ryland grace being a crier during sex.
he gets overstimulated easily, clinging to you when you stroke him gently. “mnnghh baby..” he starts off whining. he’s backed up against the headboard of his bed while your seated perpendicular to his hips on your calf’s. your hand’s on his cock, using his excessive precum to your advantage, spreading it around his tip. his hips lift off the bed when your squeeze him a little before he’s keeling over himself. “please, please—“ he starts begging with a moan cutting him off. that’s when his tears start developing in the corners of his eyes.
“please what?” you tease him. he’s always so needy when you’re touching him. even when your not touching him, when he’s jumping your leg at night when you’re ‘too tired’ to assist with his desires. when you’re only talking him through his orgasm and he’s drinking your every word. your voice gets him going like a dog at your beck and call.
“please help me cum. i need it, please, baby” he’s full on crying and you’re living off it. seeing him like this, admittedly, gets you sinfully turned on. his red cheeks glistening with every tear that falls. and when he looks up at you with his mouth agape it’s like you’re dreaming.
you test his limits further, “lemme see you hold it a little longer. can you do that for me?” to which he nods with a choked sob-moan. “good boy. you’re always so obedient for me.” and he was. you’re good boy. you lean forward to kiss and lick at his tear stained cheeks which gets him all the more red. his meeks moans send ripples through your core and he’s barely containing himself.
“can i now? can i? i’ve been good, you said so!” he grabs at your arm, gently, and your shirt, pinching the plush of your boob not-so-accidentally. you continue to work him, twisting your wrist and making designated stops at his tip, stimulating the vein that starts right under it. it makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.
“cum for me, ry” you whisper into his neck as your peppering kisses to it. his face is all twisted, red, and wet when white hot ropes come sputtering out of him. it’s a lot and it gets all over your hands and his thighs. after a few tens of seconds he’s spent and sticky, heavily breathing out ‘thank yous’ like you granted him his one wish willow.
“what do you say about going one more time? with me on top?” you suggest. you guys spend the rest of the night doing “intensive exercise” and expecting noise complaints from ryland’s neighbors.
art admitting he cheated on you with patrick but you don’t exactly mind.
cw: cheating, smut, sub!art
he comes to you with his head hung low, shaking at the thought of admitting his wrong doings. he’s terrified of what you’ll say, completely bracing to see you lash out and break up with him on the spot. he’d feel even worse if he didn’t give you that choice by not telling you what happened though. such a sweet honest boy.
“hi baby!” you run up to him off the couch in your guys’ shared apartment. he’d come back from patrick’s, the scene of the crime.
you stop yourself in the kitchen when you realize his sad puppy demeanor. “what’s wrong, babe?” you lower your voice and try to be as gentle with your words as possible.
“nothin’… i just- have to tell you something.” his eyes refuse to meet yours, preferring his feet instead. his voice shake with every word, walking up to you. at this point you’re terrified at what he has to say.
you bring your hand up to rub his shoulder, squeezing slightly when you say, “what is it? you can tell me anything.”
“i’m so sorry, mama. i’m sorry,” he’s crying and apologizing profusely before he even gets to the point. the nickname making your nerves tingle a little, making you feel bad for feeling that way. he buries his head in his hands, soaking them in his tears. "i didn't mean to- i mean, i did- i wasn't thinking, i d-don't know"
you stay silent, trying to piece together what he's saying to what could've possibly happened. what did patrick do? "just breathe, baby" you say as you take his frame into your arms and lean against the kitchen counter behind you, pressing your ass into the cold laminate.
after what seems like an eternity (2 minutes), art lifts his head from your tear-stained shoulder to avow, "pat and i kissed," oh...? "and i know that probably means we're done, but i'm so sorry. i feel like the shittiest person in the world," he didn't though. he selfishly hoped you were okay with it, wouldn't break up with him, get to kiss his bestfriend-slash-crush and keep his girlfriend. "fuck, please talk to me."
"it's okay." you profess.
"what?"
