strictly 18+ only // content warnings should be on each link
forwarning: obviously the voices aren’t going to sound exactly like the actors / characters so I’ve gone more for how the vibes and attitudes fit with the characters, you’ll just have to use your imagination tbh my darlings!!
these are intended for female / afab listeners
other than that go wild and happy listening my loves
Eddie Munson
Eddie making you cum for the first time
topping a secretly insecure Eddie
Eddie trying to be rough for the first time
fucking Eddie after a dnd game
you and Eddie’a first time together
Eddie ‘I don’t think I can be gentle with you tonight’ Munson
getting high and fucking at a party
best friend Eddie finds your reddit page…
bad boy Eddie and bitchy miss popular
Steve Harrington
your first time with Steve
friends to lovers with Steve (this mentions stranger things so it’s kinda meta lmao)
having a quickie in a closet at a party
your friend Steve catches you masturbating
Steve thinking about you and jerking off
rich boy Steve fucking you in his library
Billy Hargrove
stripping for Billy
Billy puts bratty kitten reader in their place
Billy watching / helping you fuck yourself
hatefucking your ex Billy
Billy fucking you at a party (this one really sounds like him I’m screaming)
watching a scary movie with Billy leads to other things...
cheating on your boyfriend, Billy fucking you in a park
Robin Buckley
enemies to lovers / hate fucking Robin
you and Robin hookup at a lake house getaway
thanking Robin for helping you study
taking care of Robin, her calling you mommy
encouraging you take a break from work, helping you destress
Robin showering her shy girlfriend with praise and affection
Nancy Wheeler
brat tamer Nancy teaching you patience
dom Nancy lets you ride her boot
playing truth or dare leads you to hooking up
a ‘tutor’ session with Nancy
getting dressed all pretty for Nancy
you and Nancy escape a party so you can hookup
Jonathan Byers
taking Jonathan’s virginity
Jonathan eating you out whilst you work
encouraging you to come back to bed
edging sub Jonathan
link to search website yourself
main masterlist // stranger things masterlist // stranger things audio list part one // stranger things audio list - other characters
p.s. I will keep adding more as and when I find them / when they’re sent to me
on that note, if you find any you think would fit the characters please do feel free to send them my way so I can add them to the list!!
could i maybe get a roommate fic where carmy’s getting ridden and about to come and has no filter so it slips out that he loves her
Baby, Please.
it’s been on the tip of his tongue for too long. it was only a matter of time.
roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader
warnings - smut. cursing. carmy’s a bit pathetic at some points in this (you’re welcome)
word count - 2.4k
authors note - ah shit, here we go again. I always end writing carmy as a little bitch in these, sorry lmao (i’m not). but here it is!! a love confession!! will they ever talk about anything, I hear you ask? we’ll see…
as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3
series masterlist. masterlist. inbox.
Carmen automatically smiles when he hears your keys clinking against the lock in the front door.
As soon as he clocks it, he rolls his eyes at himself. You’re not supposed to get butterflies in your stomach when your roommate comes home on a random Thursday evening.
And yet here he is, sitting on the couch, trying to play it cool - as if he hasn’t been waiting for your return for the last hour and a half.
You’re usually back from work before he is, and suddenly he’s grateful for it. He couldn’t do this everyday. Sitting, waiting for you to come home as if you’ve been gone for months rather than nine or so hours. The apartment feels a little bigger, a little colder without you in it. Carmy wonders how he lived here for so long without you.
You swing the door open, kicking off your shoes instantly. Throwing your bag onto the counter, you take in the sight of your home. It’s clean, tidied, more organised than you’ve seen it in a while. Carmy’s been putting the work in while you’ve been gone.
“What happened, Carmen? Are you okay?”
“W-what?”
“Were you stress cleaning?”
He laughs, all full and warm.
“No, babe. Just regular cleaning.”
He rises from the couch, coming over to press a kiss into your cheek before slipping your jacket off your shoulders and hanging it up behind you.
“Carmen, what’s that smell?”
“Tomato and basil slow baked rigatoni. Homemade garlic bread. And then, if you have any room left… my homemade snickerdoodles.”
“Did you… cook for me?”
“Yes I did, baby. It’s the least I can do after you’ve been at work all day.”
It’s all so domestic, so thoughtful, so heartfelt, that you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. You step forward into his space, looping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips. He grins at you when you pull away.
“What was that for?”
“A thank you,” you whisper, kissing him again. “I really won the roommate lottery, huh?”
“We both did,” he chuckles, covering your face in kisses while you squirm in his arms.
Eventually, he lets you go, but not before raking his eyes up and down your figure very slowly. He takes you in - your work clothes, the way your hair is falling out slightly, your bare feet. As much as you want to let him devour you, you’re starving. A different kind of hunger to his.
“Dinner first. That after.”
“What after?” he plays coy, trying to fight the smirk off his face.
“Don’t play dumb, Berzatto. It’s not a good look on you.”
With that, you leave the kitchen to get changed, laughing as you go.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
You sink further into Carmy’s side on the couch, trying desperately to pay attention to the vintage sitcom that’s playing on the TV.
All you can focus on are the rough fingertips tracing patterns on the bare skin of your thigh. They keep getting higher, brushing the seam of your pyjama shorts occasionally. Every so often, Carmy leans in to press a kiss onto your temple, into your hair, behind your ear. You rest your head on his chest, soothed by the steady beat of his heart.
“That was the best meal I’ve had in a long time, you know.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I could eat that pasta every day for the rest of my life and die a happy woman.”
Carmy laughs, and the sound rumbles through both of you.
“I don’t cook for you often enough.”
You sit up, then, turning in your seat to look him in the eyes.
“Carmen. You cook for me almost every day.”
“Yeah, but… not really.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Most of the time when I’m cooking at home, I’m trying a new recipe, or perfecting an old one - for the restaurant. And then we both eat it for dinner. But tonight, I actually picked a recipe I knew you’d love, and made it for you. Because I don’t cook for you often enough.”
You lean in to press a gentle kiss to his lips, smiling as you do it.
“You know I don’t mind either way, right? Whatever you make is always delicious. Except for that weird duck mousse from last week. That was… awful.”
He shoves you playfully, laughing when you topple backwards onto the couch cushions. Climbing onto you, he digs his fingers into your ribs, chuckling as you try to squirm away from him.
“Stop, before I kick you in the stomach or something,” you plead, wrapping your legs around his waist to try and keep him still.
When that doesn’t work, you resort to dirtier tactics. You roll your hips up into his, watching as his face changes when he realises what you’re doing. The tickling stops, replaced by fingertips gripping your sides in a completely different way.
“Fuck,” he murmurs into your neck as he drops his head down. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Minx.”
“Well you wouldn’t stop, so…”
“You’re usually telling me not to stop, honey. ‘Oh, Carmen, don’t stop baby, don’t stop’…”
You laugh as he mocks you, half in disbelief, half in amusement.
“You’re such a dick.”
“You still want me though, huh?”
The atmosphere in the room shifts, tension thickening in the air. Carmy’s eyes go dark as he looks down at you, gaze raking across your face. You nod in response to his question, chewing at your bottom lip.
“You gonna let me thank you for dinner properly, Berzatto?
Who is he to say no to an offer like that?
You tighten your legs around his waist and pull his hips down to yours, flipping you both over on the couch. You settle with your thighs on either side of his, your weight keeping him anchored down to the cushions.
“You look so pretty underneath me,” you whisper, tracing the features of his face with your gentle fingertips. “Pretty, pretty boy.”
Carmy’s hips buck up into yours at the praise.
“You’re so fucking predictable,” you giggle as he groans. “You love this, don’t you?”
“Love what?”
His voice is all strained and breathy already, and you can’t help but laugh.
“Being my bitch.”
He chuckles and rolls his eyes, but his tightening grip on your waist gives him away. You lean in to press your forehead to his, breathing him in for a moment. Carmy tilts his head up to meet your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth as you whine.
You tangle your fingers into his hair, melding your lips against his. You let him explore your mouth, winding your hips down into him in a steady motion. You lean back to pull his shirt over his head, yours following suit shortly afterwards and ending up in a pile on the floor.
Carmy kisses his way across your chest, nipping and sucking as he goes. You’re way past the don’t leave marks stage. Neither of you care anymore. You rake your nails down his stomach, smirking when he shudders, goosebumps rising across his skin.
You tip forward to bite at the muscle of Carmy’s neck, licking a stripe up his throat as you go. He tastes like his minty shower gel and cinnamon sugar from the snickerdoodles. It’s the perfect combination to make your mouth water.
He tangles his fingers into the waistband of your pyjama shorts, trying to tug them down. You go to stand up to help him, but the whine he lets out stops you in your tracks.
“Don’t go anywhere.”
“Carmen, if you want my pants off, you need to let me stand up.”
“You can do it here.”
He pulls you back down into his lap, ignoring your raised eyebrows. You manage to slip your shorts and panties down one leg, rising awkwardly on the other to try and get them off. You kick them to the floor, chuckling as you settle back over Carmy’s hips.
“Happy now?”
“Very happy,” he mumbles, reattaching his lips to your jaw. “The happiest. Got the prettiest girl in the world naked in my lap right now.”
Heat rises across your chest at the compliment, head ducking down to avoid his eyes.
“Shut up,” you mutter, tugging down the waistband of Carmy’s sweatpants.
You pull them and his boxers off in one fell swoop, dropping them onto the floor. When you take him in your hand, he reaches out and grabs your wrist, looking up at you through thick lashes.
“Wait, baby.”
You freeze instantly, finally meeting his gaze.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothings wrong. Just need to get you ready first.”
You shake your head, gentle smile on your face. He’s always thinking about you. Selfless boy.
“I am more than ready, Carmen.”
When he looks at you with skepticism in his eyes, you decide to make a point.
You trail your fingers down your stomach, pulling them through your wetness when you reach it. Sliding a digit inside, you rock your hips, throwing your head back. You can both hear how ready you are, and it makes Carmy groan.
“Oh, fuck.”
He’s whispering in awe, careful not to spook you when you’re so clearly in your own little world. You add another finger, and Carmy has to grip your hips as hard as he can to stop himself from flipping you over and having his way with you.
You remove your fingers and shove them straight into Carmy’s mouth, panting as he laves his tongue around them. You both whine in unison. Always so in sync.
“I’m more than ready,” you whisper into his jaw. “Promise.”
“I believe you,” he croaks, wrecked already. “Please.”
“You’re so pretty when you beg.”
You line him up, sinking down ever so slowly. You want to feel every inch, every ridge, every movement. You don’t want to miss anything.
You both drop your heads back in bliss, chests heaving against each other. You’re adjusting, while Carmy’s trying to get a hold of himself. He doesn’t want it to be over too quickly, but it so easily could be if he isn’t careful. He runs his hands up and down the bare skin of your back, admiring how soft you are.
“You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he says through gritted teeth. “Shit, baby.”
“You feel so good. So big, Carmen. Fuck.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” you can’t help but tease, running your thumb over his bottom lip.
“Talk like that. Fuck.”
“Oh,” you laugh in fake realisation. “You like it a little too much, huh?”
He leans his head forward to rest on your chest, gasping when you lift your hips up to drop them back down. It’s all so slick, so easy. It’s like you’re made for each other, made to fit together like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
You can’t help but want to push him a little further. He’s always so quietly domineering, so seemingly in control, that you love when he allows himself to fray at the edges slightly. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t get you off.
“So you don’t want me to tell you how you’re filling me up just right? That you’re so big, that you feel so fucking good? That I could sit here for hours? That I’ve never had it like this with anyone?”
Carmy’s hips buck up involuntarily, and you chuckle a little cruelly.
“Baby, please.”
“Okay, Carmen. Okay.”
You press a sugary sweet kiss to his lips before settling your hands on his broad shoulders to give yourself some stability. You set a steady rhythm, winding your hips up and gliding them back down with a clear purpose. Your knees ache, and your hips are being held open a little too wide, but you feel delirious with it, high off the pleasure. It’s good. So good.
