#[ 🐞 ] anon.

[artdcnaldson]

i want older dilfy art to call me kiddo while he fucks me... IM SORRY

-🐞

🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ you get it!!

TW: Dubcon due to no verbal consent given, but both parties are VERY enthusiastic

But yeah… being the cute little babysitter he and Tashi hire!! He calls you kiddo conversationally, just a way he tries to remind himself how young you are. He’s all hey, kiddo, and how’s college, kiddo? You really are so young— in college, can’t even drink legally yet. That doesn’t stop him from wanting you so bad. For waking up hard and drenched in sweat beside his wife after he’s dreamed about fucking your sweet pussy.

You’re a fan, you watch his matches. After you’d been working for them for a month, you shyly brought out a shirt for him to sign. He fantasized about you wearing it to bed with nothing beneath for fucking days after, jerked his cock raw imagining your body beneath the oversized fucking merch.

But he shouldn’t. You’re a kid. You’re too young. You're begging for it.

There you are— sitting on the sofa while you wait for Art to call his driver to take you home. He coddles you too much, wastes his own resources on you. His driver, his black card, anything you want. Your pretty legs are tucked under your body, beneath the hoodie of his you wear.

Sorry, Mr. Donaldson, I just got cold and you said to help myself to whatever I need.

It makes sense that you're freezing. You show up in tiny little athletic shorts and big tee shirts. Kind of like Tashi used to wear, back in college. He supposes some things don't change. It also makes sense because he keeps the house frigid so he can leer at the hard bud of your nipples poking through your shirts. Also like Tashi. Whatever, it's his house, he can do what he wants.

You look so tiny in his clothes, pretty and young. Swamped in the fabric, letting your scent mingle with his. He wants to bury his face in the fabric, breathe deep. He wants to fuck you with his hoodie on, pin you down on the couch, tug your panties to the side, and sink right in. You’d get so wet, he’s sure of it. Cream around his cock so much that it would sound fucking obscene.

“Mr. Donaldson?” You break his train of thought, smiling pretty over at him. “Are you calling your driver?”

No. “Yeah,” he says, and grabs his phone from his pocket. His thumbs fumble with his passcode, and you laugh softly as you watch him struggle. Like it’s a game, like you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

He feels the soft weight of your hand on his thigh— timid, testing. Your fingers flex, dimpling his thigh through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. He looks down before he thinks to look at your face. Pretty, manicured nails, a purity ring that’s clearly just for decoration. Only inches away from the spot where he’s tenting the fabric of his pants.

When he finally tears his eyes away to meet your gaze, you look at him through wide eyes and pretty lashes. “Do you have to?”

Words fail him. He swallows hard, tries to think of the many things he should say. I’m married. You’re the babysitter. You’re too young for me. I’m happily married. I’m married. Your pretty hand palms him through the cotton fabric of his pajamas and he lets out a helpless groan.

“Fuck, kiddo—“ It slips out like nothing, and you smile wickedly at the words, taking it as encouragement to keep going, coaxing him to full hardness. “You’ve gotta— ngh— stop—”

But thinking that doesn’t stop him from bucking up into the warmth of your hand, seeking that friction as you smile softly up at him. “Do you want me to?” You ask, grinding the heel of your palm against his cock. He groans, head falling against the back of the couch as his dick kicks in interest.

He doesn’t want you to stop, but he needs you to, so badly. “I’m too old for you,” he pants. He lifts his hips so you can tug his pajamas and briefs down his legs. “I’m— mmm— I’m married.” He can’t stop himself, he needs you to get a clear head and realize that fucking the married father of the kid you’re babysitting is wrong.

But you won’t. God, you won’t. You’ve been fucking aching for it since the first night on the job, when he handed you a check and patted your back and thanked you for taking good care of his girl.

You knew he was married, you didn’t care. There were plenty of movies about married men fucking their nannies, plenty of stories in gossip magazines about rich and famous guys doing it. Besides, Tashi’s away, Art’s lonely. Look how hard he gets just from sitting next to you! Someone has to take care of him while she’s gone.

He’s hot in your grip— pulsing and dribbling precum. When your thumb sweeps over his tip to gather it, he groans and bucks into your grasp. You smile like you’ve won a prize and continue the persistent glide of your hands along his length.

“You’re so big,” you say, like you’re surprised by it. He’s definitely bigger than your ex boyfriends— longer, thicker. An insistent heat pools between your thighs, slick and dampening the cotton of your panties. His cheeks flush when you compliment his size, and you follow his half-lidded gaze to where he’s watching your small hand pump along his cock. Oh. He’s so easy.

“I don’t know if you’ll even fit, Mr. Donaldson.”

Jesus fucking Christ. He slings an arm across his eyes, like covering them could change what’s actively happening. “Fuck, kiddo, you can’t say things like that.”

You draw your lips into a pout and sling your leg over his lap, so you’re settled firm and warm and alive, right above where he wants you. “Why not?” You ask, leaning in to nuzzle right at his jaw. He pants hot against your ear. “You wonder about it, don’t you? How you’d ever manage to stuff your cock inside of me when I’m so small and tight down there.”

