellie williams x fem reader
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
You need a subject for a photography submission, 'the face of sport'. Art offers one up- him. He doesn't know, however, the long-lasting effects one photo can have.
cw; consensual voyeurism, piv sex, f-receiving oral, masturbation, tennis...
Art Donaldson x fem!reader | The Rule of Thirds masterlist | talk to me!
An old tennis racket, two trophies, a signed ball, three pairs of worn shoes he couldn't bear to part with. Art Donaldson sifts through piles of memories with a smile on his face. Tashi would call it junk and insist Art gave up on what he does not use anymore if she knew it was here, hidden in boxes labelled ‘LINEN’ in the basement where the dust collects dust.
His old pair of lucky socks, an empty bottle of sunscreen, a drive-in ticket to Fast and The Furious, another old tennis racket, his last ever report card from school. Art has to take a moment to stretch his back out, being hunched over a box of old things doesn't work for long periods of time when your posture is everything. He isn't so sure what he's looking for under the dim light of a bulb that needs to be changed: a piece of himself, if he were ever that pensive.
A box of condoms with only one left inside, a toy race car he found on the side of the road after losing a match, three different lighters. The blond has a match the next day and a sore shoulder to boot- with a grimace, he pushes his hair out of his eyes. The basement feels cold and stale and Art doesn't quite know why he prefers being down here than lounging in the wide expanse of his multi-million dollar home. Tashi will be back soon and aching to go and train— maybe it's just a moment alone that Art is after.
Art throws an old neck pillow on the ground beside him and coughs at the dust it kicks up. He knows he should go back upstairs and forget about a life gone by, but when Art peers into what he thinks is a now-empty box, his eyes widen. A camera bag sits abandoned at the bottom of the box, a ribbon that was once tied around the handle lays discarded next to the bag, frayed at the edges.
Art Donaldson feels like an infidel, an apostate, as he reaches in and picks up the bag. It's smooth against his fingertips, the zip cold from its neglect, though the bag is in good condition in spite of a half decade's worth of dust and the constant use of it beforehand. It smells like something old and sweet, and Art feels perverted for even remembering a time of such struggle when his life now is so easy. The feeling makes his breath catch, and he holds the bag to his chest like it'll give him strength- the idolater that he is.
He's seen many cameras in his life, but the one inside is what he remembers most fondly, it's an old Canon with a scratched lens. Though Art is no religious man, this is an occasion that warrants a little extra faith and he thanks whoever listened for blessing his hands with the volition to dig into his past. Also in the bag is a set of printed polaroids held together with a worn elastic hair tie, though Art discards them for the moment in fear of recalling too much.
He takes the camera in both hands and turns it on, half expecting a dead battery symbol to greet his piqued attention, but instead, the screen lights up and he's looking at his spacious basement through a camera that's seen more than it should. He aims the camera into the box mislabelled 'LINEN' and snaps a photo of the white ribbon lying at the bottom. He smiles, presses a button on the camera, and waits as it loads the picture onto the display.
"Not too shabby," he hums to himself, though falls silent again when his finger hovers over the PREVIOUS button, and Art Donaldson falls victim to the sin of nostalgia.
He presses the button and is immediately assaulted with a flash into the past that burns a hole right through his stomach. There he stands, spry and grinning like an idiot with a lollipop stick between his teeth, his arms draped around Patrick Zweig, who is sticking up bunny ears on top of his head. They look happier than ever, bound by a friendship they had thought to be unbreakable. Art can't bear the sight, he presses the button again and feels nauseous.
It's the same scene, the same lollipop stick between his teeth, the same eye-slanting grin across his face. But rather than Patrick Zweig by his side, someone else hangs off his arm...
The door upstairs slams- Tashi's home. The basement ceiling shakes with the rattle of the door, and Art jumps when his wife, his wife, calls into the house for him.
"Art?"
He drops the camera, and the damned thing breaks as it hits the concrete flooring. His heart pounds in his chest as he scrambles for the shattered pieces, eyes glued on the now-dull display screen.
"Art, come on." Tashi's voice is loud enough for Art to catch as she walks through their first floor. "I want to get an hour in before we leave."
Art looks from the camera to the stairs, and then to the set of polaroids he had left unlooked at. And like a dog biting his own tail despite the pain of his own teeth, Art shoves the polaroids into his back pocket and straightens up.
“Coming, babe!”
SIX YEARS EARLIER
“If you hit my camera with that ball, I’ll never forgive you.”
Art grins, “What, you don’t trust my aim?”
You stand to the side of the court, eyes squinted in opposition to the sun as you watch Art Donaldson take a tennis racket from his bag and stretch out his shoulders. You don’t know him, not really, but you’ll vouch on any given day that the man has nice hands.
You manage yourself as he pulls a tennis ball from his pocket and hits it against the floor a few times before catching it and looking up at you, hands on hips.
“So, I just hit the ball a few times?”
You nod, “and look good doing it.”
Art snorts out a peal of sweet laughter that has you grinning in response, though when you take your camera from its bag, you’re struck with an issue.
“Hey, can I put my camera bag with your things? I really don’t want to lose it.”
Art looks from you to the bag you hold, a black camera bag with a white ribbon tied dutifully around the handle, he nods and gestures over to his belongings that sit to the side of the court, but can't help his curiosity. "What's the ribbon for?"
"So I know it's mine, everyone in my photography class opted for the same bag," you shrug. "Plus, it's pretty."
Art lets out a hearty laugh and readies himself with a few more stretches as you situation yourself, checking settings and exposure and the such. He doesn't want to distract you, but the silence between you is heavy and awkward. He wishes desperately to fill it, but words of much grandiosity fail to find their way out of his mouth.
"So, you like photography?"
You giggle at his attempt and squint up at him. "You could say that. It's a bit of an entry-level requirement for being a photographer, you know... liking it."
He laughs again, leaning back on his heels to admire the care you take with the camera, fiddling with the settings. He doesn't know you, not really, but he'll vouch on any given day that you have nice hands.
Art's tennis coach is in the midst of a hot work-fling with a professor who happens to head the photography club. She had a student lost on a subject for the 'faces of sport' submission, and Art's coach put his name forward. And here you are, now one of many who have watched him through a camera lens. He had seen you around campus on occasion, taken note of you talking to a friend of a friend- he'd have introduced himself if Patrick wasn't always dragging him away for a drink or four.
Now though, sober and grounded in his element: the court, Art can't help but let his eyes train on you a moment too long. He wonders what you see through the camera lens- a tennis player or a peer?
"Ready?" You're looking up at him with an encouraging smile and he feels his cheeks burn under your gaze as you snap a picture of him as he stands unassumingly.
"I did not say I was ready," Art points an accusing finger at you, but replaces his butthurt tone with a smile and readies himself to hit a few balls. "But I am. Now, at least."
You laugh, and Art finds himself wanting to hear it every day for the rest of his natural life. He smiles at the sound, a toothy grin he'd usually only flash when drunk or ecstatic.
You take another picture, and one more when he frowns at your antics. "You said you were ready," you shrug.
Art serves a few times, getting into his element as you photograph him. The click of your camera becomes background noise as Art works with his mind's eye and body's memory, making precise adjustments and hitting perfectly every single time. He gets into a sweet rhythm, serve after serve as he hits the balls to an empty other half of the court. You watch his form through the camera, taking each shot as they present themselves to you. All he does is play tennis, yet you find yourself eyeing something breathtaking. He's beautiful, like a piece of art with skill unmatched, but it's not his form that piques your interest: it's the look in his eyes. Focused, intent— in love. He adores what he does, the narcotic feeling it gives him, and you find you adore watching it flood his system.
Though your perfect shot, your submission picture, comes as an idea.
"Okay," your voice breaks Art's reverie, and he stops mid-serve to look at you. "I have what I need."
Art's brows furrow, "that's all?"
His arms fall to his sides, tennis ball dropping by his feet as his racket hangs loosely from his grip. He's sweaty, hair damp and sticking to his forehead. Though he hasn't done much, you blame the sun and thank it in the same regard: he looks good.
"Just one more thing," you hum, raising your camera one last time. "Smile like you did before."
"What?"
"Just do it, Art."
He likes the sound of his name on your lips and obliges without further question. There he stands like a boy on his first day of school, arms by his side, racket hanging from his grip, sweaty and squinting under the bleating sun with a wide grin plastered on his face.
And you take the photo, him to the left of the shot as an empty court fills the rest of the frame. Remnants of that elated look still shine in his eyes, you've caught the afterglow.
"That's the one," you practically jump up and down at the picture staring back at you on the display.
Art makes a face. "What? I wasn't even playing."
You have to look from camera-Art to real-life-Art to catch his frown. You smile in response and walk pointedly over to the blond so you can practically shove your camera in his face.
"Look," you offer, feeling the extra heat of his body against you when he looks over your shoulder to gaze at the camera screen. You click through photos of him playing, all basic pictures he's seen a hundred times with a hundred different players. "That's the game, hitting a ball with a racket. You look good, you're focused, in touch with yourself, that's great. But this..." you click forward until you find your latest image, the one of him smiling, "...this is the afterglow, the dopamine rush, the actual game, the face of sport."
Art is quiet. He stares at himself, his own smile. A moment passes, and then another, and you're beginning to think he doesn't see the vision when he finally breaks the silence.
"Have you ever played tennis?" His voice is barely there, loud enough for you to hear as he leans down a little, right next to your ear.
You shake your head, you know he can see it, his breath is hot on your neck.
Art stands upright. "You should let me teach you. It's a good skill to have."
You turn and look up at him, "anyone can hit a ball with a racket."
He's quick to frown, a dramatic faux hurt etched across his face, "anyone can press a button on a camera."
You're about to defend your sport, ramble about the editing process and exposure settings and moving subjects and the rule of thirds when Art's sour expression loses to his breaking grin, and you catch the hypocrisy as it's about to drip from your tongue.
Before you can reply, however, he cuts you off. "I'll let you use that photo of me... if you let me teach you the basics."
The basics aren’t so basic when you spend most of your time photographing the ball, not trying to hit it. Art is patient, laughing ceremoniously whenever you flinch at the ball as it comes towards you, clapping when you do hit, and offering you pointers when you don’t. Half of the guys at Stanford for sports would have left fifteen minutes ago when you called tennis ‘a game straight from Satan's hole’. Art just laughed.
You wonder if you weren’t in need of a subject for your submission, whether you and Art would have ever crossed paths naturally. You wonder who his friends are, what he does when he’s not playing tennis, if he has other hopes and dreams.
“Your grip is wrong,” Art calls from the other side of the net. “You can hurt your wrist like that.”
You look down at your grip on Art’s racket and sigh—there’s a proper way of doing everything in tennis, you presume. You’re about to try and correct it yourself when Art quite literally jumps over the net to your side, he’s right in front of you in only a second.
“Hi,” he huffs.
“Hi.”
Art gestures something with his hands that you don’t quite get, then takes another step closer to you before freezing. “Oh, can I touch you? To fix your stance, I mean.”
“I thought it was my grip that was wrong.”
“That too.”