You’ve always found his babbling amusing, but right now there’s nothing funny about the way the sound of his voice pushes you undeniably closer and closer to the edge. You never want him to stop talking.
Carmy moves one hand from your hip to between your legs, rubbing soft but intentional circles onto your clit. It sets your nerves alight, whole body buzzing with anticipation.
You keep your rhythm going, even as it’s getting harder and harder to concentrate. You can feel that Carmy’s close, that he’s sitting on a knife’s edge waiting for you. You realise, suddenly, that you want him to come before you. You want to undo him.
You move one hand to tangle in his hair, while the other settles at his throat. You don’t squeeze too hard, just enough to turn his moans into breathy little ah ah ahs.
“Baby, please. Fuck, so close. So good, honey. You’re so good.”
Your grip tightens in his curls, making him groan. Your hips get faster, and so do his fingers on your clit, the pressure more insistent now.
“Fuck, yeah, that’s it, don’t stop baby. Fuck, I love this. I love you. Keep going, so close. Atta girl.”
Your brain is too lost in your actions to register his words. Instead, you press your forehead to his, kissing him gently in contrast to the violent slam of your hips. This juxtaposition seems to be Carmy’s undoing, his grip on your hip tightening so much you hope it’ll bruise.
He emits the most gorgeous moan you’ve ever heard when he comes, which sends you straight over the edge. You tighten like a vice, whole body shuddering with it. Your climax seems to last forever, every single one of your nerves fried and frayed.
You both come down slowly, foreheads pressed together and lungs heaving. You’re panting into his mouth, smoothing out his hair where your fingers have ruffled it. Carmy’s arms wrap around your back, pulling you in so you’re chest to chest as he presses a kiss to your temple. You sit like this for a while, completely at peace in each other’s company.
Eventually, after what could have been hours but was probably minutes, you break the silence.
“So we should probably talk about the I love you, huh?”
Summary: Reader discovers her window faces into the apartment of her very attractive building neighbor, Spencer. She's willing to do anything for his attention. He's willing to reward her for her efforts.
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Smut
Content Warning: voyeurism, lingerie, masturbation, slight dubcon (but for like 5 seconds i swear), nipple play, penetrative sex, apartment break-in.
Word Count: 3.9 k
Masterlist
It’s natural to believe you’re safe in your place of residency. You’re given locks, blinds, a security gate- all measures designed to invoke a false illusion of privacy. Of course, there are defects that no one can plan for that have the ability to shatter this illusion.
Mine happened to be a badly placed window.
Finding this apartment felt akin to love at first sight. It sounds dramatic, but I’m serious. Do you know how horrific real estate is these days? But when my eyes came upon piano oak flooring, the soft light of the day streaming onto a marble island, and of course, an in-home washer/dryer system, I was sold.
Due to my inherent awkwardness around meeting strangers, and lack of overt charm, I’d never been one to initiate introductions with my neighbors. I moved in quietly, packing up my life into neat little boxes and dispersing them throughout the emptiness of my new space. It was only then, when I realized a strangely placed window that seemed to fall exactly where I’d wanted my bed to be.
And while examining my outlandish situation, I saw him.
I didn’t want to assume he’d been watching me. I wasn’t paranoid like that. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to give off the aura of, for lack of better words, a creep, so the quick aversion of my eyes from his gaze felt instinctual. Curiosity won over me a millisecond later, though, and against my better judgment, I quietly peered into the window again, wondering if the man in the glass had slipped away, or had looked away from where our eyes met last.
What I hadn’t anticipated, however, was to be met with the unflinching stare of his eyes, far from concerned with how he came off, holding his gaze with an almost disconcerting and defiant presence.
He gave me a subtle nod, before walking away, disappearing from view. I was left feeling.. unsettled. But also strangely thrilled. There was a certain peculiarity in knowing you were susceptible to an audience at any given moment. I vaguely recalled social facilitation as a possible explanation as to why the concept roused me the way it did, but whatever it was, I didn’t feel compelled to attach curtains or any kind of barrier to avoid the phenomenon.
While my thoughts occasionally drifted to the man, I didn’t actually know anything about him. He lived in the building beside mine, so we didn’t even share so much as a landlord. I truly never expected to gain any insight on him besides the location of his domicile in relation to mine, and the thought didn’t bother me by any means. I was completely fine with letting our connection stay as severed as it was.
Fate, on the other hand, had other ideas.
I found myself a few weeks later, struggling with an overstuffed grocery bag in front of my building, and in a terrible game of mismanaged weight and the flimsiness of grocery-store plastic, my bag gave way, scattering the contents of it across the ground. Further misfortune plagued me, as the bag in question had been holding a good pound of lemons, that rolled quite far from where I’d been standing. I immediately dropped to the ground, trying to gather up the ones by my feet in my arms, and noticed a presence nearby doing the same and bringing the runaway citrus to me. I was thankful, and was ready to express my gratitude to the helpful samaritan, until I saw a flash of recognition collectively pass over our faces as we made eye contact.
Him. The man in the window.
“You dropped these.” He says, his voice a little quieter than I’d expected from him, and I nod.
“Yeah, no. It’s these bags. Not really equipped to hold a pound of lemons.” I say, trying to gather the rest to my chest, our eyes still trained on the other.
“Can I ask why a pound of lemons?” He asks, a sort of playful lilt in his voice.
“Lemonade.” I say, almost immediately.
There’s a bit of confusion that flashes over his face. “Are you making a joke?” He replies, furrowing his brows a bit.
I realize that my response might’ve come off as too deadpan, and I shake my head to correct his misconception. “Oh, no. I’m serious.” I say, offering a grin. “I love lemonade. There’s a work party I’m attending, and I offered to make some for the office. Hence, the lemons.” I continued, gesturing at the aforementioned fruit, and feeling myself ramble slightly, but it didn’t seem to offend the recipient.
“That.. is a surprisingly normal response, given the situation.” The man says, nodding. “I love lemonade too.” He adds.
There’s a bit of silence as we both picked up lemons together, the man more focused than I on the task. I took the oppurtuinity within the lull of our conversation to truly examine the man, finally no longer separated by a pane of glass, and my observations all seemed to point towards one glaringly obvious conclusion.
The man in the window was hot.
He appeared older than me, yet his age did nothing to diminish the beauty of his features. His doe-like eyes seemed to shine with the same curiosity that I felt towards him. His hair was a bit longer than I’d expect from a man his age, but it suited him. The smooth slope of his nose had a certain charm to it, and his cheekbones were impossibly sharp. I wanted to run my thumb over the bone, and kiss him senseless until we could barely remember our own names.
“I’m (Y/N). You’re free to come over.” I say, a little more rushed than I’d wanted to. “For the lemonade, of course.” I add, trying to not drop the ball when it came to inviting this gorgeous man over to my apartment.
“Spencer.” He replies, offering his name to me. “I'll keep it in mind.” He says, smoothly. He flashes me a kind smile as he places the last of the lemons into my other bags or directly into my hands.
I’d hoped “I’ll keep it in mind” meant “within the next few days or so” but waiting seemed futile after a certain amount of time had passed. He never came, and I even stopped seeing him as often through the window in passing. In hindsight, it was rather naive to genuinely expect a near-stranger to come to my apartment, on account of an invitation that could have been interpreted as a thinly-veiled proposition.
It felt a bit dull, his lack of interest. I’d had a taste of his attention, and for some reason, I was hooked. It was irrational, and illogical, but I couldn’t help the desire I felt simply at the thought of this man. And in a mixture of perversion, desperation and pure brainlessness, I tried to use the one thing that had rarely failed me in the past. Sex.
I reasoned by telling myself it wasn’t like it was guaranteed he’d see me.
And it wasn’t as if I was standing directly by the window, exposing myself for his pleasure, and his pleasure only. So hey, if he saw my figure adorned in lacy lingerie in passing, and felt compelled to act on that in any way he chose, well. No harm, no foul, right?
So that’s exactly what I did. To my benefit, it was one of the hottest summers D.C had ever had, so the lack of clothing worked in my favor. I’d always felt quite confident in my own skin, so lounging around in bras, panties, barely-there cover-ups around my apartment didn’t strike me as the oddest thing to do. I felt comfortable, and in turn, possibly seducing the man in the window. Win-win.
And “win” I did, in some way at least, because I noticed the arrival of lingerie correlated in a sudden uptick in the times I’d see Spencer taking a longer-than-normal glimpse into my apartment. It was fucking exhilirating, to have his regard in this strange, taboo way. I’d find myself imagining him, surrounded by a sea of sheets and pillows slowly stroking his cock to the images of my scantily-clad body. I had no real way of verifying if this was the actual case, but the fantasy was enough to bring heat to my cheeks and an ache in my panties.
It started to drive me a little crazy, however, when after a week of this, literally no tangible reward came from the fruits of my labor. While I’d enjoyed his eyes on my form, that seemed to be all he was capable of. He seemed completely at ease with just watching (to my utter dismay) and it seemed the action I wanted him to take was sorely out of reach.
Reflecting on his shy, soft demeanor from the one time we’d spoken, I concluded that he might not be as forward as I am. It made sense; he never seemed to have visitors in his apartment and, seeming to be in his 40s without a stable partner, he probably wasn't accustomed to a woman's attention in this way. He didn’t exactly exude “womanizer” anyway from what I knew about him, and I began to connect his lack of initiative to these points.
It didn't deter me from continuing my attempts though. At best, I was at least providing a lonely middle-aged man some sorely needed imagery in the meantime. I’d always been a giver, anyhow.
It’s reasonable to assume there’d be some payoff down the road, right?
Wrong. I continued to wear increasingly revealing lingerie, going as far as just walking around naked once in a while. Nothing. I was a fucking saint at this point for continuing this for him.
It didn’t help that my mind insisted on taunting me with what I couldn’t have, as a moment of spare time in my day would constantly be preoccupied with thoughts of him in my bed, pinning my hands down and kissing up and down my neck. I’d imagine him pounding into me, or bouncing up and down on his cock, bringing us both to the throes of pleasure. I couldn’t halt the depravity of my thoughts, no matter how hard I tried.
What I also couldn’t stop, was the slow descent of my fingers into my panties one night, finding a delectable mess within them, signifying my deep arousal associated with the man. It’d been a long few weeks, the smell of summer and heat encasing my apartment, and a profound craving I couldn’t resist. I breathed out a sigh of relief as I began rubbing the small nub, alternating between up and down motions, and then a slow, circular rub. Little moans poured out my lips, before I quickly shed my panties entirely, watching a string of arousal stuck to them, kicking them haphazardly to the side, wanting more access to my clit.
My eyes naturally closed as I found myself lazing towards the precipice of release. Soft sighs and moans filled my apartment as I let my fingers rub a bit more desperately. I could see flashes of him again behind my eyes, his hand on me, instead of my own, mirroring the actions I was performing. A gasp of his name came tumbling out of me as the image became clearer and clear, my eyes opening almost frantically as I felt myself closer and closer.
That’s when I got the strangest sensation, and felt a pair of eyes on me. I jolted my head to the left, and saw Spencer, who was clearly watching at this point. His gaze was entirely trained on me, and similar to the first time he saw me, our eye contact didn’t deter him from his observation.
I refused to let it either, and kept my gaze trained on him. I was entirely exposed. I wouldn’t have been able to stop my actions if I’d had a gun to my head. It just felt too fucking good. A moment more of eye contact from him, and I felt the familiar clench and release from my body, waves of pleasure wracking my body. I let out another moan, but not once did my eyes leave his, as my back arched against my sheets, a silent plea on my part being conveyed.
Come here. What could you possibly be waiting for?
I watched him disappear from the window as I finished, both literally and figuratively, and panted, wondering if finally, finally, my prayers and fervent supplications would be answered.
After about 30 minutes, my anticipation was replaced with severe disappointment when I realized even after then, he wasn’t coming. I could no longer see him in the window, and at this point it seemed a little silly and pathetic to continue expecting him to come.
Maybe he was just entirely sexually inadept. That could be a possibility, right? How much more explicit could I get than this? I’d masturbated in front of him! Albeit, through a window, but masturbation regardless! Was this seriously all he was willing to do?