"it's okay, art," he's gobsmacked, his moistened lips gaped open. "i don't mind," you sit yourself up on the counter in between his thighs. you're turned on not only by his honesty, but the image of your boyfriend making out his his best(boy)friend. your leg moves in between his thighs, pressing your calf into art's crotch. he whines. "you don't have to be sorry, babe, i understand."
he's confused and turned on at the same time. "you do?" tears are still running down his face, running over the tear stains marked on his face already. you nod your head as you pull him in to a kiss. he's hesitant at first, still trying to understand what you're saying to him until he melts into you. you feel like ecstasy on his trembling lips, every emotion he feels makes his body feel like it's on fire. "lemme make it up t'you." he mumbles against your lips. he drops to his knees so his face is inches from your clothed sex on the counter. he kneads the flesh of your ass as he pulls you to the edge.
"yeah, baby, make it up to me," your tongue is laced with lust. he pulls your lounge shorts and panties to the side of your puffy cunt. it's practically leaking on the table and in that moment art realizes how turned on this situation is making you. you're horny over the fact that he cheated on you with his best friend. "what else did you guys do?" you push your pussy into his face, to which he moves his thumb to gather your slick from your folds to circle your clit with it.
"we... touched each other..." he's blushing furiously.
you didn't really believe all they would do is kiss, "yeah? were you just gonna leave that part out?"
"n-no," he's pressing the pad of his thumb into your cunt harder now, making you moan which makes his throbbing cock harder. "fuck, i'm so dumb." he latches his lips onto your folds, suckling almost to soothe himself. he's distracting himself from his shame, simultaneously keeling you over in pleasure.
"ah- art!" your hands grab on his goldish curls. he moans into your cunt when you tug on his hair. it's sinful how turned on you both are, sharing groans and moans. he whispers apologies and horny confessions into you.
"i'm sorry, mama" "i thought of you the whole time" "it didn't mean anything"
you're so fucking close you start humping into his face, covering the lower half into your wetness. "jus' keep goin' baby," you feel his clothed cock start dragging against your dangling foot. he's sticky and leaking, close to his orgasm as much as you are.
with a final moan from both of you, you both cum in tandem, him in his shorts and you on his face. "fuck!" art groans. he's overwhelmed and clarity is teetering on setting in before you grab his face to look at you.
"i think it's hot, art," you confess, finally. "as long as he doesn't hurt you." patrick's notorious for being prodigal with his lovers.
art shakes his head quickly, "no, he wouldn't do that," he puts his head on your knee, calming down. "thank you, baby." relieved, he gets up on his feet, kissing you softly.
that fic where colt comes home to a needy girlfriend
warnings - smut, sub!reader, piv, afab reader, oral | w/c - 1.17k
the slam of the door against it's frames pulls your feet to the floor off your bed. colt has been out all day at work getting flung around in cars and wires being the perfect stuntman he is praised to be. before he can properly turn around from locking the door, you're standing behind with impatience and your hands twiddling behind your back.
"oh, hi baby! hi," he leans down to catch his lips in yours. you're quick to kiss him back, pulling him in by the cheeks with your hands. he groans into your mouth, realizing how much he's missed your touch after his extensive workload lately. colt's barely home, only hitting base to sleep because this new movie he's on is lining up to be the "most awarded" of the year with an a-list cast. while you're very supportive, the lack of moments of intimacy has put tension on your (sexual) needs.
after you don't let up on colt's lips for at least a minute, he pulls back dizzily-- from exhaustion and arousal. "somebody missed me, huh?" you eagerly nod to his comment and try to lean back into him. if you don't take your chances now, who knows the next time you'll kiss him relentlessly?
he puts his hand on your chest, slightly pushing you back, "hold on, baby, i just got home," he grinned through his words and watched the way your face started pouting feeling rejected. "what's wrong? i've been away too long?" his calloused hands sweep the sides of your face.
"just been missin' you, colt. i feel like you're so far away," you step back feeling a little embarrassed now. you didn't mean to come on so strong. "m'sorry." you shy away.