You have to laugh at your fuck-ups if you want to avoid looking like an egg. You nod to Art, who moves behind you and gently places his hands on your hips. He guides your body, slender fingers splayed over your waist, into a position that feels unnatural yet somewhat powerful. With a gentle nudge of his foot between your legs, he parts them and pushes one slightly forward.
“That’s good,” his voice hits your ears in waves, and you feel the tingle of goosebumps creep up along your arm. “Now your grip."
Art Donaldson slides his hands down your arms, taking each of your wrists in each of his hands and readjusts your grip on the handle of the racket, one hand above the other.
You stare at the ground, and he clears his throat quietly. “Like this.”
He brings both of his hands down to cup around yours and pulls your arms up as he swings your arms back and forth, the movement fluid. in demonstration of the godforsaken 'proper technique'. Your back is pressed right against his front, his chest flush against your back and the ridges of his stomach brushing against the line of your spine. Your heart races, and though you're sure he hears it, it's drowned out by the pounding of blood throughout your head as you focus on each movement of his hands, on his words, and on his voice.
"There we go," he nods, his mess of blond hair brushing against your neck as he dips his head down, presumably to check your footing. Your body shudders as he whispers, "Good job," and his mouth tickles the shell of your ear before he releases you. The world seems to tilt, no longer relying on Art for balance. You're surprised the racket doesn't fall from your grasp when he steps back, though with the loss of contact, your knees feel weak enough to collapse. As it stands, though, you're still standing, and Art is beaming down at you like he's just taught a puppy a new trick.
"So, what'd you think?" he asks.
You tilt your head in question.
Art smiles wider, "is it easier than pressing a button on a camera?"
"Oh, so you're an asshole," a bemused smile crawls across your lips.
He snorts, "Maybe."
Your laughter dies away as a strange sort of melancholy seeps in. You're suddenly aware of how far apart you two are, the space between your bodies, the lack of physical contact. Art notices, and gives a soft laugh of his own, a lighthearted chuckle that breaks the eerie need to replace the warmth of the sun with the warmth of each other.
"So," Art crosses his arms. "Now you just have to learn how to hit the ball."
"Ha ha ha," you verbalise, straight-lipped and eyebrows furrowed. "Maybe next time, hot shot."
"Next time?" Art's reply is quick. "So you'll let me keep teaching you?"
You smile at him, "No, I was lying to be polite."
It's Art's turn to act unimpressed, but you see him bite back a grin. He lets out a stressed-short laugh that turns into a huff at the end. "You're so funny."
"I know."
"Will you show me the photo once it's printed?"
It takes you a moment to realise he's being serious.
"Huh?" you ask, looking up.
Art's eyes are wide, and he raises an eyebrow. "Can I have your phone number?" he clarifies.
You open your mouth to object, to tell him no- you don't give your number to random boys you've just met, but instead, the corners of your mouth twitch upward and you're suddenly typing your number into Art's phone and saving your name with a smiley face next to it. Art smiles at the gesture and pockets his phone. There's a moment of silence shared between you, an unassuming silence that's more comfortable than it is awkward, but a silence nonetheless.
A silence broken by the loud echoing voice of another boy calling out from the far side of the courts- a brunette with curls that are more defined than Arts, that's the most you can make of him as he calls to the blond by your side, waving his arms above his head and then gesturing to his wrist like he's tapping a watch.
"Oh, shit," Art pulls his phone back out to check the time. "Fuck, sorry, I have to go."
You shrug, smiling. "It's fine, thanks for giving up some of your time."
Art smiles back, thanking you in turn for putting up with his tennis brain, then hurries to grab his things and race away in the direction of his friend. For a few seconds, all you can do is stand there dumbly watching his retreating form until he reaches his friend, who nudges Art and looks over his shoulder at you before the pair of them disappear around the corner leading back towards campus.
It's not until they're out of eyeshot that you turn to grab your camera bag, just to be greeted by an empty space where you had left it. Your heart drops for a moment, the thought of losing your camera a soul-crushing one. You remember, though, tucking it away with Art's stuff for safekeeping. He must have grabbed it in his rush to leave.
You exhale, running a hand over your forehead. Well fuck.
Art Donaldsons dorm room number plays on a loop in your head that night. He had texted you as promised, with a simple ‘I HAVE YOUR CAMERA!’ along with an easy ‘COME TO MY DORM I HAVE BEER’
It had taken him another ten minutes to realise you’d have no clue where his dorm was, and send through his dorm number. You had debated sending him a text back, telling him to meet you tomorrow on campus to hand over the camera, but your submission deadline is the next night and you need time to edit, decide you hate your prospective career as a photographer, and then fall in love with the process all over again.
You roam the halls of the boys' dorms for a few minutes, eyeing door numbers until you find his. Some doors are left ajar, some wide open and sporting odours so bad you curse God for giving you a sense of smell. You finally find Art’s door, and double check the number twice before knocking, despite a tennis ball sticker just above the door handle.
There's a little rustling inside when you knock, but his voice calls out clearly. "Come in!"
When you open the door, you're greeted not by Art Donaldson, but by the blinding flash of your own camera. You blink away the stun to find Art grinning at the display, admiring his handiwork as an amateur photographer. He turns your camera in his hands to show you to yourself, startled and wide-eyed in a half-blurred photo: Art's finger covers a corner of the frame too, it must have been over the lens.
"I think I'm a natural," he bites his tongue cheekily as he hands you your camera back. You check it over, out of habit more than mistrust of Art, and he pushes his door wide open to reveal the dorm room in all its college-student glory. It's not large by any means, but it has everything you could ever possibly want and then some, plus an impressive collection of sports memorabilia from past years and awards displayed in frames on the walls. Your camera bag is sitting on his bed, and Art gestures you towards it with a smile.
"Sorry," he spins around and opens a little cooler sitting on his floor, pulling out two beer cans from inside and offering you one. "I didn't realise I had picked it up. Were you okay without it?"
You take the beer with a 'thanks' and pat the small shoulder bag you wear. You lift the flap open to reveal a little Polaroid camera, an old one you barely use anymore. "Had to pull this off the shelf," you say. "But yeah, it should be good now."
"That's good," Art nods as you pop the top of your beer.
You sit on the edge of his bed while he takes a sip of his beer, staring at you. You notice a slight flush to his cheeks and wonder if he's a few drinks ahead of you. You can't help but laugh, leaning forward as you rest your elbows on your thighs. "Why am I here, Art?"
He frowns, looking down at you from where he stands, leaning against his countertop. "To pick up your camera?"
"You could have met me with it tomorrow. It's..." you glance at the alarm clock beside his bed, "nearly midnight."
He blinks and laughs sheepishly at you, scratching behind his neck. "Yeah, about that... I guess I just wanted to see you again?"
"Oh," you lean back and purse your lips in surprise, glancing from Art and the beautiful nervous look on his face to the beer he holds in a tight grip.
Art laughs softly, "Are you freaked out?"
"No," you shake your head quickly, "I'm not freaked out, Art."
Art chuckles lightly at that, his smile widening as his blush deepens. "Okay," he breathes out before he takes another sip of his beer and moves to sit beside you on the bed. It dips under his weight, almost pulling you closer into him, though he leaves enough space to remain respectable. His eyes seem darker now, more focused, even though his expression remains soft and pleasant. His gaze lingers on your face for a while before he opens his mouth to speak. "You said earlier, on the court, that the photo you took was the real face of sport. You're good, huh?"
"I'd like to think so," you smile fondly, gaze flitting from his lips to his eyes.
"Are you in love with it?"
You hum, "with photography?"
Art's eyes flick up to your eyes. His gaze is intense, not in a scary way, but something more playful and inviting. He nods.
"I love it, sure," you nod, situating yourself to sit more comfortably on Art’s bed. "Are you in love with tennis?"
Art nods, taking a longer drink from his beer. "Yes."
Your brow furrows and you raise an eyebrow. "I didn't know. You seemed pretty nonchalant about the whole 'look at me, I'm a tennis player' thing, actually."
His face splits in a toothy grin. "I'm humble."
You giggle quietly at that, and stare at him for a couple of seconds, studying his face, taking in every little detail. His hair, his eyes, the faintest hint of stubble on his jawline and chin, his smile, and the dimples on each cheek that said smile brings out. There are traces of dark circles underneath his eyes, you realise, and they're highlighted when his pupils expand slightly at your laughter.
You feel warm, and not from the alcohol that sits inside your stomach. The both of you place down your beers, and Art Donaldson, who may well have a girlfriend and dirtied intentions, takes in a deep breath before asking you lowly, "Can I kiss you?"
The word 'please' escapes your lips before you can stop it and the red tint in Art's ears deepens. You bite the insides of your cheeks nervously, waiting for Art to speak again, but he doesn't, and suddenly his hand is at the nape of your neck, tugging you forwards and pressing his lips to yours in a hungry, desperate manner.
As he starts moving slowly, his tongue darts out and traces the curve of your bottom lip as he pulls you further into him, the taste of his beer lingering on his lips making the gesture feel all the more enticing. A hand cups your jaw, slender fingers trailing down your neck in sensual exploration of your exposed body before his other hand rests on the small of your back and he draws you even closer until the heat radiating off himself feels almost unbearable on your skin.
There's no hesitation, no awkward pauses, or second-guessing, you find yourself melting against his body instinctively. A narcotic, he is, the way he smells and tastes and sounds and touches, and there's only so much you can handle before it overwhelms your senses completely. The kiss itself isn't that hot, it's chaste and messy and your teeth click against his in the desperation of it all, but it fills you with something unfamiliar, makes you feel lightheaded and dizzy and yearning wholeheartedly for more. You don't care how little you know him, you don't mind the lack of foreplay; you just feel overwhelmed and need more, you need more than just his lips on yours.
He practically whimpers when you pull back, his hands sliding down to hold onto your hips possessively. Sad eyes meet yours at the loss of your taste, but you brush off his worry easily, running your thumb across his cheekbone as he leans into your touch, breathing in and out heavily through his nose as if you are his only source of breath, and the sight causes a knot to form in your stomach.
"You are single, right?" your kiss-swollen lips whisper against his and you feel him exhale.
"Yes," he speaks against your mouth, a husky sound that makes your heart ache.
"Good."
You kiss him again, more fervently, letting your tongue tangle with his as his arm wraps around you tightly. Before you know it, Art has your back against his mattress and is hovering over you, hands gliding swiftly under your shirt. You aid him in getting it over your head and watch as he follows suit, pulling off his own shirt and tossing it to the floor in dismissal. He slides down his shorts and leaves himself in a pair of blue boxers that you already notice are tenting.
You take a moment, you have to, to appreciate the sculpt of Art’s body—the muscled planes of his chest, the breadth of his shoulders. His face is flushed, hair mussed and unkempt, lips swollen and kissed pink. You want to commit every last inch of this man to memory, keep him locked in the back of your mind in fear of never experiencing this again.
Is this a one-time thing? You lift your hips as Art pulls down your shorts and panties in one go, and you can't help but wonder if this is the first and only time you'll feel his fingertips against the skin of your thighs. When morning comes, and your lust is expelled and tired, will Art turn his shoulder from you? Is this something? Hell, you don't know the guy, not really.