I roll my eyes at the thought. I came to accept that maybe, truly, there was nothing I could do to get this man to fuck me the way I deserved. Fine.
As I closed my eyes to get some necessary rest after my endeavors, I made up my mind that I’d buy curtains tomorrow. Fuck Spencer Reid, and his absolute inability to take any action in his goddamn life. Fuck this apartment. Fuck everything.
Was I dramatic? Yes. Was I still right? Also yes.
Despite the sour mood I’d taken to bed with me that evening, my dreams were anything but. The idea of Spencer Reid holding me down, whispering sweet and dirty nothings alike were all still incredibly tantalizing to my subconscious. I could hear his voice in my ear, soft pink lips brushing against the shell of my ear, a deep pressure imprinted onto my body, keeping me in my bed.
“Wake up, sweetheart.” He murmured, beckoning me out of the peaceful cocoon of sleep.
I felt a few more wet and warm kisses trailing up and down my neck, the sweetest sensation of pleasure being granted to me with every touch he gave.
“Need you to wake up, pretty girl.” He mumbles. “You really are so pretty up close.” His voice is slightly patronizing, and it does nothing to help the excitation that was steadily growing inside of me.
Suddenly, I became incredibly aware that the stimuli I was receiving didn’t appear to be a byproduct of my psyche, but rather- he was here? My eyes opened slowly to realize I wasn’t at all mistaken, the soft brush of his brown hair against my neck slightly tickling me as I came to.
“Atta girl.” He mumbles, his lips still mapping out every inch of my skin. Out of pure instinct, a slightly alarmed moan came from me, still unsure if I was dreaming or not. Surely I had to be dreaming. I had to be, because how the fuck did Spencer Reid get into my apartment? Into my bed?
“You want this, yeah?” He murmurs, taking a second to gaze down at me. I realized he’d been on top of me this whole time, and the pressure I’d felt in my dream was his skin on mine, trapping me in between his strong chest and the soft sheets adorning my mattress. “I know you do. Saw your little show and everything.” He breathes out, desperately, almost.
I know I should’ve thought about it. Perhaps I should’ve pondered on the idea of letting a man who’d just broken into my apartment full access to my body as he pleased, but there was no time. He was here, and how could I have ever said no to that?
There’s an equally as desperate and breathy, “yes” that escapes my lips, and before I can finish saying the word, he dives down, meeting my lips with his, absolutely devouring me with no hesitation whatsoever. If I'd thought his previous ministrations were delightful, this was absolutely heavenly.
I moan softly into his mouth, wanting to tangle my hands in his hair, or latch them onto his shoulders and sink my nails deep into the skin that resided there- anything to show even a semblance of control in this situation, but it seemed Spencer had already thought of that, pinning my hands against the mattress so tightly, I couldn’t have moved if I’d exerted every last bit of strength into it.
“God, the first time- first time I saw you.” He mumbles in between kisses. “With those lemons. I knew they’d fall. Saw you through the window across the street and practically ran. Wanted to meet you so badly.”
A small whimper escapes me, and I can’t help but get wetter at the thought. I knew he’d been watching me through the window, but the idea that I captured his attention, outside of my apartment, in the most mundane of situations only served to heighten the arousal I felt, my thighs rubbing together for any kind of relief.
He notices the movement and grins, planting one last kiss on my lips before slipping down. His hands cup the backs of my knees, forcing me to spread my previously shut legs.
“You had the prettiest voice.” He breathes out, examining my glistening heat. “Fuck. Couldn’t stop thinking about how you’d sound, screaming my name.” He leans forward, planting a chaste kiss on my clit that caused an incredibly breathtaking jolt through my body.
“Spencer-” I moan, my head rolling back as I felt it, my back arching slightly.
“Yeah, just like that.” He mumbles, clearly pleased. “Good girl.”
His hands traveled upward from where he’d been situated between my legs and squeezed my breast blindly. It didn’t feel like it was for my pleasure, but rather that he was desperate to touch anywhere he possibly could. Anyone else, and I might’ve been annoyed with the incessant touching, but with him?
It was so fucking hot.
“That goddamned lingerie.” He mumbles. “The things I wanted to do to you. Did you know that?”
I looked at him through hooded lids, unsure what he meant, and he took my diversion of attention to quickly tweak one of my nipples, eliciting another surprised moan from my mouth.
“I’m so much stronger than this, usually.” His large hands continue to squeeze and grope at my breasts. “But you.” He whispers, a hint of a growl making its way into his tone. “Had to push the limits. Practically begging me to come here and take you.”
I let out a gasp as I felt his hands trail down my stomach, the cool touch of his fingertips causing the muscles to tense up there.
“I’m gonna do it.” He whispers, his face only illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the open window, but I could still see the dangerous glint in his eye, thrilling me even further. “Fuck you exactly how you want it.”
Before I’m able to react to the sentiment, he’s grabbing onto my hips and turning me over, a yelp drawn out from me.
“Hands and knees.” He says, in an authoritative tone that doesn’t leave any room for any disagreement. I comply quickly, much to his elation.
“You’re so good for me, yeah? Gonna ruin you. Just how you want.”
There’s a hint in condescension in his tone, like he’s making fun of me for wanting to be fucked this badly, but I can barely pay any mind about it, especially when I feel his cock slotting itself betweet my folds, separated only by his boxers, a shaky moan coming from Spencer.
I can feel his hands leaving my hips and the slight lean away as he quickly shucks off the fabric, and within the next second, he’s pushing into me, providing me with a stretch and fulfillment that was so much better than I could’ve ever imagined. It doesn’t take him long to set a fast pace, the sound of our skin slapping and the smell of sex permeating the room.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” He moans out, and I let out similar noises in tandem.
I can barely find it in me to stay coherent. I want to scream how good he feels, how big his cock feels in me, how close I was- but instead the only thing I could manage was the borderline scream of his name and loud sobs of pleasure, fully at the mercy of the man behind me. I can feel the way I clamp down on him, absolutely imploring him for as much as he could give me.
“Gonna come for me, yeah?” He says, feeling the clench of my walls on his cock. “Come on, pretty girl. Give me what I want.” He murmurs lowly, leaning down closer to my ear. His hand shoots out a moment later, beginning to rub my clit, similar to how I had been doing a few hours earlier as he watched me, and the memory and sensation of it is enough to hurl me off the edge, my walls tightening around his cock as waves of pleasure wracked through my body.
It seemed that was enough for him as well. I felt his hips still, and a sudden warmth at my deepest point. He let out a groan of relief as he thrusted once, twice more, and then pulled out, his cum slipping down my thighs as he plopped down next to me. I’d already collapsed the second he pulled out, panting as I came down from the orgasm.
“You good?” He mumbles, wearily, and I can feel him moving aside my hair to kiss at my shoulder.
“Mhm.” I murmur back, a small sigh of relief escaping me. There’s a beat of silence, before he breaks it.
“Tomorrow.” He murmurs. “Wanna go out with me?”
I raise an eyebrow, turning at him with a playful expression- as playful as I could get in this state anyway. “Where to?”
“Target.” He mumbles, still stroking my back lazily, his eyes shining with something less intense than lust now, but still enough to turn my stomach over with butterflies.
“Target?” I say, squinting my eyes. “Why Target?”
“We’re buying you some curtains.” He says, a small grin appearing on his face. “And maybe a stronger lock.”
I giggle at that, rolling my eyes a bit. “But then you don’t get to see me anymore. I kind of liked what we had going on.”
“I did too.” He whispers, his tone slightly vulnerable now. “But I like this a lot more.”
A small smile plasters itself to my face as I nod.
“Me too.” I whisper back, biting my lip.
A mutual understanding passed through the both of us as we smiled at each other in the dark, and for a split second, I imagined myself possibly loving this more someday.
All in good time. Right now, I was going to sleep, protected by his soft, strong arms. That was enough for now. We’d finally gotten what we wanted.
woah!! trying to finally get back into writing semi regularly i see. i hope this was enjoyable. this is one of those pieces i'm kind of unsure about, so please, please interact if you liked it! likes, comments, reblogs, anything! or let me know if you didn't! i live for feedback of any kind. thank you for reading anyhow, i am very grateful for it <3
also lol if it wasn’t obvious i listened to “she” for fic inspo lol. linked below
threesome; she/her pronouns used: cuckold vibes; idea from @cybersunnie (lov u sunnie)
MDNI 18+
w/ PATRICK ZWEIG AND ART DONALDSON
you'd thought patrick was being egotistical at first. you thought he was being condescending, demeaning, even. which he was. but he had reason to be.
his words, spoken through a smirk when the end of his cigarette wasn't occupying his mouth, had seemed designed to piss you off.
"you think you can take it?" he'd asked you. and you rolled your eyes, huffed, and looked over at art, assuming he would be quick to defend you. art had his eyes flickering between you and patrick, his own lips pulled into an amused smirk. like he knew patrick was right.
you defended yourself at the time, claiming that patrick was just being cocky and a dick and he didn't know what he was talking about. but he certainly did.
because here you are with your legs spread to allow patrick between them, struggling to take all of him.
patrick has his hands holding your thighs, rubbing his thumbs into your skin in a soothing manner. art's beside you, kissing over your shoulders and neck, trying to help you relax.
"jus' let him in," art tells you, his head jerking toward where patrick has been steadily sliding his cock into you for the past couple of minutes. you have been letting patrick in, subconsciously at that. you can feel the way your cunt is greedily sucking in his length over and over again. yet you still aren't used to the feeling.
you're still whining in the back of your throat, your eyes switching between watching art and watching the ceiling. for just a second, you look down at patrick, but you have to look right away in fear that you'll cum too soon.
you can't give him that satisfaction.
but the sight of him is so arousing. his hair, freshly cut, hanging over his face just right. droplets of sweat covering his forehead and sliding down his nose. his lips parted, almost as if he's stunned, his jaw dropped as he steadily slides in and out of you.
you know he would have that usual smirk if he weren’t mesmerized by the look of you taking him.
“how’s she holding up?” he asks art, his words raspier than you’ve ever heard them before.
art looks at you, raising his eyebrows. “she’s good,” he tells patrick. then, “yeah?” he speaks only to you that time, waiting for your confirmation as his eyes continuously hold your gaze. you nod, your lips parting as you try to verbally confirm that yeah, you do feel good. embarrassingly, a moan slips out instead.
art grins, pressing his lips to yours.
“she’s taking it like a fuckin’ champ.” patrick speaks to no one in particular since you and art are both preoccupied with each other. maybe he’s speaking to himself.
either way, you can hear the smirk in his words this time. you didn’t need to even look at him to know that it’s there.
as soon as art is away from your lips, he doesn't waste anytime helping you out.
"you're doing so good for us," when his lips are under your ear. "we told you it would be hard, right?" when he licks under your jaw. "but look at you," when he slides his hand down your abdomen. "making it look easy," when he presses two fingers onto your clit.
it's just what you needed, the addition desired for you to actually make it look easy. you relax, finally losing yourself in the heavy fullness of patrick fucking you.
and you probably won't ever admit it to him, not unless he fucks the admission out of you, but patrick knows what he's doing. all of the stories he pushed onto you and art, the ones you pretended to be disgusted over, held truth to them. when he talked in gross detail about how the women he slept with reacted to him, how they were screaming and begging for more, you thought he was exaggerating. but now you know he wasn’t.
because you’ve turned into those women. you're demanding patrick for more, and then begging instead when art coos at you to fix your attitude. you're hooking your legs over patrick’s waist, digging into his lower back to try and get him to give you more. you're graciously accepting what patrick does give you, linking one hand into his hair when he gets close enough and then doing the same with art.
you balance attention from both, alternating between tilting your head to the side to allow art to kiss you and facing forward to do the same with patrick. and when you're done, when you've taken one orgasm from patrick without complaint and begged him for another, you see the look on his face. the one that tells you he's waiting for you—expecting you to tell him what he already knows.
you don't say anything, instead letting the obvious soreness in your body and visible exhaustion speak for itself.
pairing: art donaldson (challengers, 2024) / afab reader [gender not specified]
word count: 1.9K
warnings & info: 18+, afab reader, college era art AHHH, friends to lovers, first time together, mostly smut, oral sex (reader receiving), art is a munch obviously, reader wears a bra and skirt
summary: Catching Art up on your adventures gets hard when he doesn't get your explanations, or your hand puppet examples. Looks like you just have to show him exactly what went down. Based on this post that i could not stop thinking about. :))
☆
“Oh my god, fuck you!”