"hey, hey, don't be sorry," colt takes your hands from your timid frame. "why don't you go lay on the bed while i go take a shower and i'll be right there, okay?" you quietly nod to that and follow your given instructions, laying on the bed as you scroll through your phone waiting for colt to get out of his shower. your considering just getting in there even though you already took your own shower before you hear it turn off in the connected bathroom.
colt walks in your shared bedroom glossed and donning a towel around his waist. he doesn't bother putting on clothes, they'll be off and forgotten soon enough. colt's highlighted hair looks gorgeous in the dimlighted room, like every golden strand is slick with a call to attention that you’re happy to provide. you run your fingers through this hair as he sets himself down on the bed. "hi, again," he smiles, leaning into your touch.
"hi," your hands fall from his hair to his shoulders as you pull him into a needy kiss. his hands draw to your hips, squeezing lightly and guiding you to his lap with his lightly draped hardening cock sitting against your yearning clit.
he groans against your mouth when he grinds up against your body. "fuck, babe. i'm sorry for being gone so long," he apologizes with a lust-laced tongue. you press your hips with gentle rigor against his, moaning into his mouth.
"s'okay," you slur out. the way his dick grinds against your pussy almost hurts with how good it feels. like you infinitely want more. "please fuck me, colt. please." you mewl.
your plead leads him to lay your body down in front of him after one more distinct upward thrust into you, coaxing a moan from your wet lips. "i gotta get you ready first, huh? get you all wet?" he slowly slips you out of your underwear, your wetness stringing from your pussy to the gusset. "well, more wet, i guess."
he takes his time running his fingers down your hips, making you all warm and your skin tingly. colt likes taking his time with you. caring for you. he likes feeling how your whole body moves with every deep breath you take. "god, you're perfect. you're gorgeous, baby." he likes watching your face contort when he compliments you. the way your eyebrows furrow.
he thumbs your clit, gathering the slick from your folds to make his finger glide easier. "shit-" you're whimpering as he mimics circles on your bundle of nerves. before you realize it, his lips are wrapped around your pussy, drinking up every bit of juice he's coaxed out of you. "ah- colt!" your back arches off the bed.
"you're okay, jus' lie down. take it," it's hard when he's sucking the life out of you through your pussy. "you taste so good, babygirl," he's humping the bed as he says that and his bare cock against the linen pumps out precum like no other friction. "oh god..." the feeling of his tongue squirming within your pulsating hole is overwhelming, like all the nerves and veins in your body are communicating with each other to fuck with you.
"mmfuck baby m'gonna cum," you're so very close. he pulls back before you're there yet. "no, please-"
"it's ok, hold on." colt unsticks himself from the bed, sweat and precum glueing him down. fuck the shower at this point, it's like it never even happened. he lines himself up with your entrance and teases your hole with his tip. let's just say he's a comfortable size (if you're greedy).
he always asks "you ready?" to which you always nod. he pushes himself into you, slowly for your's and his sake. if he's not careful he'll blow his load in record time. "fuck," he mumbles. he breathes deeply before building a rhythm that satiates both of you. the drag of his dick inside you has you moaning embarrassingly loud. you're not even that loud, but c'mon, it's a little more than you'd like.
he's cradling your head, holding you close as he nears his orgasm. you shakily circle your clit, getting you back to the state you were before but now with colt inside you. your free hand grab whatever flesh of colt's it can find, pressing your fingernails into him. "please, please let me cum," you beg. he doesn't respond for a minute, dragging out your impatience and need for pleasure. instead, he's groaning loudly and hunching his hips into yours.
"you're doing so good. cum with me, please. fuck, i need it," he finally says against your lips before kissing them. he kisses up to your ear, stopping when he feels the tumbling release take over him. he's babbling nothings into your ear while you whine his name out, coming to your own release.
it feels unbearably good, tears prickling in your eyes. his body against yours ignites your skin into a million tiny fires. "god, colt." you breathe out. he's heavy breathing on top of you, practically dripping in sweat. "you should probably... shower again."
"what you don't like me like this? not clean enough for you?"
"shut up, you're stupid," you laugh out.
anyway, y'all quickly pass out from exhaustion and hold off the shower til the morning.
art and patrick made a habit of going to the grocery store together every week to replenish their shared apartment. it was more organized this way, both of them regulating their shopping habits for each other.
as they pull into the grocery store parking lot, it's filled to the brim with cars and the only spot in the lot is the very back, ways away from the entrance.