But he presses a gentle kiss to your lower abdomen and you feel safe and comfortable; your heart rate slows as the tension eases and your body sinks further into the mattress, letting Art's hand slip between your legs to part them. "Art…"
A low moan passes your lips as he brushes his fingertips over your clit, they're still cold from holding his beer, and the stark contrast in temperature is enough to make you gasp. Art slides his thumb over the sensitive nub and you arch your back in response. Your hands come to grasp at the sheet beneath you, knuckles whitening from the amount of pressure you're exerting on them. You want more, but you realise quickly that Art is a man for taking his time. Slow, languid circles over your clit, not daring to even push a finger inside of you just yet. You whine and buck your hips against his hand, needing his touch to be deeper.
He presses a kiss to your chest, and then trails his mouth down your stomach, pausing briefly to look up at you before he dips to place a kiss directly to your pulsing clit.
You freeze, and a wave of insecurity washes over you. "You don't have to..."
"I'm dying here," Art's eyes meet yours: he looks starved. "Please let me."
All you can do is nod your head and close your eyes as he delves between your thighs for a taste of your lust. His free hand digs into the flesh of your thigh, grip tight as if he’s dead set on leaving his mark, staking his claim. He’s showering in the way you writhe, his tongue rolling over your clit as he slips two fingers inside of you. He’s high off your taste alone, latching his lips around your clit in an assault fueled by insatiable need.
You can feel him shuffle a little, moving his free hand from your thigh to reach under his own waistband and stroke himself in tandem with the thrust of his fingers inside of you. His pace quickens, though he still manages to savour your pleasure. Your hand snakes down to thread your fingers through his mess of blond hair, pushing your hips up in an attempt for more.
As Art pumps his cock with his hand, he groans against your heated flesh, sending vibrations from your sex to your spine: you arch your back in pleasure, the tightness of an impending orgasm beginning to roll over you. You try to vocalise it, tell Art you’re close, but you’re already a mess of incoherent moans and pleads for more— but he doesn’t need words to know, not when he can feel you clenching around his fingers, your every muscle tensing. His scalp must burn from the stress of your pulling, but he doesn’t seem to mind so much, smiling against your pussy as he finger-fucks you to climax.
With a sharp inhale and a choked sob of a moan from your throat, you come undone under Art’s ministrations, your vision blurred and stomach in knots of ecstasy. It's only once your breath finds you again that Art pulls his fingers out of you and climbs over you once more to press a messy kiss to your lips, he shares with you a taste of yourself, lips glistening with your release. He grins into the kiss, as pussydrunk as can be, and moves to press a sloppy mixture of kisses and bites to your exposed neck.
"You taste so good," he speaks against your skin, nipping at your pulse.
"I want more of you," you exhale, dizzy with lust.
Your legs tighten around his back as he meets your eyes once again, a sultry smile creeping across his face. You snake a hand down to the waistband of his boxers, noting the thin layer of sweat that already glosses Art's torso, and dip a finger under the elastic. "Is this okay?"
"Yeah, please," he murmurs, ducking down to press another kiss to your shoulder. You tuck your hand into his boxers, feeling past his trimmed-short hair and wrapping your fingers around his cock, rock hard and pulsing in your hand. He groans and presses himself further into your hand, his teeth dragging along the expanse of your shoulder as you pump his shaft. His hips rise of their own accord as you bring your hand higher, rubbing along his length until you have him completely desperate for the now-familiar warmth of your pussy.
"I need to be inside of you," he lays his intentions out, head tilting up to watch you for a sign of protest.
You nod, eager and willing to accommodate him, and release his cock, raising yourself onto your elbows to get a better look at the beautiful mess of a man moving to stand. He (ungracefully) reaches over to grab a condom from his bedside drawer and sheds his boxers. Inhaling slowly through his nose, he takes his time as he slides the condom onto his dick, stroking his cock gently once it's on. He watches you closely, a fond look on his face as he rubs the head of his cock up and down your pussy a few times, collecting the remnants of your lust and his spit before he enters you. It's slow, and careful, and deliberate, and your body trembles in anticipation, eyes flickering closed when he finally gives into your silent plea. The shared gasp between you is uniform, a symphony of pleasure and endurance. Him, overwhelmed by just how tight you are. You, overwhelmed by the stretch of just how big he is.
Art bottoms out in one movement, to get the harshest part out of the way for you; you hiss at the searing heat of the stretch, but calm as Art stills inside of you. You both take a moment, a shared breath, to appreciate being one, and the pleasure that comes with such entwining.
Once you’re ready, you squeeze his bicep, giving him the green-light to move. And he does, painstakingly slow, he pulls out of you, just to snap his hips forward to plunge himself back inside. The hand that isn't holding him up is pressed down on your stomach, feeling himself through you as he pushes in deep, then withdraws. Each thrust of his cock brings forth a loud gasp from your lips, which only serves to guide him further into a state of mindless bliss. He keeps himself in check as best he can, though his breathing has quickened considerably as he continues to fuck you. You feel like you're going to lose your mind, unable to breathe or speak or think straight as you're pulled closer and closer to your end. Though as you've learnt, Art Donaldson is a man to take his time, and he switches from the fast snapping thrusts to a slow roll of his hips once he feels he's a little too close to the edge.
You notice, too: you see the tension building in his muscles, how he pants and groans with each movement he makes. He stares at you adoringly, heavy lids weighing his sights down to your chest, your arched torso, your sweet design. He leans down to press another kiss to you, lips parting so he can slide his tongue into your mouth as his rhythm quickens even more. The kiss feels more intimate than even the act of his cock splitting you open, it's a sweet one, a honeymoon-style kiss where after his forehead meets yours and his eyes bore into your eyes in a mixture of something hazy.
You notice the glossy look in his eyes immediately, it's the same one you had seen on the tennis court earlier. The awestruck, total blissful look in his eyes that had spurred your inspiration. The face of sport. Even through your fucked-dumb haze of lust and a hedonistic desire to finish like this, with Art on top of you, the opportunist in yourself can't help but move. You place a firm hand on Art's shoulder, and his thrusts roll to a stop.
"You okay?" he pants, a sudden worry in his eyes, he looks you over for any signs of discomfort.
"Fine," you shake your head, trying to clear it, blinking away the foggy sensation clouding your mind. "Just, uh... do you trust me?"
Art's eyebrows shoot up, taken aback by the question: "Why?"
Your voice is barely there, a heat spreading across your face as you ask; "will you let me on top?"
Art chuckles low and deep, eyes never breaking contact with yours. A gentle touch to the curve of your ass cheek tells you that he'll miss the view, but he nods nonetheless, and you smile in turn. You expect Art to pull out and lay back on the bed, but instead, he wraps one arm under your back and pushes up with his other, flipping the both of you in one fluid motion. As soon as he's flipped over you straddle his waist, resting your hands on his chest for support, and laugh at the sheer adrenaline rush of it all.
This new position, with you sitting on Art's cock, makes you feel twice as full. You can tell that neither of your orgasms are far off, and you take the opportunity to test the waters. You roll your hips, grinding down on Art's cock, enjoying the way his eyes flutter shut. When he lets out a low noise of approval that sends shivers down your spine, you lower your body closer, pressing a wet kiss to Art's jaw as he grips your waist with a strength you don't doubt will bruise come morning.
His hips raise underneath you, fucking up into you as you continue your ministrations. The sound of skin hitting skin fills the air, and you'd close your eyes in ecstasy if you weren't so hypnotised by the sheen in Art's eyes. With each thrust Art manages to drive into you, you find your nails biting into the skin of his chest. He gets louder, groans and whines that you'd play on repeat if you could,, he's close, and he says as such.
"Let me take a picture," you say before you can stop yourself; his jaw slacks open at your words, staring up at you with incredulity written across his face. You defend your proposal- "With the Polaroid. I'll let you keep it, no copies."
A bad idea, probably, what with his face being one he hopes to see plastered across buildings one day. He doesn't know why he nods, why he smiles when you reach across the bed for your Polaroid. Maybe it's the mindless state of lust he's in, maybe it's the danger, or maybe he'll find the photo in ten years' time and remember this night with a smile or a frown depending on the grand outcome.
You ready the camera, roll your hips against his a few more times, and look down at pretty Art Donaldson.
"You're fucking gorgeous," you let slip, praise falling from your lips straight to his reddened ears. You feel him twitch inside of you, you squeeze around him in coaxing. "Look at you."
He fucks up into you with a pace unrelenting. Your second orgasm of the night is only seconds away, and you cope through the haze of pleasure and lust to focus on Art's face, memorising every detail of that look in his eyes as he starts to falter.
"Fuck," you groan, pressing down onto him to a new depth. He's tense for a moment, a sweet moment of shared rapture as you both fall over the edge of your climaxes.
"Shit, shit," his sounds mirror yours, veins pulsing in his neck as he cums. One hand digs into your hips, the other grips the sheets.
His eyes meet yours, and you see it. The look, the face of pleasure, of need, of sin.
You take the shot.
SIX YEARS LATER
The night is quiet, save for the sound of rustling trees outside and the occasional passing car. Art Donaldson has to bite his tongue to stop himself from making a noise.
He stands in the shower, water falling over his back, though cleanliness is an afterthought despite being sweat-ridden after hours of training with Tashi.
With one hand, Art pumps his cock in vigorous strokes, leaning against the cold tile wall as he jerks himself off. His eyes are locked onto what he holds in his other hand- the photo you took all those years ago. He's careful not to get it wet, but it's hard to focus on the state of it when his pooling orgasm nearly blinds him.
His eyes burn into the image, a display of himself at his most vulnerable. You had taken it looking down at him as your orgasms synced, and now he looks down at the same sight you had seen at your peak. He cums ropes onto the shower floor, biting so hard on his tongue to stifle his moans that he's surprised he can't taste blood in his mouth.
He’s left breathless, eyes still locked on the polaroid he had found in the basement earlier in the day. There's a handful more of them, but Art had no time to go through them, not after pulling this one out first and being hit with a wave of memories he’s not sure he should have.
He has to satiate his guilt by telling himself it’s not wrong to jerk off, especially not when it’s only a photo of himself… or, that could make it worse. Art exhales deeply, emptying his lungs so he can take a breath of new air.
Art steps backward into the fall of water, letting it run down his face in a rejuvenating cleanse of his sins and unholy ways of thinking. He sighs, wonders what level of hell he’s going to, and then flips the polaroid around.
Written in your handwriting on the strip of white down the bottom in permanent marker,
THE ART OF MAKING LOVE.
series taglist: @lotties-ashwagandha @daughterhouse @kiiwizz @doll-0f-flesh @jackierose902109 @lonnie2390147 @hedonisticwomen @ysuftmikey @viena-vie @whitewashedghanianlol @kolsmikaelson @nikirikii @dumbass-sappho-stan @seriousaliysa @majathepapaya @lovezclub @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo
#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson smut#challengers smut#challengers 2024#art donaldson#art x reader#art smut#art donaldson x you#art donaldson imagine
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
You Want a Baby? (Bat Boys x Female! Reader)
Based off of multiple resquests... and by all means request more of this shit. My Ruhn asks have been kind dry. Would hate for the frat pack to run a train on the reader...