Art chuckled from where he stood, watching as you tossed the t-shirt he’d balled up and chucked at you back in his direction. It fell harmlessly to the floor a foot from him, and you glared at him as he snickered, picking it up and putting it away.
You were visiting Art, your close friend from high school, at Stanford. At that moment, you happened to be explaining how an interaction at a party at your university had gone a couple weeks before. Art never really liked listening to you talk about guys- hence, the shirt thrown directly at your face when you’d started describing this particular frat boy to him in detail- but he’d given up complaining a while ago. It was either that or be honest about why he hated it so much, and that was never going to happen. So, he tidied up his room as you explained the lead up, the flirting, the stumbling up the stairs. He fell back parallel to you on the bed as you got to the “good part”, his head by your legs and an arm over his eyes, like he could block out the imagery.
“Anyway, I didn’t think it was a big deal at first, like when we were flirting, but then I was on him, kinda like-” You took a moment to sit up straight, grinning as art groaned and propped himself up on his elbows to see you better. He watched you attempt to mimic the position with your hands, your left hand being the guy you were talking about, your right being you.
To Art, it just looked like you were mashing your hands together. He looked up from your hands to see you raising your eyebrows at him, as if to ask if he was following. “Huh?” He said.
With an exasperated sigh and without another thought, you pushed yourself up on your knees and waddled over to him, swinging a leg over his body and hovering just over his torso. For a moment, Art just watched, bewildered, as you steadied yourself with your hands on either side of his head. He let himself fall back from his elbows, hands sliding up your hips and settling at your waist, catching momentarily on the fabric of your skirt. His fingers peeked just under the hem of your shirt. Your skin tingled where he touched you.
“... Like this,” you said finally, blinking at him for a moment. “Well, uh.” You moved your hands to his chest instead, careful not to push too hard (though with the muscle he’d acquired since he’d started playing tennis for Stanford, you were sure it bothered him much less than you thought). “More like this, I guess.”
Art nodded, quickly licking his lips before asking, “Then?”
You tried not to look at his mouth. “What?”
“Then what did you do?”
It finally hit you then: what the fuck were you doing, climbing all over your best friend to ‘show him’ how you and some guy had been fooling around a couple weeks ago? That would just mean fooling around with him, obviously. That wasn’t really the plan.
But, it was too late for your common sense to kick in now. There you were, your hips hovering over his, not quite touching yet. You watched his eyes dart down to your lips, then drag slowly back up to meet your gaze. You couldn’t wait here and think about what you’d gotten yourself into and how this would change your friendship forever, though you got the feeling he’d let you take as long as you wanted.
Then what did you do?
You steeled yourself, biting your lip and watching his lips part slightly as he tracked the action with his eyes. Then you took that moment to fully sit on his lap.
You could feel his chest expand beneath your hands with his sharp inhale, his eyes snapping down to your hips, then back up to your face.
“This,” you murmured. You’d intended for it to come out cocky, maybe even a little seductive, but you could hear the breathlessness in your own voice. You were trying your best to ignore the growing pressure where your hips met his, though really, it was hopeless.
Art’s ears were burning a bright shade of pink. The urge to gently nip at them crossed your mind, just for a moment. He cleared his throat. “Then?” His voice was almost a whisper, chest rising and falling unevenly with his nervous breathing. The way he was looking at you, like he wasn’t sure you were real…
Fuck.
You leaned forward, trying not to let your breath stutter at the friction caused by the movement, until your lips hovered just over his. Then you kissed him.
You pressed your lips together gently, lingering for a moment before pulling back by centimeters. His lips chased yours, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly, and you were right back on him, lips falling open against each other. A soft sound escaped him as your hips shifted against his, along with a contented sigh from you. You repeated the motion, reveling in the low groan he let out, followed by your name murmured into your mouth.
Art’s lips were soft. And he’d shaved recently, you thought, hands cupping his face. The smooth skin of his cheeks was a stark contrast to the calloused hands he was now raking over your thighs, your skirt pushed up around your hips. You broke away from his lips, kissing down his neck instead, listening to the noises he made whenever you left a mark, whenever you ground against him just right. “Shit,” he gasped. “You’re- You’re sure?”
“Yeah.” You left another kiss just below his ear, before murmuring, “What is it?”
You could feel him all but shudder beneath you. “Fuck,” he groaned, then your name, before he looked you in the eye. You resisted the urge to dive right back in. “Let me eat you out,” he said, suddenly determined, though still flushed and dazed. “Please.”
All you could say was “What?” because, surely, this was one big dream.
“Please.” His hands hadn’t stilled, still rubbing shapes into your thighs, his hips rolling up against yours. “Can I?”
Your entire body was on fire. “Okay, yeah. Yes.”
He wasted no time flipping the both of you over, laying you against the bed so he could kiss down your neck. You barely had a moment to process, your hands moving to tangle in his hair, one of his knees slotted between your legs. He tugged at the bottom of your shirt, prompting you to lift yourself slightly and help him get it off. Your bra came next. “You, too,” you murmured, pulling at his shirt and making him chuckle. He reached behind his head, tugging it off in one swift movement and abandoning it beside your shirt and bra on his freshly cleared floor.
One of his hands slid down your chest from your shoulders, enclosing one of your breasts, the thumb circling your nipple. You bit your lip and sighed, pulling him down for another kiss by the back of his neck.
Art let his hand trail from your chest down the sides of your stomach, then slotted his palm right between your legs, over your underwear. You gasped quietly, pulling away long enough for him to return his lips to your neck, your shoulders, your collar bone. You murmured a couple choice words as he started to move his palm, rubbing at your clit through the fabric. The dulled sensation was almost enough on its own, paired with the kisses he left against your chest. “Arthur,” you whined, tugging at his hair. “Don’t fucking tease me.”
A grin overtook his face at the use of his name, his hands only slowing down, tracing torturously slow circles over you. Art only snickered at your glare before hooking his fingers into the waist band of your underwear, pulling it down and leaving you in your skirt pushed up to your waist. He watched you carefully as he slid further down so that his head was between your legs. His finger only traced a line from your clit to the bottom of your hole before whatever restraint he had was gone, and his mouth was on you.
Art’s tongue flattened against you, the warmth and friction making your head fall back as your eyes fell closed. “Fuck,” you moaned, hands threading into his hair as he answered with an equally obscene noise, muffled against you. ‘Hungry’ didn’t even begin to describe him, his mouth falling into a vague rhythm, eyes closed blissfully, whining into your pussy like it was doing him just as much good as it was you.
You thought about asking him to finger you while he worked, but his tongue prodded at your entrance and almost immediately, words escaped you. You brought one hand up to your face, clasping it over your mouth to muffle your moans, but Art stopped suddenly, watching your face. You whined your confusion, and he reached out to tug at your hand. “I wanna hear you. Let me.”
You blinked at him, chest heaving, and murmured “Alright,” before watching his head dive right back between your thighs, one hand still intertwined with yours. You had no choice but to moan unabashedly, your other hand busy pulling at his hair. His free hand was wrapped around the outside of your thigh, pushing it in towards his head, so tightly you were sure it couldn’t be comfortable. But there he was, continuing to move his tongue against you like there was nothing else he’d rather do, whining and whimpering like you were his first meal in weeks. “Fuck, Art,” you cried, barely keeping your eyes open so you could watch him move. “You’re gonna make me cum.”
He groaned at that, relenting the pressure of your thighs against his head just long enough to reply: “That’s it, baby, please.” If he had anything else to say, he couldn’t keep himself off of you long enough to finish, already pushing your thighs back against his head, nose bumping against your clit as he bobbed up and down.
It seemed like that was all it took, really. You squeezed his hand and his head embarrassingly tight as you felt yourself tip over the edge, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. Art kept up his rhythm as you cried out his name, your hips rolling against his face. He didn’t stop even when you’d come down, chest heaving, until you basically pushed him off, desperate for a moment of relief.
He kept a hand on your thigh, the other untangling from yours to push his blonde hair out of his eyes and look at you. He was breathing as hard as you were, you noticed. His mouth hung open as he panted, the entire bottom half of his face coated in saliva and your arousal. Fuck, he was pretty like this. “‘S good?”
You shook your head, beckoning him toward you and pulling him down by the back of his neck when he was close enough. “You’re unbelievable,” you murmured, lips against his almost before you were even done speaking. You didn’t mind the stickiness. You pulled back to look at him, then glanced down to the tent in his pants. “Lemme return the favor.”
Art let out a breathless chuckle. “I don’t think I’m gonna last that long,” he said, somewhat embarrassed. “Not if you’re the one touching me. Not after this.” He gestured to the shine still on his face, to your thighs beneath him. Your face burned, and your smile was so wide that your cheeks hurt.
You shrugged. “Lemme try anyway,” you said, before bringing his ear down to your lips, nipping at the lobe gently. “Please?”
nsfw! (18+) cw: soft dom!art donaldson, sub!reader, afab/fem reader, porn w/ a little plot, penetrative sex, unsafe sex/pullout method, slight edging (reader!receiving), equal desperation, praise, general filth, art is a softie until he's not
wc: 4.2 k
*does not include challengers spoilers!*
prev. art donaldson fic : <3 here <3
It was currently 11 PM in the state of New York, and Art Donaldson was in your hotel room.
-
Earlier today, you had competed in a long singles tennis tournament for a cash prize, and had beat every other girl in the bracket. You walked away from it with five-hundred more dollars in your pocket than you had walked in with, and a smug grin on your glossy lips.
Art Donaldson had competed in a similar tournament at the same venue, except it involved doubles teams playing against one another. He had played with his typical partner, Patrick Zweig, and they, too, had beat everyone in their bracket.
Tomorrow, they would be playing against one another to determine the ultimate winner.
You had watched them play, and they had watched you play too.
After the venue had shut down for the night, you had begun to wander back to your hotel a few blocks away and coincidentally bumped into the two boys heading back to the same building.
You three talked--or rather, they had buttered you up with compliments as you all went up the elevator, and suddenly you were in their hotel room drinking cheap beer from cold metal cans.
They both flirted relentlessly with you for about an hour or two, before Patrick had called it a night (and had given up on trying to woo you) and told you and Art that he was going to sleep.
Art had given you a look and nodded towards their room's door with a small smile, silently suggesting something. Thirty seconds later the both of you were standing alone in the hotel hallway. He chatted you up and praised your tennis-playing for about ten more minutes, his blue eyes staring into yours with an earnest desire to hold your attention. You had laughed and flushed with a nervous heat while he sang your praises, and then a bout of silence came over the two of you. He looked down to his shoes, letting out a soft chuckle, and then back up to your eyes.. and then down to your lips. The buzz of the fluorescent lights above made the silence seem more tense than it already was.
After tossing the reality of this interaction around in your head, you had realized that his kind, sensitive, charming persona was effectively rendering you weak in the knees..
"You're really pretty, by the way.. i don't know if i've said that yet, but you are," he had spoken in the hallway, leaning his shoulder against the wall as a lock of his strawberry-blonde curls hung in the center of his forehead.
And that was it.
Five minutes later he was in your hotel room.
-
The both of you kicked your shoes off in the doorway, and then moved to sit on the edge of your hotel room bed. Your chest and hands felt strangely hot as the young, talented tennis player sat there next to you. After a few moments of shared bashful glances, you started to notice things about him that you hadn't before.
Sometimes when he smiled, only one corner of his lips would lift up. When that happened, it looked more like he was smirking than he was smiling, which made him seem either disingenuous or disinterested -- even though it seemed that neither of those things were true.
He smelled like generic aftershave, faint sweat, and warm skin, which was a pleasant contrast to the smell of the hotel room. While the hotel was clean, it was also old, which made the permeating scent of the carpet akin to something like the stale basement of a childhood home.