"everybody just needs to be here today, huh?" patrick chides. art nods silently, looking down at his fingers that are pushing against each other in his lap. he's been quiet the whole ride to the store. "are you okay, bud?" patrick asks. art nods his head, not shifting in position.
as patrick pulls into the parking spot, he looks over at art who looks like a sad puppy slumped in the passenger seat. "art. what's wrong?" patrick prys.
art huffs, clearly annoyed by something. he'd been out with a girl the night before, patrick assumes this is about her. "do you think my nipples look weird?" not a question patrick was expecting.
"what?" patrick furrows his eyebrows. art has never been openly insecure about his body with patrick before. it's not like art is cocky with his body but he doesn't purposefully hide himself. patrick appreciates this trait when their lounging around the apartment, getting to take in his unclothed figure. not in like a gay way though... in appreciation for his best friend. "why are you asking me?"
art's pouting, "that girl, from last night, kept touching my nipples and laughing," he's borderline crying and he feels pathetic for asking his best friend such a weird question.
"hey, it's okay. i'm sure your nipples are fine, art." despite his efforts of comfort, art doesn't seem satisfied with his lip still folded over. patrick tries to catch his line of sight into his but fails as art refuses to look over out of embarrassment. "you want me to look for you?" he's asking as if he hasn't seen his bare chest dozens of times before.
"hm?" art finally looks over with a flushed face.
"lemme see them," art reluctantly lifts his shirt, painfully slowly. patrick keeps his eyes on art's unveiling chest, drinking in the sight-- in an appreciative friend way. for some reason the space between his thighs gets a little hotter.
art's shirt rests on his thighs while he waits for patrick to say something. "there's nothing wrong with them, art"
"you can barely see them from where your sitting," two feet away, "she was really close up. she kept rubbing her hands against them, pat, it was really weird" patrick moves his hands to grasp art's pec, while simultaneously moving his head closer to art's, his other hand keeping him stable over the middle console.
patrick takes it upon himself to start rolling art's nipple between his fingers. "like this?"
art gasps, nodding. "yeah." both of the boys feel themselves getting the slightest bit dizzy at the contact. "what do you think?" he meeks out.
"they're good, art," he's whispering into art's chest at this point and he's right they are good, near perfect if patrick's being honest. art's too in his head to believe his 'biased' best friend. "you're okay." as a way of reassurance patrick starts placing slow kisses to art's chest.
"what are you--"
"i wanna show you how perfect you are." patrick gets art's chest wet with his saliva from the kissing and licking. art starts whining, out of embarrassment and arousal. he can't believe his bestfriend would go to this length to stop him from beating himself up over his physicality. he bets a lot of friends would appreciate how patrick treats him. right?
patrick splays his hands across art's right pec while kissing along his left one. in the front seats of the car it's quite uncomfortable to being doing all of this but patrick barely recognizes his comfortability as he's intently listening to all the sounds coming from art. it's a gift from God that no one is seeing what's happening between the two boys. "pat... mmfuck this feels good."
"yeah, i bet no girl's done for you, huh?" for him?
"n-no."
patrick pulls his face from art's chest. taking it a bit further, patrick grazes his hand over art's crotch, feeling how intensely hard he's gotten from this whole ordeal. patrick looks down and fuck you can see how obscenely rockish he's gotten. both of them. "you gonna thank me?"
"...thank you?" art looks very confused because he is.
"are you still nip-secure?"
"what? nip-secure?"
"insecure about your nips. which are completely fine by the way. i would know, they were just in my mouth." patrick's smiling like an idiot as he toys with art this way.
"ew, shut up, dude!" art pushes against patrick's chest shoving him into the driver's seat, sheepishly grinning.
"that doesn't sound like gratitude."
"i'm not thanking you for that. you're dumb." art shakes his head and keeps his gaze down at his feet under the dash. his heart is racing and he can feel the heartbeat in his chest and his damn boxers and patrick's fucking around and he knows he's not even going to get off right now. you know, because their in a fucking open parking lot.
"whatever, you liked it that's what matters," art just shakes his head at that. "let's go, this list isn't gonna buy itself." patrick opens the door and gets a foot on the concrete before art is refusing and fussing.