AN: You guys I spent so much time on this I hope it lives up to expectation because this is my kind of thing.
Summary: It's the perfect storm, you're ovulating, all your mates happen to be home and they all want to see you pregnant with their child.
Warnings: Double penetration, breeding kink, size kink, possessive mates, Over stim, literally so many things I'm probably forgetting
Word count: 3738
It was that time of the month, well not THAT time.
Fae periods were a bitch, that much was true. But fae ovulating? It was a whole different thing. The need to be touched, to be filled, was excruciating. Ever since I had found my mates, three of them to be exact, it was like all those sensations had been heightened. Every time I ovulated, all three of my mates couldn't be present.
The first time Rhysand was meeting with Tarquin leaving only Cassian and Azriel to fuck me senseless. The next time around it was just Azriel to keep me sated. One of the most memorable times was last year when it was just Rhys and Cassian to help. However, I patiently waited for a day when all three mates would be here to take care of me, a day I secretly hoped would be today.
I woke up this morning to an empty bed and a note that said they had all gone to Windhaven to check on the Illyrian camps. I didn’t mind their absence too much until later that afternoon when I felt my body start to sweat with need. I went to the bathroom to strip off my clothes, leaving me only in the black lingerie that Azriel had bought me for solstice last year. I couldn’t help but admire myself, running my hands down my body. It wasn’t until then that I realized what was going on, I was ovulating.
The boys were in Windhaven which meant there was a possibility that they could all be here by tonight. But with the tensions in the Illyrian camps high, I knew it was most likely a long shot. So I spent the day dancing around the townhouse in nothing but my lingerie, loving the feeling of the fresh air on my skin. As the sky got darker I realized my mates weren’t likely to come home.
I made my way upstairs to our oversized bed and tossed myself on top of the covers. I tried to sleep and push all thoughts of Rhysand’s hands, Azriel’s tongue and, Cassian’s cock from my mind. I was unsuccessful, and ended up finding myself writing all over our shared bed, begging for any kind of friction the sheets offer me. That’s how the boys found me, squirming around our bed in nothing but my lingerie.
“Well, what do we have here?” Cassian drawled, leaning against the doorway.
I sat up straight, trying to act like I wasn’t about to reach a hand down my panties just seconds ago.
“I told you both,” Azriel said smugly, walking into the room with Rhysand in tow.
“Told them what?” I ask bringing my knees to my chest in a lame attempt to cover myself.
“I told them that you were ovulating today,” Azriel smirked. “I’ve been tracking your cycle since I got left out last time,” he looked to Cass and Rhys with a death glare.
“We got back from Windhaven a few hours and decided to get a drink at Rita’s,” Rhysand explained, stalling towards where I sat on the bed. “We were talking about you.”
“You were?” I ask, sensing the seriousness in Rhysand’s voice.
“Oh yes we were little one,” Cassian laughs.
“We were talking about how amazing you would look pregnant,” Rhysand explained, his voice like liquid sex.
“R-Really?” I say, not trusting my own voice.
“Yeah,” Cassain answered, taking a step toward me. “We think we're ready for a baby.”
“Only if you’re ready though,” Rhys assured me.
My heart skipped at their words. The idea of carrying any one of their children excited me. I couldn’t lie, I had been thinking about it since my last cycle.
“What do you think, little one? Gonna let us put a baby in you tonight?” Azriel drawled, leaving a kiss on the shell of my ear.
I couldn’t even speak, all the intelligent words leaving my brain. All I could think about was how feral the fae were when trying to conceive. My legs would’ve fallen apart if it wasn’t for my arms holding them together. I nodded my head, still unable to think.
A collective growl filled the room as Azriel grabbed my arms and stood me up in the center of the room, leaving me on display for each of my mates. They closed in on me instantly and I had to crane my neck up to meet each of their gazes. Cassian’s hand slid under the strap of my bra inspecting me thoroughly.
“Which one of you bought her this little set?” Cassian said, slipping the strap of my bra off my shoulder while Rhysand worked on the opposite strap.
“I did,” Azriel said, rubbing circles into my hips as he left open mouth kisses on my shoulders.
“Well thank you Az,” Rhys smirked, unclasping my bra.
My body felt like it was on fire from three sets of hands roaming up and down it. Even if I closed my eyes I could easily tell who touched me where. The sensation of it all had me tossing my head back on Azriel’s chest, trusting him to support my body. He grasped my hips tightly to keep my knees from buckling as Cassian and Rhys stared at my breasts now free of the tight black lingerie.
“Look at those perfect tits Az,” Rhysand drawled.
I felt Azriel’s large hand drift up my torso and to my neck pulling me against his body even more so I could feel his hard cock pressed up against my back. His hand on my throat gently pushed my head to look at him as he said back to Rhysand
“They are perfect,” he smirked, craning his neck down to capture my lips in his.
“And soon they’ll be full of milk,” Cassian pointed out with a smirk, swiping a calloused thumb over my nipple.
Rhysand bends his head down to take one of my aching nipples into his mouth sucking it taut. The gesture catches Cassian’s attention and he leans down to give the same treatment to the other side. The sensation has me arching my back aching to be closer to them. I feel Azriel’s hands grip my hips and yank me against his body again. His hand comes to grip my throat once more as he sticks his tongue down my throat earning a moan from me. I feel Cassian’s lips pull off my tit with a pop as he watches me and Azriel.
“Gods sometimes I forget how tiny she is,” Cassian drawls running his hands up and down my sides. “Look at her with Az she’s like half his size.”
Rhys stops his menstrations on my other breast to see what Cassian is talking about, “She’s practically half all our sizes Cass,” Rhys chuckles.
“Gods I just wanna toss her around like a little doll,” Cassian curses.
“Do it,” Azriel smirks, pulling his lips from mine. “You know how much she loves it.”
Cassian says nothing before picking me up by my hips effortlessly and tossing me onto the bed earning an excited squeal from me.
“Told you,” Azriel beamed with male pride.
Cassian stalked towards me with Rhys and Azriel hot on his heels and I started moving up the oversized bed towards the headboard.
“Oh no you don’t,” he smirks, grabbing my ankles and yanking me down the bed. I wait patiently watching Cassian untie the leathers of his pants, my mouth nearly falling open as his large cock springs out. “Come here baby,” he smiles and I eagerly sit up and lick the tip of his cock.
I looked up at him through my lashes donning my most innocent expression as I took as much of him as I could in my mouth. The rest I pumped with my hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Azriel and Rhys fisting their cocks at the sight of me sucking Cassian off.
“Good fucking girl y/n,” Cassain moaned tossing his head back in ecstasy.
I reveled in the salty taste of him, the feeling of every single vein in his cock massaging my tongue. I would never get tired of this, of pleasing my mates. Cassian pulled me off him and pushed my upper half down on the mattress. My panties are ripped off and discarded somewhere in the room. There goes that set.
“Stop Cass, make sure she’s ready, I don’t want to tear her,” Rhysand tells Cassian, the voice of a High Lord making its appearance.
Cassian bends down to inspect my pussy, running a finger through my folds to find me absolutely drenched. “Oh she’s ready alright,” he smiles. “God baby your pussy is so fucking tiny. It’s a miracle you can take us so well.”
“Cass please,” I whine, nearly coming undone at his words.
Cassian starts pushing his cock in me and the stretch has me backing away from him subconsciously. He grabs my hips and pulls me back towards him, pinning me to the mattress. I had been their mate for a while now but every time they entered me I still felt the stretch. Cassian was right, I was half their size, was a miracle I could take them.
Cassian started trusting in me at a fast pace and the sound of our skin slapping filled the room. To my right and left Azriel and Rhys continued to stroke their cocks and as much as I longed to put them both in my mouth, Cassian had me in such a state of pleasure I couldn’t focus on anything else.
“Fuck Cass look at her belly,” Azriel practically moaned. Cassian’s eyes snapped to my stomach where he could see the bulge from his cock thrusting into me. I moaned at the sight.
“Yeah, you like that baby?” He smirks, leaning over to capture my lips in his. His pace speeds up and within seconds he’s cumming inside of me.
Cassian pushes his cock in me a couple of times, his attempt at burying his seed deep inside me. He pulls out soon after and I whine at the sudden emptiness.
“That’s the one that’s gonna get her pregnant,” Cassian beams with male pride, his cock already hardening.
“Pfft, you wish General.” Azriel scoffs positioning himself between my legs.
He pushes in slowly and I cry out at the stretch once more. Each glorious inch of him brings immense pain and pleasure.
“Shhh be a good girl and take it all,” Azriel coos until his hips are flush with mine. “That’s a girl.” he moans as he begins fucking me hard.
My mind goes to mush almost instantly and the moans coming out of my mouth are damn near feral. The need to be fucked and filled by each of my mates runs so deep in my veins. My hands claw and scrape and find Azriel’s forearms as he slams his hips into me, seeking out his own pleasure.
“Az please let me cum, I-I’m so c-close,” I mewl, each word hard to get out.
“Not yet baby, you don’t get to cum until we all have a load in that little pussy,” Rhysand drawls, pumping his cock. “Speaking of, step aside Az I’m not gonna last much longer.”
“No, I’m not done with her yet,” Azriel growls, his possessive side coming out.
“You think I can fit in there with you then?” Rhysand asks.
“Now this I gotta see,” Cassian jests.
The thought of two cocks fucking my pussy at once has my eyes glazing over and my mouth falling open like I’m in some sort of subspace.
“I can take it,” I choke out between Azriel’s thrusts.
“Pick her up Az,” Rhys says, his voice practically dripping with lust.
Azriel doesn’t stop his minstations as he wraps one of his arms around me, lifting me off the bed. My arms wrap around his neck as my forehead bumps his and he stares me down as he fucks me mid-air.
“Good girl,” he rasps, proud of how well I’m taking him.
The next thing I know he’s lying me down again, Rhysand’s warm chest replacing the mattress. His hands wander up and down my sides trying to soothe my nerves as Azriel stops moving.
“Alright little one take a deep breath for me,” Rhys instructs and I can feel him lining his cock up at my entrance.
I do as I’m told, taking the deepest gulp of air possible, excited for what comes next. The second I let my breath go I feel Rhys pushing his cock into me aside Azriel’s. The stretch is more than any I’ve ever felt before but the sounds escaping Rhys and Azriel’s mouths make it so worth it. Once Rhys is brushing my cervix along with Azriel tears prick my eyes and Cassian is kneeling before me in an instant.
“Shhh breathe baby,” Cassian coos, glancing down to where both his brothers' cocks are seated inside my pussy. “Fuck, you’re being such a good girl. Just gotta take two more loads and then we’ll let you cum alright?”
All I can muster is a shallow nod as Rhys and Azriel begin thrusting in tandem. The constant feeling of fullness has me feeling numb while feeling everything all at once. I arch my back further and Rhys runs a hand down my hip to hold me in place so that he doesn’t slip out. My eyes glance to Azriel who has his eyes fixated on the bulge in my stomach being made by both his and his High Lord’s cock. All the while, Cassian brushes the sweat and hair away from my brow whispering praises to me.
“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” Rhys groans, the vibrations of his chest skittering down my back.