He fidgeted subtly with his hands, staring into your eyes before averting them to look around at your luggage and tennis bag on the floor.
"So.. you said you're going to Stanford this fall, right?" you say, leaning back on your palms.
"Yeah, yeah," he nods, turning his head to look back to you again with a sheepish smile, “and you’re going to Harvard?”
“Mhm,” you hum, smiling back at him, “is Patrick going with you?”
He laughs a little, his brows furrowing, “Patrick? Hell no.”
You shake your head, “why not?”
“Patrick isn’t the college type. He wants to go pro immediately.”
“Ohh.. right, i forgot he mentioned that.”
“Yeah,” Art shrugs, still giving you a soft look as he shifts a little in his spot on the end of the mattress.
“I think you’re better off at Stanford without him,” you tease slightly, a playful smirk on your face.
He smiles wider, “Why?”
“I think he’d just get you into trouble,” you chuckle.
Art laughs again, a tiny bit harder than he did before, and you’re not sure if it’s because he genuinely likes your playfulness or if it’s because he’s a little nervous.
"You don't think I can cause trouble?" he asks with a small smile.
You shake your head after letting a soft giggle bubble up and out of your chest in response.
"Nah, not really."
"Why's that?"
"You're just so.. so nice."
He scoffs lightly and gently rolls his eyes, reaching up to tuck some of his messy hair behind one of his ears. He chews a little on the inside of his cheek.
"What?" you laugh.
"Everyone me and Patrick meet thinks he's this cool 'bad-boy' and I'm just this.. meek little 'nice guy'," he chuckles, matching your body language now by also leaning back on his palms.
Your smile falters slightly when he does this, but only because now the sleeve of his gray tee shirt was brushing against your bare shoulder, and your faces were a short distance apart. If you tried, you could probably just lean in and kiss him..
"It's not a bad thing to be a nice guy," you smirk, continuing your guys' little back-and-forth.
"Yeah, but there's, like, connotations behind that idea of a guy."
"What 'connotations'?"
He lets out a stiff chuckle, averting his eyes down to his legs before he returns your eye contact once again as he speaks, "I don't know.. that I'm 'shy', or that i 'cant be assertive'.."
You smile, feeling another wave of warmth creep over your stomach just from the way he was looking at you. His eyes were soft but steadily looking into yours, and each second felt like three years.
"So you're saying that those assumptions aren't true?" you tease gently, subtly moving to lean your shoulder against his. He noticed this immediately.
"God!" he laughs, slightly offended but still playing along, "do they seem true?"
"No," you say a bit softer with a smile, your eyes unintentionally drifting down to his pink lips. He noticed this too.
"Okay, good," he leans in a little more, your lips only a handful of inches apart now ".. 'cause they're definitely not."
"Really?" you chuckle, still teasing him.
He nods, "Really, really."
You could feel your heart beating rapidly in your ribcage, and then you started to wonder if he could hear it. Your lips part, little breaths being let out as you lean in an extra two inches. He smirks, and then you feel him move his right hand off of the bed and over your thigh. Its gentle and almost hesitant; giving you the opportunity to say 'no' if you wanted to.. but you didn't. you definitely didn't want to say no.
Your breathing hitches a little and your thighs shift slightly to capture his fingers between your limbs, and he looks steadily into your eyes as his digits squeeze your flesh softly.
"I'm not that shy," he murmurs lowly.
And then his lips are on yours, hot and hungry and eager to please. Your brows furrow as you kiss him back with equal ferocity, and his other hand moves to gently cup your cheek.
His tongue lathes over your bottom lip, and you open your mouth wider so that he can slide it in and taste you better. He groans softly against your smooth, parted lips, his hand between your thighs sliding up to press his palm against your clothed heat. A shaky, barely audible moan escapes your lips as this happens, and he swallows it down as he kisses you harder.
Art's hands then move to slide under your athletic tank top, and he pulls away with lidded eyes to mumble lowly and warmly against your jaw, "can I take this off?"
You nod feverishly, breathing heavily, as you lift your arms above your head while he pulls your shirt up and over. He tosses it aside once it's off like it's trash to him, and then he's diving back in to kiss and suck and nip at your neck. You're sure that he'll leave marks, but you can't find the strength or willpower to deny how hot it would be to look in the mirror later and see all of the little red blotches that his pretty mouth left behind. A few soft "ahh"s and "oh"s slip from your parted lips as his tongue flicks over your pulse point like its a clit, and you can feel your cunt clench around nothing. Without further warning, both of his hands slide up to grope your breasts over your sports bra, and your back arches instantly.
"I want to see more of you," Art whispers against your neck, one of his hands moving back to gently grope your thigh right under the hem of your shorts, while his other starts to hook one of his fingers under the elastic band of your bra.
"Yeah, yes," you mumble and nod, your eyes fluttering shut as you feel his silky tongue lap gently over the sensitive spot on your lower neck again.
He pulls back, his lips shiny with his own saliva, and he lets out a small huff of air as he stands up from the bed and shifts to stand in front of where you're trembling on the edge of it.
Your eyes meet his, and you now fully realize that his whole "nice guy" thing was a facade.. maybe it was just a protective cloak he put on until he got comfortable..
Regardless, he looked different now as he stood in front of you, breathing heavily as his gaze drank in the sight of your body. He takes a step closer, his knees touching the end of the bed as his legs stood steadily between yours. He looks down, shifting his left knee to push your legs farther apart, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip to stifle a whine.
Not a moment later, he's reaching down to pull your tight sports bra over your head. It drops from his grasp onto the floor, his breathing hitches as he looks down at your exposed chest, and then his hands are moving to roughly knead and squeeze at your soft flesh underneath his palms. You shudder and bite your lip. He thumbs your nipples.
His eyes move back up to return your gaze, and he leans down and starts to crawl on top of you, his body gently coaxing yours to lay back flat over the patterned comforter. You don't need a verbal cue from him to know what he wants and what his goal is; his body did all the talking -- just like it did when he played tennis.
"Fuck," he breathes out, his erection straining against the inside of his boxers as it presses against your bare abdomen. A lift of your hips is all the indication he needs from you to tell him that you're as desperate for this as he is right now, and so he gingerly begins to slide one of his hands down the front of your shorts. His touch dips under the waistband, and then before you can process the sensation, you realize that he's moving down into your panties too. One thing that you are painfully aware of, though, is the fact that he never tries to break eye contact while he does all this..
"Ahh.." you moan, your brows pinching up as you feel his warm fingertips brush over your throbbing, sensitive nub. He was hardly touching you, but it was enough to get the fire roaring in your guts. It was more than enough. He knew all the right ways to touch you.. and all the right spots to squeeze and caress.. which seemed crazy considering you two had never spoken to one another until about three or so hours ago.
He smiles gently, his eyes now moving to gaze down at your lips. The pads of Art's fingers begin to play with your clit, rubbing soft and incessant circles over the ball of nerves as you start to squirm on the bed. His head leans back down to kiss your neck and your hands shakily grab onto his shoulders. A laugh escapes him, coating your flesh in a bath of warm air, while he feels your nails dig into him. Even over the fabric of his cotton tee shirt he can feel this, and he winces slightly before the sting of your grip dissolves into pleasure and he starts to moan along with you.
A few more minutes of this go on, and the band in your stomach is stretched more and more until it feels like it's about to snap, and then-
"I really want to fuck you right now," Art murmurs against your skin, his fingers coming to a pause as he pulls his face from the crook of your neck to look down into your dazed eyes.
You blink a few times, feeling the numbing pressure in your pussy start to fade as he unintentionally edges you.
"yes, please.. I want you to.." you softly whimper, your hands reaching up to needily tug at his shirt.
"I don't have a condom," he whispers breathlessly, shaking his head softly as his gaze falls onto your lips now.
"I.." you pause, taking a second to breathe as you attempt to think over the predicament you're now in, "uhm.. I- well, I don't really care.. as long as you pull out.."
It's almost as if just the idea of him being able to be inside of you-- skin to skin; raw--sets him off, because the moment the words leave your mouth, he's letting out soft breathy moans and grinding his clothed pelvis against your thigh. You can feel him throbbing through the fabric, and now you're certain you can't wait much longer. Neither can he.
Your hands pull on his shirt again, forcing his face back down close to yours, "I want you inside of me.."
A groan and a grunt later, he's scrambling to pull his shirt off, and then his shorts, and then his strong calloused hands are gently tugging yours down as well. Art doesn't want to waste time on the act of undressing. Sure, he liked being tender and going slow most times, but this occasion was different. The more that he felt himself leaking into his underwear, the more he needed to feel your silky cunt grip around his cock. Maybe if he got your number after all this, he could go slow next time, but not now. Not when he's like this and you're like that.
When your panties are pulled down with your shorts, Art lets out a groan as he sees the fabric connecting with your delicate flesh via a glistening string of arousal from your heat.
"Jesus Christ," he huffs, his tongue moving to dip out over his bottom lip involuntarily. He pushes your shorts and panties down the rest of the way, and you urgently kick them off onto the room's carpet.
After he moves back up, one of his hands reaches down once again to your cunt. His fingers gently brush over your slicked-up folds, causing your body to jolt and shudder as you struggle to remain quiet. In the next instant, you feel his touch leave your body and you watch in awe as he brings his digits up to his lips and sucks your juices off of them. He rolls your wetness around over his tongue and his eyes roll back a little. He can't help it -- you just taste so fuckin' good.
"Art," you whisper, your voice dissolving into a soft whine, "c'mon.. just- I want you to-"
You're cut off when the man hovering over your form moves his fingers from his mouth and down to yours, effectively shutting you up.
"Suck," he whispers.
You do as you're told instantly, parting your lips to engulf his middle and ring finger in wet heat; your drool pools over his fingertips as your tongue swirls around them and tastes the mix of his saliva and the remnants of your arousal.
He watches with bated breath as you do this, his eyes never leaving your face, and he cant stop himself from pushing his hard, clothed dick against your bare cunt. Your eyes flutter. A string of whimpers echo out into the room from your chest, and you can feel more of your wetness slide down from your entrance.
Art keeps his fingers in your mouth as he uses his other hand to pull his hard-on out of his black boxer briefs, groaning as he taps your clit with the tip of it a few times. Each time his leaking cockhead touches your sensitive parts, your hips buck up. He didn't think it was physically possible to get as turned on as he was right then.
He shifts his pelvis back so that he can slide his dick over your sticky body, not pushing in quite yet, but just teasing your greedy hole. The feeling of your heady moans around his fingers cause them to vibrate, and he leans down close to your face on instinct.
Your breath catches in your throat. Your eyes blink open and you whimper as he uses his digits to gently force your lips to part so that he can shove his tongue past them. Art licks at the inside of your mouth, groaning while he subtly removes his fingers and brings them down to your clit once more. He slots your bundle of nerves between his index and middle finger, sliding them up and down to effectively stroke over your most sensitive area as you feel his cock prodding at your hole.
While his tongue laps over yours, his mouth eagerly swallowing the obscenely loud moans you're letting out as your climax approaches once again, he begins to slide his tip into you. Your eyes instantly open wide before your face scrunches up in pleasure and your hands desperately paw at his shoulders.
He slides in another inch.
And another.
And then two more.
And then he bottoms out completely, filling you wholly with his twitching length as he pulls his face back from your lips to gasp softly.
You look up at him as his brows furrow, and you wriggle underneath him as he lets out a soft growl.
"You're so tight.. shit, you feel so good," he murmurs lowly, his eyes on yours as he starts to slide himself slowly back out before thrusting back in. You can feel him hit your cervix. You'd let him bruise it if he wanted to.
And he wants to.
"Fuck me harder," you moan softly.
"Yeah?" he smirks, breathing heavily.
"Yeah."
He leans up so that his back is straight, and he gazes down at you while he slides his hands under your form to gingerly cup your lower back.. and then he's pounding into you without further warning.
Your back arches up from his hold, and every thrust of his thick cock into your cunt is sending explosions of numbing heat throughout your lower half.