"I can't go in like this!" he gestures down to his vulgar boner. it's very obvious in his little tennis shorts.
"well, you better get it down, i'm not staying out here for longer than i have to." patrick laughs and shuts the car door, going to lean on the trunk of the car as he waits for art to fix his... problem.
it's a laughable amount of time before art gets out of the car with a noticeably less bulgeous crotch area. "okay, let's go." art quickly states as he walks hurriedly into the grocery store. they may or may not miss a few crucial items on the way out the store and speed home to finish a much needed conversation.
not beta read so if this sucks, soz. also i'm back after a long hiatus and looking for muts! tell me if u liked this and want anything similar/different! bio & masterlist coming soon.
late night thoughts; art and patrick moving in together after graduating from tennis academy
[smut] | w/c: 726
a/n: my first fic on this account and i haven't written in so long nghh i missed my little white boys.
patrick has a habit of being very unintentionally loud in the middle of the night whenever he's feeling peckish. nine times out of ten it wakes art up from their shared bed. usually he'd brush it off, too tired to get up from bed but he decided that he wanted to join his roommate in the kitchen.
"oh sorry, art. didn't mean t'wake you," patrick slurs, putting away constituents of his pb&j. "you should go back to sleep." patrick stands across from him over the island while art sits on one of the mismatched stools placed below the elevated side.
"i had this dream. you were in it," art rests his head on his forearms. "we were like-- dating and you broke up with me for some girl," art recalls it like he's unbothered but even in this low light patrick can still read on his face that his dream did bother him.
patrick props himself up on his arms on the counter leaning in slightly. "even if we were dating, art, i wouldn't do that," art nods to that and patrick can only see his faint outline moving. "you came in here to tell me that?"
"yeah," art gets up from the stool to move next to patrick and seats himself on the counter next to patrick's sandwich. "what'd you make?" art doesn't care and can smell the peanut butter from where he's sitting, he just wants to be closer to patrick.
patrick moves to stand directly in front of art, slotting himself between his dangling legs. "i don't really want it anymore." patrick whispers before pressing his lips into art's. art melts into patrick's lip and touch as he wraps his hands around art's waist. the feeling isn't foreign to art, all those curious nights where it just happened that neither art or patrick had a hook-up they could call up. it'd be inconvenient for the girl to come over anyway with just one bed being owned between the two of them.
"pat--" art's whining against patrick, pushing his hips forward into the air for nonexistent friction. "mmngh.." he gets so needy with minimal touch.
"you know i would never do that you, right? i don't know what my life would be without you." given that patrick has spent most of his life being friends with patrick, he means it. he'd be a whole different person without art in his life.
patrick starts palming art through his boxers to halt art's thrusts into nothing. "fuck pat," he huffs out, "i know you wouldn't," he's curling in on himself, slightly dizzy. "shit, please keep doing that." patrick splays his fingers across the outline of art's dick, pressing on the tip of it. this gets art reeling his head back. patrick's barely touching him and he's already close. it usually went like this with him. maybe it's the guilt of hooking up with his best friend that turns him on. maybe it's just the desire alone.
as art bucks into patrick's hand, patrick pulls it away to which art protests against before pulling the waistband of art's boxers right below his balls. his fully erect dick springs out, leaking pre-cum. "hurts" art says under his breath. patrick slowly starts jerking art off, spreading the sticky liquid around the tip. art moans loudly feeling himself get closer to the edge.
patrick increases his speed gradually, having art squirming on the counter in front of him. "feels s'good, pat" his lips fall into an 'o' shape as his hips lift off the laminate. he can barely control the noises that come out of him, resulting in a lot of gibberish. patrick chooses to silently watch him, his bulge progressively straining against his own boxers. he could get off on watching art like this for hours. unraveling under his touch. "fuck-- m'comin, mmnghh"
he grabs onto patrick's shoulder to stabilize himself as he cums all over his hand, his face all skewed up and little whimpers flying past his lips. patrick slows his hand down, letting art ride out his orgasm and swiping over his tip to tease him. the cum drips onto the counter from the sheer amount that came out.
art slumps against patrick's shoulder, even more exhausted than he was when he initially walked into the kitchen. "don't fall asleep on me. you're cleaning this up."