“Me too,” Azriel moans and within seconds I feel his sperm coating my walls just like Cassian’s.
Azriel cumming triggers Rhys to cum as well and even though I can still feel Azriel, the load my High Lord put in me is equally as distinct.
“Holy fuck,” Azriel groans pulling out of me inspecting his work. My breaths are so ragged and my vision so blurred that I can barely make out Rhysand’s voice.
“Take her Cass,” he mutters, or so I think. My assumptions are proven right when I feel Cassian’s arms snake around me, pulling me off of Rhys’ cock.
I whimper at the loss of the fullness as Cassian lays me on top of his chest stroking my hair and kissing my brow. My body vibrates and my heart pounds with the need to cum.
“Poor baby, you wanna cum don’t you?” Cassian coos tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. My eyes are glassed over and my face looks fucked out but I’m still able to nod.
“Make her cum Cass, I want us each to get one more load in her before we’re done,” Rhysand says, already fisting his cock.
“Rhys I’m not sure, look at her. I don’t think she can take much more.” Cassian warns, placing me against the pillows and moving down my body.
“Do you want her pregnant or not?” Rhys snaps.
“Of course I do,” Cassian says. “Can you take three more loads baby?” he asks me.
“Of course she can,” Azriel says, his cock already at attention from seeing his fucked out mate.
“I-okay,” I sputter, still vibrating at the need to be touched. At this point, I was practically bucking my hips into Cassian’s face.
“You want me to lick your pretty clit?” Cassian smirks using one arm to pin my hips to the mattress and the other to spread my folds.
“Y-yes,” I beg.
Cassian chuckles, his eyes fixed on my cunt, “Looks like we made quite the mess of her little cunt,” he muses and both Rhysand and Azirel peer down to investigate.
“Shit Cass it’s spilling out,” Azriel curses.
“Don’t worry brother,” Cassian assures him, as he presses two fingers inside me, pushing the cum deep inside me. “She won’t waste it. Will you baby?” He smiles at me.
“No, I w-won’t,” I say, meaning every word my body still shaking.
“Cass lick her little clit or I will, the poor thing is shaking,” Rhys orders Cassian.
Cassian doesn’t waste a moment before lowering his mouth to my pussy and attacking my clit. It only took five kitten licks for me to orgasm harder than ever before. My back arches off the bed and the tension from my body pushes more of my mate’s cum out of my aching hole.
“Ah ah ah,” Cassian says, pushing two fingers into me again. “What did we say about wasting?”
“Cass it’s your turn,” Azriel bites close to spilling his load.
“Spread em’ baby,” Cassian smirks, spreading my legs for me anyway before burying himself inside of me.
“Oh gods Cass!” I cry out as he starts fucking me relentlessly chasing his own release.
“Fuck I love seeing that little bulge,” Cassian grins, placing a hand over where his cock hit my belly.
Seconds later he’s spilling his load into me, a sound coming from his mouth that I’ve never heard before. My vision nearly goes black, the only thing keeping me grounded is Cassian gripping my throat and pulling me up to kiss me as his second orgasm coats my walls.
“Who’s next?” Cassian asks, pulling out of me.
“Me,” Both Rhysand and Azriel say at the same time.
“Back off Az, you got to have her first last time,” Rhys growls.
Whenever I told people I had three mates they would usually joke about how territorial they would get over me. The irony was that my mates almost never had a problem sharing me, but tonight? Well, tonight was just one of those nights. When mates were trying to conceive they were practically feral, I was honestly surprised things had gone so smoothly till now.
“Yeah, and I literally had to share her pussy with you!” Azriel roars.
Cassain drags me up to lay my upper half on his chest so he can run a hand through my hair and whisper praises to me.
“I’m pulling rank, as your High Lord I’m going first,” Rhysand orders, nudging my entrance.
“Fuck off Rhys,” Azriel says continuing to fist his cock.
Rhys pushes his cock inside me with a groan as he bottoms out. My body shudders and on instinct, I move away from him but he grips my hips and brings me down his cock again fucking into me hard.
In my haze my head falls to the side, my cheek grazing Cassian’s abs, the very ones he let me rut on to get off a few weeks ago, and I meet Azriel. He looks glorious, pumping his cock while watching Rhysand fuck my hole. On instinct, I reach my tongue out and lap at the head of his cock catching his immediate attention.
“You wanna suck it baby?” He muses brushing his cock against my lips. I open my mouth wide, sticking my tongue out in response.
I know I’m so fucked out I can barely wrap my lips around him but Rhys pulling rank seemed like a dick move and I wanted to remedy it in any way I could. Azriel pushes his cock into my mouth letting out a guttural moan in the process.
“Good fucking girl,” Azriel moans and it spurs me on to suck him even harder as he fucks my mouth.
“Oh fuck,” Rhys roars cumming into me for the second time tonight. He knows better than to stay seated in me longer than necessary and pulls out as soon as possible. Azriel’s cock follows, his cock leaving my mouth with a bead of saliva dripping from it.
“Are you fucked out my love?” Azriel croons, grabbing my jaw to face him. It’s evident from my hazy eyes that I am.
“One more load sweetheart,” Rhys whispers, pressing a kiss to my brow. “You want a baby in your belly don’t you?”
“Uh huh,” I rasp still unable to form actual words.
“Open,” Azriel orders his grip on my jaw tightening.
Of all my mates Azriel was always the most dominant. I loved to test Rhys and Cassian, but when it came to Az? I knew it was in my best interest to be a good girl.
So just like I had a million times before I opened my mouth nice and wide for him. His hand gripped my jaw, keeping it open before he spit in my mouth.
“Now swallow,” he growled and I followed his orders once again. I opened my mouth to show him I had been a good girl and he rewarded me by pushing his cock inside me.
“What was that about Az?” Cassian laughed stroking my hair.
“Grounding her, if I’m gonna pump a load in her I want her to feel it,” Azriel groans. “We’ve done it before, haven't we baby?” he asks me and I nod enthusiastically.
Rhys wipes the sweat from my brow as Cassian presses a hand down where Azriel’s cock makes a bulge in my belly.
“She’s gonna cum Az,” Cassian informs his brother.
“Fuck I can feel it. Her tiny cunt is squeezing me so tight I can barely fuck her.” Azriel groans. “Ready baby?” Azriel asks me and I nod once more. “1…2…3…Fuckkk,” Azriel moans, spilling his seed into me.
Despite the haze that fills my head I can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment knowing I did it. I gave each of my mates two orgasms the evidence dripping from my sore cunt, wait fuck.
“Waste!” is the only word I can get out as I feel all six loads of cum spilling out of me.
“Shh, it’s okay mate,” Azriel coos, pressing a kiss to my brow laying down on the side that wasn’t occupied by Rhys. “Cass plug her up,” Azriel continues.
Without warning, two of Cassian’s fingers slide into my pussy keeping their combined cum from leaking out.
“Get comfortable mate,” Cassian chuckles. “We’re gonna have to sleep like this.”
And sleep I do. With Cassian behind me, my head on Rhys’ chest, and Azriel using my stomach as a pillow I’m out within minutes. I don’t know what the future holds as far as children go, but I’d say this was a good first attempt at conceiving.
pregnant! Reader x bat boys Drabble
Masterlist
#bat boys x reader smut#bat boys x reader#bat boys#rhysand smut#rhys acotar#rhysand acotar#rhysand x reader#rhysand#rhysand angst#rhysand fluff#rhysand x reader smut#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x reader#azriel angst#azriel smut#azriel x you#cassian x you#a court of thorns and roses#cassian acotar#cassian x reader#cassian angst#cassian smut#cassian x reader smut#azriel x reader angst#azriel x reader fluff#azriel x reader smut
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
ace loves more than anything to tease his girl! Sure, he plays the occasional prank or pokes fun at the way you eat. Even throwing around a silly nickname here or there..
but nothing brings him more satisfaction than watching you writhe and squirm on top of him. A firm hand clutching the back of your neck to keep you in place against his chest. Meanwhile, your legs are slightly parted as he pushes that toy in and out of your little cunt..it’s practically sucking it in. That silicone dildo marked with a different color at each inch to show how far you can take it. And at the moment, you’re just not meeting his standards.
“Babyyyy..please..”
“Unt uh..not yet, pretty girl..you’ll get mine when you can handle all of this.”
a promise he intended to keep. As it stood, you couldn’t even fit it to the halfway point without you coming undone. Cream and slick coating the tip and part of its shaft. Trust, he wishes it were him..wish that he could grip your asscheeks in his hands and bounce you up and down on his cock right now. Wishing he could make you come until those pretty little eyes rolled back…that he could fill it up with every last remnant of but he had to offer. But he’s got the patience of a saint. He doesn’t mind playing the long game so long as he got what he wanted in the end. So he’ll continue working that little pussy over..stroking at the same pace he would if it were him inside of you. Taking some out only to shove it back in gently. Listening to the pop and squelch of your tight walls constricting around it. “Look how fucking tight you are, babe..you’re barely opening up.” The tent in his pants is only growing larger but he can’t cave just yet. Not when he’s got you nearly trained to his liking. Finally meeting the thrusts of that fake thing..he’s confident you’ll have no problem taking that dick once he decides to give it to you! But for now, he’s enjoying this view. Watching you rut yourself against his thigh as he keeps pushing it in and out. Your nails clawing at his chest whilst his lips softly press to your temple. You’re growing anxious, getting restless and even start pawing at his obvious hard on. But he’s equally quick to swat your hand away. It’s not the right time in his opinion.
“..I know you’re getting impatient, gorgeous. But trust me, you’ll be glad I made you wait for it.”
#cherry’s works ✦⭒#black fem reader#one piece#one piece x black!reader#one piece x reader#ace x black reader#portgas d ace#fire fist ace#portgas ace x reader#portgas ace x y/n#op x reader#black reader smut#black reader#one piece au#one piece modern au#one piece smut#one piece headcanons#one piece imagines#ace one piece#ace smut#op modern au#modern au#smut#anime smut#ace#one piece imagine#one piece drabble#anime drabble#smut drabble#scheduled post
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Training Partners
Zuko x Reader (SMUT)
Summary: The Gang had gone to a mission to get something that Katara said Aang would need, but they left the two fire Benders of the team behind: Zuko and Y/N.
A/N: Zuko and Reader are legal.
Zuko sighs when he sits down by her side “I wish they would have taken us with them.”
“Are you’re really surprised that we’ve been left behind...again?” She chuckles at his frustration.
He just shrugs “No, not really. But still sucks. What are they expecting us to do while we wait?”
“You’ll get used to it.” Y/N says.
Zuko tried to ignore her, as he got up and started to practice his fire bending. Y/N smiled “Do you want a partner to train?”
“Hm...sure, why not?” He looked at her surprised for her offering. She was also a fire bender, so she would be the perfect person to train with him of all gaang. Well, except for Aaang, of course. “Let’s see how good you are.” Zuko says to her with a smirk.
“Don’t get too confident.” She smirks back at him.
“You’re ready?” Zuko asked as he makes some fire in his hand.
“What do I get if I win?” Y/N asked him.
“You don’t get anything. This is just for us to train.” He replied.