Each movement of his hips results in a lewd squelch as his pelvis slaps into the underside of your ass, and every movement sends you closer and closer to the edge. He's groaning and moaning above you, watching your every move as you squirm around and take him properly. You want to be good for him; he can tell.
Whimpers and needy whines are forced out of you as he fucks you with abandon into the mattress, and your mind is forced back into reality once you feel his hands move from your back to your sensitive tits.
"Are you gonna cum? You're squeezing down on me," he breathes out, a loud groan cutting his words off as he tips his head back. His thrusts grow sloppier, "oh god, oh fff-u-uck.."
"Ye-- Uhh- Ahh-!" you hoarsely and brokenly moan out, unable to fully give him an answer. Your hands fist the cool sheets under you as your legs start to involuntarily squeeze together with the onslaught of your impending orgasm.
Art brings his head back up to look down at you, and he shakes his head, sliding his hands down from your breasts to your legs to lift them up and spread them apart gently but forcefully.
"Keep them spread.. I know you're close," he says softly to you, "I promise I'll let you come.. just keep being good for me.. I'm almost there.."
Once his words fill your fuzzy head, you can't help but let out an obscenely loud---borderline-pornographic---moan as your thighs shake in his hold. His cock slams into you faster, but with less and less precision. He bites his lip before his jaw slacks and he lets out an equally loud moan to accompany your filthy noises.
"You're so fucking pretty... you're so-- you feel so damn good," he babbles gruffly, his touch digging into your legs as his hips rashly thrust his throbbing length in and out of your sopping pussy.
You nod, unsure of what to say or how to even respond in the state that your body is in. You're somehow limp and tense at the same time, your body shivering as your back arches up again.
"I-- I'm gonna--!" you gasp out in a shaky whimper.
He moans at your words, fucking you deeper and messier, before he leans down over you and you can feel his broad toned chest press against yours.
"Say it.." he breathes out against your ear in a soft groan.
You moan, shuddering under him as your cunt starts to rhythmically tighten around him.
"I'm gonna cum," you whine, nearly sobbing.
"Fuck," he groans, "yeah? Say it again for me."
"I'm gonna cummm-!"
"You wanna cum on my cock?"
You nod helplessly, your arms wrapped around his flushed upper back as his cock slides in and out of you; his tip constantly brushing up against that special spot in your velvety walls hidden just a couple inches inside.
"Yess-s-!" you moan, your body absolutely writhing on the bed under his heavy form.
"Okay.. alright," he breathes out hotly into your neck, "go on and cum for me."
Before you can process what's going on, your body is overwhelmed with an overpowering heat as the last thing you distinctly feel is one of Art's hands moving down your lower abdomen to then rub circles over your swollen bud with his thumb. And that's all it takes -- You’re thrown over the edge.
"Fuck! OH MY GOD, OH--!" you cry out, your nails digging into his back as he fucks you through your climax.
He groans harshly and loudly against your warm skin before his hips stutter with the feeling of your hole pulsing around him. He keeps his digit rubbing incessant, soft circles over your clit to prolong your orgasm as he forces himself to pull out with a gasp.
His balls draw up and he reaches down quickly with his other hand to stroke over his length just as he feels his release start to rise up.
As you moan tremblingly and bask in your afterglow, you try to catch your breath as you shakily push yourself up onto your elbows just in time to watch Art squirt out a thick load over your torso. Rope after rope of sticky white fluid drips and gushes from his cock and between his fingers as he jerks himself off; shuddering deeply over you and letting out little "fuck"s and "oh my god"s and "yes"s.
After a few more shaky moments tick by, his thumb comes to a halt over your clit as he watches the last drops of his cum fall onto your stomach.
He breathes heavily, biting his lip as he watches your body shake. He loves the way his cum looks on your beautiful body.. it's like liquid pearl splattered all over you. He takes several mental pictures of the scene in front of him before he collapses on top of you with a soft grin.
You chuckle breathily, wrapping your arms around him as your warm bodies stick together in the aftermath, and he presses two soft kisses to your neck. One of your hands slides up from between his shoulder blades to run some of your fingers through his messy curls. He shivers and sighs, sliding his hands under your body to hold you closer to him.
A small period of comfortable silence is held between you two as you both work to catch your breaths, before Art is the one to break the quiet with a soft murmur into your shoulder.
"So.. can I get your number?"
"After round two," you whisper with a smile.
"Deal."
note; this is for everyone who voted for soft dom!art donaldson in that poll + the anons in my inbox asking for this sort of dynamic w/ art <3 much much much love !
NOTES — just saw challengers today and absolutely needed to write smth for these two! only used a gif of art because theres none of the two of them and almost none for patrick </3, i’m a little rusty with smut so bare with me
WARNINGS — 18+ content mdni, slight challengers 2024 spoilers, fem!reader, kinda dom!art, pure smut/little plot, art/patrick interactions, talk of previous art/patrick sexual encounters, spit play, oral (m receiving), tit sucking, dirty talk, mentions of anal, little bit of aftercare, not proofread, lmk if i forgot anything!
REQUEST — Pls write a smut fic with reader and Art fucking in the hotel room (with Patrick watching) and reader asking if Patrick can join them and ofc Art can’t say no because he finds the idea of this super hot. Maybe reader makes Art and Patrick make out like in the movie 👀
WORD COUNT — 1.6k
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None of you were too sure how exactly this had started. You, Art, and Patrick had stumbled back into their hotel room after leaving the beach, each of you finding your own place to sit after Patrick opened up a beer, took a swig, and passed the can to you. You’d taken a seat closer to Art, having naturally gravitated towards him more so than Patrick. And quickly, you and Art were making out, leaving Patrick to watch.
You blamed the beer. And the fact that you found both Art and Patrick incredibly hot. One minute you’re at a party, dedicated to your best friend, Tashi Duncan, and the next you’re sitting on the beach being invited back to the guys’ hotel room, and the next after that, Art is stripping you of your clothes while Patrick takes a seat leaned up against the wall opposite the foot of the bed.
“Can I-” He begins, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt, desperation clear in his eyes. At your nod, Art quickly yanks your shirt over your head and immediately pulls your body flush against his. He’s planting soft, wet kisses up and down your neck as his fingers work the back of your bra. His eyes widen the moment it drops to the ground.
Giving you a moment's glance he quickly sucks one nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking and biting. Feeling as though he’s neglected the other one, he pinches and tugs on the opposite nipple, smiling around the one in his mouth at the moans you let out.
“Yeah, baby? You like this? Me with your tits in my mouth and my best friend jerking off while watching us?”
For a moment, you’d forgotten about Patrick. Your eyes shoot open, landing on him instantly. The sight of him, slouched against the wall, his hand already wrapped around his cock, with his eyes fixated on both you and Art. He looked so hot, you weren’t sure how you’d forgotten that he was even there.
“Mhm, ‘s hot.” you admitted, turning Arts face back to you, tugging his bottom lip back into your mouth. The blond pushes you back onto the beds that were pushed together - Patrick’s idea if anyone were to ask - and begins kissing up your stomach only stopping long enough to kiss each of your nipples. He grabs your face, pushing his fingers into your cheeks, making you open your mouth, before letting a large glob of spit fall from his mouth into yours.
“Swallow.” He smiles when you do so without complaint, even going as far as to look as if you wanted him to do it again.
Patrick moans at that, louder than before. Sure he and Art had messed around before, when they were both single and bored and needed a good fuck, that wasn’t new, but hearing that commanding tone in the blonds voice sent a shiver down his spine.
“God, that was hot.” Patrick sighs, laughing when Art gives him the finger.
“Fuck off, Patrick.” Both of them know he doesn’t mean it, if he wasn’t wanted there, you or Art would’ve said something, but you didn’t. whether Art knew it or not, both you and he wanted him to stay, and keep watching.
At some point during that interaction, you weren’t sure when exactly, Art had shed his pants and underwear. He was dragging the tip up and down your slit, up and down, stopping every few seconds to slap your clit with it. When your eyes finally landed on his length, it made your jaw drop. He was big, bigger than you’d seen before, he was long and girthy with veins running along the bottom of it.
He slowly slides into you, admiring the look of pure bliss on your face. He’d never seen anyone look so angelic. The closest comparison he could make was how Patrick looked when he’d first given him a blow job. He wouldn’t call the look on Patrick's face angelic perse, but it was hot, really hot. The reminder of that, and the way you’ve begun clenching around him, spurs him into you. His hips snapping into yours, his heavy balls hitting your ass with each thrust. It was unlike anything either of you had felt before.
I want him to join.
You weren’t sure that the words had actually left your mouth until the blond on top of you stopped his thrusts, looking into your eyes for a moment.
“That what you want, baby?” He murmurs, kissing sloppily up and down your neck, shivers running through your entire body at his touch. His fingers falling to your clit, flicking at it. The pleasure was almost enough to make you forget that he’d even asked a question.
Almost.
“Please,” Even in your fucked out state, you couldn’t help but want more.
“Come on, Zweig. You heard her.” Patrick grins, hopping to his feet, although slightly hesitant. He wasn’t sure where to go, or what to do. But his nerves dissolved the moment Art turned around, and gave him that look, one that he knew meant that everything would be okay. It meant that he just needed to get over himself and have a good time, everything would work out. After that he’s on the move towards you, giving Art a harsh slap to the ass as he goes past him, laughing when Art swats back at him.
Patrick all but flies onto the bed, having kicked his underwear off the moment he stood up, and his shirt is long gone, a mix of yours, his, and Arts clothes are scattered around the hotel room, sure to have lost at least one thing. But none of you had it in you to care, too overwhelmed with pleasure. Your mouth opens before he’s even fully on the bed, but he gets the message, quickly positioning his tip in front of your mouth, thrusting a few times before losing control and fucking your throat.
The three of you move in tandem for minutes, or maybe it was hours, Art would thrust into you, rubbing your clit with his fingers, while Patrick would be pulling himself out of your mouth at the same time. It felt as though this was a regular occurrence, as though it were normal. And god did you hope it would become a normal thing. The three of you, together, making each other feel good.
Tapping Patricks thigh lightly, you hum happily when he pulls out of your mouth, giggling at how quickly he begins to check and make sure you’re okay.
“What? What’s wrong? Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” The words come out of his mouth at lightning speed and it’s difficult for you to understand, but Art had and his thrusts slowed to a stop, hands leaving your body, giving you a questioning look as if repeating everything his friend had just said.
“I’m fine baby,” And then you say something neither of them could quite hear.
“Gotta speak up for us, sweetheart. Can’t do what you want us to do otherwise.” That comes from Patrick, Art nodding along with him.
“Want you two to kiss.” The words fly out of your lips and you’re suddenly shy, pressing your face into Patricks thigh, nipping at it softly.
Both men smirk at you before making eye contact with each other, giving a subtle nod.
“Well c’mon man, you know how I like it.”
The combination of Arts words, his sudden thrusts and Patrick taking it upon himself to flick at your clit, push you over the edge. The power of your orgasm makes your legs shake, your mind empty of anything this isn’t you, Patrick, or Art.
They’re still kissing, it’s all teeth and tongue and spit. It’s messy, and it only stops long enough for Arts mouth to fall open, moans spilling out as he comes inside of you, hot spurts of his come flooding your insides, leaving a white ring around the base of his cock as he fucks you through both of your orgasms.
At this point, Patrick has taken a step back, and is watching again. He’s stroking himself with one hand, squeezing just right and out of nowhere, Art reaches out, cupping the dark haired man's balls, tugging and rubbing on them just the way Patrick likes. The added pleasure sends him crashing over the edge, he barely has the time to move and aim his cum to where you and Art are connected, spilling himself all over your cunt and Arts cock.
Art pulls out and the three of you fall into a pile of heavy breathing, sweat, spit, and cum on the beds pushed into the middle of the room. Once you all catch your breath, Patrick is the first to speak.
“Wow.” It was simple, but it made you all burst out laughing.
“Wow, indeed.” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his pec, turning to do the same to Art.
“That was fucking hot.” Arts words make you all giggle yet again.