“Oh, come on. Let’s make a small competition, just for the fun of it.” She smirks.
Zuko thinks about and nods “Alright then.”
“Okay.” Y/N says to him “What do I get if I win?”
“Well, if you win, I will agree to train with you more often. What do I get if I win?” Zuko asked her.
Y/N thinks for a moment, before she replied “If you win, you can get anything you want from me.”
Zuko grins “Deal.” She smirks at him and as soon as he agrees, she already attacked him with her fire bending. Zuko starts to counter her moves “You’re not as bad as I thought.”
“I’m actually amazing at this.” She says as she block one of his attacks. Zuko just grins at her, sending another wave of fire at her, which she manage to block again, before she counter-attack. But it didn’t hit him. “Come on, pretty boy, don’t go easy on me.” She teases him with a smirk on her face.
He smirks at her too “Alright the, you asked for it.” Y/N still managed to block every attack he made, but he was way stronger than her. Noticing her struggle as she took a step back in each attack, Zuko send a much larger one at her, making her stumble and fall on the ground. He chuckles seeing he won as he goes to help her “Good job. I guess I want my reward now.”
“Maybe not yet.” She says when he’s closer. She used a move to make him lose his balance and fall too. Y/N took advantage of this and she sited on his lap, pinning him down.
That made Zuko groans at her “Alright, alright. You won.”
“I think we both won, just in different forms.” She smiles “So, what do you want from me?” Zuko just smirks looking at her. “What is it?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Come on, Zuko. I’m waiting. What do you want?” She was still in the same position.
“Okay.” He chuckles “How about a kiss?”
That made Y/N let out a small laugh “Okay, sure.” She leans in and kiss him quickly. Her body moved on top of him, making him moan softly into the kiss, his hand moving to her waist.
“You’re even better than I imagined.” Zuko says when she breaks the kiss.
“Oh, so you have imagined kissing me?” Y/N teases him.
His hand moved to her hips “I’ve imagined a lot more than that.”
“Really? Like what?” She whispered, her face coming closer to his again.
“I’ve imagined exploring every inch of your body.” He says in her ear, his lips brushing against it.
“How exactly?” She asks in a whisper, closing her eyes at the feeling of his breath on her ear.
“I’m sure you can imagine plenty of ways. Now how about we get back to training?” He smirks. Zuko knew exactly what he was doing to her.
Y/N didn’t move “Hm...I don’t think I can imagine. How about you tell me?”
Zuko turns them around, before he get up and help her. “Alright, let’s go back to training.” But before he could get back in his position, she grabbed his arm to stop him. “You really are determined, aren’t you?”
“I just want to hear what your brilliant mind was imagining about me.” She smirks.
He laughs at her “Fine.” Zuko leans in again, his hand on her hips again, but this time his grip was stronger “I’ve imagined running my fingers to your hair, your neck..” He then whispers in her ear “I imagined kissing your body, starting with your lips, your chest, all the way down until I can finally taste you.”
Y/N had closed her eyes at the feeling “What else?”
His lips brushes against her ear this time “I imagined you beneath me, begging me...” Her breath was getting heavier just with the thoughts of this. Zuko then took a step back smirking “Alright, now let’s focus on our training?”
“...what?” She opened her eyes looking at him confused.
“You heard me.” He chuckles.
She rolls her eyes at him “You can’t say all of that and then just want to go back to training.” Zuko had done this on purpose and now she realized. With a groan, she agrees “Fine.”
Y/N was frustrated and she attacked him with more forcefully. She was going to make him pay to let her so frustrated and wet like that. She blocked his attacks easily, but he was still stronger than her, so she had the perfect idea to get back at him and distract him too. “You know, I also had imagined things with you.”
Zuko grins dodging her attack “Oh, really? Do tell.”
“I’ve imagined how you would kiss me.” She attacked “How good it would be to hear you moan” She did it again. Zuko was blocking all of her tries. “I also imagined what your face would look like with me on my knees for you...” He attacked her and she blocked, ready for her final struck “...right before I put you in my mouth.” He let out a laugh blocking her again, but she noticed his face “You’re blushing.”
He looks away before he clears his throat, trying to hide the fact he was indeed blusing “Let’s focus on the training, shall we?”
“You’re so cute when you blushing like that.” She smiles.
Zuko rolls his eyes at her and attacked again, but this time it wasn’t that strong “You’re just trying to distract me now.”
She managed to block his attack “Maybe I am.”
“But you’re not succeeding.” He says, making another try at her.
“You sure?” She dodged “You seem quite distracted with the though of me sucking your cock.” Zuko didn’t made another attack, he just blushed even more and glares at her. “Like I said, so cute blushing.” She attacks him now that he’s distracted, making him lose his balance.
He barely managed to dodge this time “You’re enjoying this too much.”
“I am.” She made anoter strong attack “Wanna hear what else had been through my mind?”
Zuko blocked her “Just stop the dirty talk...Let’s focus on the fight.”
“I can do both.” She says before she blocks his attack.
He sighs “You’re not making this easy.”
“Well, that’s my intention.” She louche another attack, getting closer to him.
“Fine, if you want dirty talk, you’ll get dirty talk.” Zuko says, making her smirk.
“Do your worse.”
“I imagined how you would squirm while I eat you out and fuck you with my finger. And then how I would slid deep inside you while I feel you clench desperate around me.” Zuko says while he attacks her.
“That’s hot.” Y/N says sending another attack, feeling herself getting wet with his thoughs.
Zuko dodges her attack “I think I can imagine you on your knees begging me to fuck your mouth.”
She chuckles, blocking him again “If I’m on my knees, you’ll be the one doing the begging part.”
He groans “Alright, you won. Let’s jus end this spar.”
“Alright.” She make a last attack, that makes him actually fall this time. “I won.” She then came closer and offered her hand to him.
He accepts and pulls himself up “I think we could both use a break now.”
“Yeah, I’m tired already” she laughs as they walk back to where the tents were, sitting near by and drinking some water. Y/N looks at him with a smile “Don’t think too much about what happened, I was just trying to mess with you.”
Zuko chuckles at this. Y/N noticed that her dirty talk had really got into him because she could see his erection in his pants. Zuko blushes when he realized she noticed and looked away, trying to hide it. That made Y/N smirks again “I know I already said that, but you’re really cute blushing.”
His face turned redder “Shut up.”
Y/N let out a laugh before her hands reach his face and turn back to look at her “Own, don’t turn away. I wanna see it.”
Zuko sighs looking back at her “It’s nothing.”
“It’s cute.” She smiled.
He looks away again “Just shut up.”
“You can be fine dirty talking but can’t handle being called cute.” She giggles “That’s one of the reasons I’ve fallen for you.”
Zuko turn to look at her in surprise “W-what?”
Her laugh died as soon as she relieved what she had just said. “Oh, fuck.”
“W-what did you say?” He asked her again.
“Nothing, forget it.” She says as she looks away from him.
“Wait, did you just said “I’ve fallen for you”?” Zuko asked her.
“No...”
“Are you sure?” He leans in closer to her “Cause it sounded kinda like you did.”
“I didn’t.” She could feel the heat on her face.
Zuko leans in even closer to her “Then why are you blushing?”
“Shut up.” It’s all she says.
“Please, tell me you did.” He says, his breath brushing agains her skin.
“Why?” Y/N asked in a whisper.
“Because I think I’ve fallen for you too.” Zuko whispers back. Y/N just looks in his eyes, before he leans in gently kissing her lips while his hand cup her face. She kisses him back while her arms go around his neck, making Zuko groans in the kiss as he pulls her closer. The tension between them was too much. Her hands travel to his robe, removing it from him. Zuko gasp softly feeling her hand on his chest, before his hands help her take her top too.
Y/N didn’t break the kiss while she palmed his erection through his pants, making Zuko moan in the kiss, his hands moving to unzip her pants. “Do you want me to stop?” She asks him as she helps him take off her pants.
Zuko shakes his head, his hand stroking her bare thighs “No, keep going.”
She unzips his pants too and pulled down all his remaining clothes, before she kneels between his legs. Zuko gasped when her hand started to stroke his cock “Fuck...don’t stop.”
“I’m not planning to.” She kept her movements while his hand found her hair. Y/N decided to tease him a bit more as she licks his member.
That made Zuko growls “Gods...don’t...do that...”
“Why not?” She asks with a smirk on her face.
His hips kept bucking up into her hand “Because...I’m...”
Y/N licks him again, slowly this time, making her tongue circling his tip “You what?”
“You’re...fucking...driving me crazy...” Zuko managed to say.
She just chuckles before she stops everything she was doing “Lay down.” Zuko does as she says and she smile before she straddles him, making him moan when his hard member brushed against her wetness. His hand soon found her hips to guide her down to him, making her moan as soon as she felt him entering her.
Zuko’s hand grips tightly on her hips “Fuck...so tight...”
Y/N stays like that for a moment to get used to his length stretching her, before she starts moving her hips. Zuko moans as she started riding him “Gods...” Her hips moved back and forward in a fast rhythm “Fuck...you feel so good.” He says as his hand cup her breast. Y/N moans making her head fall back.
Zuko also moans, his hips thrusting up to meet hers “I love watching you like this.”
“Riding you?” She asks.
“Yeah...” His eyes were locked on her body.
“I’m close.” She says between her moans as she felt her climax approaching.
Zuko grips her hips again “Don’t stop...let me feel you come.” Y/N felt her orgasm hitting her in seconds, making her a mess around his cock. Zuko also felt his climax with hers, coming inside her as she growns her name.
Her body falls on top of his from the exhaustion and his hand stroke her back softly “I think we should do this more times.”
“Training?” She looks up at him.
Zuko laughs “Yeah, training.”
“I’m glad they left us behind...again.” She laughs.
"Me too." He says kissing her cheek.
#zuko x reader#zuko x you#zuko x y/n#atla zuko#zuko#prince zuko#zuko smut#the gaang#avatar the last airbender#smut
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Emperor's Wife// Paul Atreides
Warnings: angst, unrequited love, slow burn kinda
"That princess shall have no more of me than my name. No child of mine nor touch nor softness of glance, nor instant of desire." The promise of Paul Atreides as he ascended your father's throne was held true for some time. But his words began to falter in time, against his will.
He married you, but remained loyal to his concubine, Chani. But he did acknowledge that you had a literary nature, and he entrusted you to sit in on his council meetings as Emperor. The more time you spent around each other, the more you became companions, and the more he relied on your mind to help him keep a balance of things.
You noticed as Paul started to become more relaxed around you. He'd even have a laugh with you now and then. It was clear that he valued your friendship as much as your ability to write and make sense of things.
One day Paul joked that Chani was his wife of passion and you were his intellectual wife. Your feelings had started to form into deep admiration for your husband, so his words were course against your ears. Though you knew that this was the way it had to be, it wasn't any easier to hear him say it.
But there was a look from him, a look where he scanned you, slowly, from head to toe. Your special training had kicked in. You could feel it; it was desire. He thought his momentary glance would go undetected, but that was nary the case.
All the late evenings in the council room, all the discussions you had about history and his interest in your writings, it all bubbled up to his vow being broken. You caught his gaze in a meeting later, and his green eyes could no longer lie to you. He was curious and desirous of you. But he could not do anything about it. He simply could not act on it.
But you, on the other hand, were tired of the intellectual relationship. This feeling was different for you, and you never expected to fall for him. Your body ached, your skin burned for your husband. Even if it was just once, you had to have him.
You hated to admit to yourself the jealousy you felt toward his Fremen woman. You wanted to feel what Chani felt. Just one full moment of Paul's desire. You needed his touch. To exchange passionate breaths with him. To have the weight of the handsome Emperor on top of you. To have his eyes on you, and only you.
..........
You ventured to Paul's sietch, into the private apartment he shared with Chani. The Fremen in the village knew you, so they did not try to stop you, or persuade you to leave. They welcomed you with respect, as you were indeed Muad’Dib’s wife.
The room was quite plain and modest for an Emperor and his woman. The bed, however, looked cozy with glow globes on either side. The scent of cinnamon and coffee hung in the air, laced with the spice melange.
You hoped he'd come soon. You hoped he would be the first one in, and not Chani. You didn't know what to say to her, if that would be the case. She had always been pleasant toward you when you were around her, but you didn’t know if her attitude would remain the same if she knew you wanted to bed her man.
You hoped that he wouldn't be harsh towards you; that he wouldn’t be angry about you invading the space he shared with his concubine. You liked to think that you had broken his walls and exposed the tender side of him. You sat on the bed, waiting.
Finally, you heard footsteps approaching, there was a tired huff from the person outside the door, and you knew the voice instantly. Paul came in, pulling off his still suit the second he entered. He didn't see you at first. You saw his shoulders and chest as he rid himself of the rubbery material. He was strong, with hard muscles and pale skin with minor scars here and there.
You could smell the dirt and sweat that he carried. It did not deter you in the slightest, but made you more eager.
He could sense you there. You knew he could.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, without even turning to face you.
You took a shaky breath, then answered, "I wanted to see you, Paul."
He finished freeing his arms from the constrictive suit, turning to look at you sitting on his bed. "And why?"
You were excited just seeing his shoulders, but now you saw his naked chest, his hard pectoral muscles and small nipples. You nearly shuddered with need. "I-uhm," I want you. "I wanted to make sure that you saw how bright and beautiful the two moons look this evening. And maybe you'd like to see my latest Muad'Dib chronicle?"
Paul nodded, "Hm." He stepped over to the window, looking up at the moons, "They are quite beautiful tonight."
You rose from the bed, joining him by the window. You could really feel his presence now, as you usually didn't get quite this close to him. His scent was stronger, too. "I brought my latest writings. If you want to read."
"Sure. You may leave them here."
He was so polite, but never overly kind. He couldn't disrespect Chani. But you so wanted things to change between you and your husband.
"Paul, I really came here to talk to you about something."
He took his eyes off the night sky outside his window and looked into your eyes. "Go on."
Your heart started thumping in your chest, you cleared your throat. "Well, I do not wish to overstep, but I think you and I have both come to enjoy our time together. I think it is safe to say that we are good friends now." You got stuck for second as you got a close look of the sweat glistening on his skin in the glowing light of the dark room.
Paul softly smiled, giving you a nod to keep going.
"But, I need you to know that no matter how amazing the moons might be on a starry night, it is no match for the way I feel when I look at you."
His expression fell, and he shook his head, "Y/n, please. I am very flattered. I appreciate you, and I care for you."
You butted in, "I can sense that you desire me, Paul. You've already broken your oath. I know that you feel distant towards your concubine, and I wonder if it has anything to do with how you feel about me."
He chuckled, walking away from you, "I thought you said you didn't wish to overstep?"
"I cannot help it. I'm sorry. But you know my training." You genuinely didn't want to disrupt anything between him and Chani.
He ran his hand over his face, pushing away the exhaustion of the day, trying to make sense of his own feelings as well. "Y/n, you aren't wrong. Chani knows that my sentiments for you have shifted."
So he admits it!
"You haven't bedded her for weeks now, have you?" you prodded, carefully.
"No," he stepped closer to you, towering over you by several inches, "not that it is any of your business."
"I don't want to make you angry, Paul. But I have seen the way you look at me, the way you brush passed me during council. You've preferred spending more and more time with me lately." You took a step forward this time, just a foot's length away from him.
Paul let his guard down, knowing that you were right about everything. His face softened, and he brought his hand up to caress your face. His hand had been roughed up by the wind and sand if the desert, but you could still see yourself melting against it as he touched you.
Paul went on to say, "You should know by now how I feel for you. But it cannot be. I made a promise. I don't ever want to be cruel to you, my y/n." he licked his dry lips, and you noticed just how blue his eyes were as a result of spice addiction. "I did not marry you for things such as love or children, you know that."
"Yes, I know." you sighed, having heard that piece of information a hundred times during your marriage. "My husband, you are a loyal man. I admired you for that, but I don't wish for anything more than the same love that you have for your concubine. You can share that tenderness with me."
He said nothing, but kept his hand on your cheek, gazing at you so fondly.
You could sense him breaking for you. "Paul," you leaned closer, placing your hand on his exposed chest, "I have seen the way your eyes narrow at me when I bow before you as my Emperor."
Then, his hand wound tightly into your hair, and his lips were being smashed against yours. He pulled you against him, he moaned into your kiss. His hands were on your body, sliding up the curves of your hips.
Your body was electrified, you ran your hands through his hair, not caring how sweaty he was. The hunger was equal on both sides.
Paul pulled away suddenly, sighing as he turned away from you.
He was still wrestling in his mind, you knew it. "I need you." you said, melancholy taking over your tone as you started to believe he was going to refuse you completely, "I need my husband. I want to made love to by Muad'Dib." You went over to him, looking at his back you noticed a scar, larger than the others on his body. You wondered if the mark was result of a fall on a sand dune or maybe the consequence of riding the great sandworm. You reached out, cautiously running your finger along the scar.
He shivered at your touch, but he didn't shy away.
You decided that maybe this plan was fruitless, that he wouldn't, and never could love you the proper way in which a man loved his wife. "Paul, if you do not love me, I will leave now. You'll never see me come back to this place. I will accept being wrong. Things will go back as they were."
"No, please, don't go." he faced you again. He relaxed more, his body language and the look in his eyes was more at ease.
"Then stop me, my dear husband."
@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey @kpopgirlbtssvt @ducktapebar
#timothée chalamet#timmy chalamet#timothee chalamet smut#timothée imagine#paul atreides#paul atreides x reader#paul atreides smut#paul atreides imagine#dune fandom#dune film#dune#dune 2021
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Across the Natashaverse
Summary: Through a small accident, you end up in another universe. What happens when you find out that your relationship with Natasha is very different here?
Natasha Romanoff x F!R
Life is good.
No missions for the week, done with training and fresh off the shower, you walk down the halls of the Compound.
“Someone’s in a good mood” Wanda comments when you join her at the kitchen. “Did Natasha change her mind about the date?”
Your smile falls immediately and her eyes widen.
“Shoot, I’m sorry”
“Nah, it’s fine” you steal a cookie from her plate and shrug your shoulders. “It was two weeks ago. She doesn’t see me that way, I get it”
“I don’t think it’s that” Wanda insists and you smile.
“You’re a hopeless romantic, Maximoff” you lean forward and place a kiss on the top of her head. The brunette chuckles, going back to the book she was reading.
As you walk to your room, you try not to think of Natasha. But it’s a small world, and she’s on her way to the gym, America Chavez right behind her.
“I’m on training duty” the redhead explains. “Wanna join us?”
“I have so much paperwork” you lie, because you’re very tired and have been looking forward to a nap. “Kick some butt, America”
“I’ll try” she doesn’t sound convinced at all.
Natasha smiles at you, waiting for your signature wink that always gets her heart racing.
But there’s not even a look back as you go to your room.
She really screwed up this time.
—
You weren’t exactly lying about the paperwork, and you work on it for half an hour to feel like you’re doing something productive with your day.
With a yawn, you stand up from the desk in your room and walk towards the bed. As you’re about to plop down, there’s a shift in the room and you land on your ass, the bed on the other side of the wall.
“What the fuck?” you say, looking around.
The room looks different. It’s the same size, but none of your stuff is there. Same thing with the hallways. It’s the Compound, but at the same time… it’s not. You walk out of the room, this time on spy mode, ready to take down the imminent threat.
“Y/N?” Natasha calls behind you and you rush to her side.
“Nat, hey. There’s something wrong. Stay close” you take her hand, and she stops you with a pull.
“I’ll say”
“Huh?” you turn, only to find her face inches away from yours.
“Where’s your wedding ring?”
“My… what?” you look down at your hands, confused. Natasha moves her face closer and you can’t focus on anything else.
“Oh, I see. Are you still angry about the other day? Because I can totally make it up to you, detka” Natasha whispers seductively against your lips, leaving a trail of kisses all the way to the shell of your ear.
“Nat.. uh… I think…”
“Use your words, pretty girl” she smiles, her hand going up your shirt to caress the skin.
And suddenly, she looks down, frowning.
“Where’s your scar?”
“I don’t have a…”
Natasha turns into a whole different person, placing you in a chokehold and holding both your arms down.
“Who are you? Are you a skrull?”
“I don’t know what that is” you say, gasping for air. “Wait, are they the ones Carol works with?”
“Who is Carol?”
“Captain Marvel”
“You mean Maria Rambeau”
“Maria is Captain Marvel?” you say, finally piecing together what’s happening. When your eyes lock with Natasha’s, you speak at the same time.
“You’re from another world”
“I’m from another world”
Even if she doesn’t let go, her grip on you losens enough for you to breathe. She’s about to ask something else when a little girl walks up and pulls your hand, getting your attention.
“Mama, what are you and Mommy doing?”
—
“Walk me through what happened”
“Nothing happened! I was doing paperwork in my room and then I was here” you say for the tenth time.
“How about before?” Natasha asks, turning right. Her idea was to drive you straight to Wong, as a multiverse travel is more of his specialty.
“I ran into you. I mean, not you. My Natasha. Wait, not my. She’s not mine” you mumble, massaging your temples. “Please tell me there’s ibuprofen in this world”
“Relax” she reaches forward, placing a hand on your thigh and you swear you’ll combust. “I get the idea. Now tell me what happened”
“We just ran into the hallway. Made some small talk. And then I went to my room”
“Just small talk?” Natasha smirks. “Not some kisses? A quickie against the wall? An earth shattering, universe transcending orgasm?”
You try to open the door and jump out of the moving car but it’s locked.
“It’s not… we’re not a thing. Just friends” you say, flustered.
“Really?” Natasha finally turns to you, as she parks outside of the not so secret lair at Bleecker street.
“Wait. It was America Chavez” you remember, facepalming. Of course. “Natasha was training her. Maybe she created a portal by accident”
“And now my wife is in another universe where you’re too chicken to ask me out. Can’t imagine that will go well for her”
“Hey, it’s not like that” you snap, embarrassed. Natasha turns to you, ready to speak back, as usual. Because she’s so smart and she thinks she knows everything. “Whatever. Let’s just get this shit fixed, I don’t wanna be here”
Walking past her, you stand before the big doors, that open up without knocking
“Welcome” the man says. “I take it you’re the little glitch in our universe”
“Yes, I am. Can you fix it?”