“Okay,” Patrick leans you into Art and pushes himself off of the bed, “‘m gonna get you two cleaned up, be right back.” He reassures you, hearing you whine at losing his presence. He comes back with a warm washcloth in hand, and a small cup of water in his other. He hands the water to Art motioning for him to take a drink and then give you some as well, while he bends at the waist, resting his knees on the floor and taking the cloth to your core, cleaning you as gently as he could before moving onto Art. Tossing the cloth to the corner of the room he pulls both you and Art into his embrace, enjoying the quiet for a moment before you break the silence.
“Round two? Whoever makes me cum harder gets to fuck me here first.” You smile slyly, placing your hand on your ass, giggling when Patrick snatches you from Arts hold, muttering something about how he ‘got you first last time and that it’s his turn now.’
just a dirty lil thought… art watching you leave for yoga in those pants that make your ass pop 😔 he’d be trying his best to hold you back just so he could get a closer look
fluff (gasp!); biting; MDNI 18+
w/ ART DONALDSON
"where're you going, baby?"
even the tone of his voice is dangerous. the lilt of it is seductive. it's telling. you know when art speaks to you like that, you need to grab your shit and get out of the door as quick as you can. otherwise, you'll be underneath him unable to deny his kisses and you'll miss yet another yoga class.
"yoga. it's tuesday, remember?"
you know he remembers. it's the same routine every tuesday and thursday. you roll out of bed, waking art without nearly as much difficulty as it takes to get fully out of bed. you get ready and by the time you're done, he's in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with your things sitting beside him. his arms crossed over his bare chest. his curls as messy as his intentions. his smile tilted in the opposite direction that his head is tilted.
it's where you find yourself now.
art sucks his teeth. he dips his head, appearing down on his luck. "that's right." he lifts his head. "you have time, right?"
he knows you don't have time. you've factored in just enough time for kisses and goodbyes, and that's it. he knows this.
you tilt your head, look at him, and approach him. art opens his arms, waiting for you to walk into them. which you do. only after you have your keys and purse in hand.
you let his arms wrap around your waist. you let him kiss your forehead, your t-zone, the tip of your nose, and finally, your lips. you let him kiss you more than he should. more than a goodbye. almost a hello with the way he pulls your crotch flesh with his.
your pants are tight, second skin as art had called them. his pants are obsolete, leaving room for the thin material of his cotton boxers to expose his dick to yours.
you almost let him win. he almost convinces you to stay this time.
but you pull yourself away.
you ignore his pout. you ignore the warmth of his hand on your back. but you can't ignore the way his hands grip your hips, keeping you still. you don't want to ignore it because you like this part.
the part where he sinks to his knees and you hear the thud from behind you. the part where he bares his teeth and bites your ass. the cheek changes each time and today it's the left one. he always kisses the other—the right cheek, and with a final smack on your ass and a "i'll miss you", you're finally out of the door.
…..not even six hours later i got an offer of a well paying full time long-term job with free room and board in queens in nyc, allowing me independence and a way to escape an abusive situation and an unhealthy environment
likes charge reblogs cast, folks, this is the good luck post
the last time I reblogged this post right before I got a great job, in a permanent work-from-home position, with benefits, retirement, and a salary literally 3x what I was making before, doing something I really like.
ᝰ.ᐟ pairing: enzo vogrincic x fem!r
ᝰ.ᐟ warnings: smut. being filmed (sex tape). unprotected sex. headlock. size kink.
ᝰ.ᐟ a/n: not requested, but i hope you all like it :)
you have been at it for hours, but started recording a few minutes ago, the old video camera propped on the nightstand — enzo’s bedroom smelled strongly of sex and sweat, loud moans were bouncing off the walls, you were splayed in the middle of his huge bed, head pressed into the soft pillows and ass high up in the air as your boyfriend fucked the shit out of you, making sure that your pussy was raw and thoroughly fucked.
it had been his idea, starting as a suggestion, he would leave tomorrow, taking off to spain for the filming of a new movie, you wouldn’t see each other for months, and he wanted something to help both of you when needed, so there you were.
the bedsheets were wet with sweat and other bodily fluids, your ass felt hot from all the spanks enzo had delivered, your throat felt sore from all the moaning and face-fucking, the musky taste of enzo’s cock still lingered on your tongue, and a trace of his cum still painted your cheek, a detail from a few pictures he snapped before.
enzo yanked your hips up higher, getting a firm grip on your waist, a string of loud mewls along with shameless moans poured out of your lips as the brunette absolutely ravaged you, he pounded your dripping pussy with so much vigor that your body shifted forward with each thrust, the headboard hitting the walls with every thrust he delivered, heavy balls slapping against your wet skin with loud smacking sounds.
enzo’s large hands moved to smack your ass so it jiggled in his palms, grabbing and molding the flesh afterwards. “mira como tomás todo lo que te doy, mi amor. te gusta que te folle frente a la cámara?,” enzo moaned above you, his filthy words caused heat rise up to your cheeks as you buried your face even deeper into soft pillows, but they couldn’t hide your reddened face from his eyes, that observed your every move in the small screen of the camera.
enzo leaned down, one arm sliding underneath your neck, so that your chin was tucked right in the hollow of his elbow; squishing your face in between his bicep and a forearm, trapping you in a firm headlock.
he put most of his body weight onto your smaller body, pounding your dripping cunt into the mattress, stretching you out on his girth, making your eyes roll back in intense pleasure. “contestame, chiquita. te gusta que te folle frente a la cámara?,” he repeated, waiting for your answer.
“s—sí, en, me gusta,” you whined as you felt enzo’s free hand slipping underneath your stomach, finding your throbbing needy clit in no time and massaging it brutally with his fingertips.
“ay bebita, estás babeándote,” enzo cooed with fake pity, his hot lips brushing the back of your neck, leaving bites and kisses on the soft skin.
your eyes traveled to the screen and down your chin, and, you were drooling indeed, drool slightly covering your chin and dribbling down to enzo’s arm, getting in between your chin and his inner elbow. your hand came to his arm around your neck, fingers digging into the muscles, leaving crescent-shaped marks on scarred skin.
“enzo,” you moaned, drawing the last vowel as you looked at his reflection on the screen, you felt your orgasm approaching with every movement of his hips.
“shh, ya mi amor,” he shushed you softly, his hips slapping against your ass with even more vigor, making you forget whatever it was that you wanted to say.
he hissed as he felt your velvety walls clenching around him, the suckle of your pussy sent his hips bucking and forcing his cock impossibly deeper into your cunt.
“uff, chiquita, mirá como me apretas. querés que te llene el coño, hm? ¿eso querés?,” enzo rambled next to your ear as his pace became faster and sloppier.
“por favor, por favor, mi amor,” you whined, grabbing his arm with more force. your body prickled with desire and heat, enzo’s fingers worked diligently on your clit along with his thick cock spreading you open, mushing against all of your sweet spots.
he had you cumming all around him in no time, wringing a mind-blowing orgasm out of your exhausted body, your release leaving a noticeable white ring on the base of his dick.
a string or curses and quiet whimpers reached your ears as enzo snapped his hips into yours quickly before stilling completely and, with a final moan, he shoot his thick cum inside of your fluttering heat, flooding your insides with his warmth.
he went slack against your back, his body mounding against yours as he laid atop of you, making you squeak quietly under his weight. he chuckled airily as he stretched out his arm and reached for the camera, filming from his perspective as he pulled out of you, watching how his warm cum dripped down from your swollen cunt, staining your slit and sheets underneath as you whined at the feeling of emptiness.
enzo then propped the camera in front of you, showing your fucked out face, as he got closer to you, leaving a sweet kiss on your cheek as you both smiled at the camera before ending the video.
he then scooped you up in his arms and maneuvered you to lay on top of his heaving chest, thick fingers tangled in your messy hair, massaging your scalp lovingly. “hicimos todo un show, al menos si se filtra sabemos que hicimos un buen sex tape,”
you laughed slightly, slapping his chest and cuddling deeper into your lover’s neck, wrapping one arm around his broad shoulders as he kissed your naked shoulder.
+18! Dom!Enzo, biting, choking, creampie, dacrifilia, daddy kink, dirty talk, face sitting, fingering, sexo oral, sexo sin protección, size kink/size difference, spanking (sólo una vez), edades no especificadas. Uso de español rioplatense.
El aroma del café persiste en la habitación, pero Enzo sólo percibe la fragancia de tu perfume y la sensación de tus dedos en su cabello. No tiene idea de cuánto tiempo lleva recostado en tu regazo, sólo sabe que está agotado y disfruta demasiado de tus caricias como para abandonar su lugar.
-¿De dónde sacaste las flores?
-De una maceta- contestás, como si no fuera más que obvio.
Emite un sonido de desaprobación y recordás la charla sobre no cortar flores ajenas, pero no dice nada más. Cuando cierra los ojos te deleitás con la imagen de sus pestañas oscuras y largas rozando su piel, la curva de su nariz y sus labios, que probablemente conservan el sabor del café y de su alfajor favorito.
Tus dedos comienzan a descender, delinean el puente de su nariz y la definida línea de su mandíbula para luego capturar su mentón con tu mano y acariciar su labio inferior con tu pulgar. Hace amague de morderte y el sonido que acompaña el gesto es enternecedor, pero sus movimientos letárgicos te permiten reaccionar a tiempo y escapar del juego que tanto adora.
Planta un beso en tu muslo, su mejilla reposando sobre este, y sentís la forma en que su mano acaricia tu piel con un toque casi imperceptible. Las yemas de sus dedos te provocan escalofríos y Enzo disfruta sentir que te estremecés, incluso si su intención sólo era mimarte para retribuir un poco de la atención que le brindás.
-Te extrañé- otro beso-. Mucho.
-Yo también te extrañé mucho.
Te dirige una mirada un tanto ambigua, en sus ojos una mezcla de timidez y algo más... Es algo oscuro, para nada inocente y con implicaciones que conocés a la perfección. Sus dedos se acercan más y más al interior sensible de tu muslo mientras deposita besos húmedos sobre tu pierna, sus dientes te rozan como una sutil amenaza y sus párpados se cierran por cuenta propia cuando comienza a sentirse embriagado de tu ser.
-¿Mucho…?- arquea una ceja. Contestás con un suspiro y sonríe contra tu piel.
Cada vez más desesperado, Enzo deja que sus dulces mimos se conviertan en un enérgico masaje y te provoca frotando tu ropa interior de manera superficial. Siente tu respiración acelerándose y la creciente inquietud que te generan sus acciones le fascina, pero no tanto como los gemidos que escapan de tu boca una vez que captura tu piel entre sus dientes y muerde con fuerza suficiente para dejar una huella.
Vuelve a besarte con suavidad, como si eso aliviara de alguna forma el incendio que provocó, y esta vez sus dedos presionan contra la tela ya humedecida que cubre tu intimidad. Suspira y alza la vista para encontrarse con que estás mordiéndote el labio y tus ojos están cerrados en un vano intento de contenerte, el control sobre tu cuerpo desvaneciéndose cada vez que su respiración cálida te golpea.
Enzo adora verte en tal estado, pero adora más saber que él es el único responsable.
Se reincorpora y te deja sobre su regazo sin esfuerzo alguno, la sorpresa robándote un pequeño grito y una risa. Sus manos encuentran su lugar debajo de la camiseta que tenés puesta para masajear tu cadera, tu cintura y tus cosquillas, donde dejan una sensación de cosquilleo. Te retorcés por el nerviosismo, al igual que cada vez que Enzo decide hacerte cosquillas, pero el movimiento sólo hace que tu centro entre en contacto con el bulto que deja ver su ropa interior.
Suspira y sus dedos se cierran sobre tu muñeca.
-Mirá cómo me ponés- coloca tu mano sobre su miembro cubierto, haciéndote gemir-. ¿Te gusta…?
-Mucho- confesás, tus dedos tirando de la cintura elástica de la prenda con anhelo.
-Mostrame entonces.
No perdés tiempo y liberás su miembro ardiente, tus dedos rozándolo con delicadeza antes de cerrarse sobre su extensión y comenzar a masturbarlo; Enzo inspira profundamente y cuando echa la cabeza hacia atrás un sonido gutural llega a tus oídos, acompañado por la imagen de una gota de líquido preseminal brillando en su punta y sus uñas casi enterrándose en tu cadera.
Continuás con los mismos movimientos, acariciás la punta con tu pulgar y te deleitás con las expresiones que se apoderan de su rostro y los sonidos involuntarios que emite ante tus caricias. Sentís sus manos sobre todo tu cuerpo, ansioso por más, por lo que decidís recostarte entre sus piernas y besar sus muslos y su cadera mientras trabajás para llevarlo hacia el borde del orgasmo.
Tu lengua recorre su miembro desde la base hasta su punta goteante y roja, tus labios cerrándose sobre esta mientras mantenés contacto visual con Enzo para poder ver la forma en que su rostro se transforma. Se muerde el labio y frunce el ceño, casi como si estuviera enojado, pero sus pupilas dilatadas y el brillo en sus ojos hacen que sus emociones sean más que evidentes para vos.
Una vez que comenzás a moverte, sus caderas reaccionan de manera automática y Enzo toma el control inconscientemente. Tus ojos se llenan de lágrimas debido a los reiterados golpes en el interior de tu boca y sus dedos tirando de tu cabello, uno que otro gemido dejándolo al ver la dificultad con que tomás sólo la mitad de su miembro en tu boca y cuán pequeña te ves entre sus piernas. Sólo cuando sus músculos se tensan decide liberarte, el hilo de saliva manchando tu mentón haciendo que se replantee su decisión.
Se deshace de su ropa y palmea su pecho tonificado con la clara intención de hacerte saber lo que quiere, pero te negás a causa de la vergüenza. Acorta la distancia entre ambos, una expresión preocupada en su rostro, y limpia con sus dedos el rastro de una lágrima.
-¿No querés...?
-Sí, quiero, pero…- tu voz se desvanece, pero Enzo ya sabe lo que ibas a decir.
Es consciente de lo mucho que te avergüenza tal posición, pero sabe que se debe más a la vulnerabilidad en la que te pondría dicha situación y no a la forma en que puedas verte ante sus ojos... También sabe que te encanta estar completamente a su merced, sometida a sus deseos y cediendo el control hasta ser un mar de lágrimas y súplicas.
-¿Color?- sus nudillos acarician tu mandíbula.
-Verde.
Te dedica una sonrisa antes de quitarte la ropa interior y moverte con facilidad para posicionarte sobre su rostro, sus manos acariciando tu cadera y sus labios depositando pequeños besos que alternan con mordidas inofensivas en tus piernas. Tomás aire y dejás caer un poco de tu peso, la calidez de su boca envolviéndote de inmediato y haciéndote gemir.
Estás completamente mojada y Enzo adora sentir tu esencia manchando sus labios y su lengua, que acaricia tus pliegues de manera experta hasta hacerte lloriquear. Disfruta la forma en que tus muslos suaves lo arropan y siente que podría morir al ver que tus dedos se cierran sobre tus pezones, notorios debido al color y la tela de tu camiseta. Sus labios se cierran sobre tu clítoris y succiona con fuerza, ganándose un grito ahogado de tu parte y confirmando que adoraría morir de esta forma.
Sus manos encuentran tu cadera y te fuerza a dejar caer todo tu peso sobre él, sus dientes rozando peligrosamente tu centro mientras continúa asaltándote con su lengua. Tus gemidos aumentan en volúmen, cada vez más constantes, y un hilo de palabras sin sentido surge de tus labios; logra distinguir su nombre y varias súplicas, pero el resto es un confuso producto de lo que el placer provoca en tu mente.
Te lleva al orgasmo sólo con su lengua y los sonidos obscenos que esta produce en contacto con tus pliegues y la humedad provocada por tu excitación. Recobrás un poco de fuerzas y te separás de su boca -un tanto sobre estimulada por sus labios que continúan besándote en todos los lugares posibles-, el brillo de tu liberación adornando su piel y una mueca de satisfacción u orgullo apoderándose de su rostro.
-Me encantás- da un beso a tu muslo-. ¿Puedo seguir...?
Te ayuda a recostarte y te sentís en trance al ver cómo pasa una mano por su cabello despeinado, tus ojos vidriosos siguiendo cada uno de sus movimientos hasta que se posiciona a tu lado y captura tus labios. El beso se torna intenso y su mano cerrándose sobre tu cuello no ayuda a calmar la sensación ardiente entre tus piernas, que sólo empeora cuando su lengua se cola en tu boca y sus dedos comienzan a ejercer presión.
No estás segura de qué provoca el leve aturdimiento que nubla tu mente, si es la restricción de oxígeno o la fuerza con la que Enzo te está besando, pero sus acciones se detienen antes de que pienses en advertirle. No tenés mucho tiempo para recuperarte antes de sentir sus dedos haciendo un glissando en dirección a tu centro, sus yemas deslizándose por tus pliegues y rodeando tu entrada, deleitándose al sentir que estás goteando.
Tu interior no opone resistencia alguna cuando introduce uno de sus dedos, la lentitud y profundidad de sus movimientos haciendo que tu respiración se entrecorte en un segundo. Cometés el error de mirar justo cuando su pulgar encuentra tu clítoris y comienza a masajearlo con círculos, el placer arrancando de tu garganta un gemido que borda lo pornográfico… Pero para Enzo no es suficiente, así que introduce otro dedo y acelera el ritmo.
El placer te desborda y los sonidos húmedos que llegan a tus oídos son tan indecentes como tus gemidos, que sólo actúan como fuel para las acciones de Enzo. Le encanta llevarte al borde, dejar que te pierdas por completo en las sensaciones mientras él se encarga del placer de ambos, saber que tu mente es una especie de boceto que él desdibuja hasta dejar en blanco.
-Papi…
Tu voz es poco más que un susurro, pero es suficiente para que te escuche. Sus dedos siguen asaltando tu interior mientras besa tu mejilla y repite palabras de aliento en tu oído, haciendo un esfuerzo inhumano por no frotar su miembro contra tu pierna cuando ve en tus ojos el reflejo de la desesperación y necesidad que sentís. Se lamenta cuando ve tus párpados caer, indicio de tu orgasmo desatándose, pero la imagen de tus pestañas brillantes por las lágrimas y tus dientes torturando tu labio le resulta celestial.
La tensión en tus músculos se disipa y tu cuerpo frágil reposa contra el suyo. Rodea tu cintura con su brazo y te atrae hacia su cuerpo aún más; tu espalda contra su pecho te permite sentir su respiración todavía acelerada y el calor que irradia su piel, pero este no se compara con el calor de su miembro aprisionado contra tu muslo, donde deja un rastro húmedo.
El particular sonido del lubricante llama tu atención y te preguntás en qué momento y de dónde lo sacó, pero sus dedos con producto frío en tu entrada hacen que te sobresaltes y te distraigas. Se disculpa y su voz ronca provoca un cosquilleo entre tus piernas, besa tu hombro mientras su punta acaricia tus pliegues y tu entrada antes de comenzar a introducirse en tu calidez.
-Papi- llorás, sensible ante el inevitable ardor de la penetración inicial.
-Ya sé, bebé, ya sé- dice en un intento de calmarte, regalándote un beso-. Estás muy apretada.
Sus movimientos son lentos y muerde tu hombro una vez que se adentra por completo, conteniendo sus deseos de forzarte a tomar sin protestar todo lo que él te ofrezca. Te da unos segundos para acostumbrarte a la intrusión, su mano acariciando tu cadera y luego dirigiéndose hacia tu clítoris, el contacto provocando que te contraigas alrededor de su miembro.
Comienza a acelerar su ritmo y no hay forma de que reprimas tus gemidos, tu cuerpo reaccionando por cuenta propia cuando sentís cada vena y surco de su miembro rozando tu interior mientras su punta abusa de tu cérvix reiteradamente. Su ataque sobre tu clítoris no se detiene, su lengua se desliza sobre la piel sensible de tu cuello y posteriormente sus dientes apresan el lóbulo de tu oreja. Llegás al clímax ahogando un grito en la almohada.
Te arrastra hacia el borde de la cama y te deja sobre tus rodillas, las sábanas revueltas en tu rostro amortiguando tus jadeos cuando su palma impacta contra tu piel al volver a penetrarte. El sonido de su piel colisionando con la tuya inunda la habitación y las palabras que te dirige se pierden en algún punto en el aire antes de llegar a tus oídos, que parecen estar cubiertos con algodón.
Sus estocadas son profundas y frenéticas, pero cuando siente su orgasmo aproximándose se detiene. Retira su miembro hasta dejar sólo la punta dentro y acaricia con su pulgar el borde de tu entrada, embelesado por la forma en que la fricción enrojece tu piel. Escucha tus súplicas por más, lo llamás papi una y otra vez en un intento de convencerlo por continuar, pero no cede.
-Estás desesperada, ¿no?- pregunta. Ya sea que negás o asentís, se inclina sobre tu cuerpo para poder tirar de tu cabello y continúa:- ¿Querés más, princesa?
Te aleja del colchón y encuentra una respuesta en el hilo de saliva que cae de tus labios, acompañado por las lágrimas que recorren tus mejillas antes de humedecer las sábanas. Abandona tu interior y te oye protestar, pero te calmás cuando te deja sobre tu espalda y posiciona su cuerpo sobre el tuyo.
Te obliga a ver la forma en que su miembro acaricia tus pliegues, enrojecidos y más que húmedos, pero apartás la vista para ver su rostro cuando vuelve a hundirse en tu interior: sus ojos están cerrados y sus labios entreabiertos dejan salir un sonido casi animal, su cabello despeinado enmarcando sus rasgos a la perfección.
Lleva tus piernas a sus hombros y utiliza un brazo para aprisionar tus muslos contra su abdomen, su otra mano ubicándose en tu abdomen bajo y ejerciendo presión para sentir cómo tu interior se amolda a él, la forma en que tu cuerpo lo recibe cada vez. La sensación es abrumadora y tus manos se mueven en todos los sentidos buscando aferrarse a algo -lo que sea- para poder sobrellevar el placer que te invade, pero sólo encontrás las margaritas desperdigadas en el espacio entre la almohada de Enzo y la tuya.
-Papi, por favor, ¿puedo…?
Asiente mientras besa tu tobillo, sus ojos abriéndose de inmediato para poder presenciar el espectáculo que le ofrecés cada vez que acabás. Masajeás tus pechos y pellizcás tus pezones, justo como él suele hacerlo, y cuando el orgasmo te golpea repetís su nombre entre balbuceos. El movimiento de sus caderas no cesa ni por un segundo y tu rostro se contrae en una mueca de algo similar al dolor, pero que Enzo reconoce como la prolongación tortuosa de tu orgasmo.
Estás a punto de rogarle, pero sus jadeos te interrumpen y la repentina brutalidad en sus embestidas hace imposible formular palabra alguna. Su cabello brilla bajo la luz y cubre parte de su rostro cuando sus dientes se cierran sobre tu pierna. Sentís el palpitar de su miembro en tu interior y recuperás la voz.
-Adentro, por favor.
-¿Sí? ¿Querés que te llene la conchita…?- cerrás los ojos, casi avergonzada por lo mucho que disfrutás oírlo expresarse de esa forma-. Dios…
Sentís el calor de su liberación salpicando tu interior y suspirás satisfecha, tus brazos separándose instintivamente para abrazarlo cuando se desmorona sobre tu cuerpo y su rostro busca refugio en el espacio de tu clavícula. Masajéas su espalda mientras su respiración vuelve a la normalidad y estás casi segura de que percibís los latidos de su corazón.
-Extrañaba tanto esto- comenta, alejándose para mirarte a los ojos-. No te das una idea.
-Yo también lo extrañaba- sonreís-. Pero…, ¿no tenías sueño vos?
Suelta una carcajada pero no responde, en su lugar se estira para tomar una margarita y colocarla sobre tu oreja. Besa tus ojos, tu nariz, y por último envuelve tus labios en un apasionado beso que te deja sin aire.
-Gracias por el café- apoya su frente sobre la tuya-. Me ayudó bastante.