“No. But America can. She has been at Kamar-Taj for a year now. Her powers are more developed. It should be an interesting test for her”
“Ok, so what are we waiting for?”
“There have been some security concerns lately” Natasha explains, coming closer. “Wong has to notify their council to follow protocol”
“I’ll come find you tomorrow. Remember, the longer you stay here, the bigger the threat for both worlds”
“Yes, fine. See you tomorrow” you say, looking at your feet as you leave the building. Going down the steps, you can hear Natasha calling after you. “I’m walking back to the Compound. It’s the same route. I can wait for Wong there”
“We don’t live in the Compound” Natasha explains, her voice gentle. She waits until you turn back and searches your eyes. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said before. Come with me. I’ll feel better if I know you’re safe with us”
There’s a pause, and she waits patiently while you look around. But Natasha’s presence is like a magnet, and inevitably, your eyes come back to her beautiful features.
“What’s so funny?” she says when you chuckle.
“You do the same thing. Tilt your head to the side, purse your lips… it’s cute. In every universe”
“Sweet talker. Come on. Let’s go” she offers her hand and you accept it.
It takes an enormous amount of effort to remind yourself this isn’t the Natasha you know. And that you’re not the one she loves.
You’re so caught up in these thoughts you don’t notice when she pulls over.
“Ice cream always cheers you up” she explains, getting out of the car.
“Yeah, I guess we’re not that different”
She smiles, holding the door open for you. Well, at least the flavors are the same in this universe.
“I’ll have the peanut butter with chocolate chips”
“You’re allergic” Natasha says.
“I’m not”
“You’re not?” she repeats, while the man behind the counter looks at both of you, confused.
“Nope”
Once that’s settled, you get your ice cream cones and leave the store.
“Why are you staring?” you say, mouth full of ice cream.
“I’m just waiting for the hives and the runny nose”
“I’m not allergic” you insist, showing your arms, skin completely normal.
“Fine” she concedes, shrugging her shoulders. You keep eating in silence, until she turns back. “Wanna tell me why you got so upset?”
“Because. I did ask you… her out. She said no. I wasn’t a chicken; I gave her flowers and put myself out there. But I’m obviously the problem, because in this universe, everything works out to the point of you two getting married and having a daughter”
You take a seat in a nearby bench, feeling defeated. What a cruel thing, to see the life you could have had.
“Maybe she’s not ready. I was terrified when we started dating. Thought I’d screw it up because I knew nothing of love”
That’s what Wanda probably meant earlier. It’s a possibility that crossed your mind as well, but whatever the reason, Natasha had declined the date (looking very apologetic, you might add) and you were going to respect that choice.
“Or maybe she just doesn’t want me. And that’s ok. Because no matter what happens, I love my Natasha. And I’ll always want her to be happy”
Silence settles after you say that, but Natasha looks back at you, smiling.
“You’re very noble. It’s nice to see some things are the same across worlds”
“It’s nice to know there’s a version of me that makes a version of her happy”
Natasha smiles and nods.
“Let’s get home. Anya is waiting for us”
—
“Home sweet home” Natasha says, opening the door for you. It’s a beautiful townhouse, with lots of space in the backyard. All the walls are covered in pictures, and you can’t help but stare at all the memories that belong to a different version of you.
They seem like a happy family.
“Mommy” Anya says, and it takes a second to remember that she’s talking to you.
“Hey, sweetheart” you don’t hesitate to carry her as she comes running towards you. Natasha is keeping a watchful eye on you. “What is that?”
“That’s my Miffy, silly” she says and you bounce her in your arms, while she shows you her plushie.
Yelena joins you and you can’t help but stare. Her hair is black, short and she has bangs. There are also a couple of piercings in her nose and eyebrows.
“Did you cut your hair? Looks nice” she comments, picking up her stuff and getting ready to go. You simply nod and smile. “Gotta go, see you tomorrow for dinner with Kate, ok?”
Natasha’s sisters kisses everyone goodbye, including you and then bolts out the door.
“Baby, did you bath yet?” Natasha says, approaching Anya. The girl hides her face in the crook of your neck.
“I don’t wanna”
“You’re stinky” Natasha accuses, tickling the girl; Anya gives up and goes from your arms to the redhead’s. “Come on, and then I’ll start dinner”
“I can take care of that” you offer and Natasha’s eyes widen. Anya uses Natasha’s hair as a curtain, and thinks you can’t hear what she says.
“I don’t want Mommy to cook”
“What? Why?”
“You can’t cook” Natasha says. Well, that’s just bullshit. In your world, Natasha’s always the first in line to get a good serving of whatever it is you do.
“Go, I got this” you insist when Natasha puts Anya down. The redhead looks back several times, unsure. My God, how bad could the other you be in this world to get this reaction?
Luckily, once they are done with the bath, Anya comes back, pulling her mother and commenting that the smell is incredible.
“Mommy didn’t burn the kitchen!”
“Has that actually happened?” you mumble to Natasha and she nods. “Yikes”
The redhead laughs, and nudges your shoulder with hers.
“This is really good” she admits after trying your chicken pasta bake.
“Thinking about keeping me?”
“Maybe” she jokes. “Or bring you over when I don’t feel like cooking”
Of course, Anya doesn’t understand what you’re talking about. She tells you about her day with aunt Yelena and all you have to do is listen and nod.
“I’ll do the dishes” you offer after you finish.
“Come say goodnight to her”
“Will do”
While you clean, you try not to think about what life will be like tomorrow, when you go back to a world where things are different.
“She fell asleep in the middle of a Clifford story” Natasha comes back after a few minutes. “It’s probably because she ate so much”
“I’ll leave the recipe for you” you promise. “Mind if I crash in the couch?”
“Right” the redhead smiles, and you can tell she’s nervous by the way she fidgets with her hands. You reach forward, taking them in yours.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t really sleep without… her”
“I can stay on the bedroom floor”
“I couldn’t possibly ask you to”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering” you assure her.
By the time you’re done with cleaning the kitchen, there’s an inflatable mattress, pillows and a blanket.
“Let me know if you’re comfortable” Natasha asks, turning off the bedroom lights.
“Or what? You’ll let me sleep cuddled up? It wouldn’t be good for the space and time continuum that I kick my own butt”
“I actually think she’d find it funny” Natasha says, and you let her voice lull you in the dark. “She’s probably teasing your Natasha endlessly, trying to get her to admit some sort of feelings for you”
“She has a death wish” you groan, admittedly forgetting that the Natasha you know is having a less than pleasant time right now.
“What is she like?” Natasha says after a few moments of silence.
“She’s the smartest person in any room. Hates cooking and doing dishes. Always looking out for others, always taking on the most missions. She’s really funny too. Sometimes, Bucky will ask anyone for movie recs and Natasha will give a completely made up title. So, Barnes will go crazy looking around for it”
“Oh, I’m so doing that next time” you both laugh.
“Great ass too” you say after a beat and a pillow is thrown across the room and falls right in your face. “Hey!”
“Go to sleep”
—
Next morning, you figure it’s only fair to cook some breakfast before Wong calls you over.
Which, he does, sooner than expected.
Anya is barely finished with breakfast, when Natasha comes down the stairs and looks at you.
“It’s time”
Feeling nervous, and a bit sad, you nod. Wanda shows up a few minutes later. To your shock, in this world, she’s pregnant.
“Thank you for taking care of her, it really won’t take long” Natasha says as soon as she steps inside.
The brunette eyes you curiously, and you can tell by her magic that she knows this isn’t your world.
“You know I’m always happy to”
At the door, Natasha picks up Anya and kisses her everywhere she can. The girl giggles once her mother places her down.
“Hey, bug” you kneel on the floor. “Be good. Your moms will be back soon, ok?”
“Ok, mommy. See you soon”
“Bye, Anya” you say, letting her hug you. Once you’re out the door, Natasha reaches for your hand, and squeezes lightly.
The ride to Bleeker street is silent. Wong seems pleased when he sees you.
“Follow me, ladies” he asks, opening up a portal to Kamar Taj. You’d only been there once; the size of the place always makes you feel like you’re in another planet.
A much older version of America greets you -she’s probably in her twenties- and takes your hand for a second, closing her eyes.
“Ready to go home?” she asks.
“Wait!” Natasha calls behind you and you turn, eyes wide. To your surprise, the woman hugs you, and you wrap her in your arms as well. When she pulls away, she places a small kiss on your cheek. “Anyone would be lucky to have you. She’s an idiot if she can’t see that”
“Thanks, Nat. Not about the idiot part. Be kind to every version of yourself, yes?”
“Fine” she rolls her eyes, squeezing your hand one last time.
You’re about to step into the portal when you turn to America.
“This won’t send me into the middle of a busy road or like, free falling to my death, right?”
“Most likely not” she promises.
You don’t like the sound of that.
“Ok, but on a scale of one to ten…”
“For Agamoto’s sake” Wong sighs behind you, pushing you without warning.
The room is completely upside down and then you land in the middle of the meeting table, the Avengers around you screaming.
“Son of a bitch” Steve says as you roll to the floor, out of air.
“Language” you manage to say. Everyone’s rushing to you. Sam is the first one and he helps you up. They are all talking at the same time, Wanda inspecting the cut on your forehead from falling on the table.
Suddenly, Natasha nudges them aside, wrapping you in her arms.
“Hey, it’s ok. It’s me” you say against her temple.
“We’ll leave you alone. Go to the medbay, though”
“Yes, Cap”
You’re in no hurry, Natasha safely in your arms.
—
“So, what happened while I was gone?” you casually ask as Natasha cleans the cut.
“I almost killed you… her. Twice”
“Sounds like you had fun”
“Not really. She’s a smartass. Can’t cook a damn thing, so I made her a pb&j sandwich”
“Oh, yeah. She’s allergic” you grimace. “Wait, you said you almost killed her twice. If one was with peanut butter…”
“The first thing she did when she came to this world was slap my ass”
“She does have a death wish” you joke, but Natasha doesn’t answer, turning around to put the first aid kit away.
“Is it true?” Natasha asks. You look at her, confused. “Are we married? With a daughter?”
“Oh. Yes, it’s true. They seem to be happy. It was nice”
“Was she better than me?”
“Natasha” you say, forcing her to face you. “I have no doubt in my mind that you’re awesome in every universe. But this version of you is the one I know and love. With your love of spy films, the scar in your belly, and your half smirk when you beat everyone at Uno”
“I am really good at Uno” she agrees and you both laugh.
“Damn right you are”
“I missed you. Too much, to the point where I realise I can’t keep pretending I don’t want this. I’m just scared” she says, holding on to your hands. “Will you help me? Be brave for us”
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, love” you promise, kissing her hand softly. “In this, or any other universe”
2K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
levaobscura
Memento Mori
grandadcoran
Coran Coran The Gorgeous Man
ectectbehho-blog
Блог Юрасика на пути к ВГ
teamrsbd
still alive, mom
kaplanwrites
Kaplan's old diary