His hand is fisted into the sofa cushion— you have to pry it off, and up. His hand fits between your legs easily, like it belonged there. Thick fingers pressed against the damp cotton shielding your pussy from him. He moans pathetically. “Jesus,” he groans. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

His gaze fixes on the tug of your bottom lip between your teeth, the coyness in the tiniest action. But your mouth falls open as he presses his fingers a little harder, feels the saturated fabric mold against your cunt. “Ah— yeah— just… to the side—“ You gasp. Your thighs tremble where you hold yourself up, as he hooks two fingers in the damp cotton and pulls it to the side to reveal your pretty little pussy.

A pretty gasp escapes your lips as his thumb traces the line of you, from your twitching hole, desperate to be filled, up to your aching clit. All of that youthful bravado disappears the second he touches your cunt where you need, replaced with an all-consuming, primal need. “Please, please—“ You gasp.

He could say no. He should say no. He should pull your panties back into place, fix your shorts, and send you on your way with his driver. But he doesn’t. “Hold your shorts to the side,” he says, and you obey immediately, like you’ve been compelled to. Your pretty fingers hook into the nylon fabric, gather up the cotton of your panties too, and you tug them so he can have full access to your cunt.

“C’mere, kiddo,” he coos, tugging you closer,so you’re just barely hovering over his cock. You’re panting, breath shaky from anticipation as you grind your hips down, eyes fluttering at the tiniest bit of stimulation. “That’s it. Just relax for me.”

The press of his cockhead against your entrance makes you whine softly. Your hole twitches, pulsing, begging for more. The sound that you make when the first inch sinks inside is like pure fucking music— the way your brows knit and your free hand grabs at his shoulder to stay grounded. He stops moving, he lets you do the work.

And— Jesus— you’re fucking tight. He feels you squeezing around him like a vise, like your pussy was made to milk him dry. Soft, whimpery gasps fall from your lips alongside your staccato breaths, your face a vision of something along the lines of pain and pleasure. He mouths at your jaw, mumbling against your skin. “You’ve almost got it, kiddo, just a little more.”

You whine at that, brow furrowed in concentration as you finally take him to the hilt, so you’re fully seated on his cock. You look drunk on it, on him. He glances down and looks at where your pussy flares open to accommodate him and feels dizzy with the need to hold you in place and fuck into the wet, sucking heat of your cunt.

“Fuck, I’ve gotta move,” he groans. You nod breathlessly. “Can you take it? Tell me you can take it.”

A moment’s hesitation, but you nod. “I can— I can take it.”

He plants his feet and holds you by your waist, keeping you where he wants you, as he pulls out and drives back in, burying himself deep. Your moan is strangled, muffled in the fabric of his tee shirt as you bite down. He relishes in your pretty noises with each rough thrust back in, in the wet smack of his balls against your pussy, and the slick sounds of dripping, sticky arousal. Your body jostled each time he bottoms out, eyes rolling back.

This is what you’ve wanted, what you’ve been craving. Art Donaldson all to yourself, if only for the night. He’s not going to last long— not when it’s you and you’re so tight and hot around him— but you aren’t either. Clumsy, shaking hands toy with your clit as he drives himself in again and again and again. “That’s it,” he groans. “Touch yourself like that. God, you’re squeezing me so fucking tight, kiddo, fuck—“

You cum with a muffled cry into his shoulder, walls spasming and gripping his cock tight as you finish. Slick, creamy arousal circles the base of his cock, makes everything sound stickier and more obscene. He fucks into you, panting and groaning the most delicious sounds as he lets your walls milk him for all he’s worth. One, two more deep thrusts and he’s done for— balls drawing up as he spills hot and thick into your cunt.

You’re limp in his arms, all tired out. A soft whine escapes your lips as he pulls out, leaving you empty and dripping with his spend. He’s quick to pull your panties and shorts back into place, making sure that nothing drips and makes a mess before he tugs up his own clothes. You laugh breathlessly as he lets you wrap yourself around him like a koala, nuzzling into his shoulder.

“Can I go home tomorrow?” You mumble, nosing at his throat.

He rubs your back. “Whatever you want, kiddo.”

[poppy-metal]

need to be young and naive and have art and pat invite me to their hotel room. need them to try to teach me to smoke weed, laugh at me when i start coughing, and then tell me theyll just shotgun it for me to make it easier. need them to get me so high and pliable and take advantage of me :((( need need need

-🐞

s-shotgunning with patrick and art..... it gives the vibes of them lounging back with their cigarettes.... they looked so fucking good there....

need art feeding the smoke into my mouth while he cups my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks. need patrick who starts by mouthing at your neck, as soon as art let's you go and you exhale through your nose he's tugging you to his mouth, licking inside. and it's so overwhelming - you didn't expect to go this far, you really didn't. maye that was stupid. to go into a room with two boys, alone, but you aren't thinking clearly. it's hard too with your head all fuzzy and you think art is a good person - you've been warned about patrick, but art won't let anything bad happen to you, you're sure, he's a good guy. you relax into him. end up with your back pressed against his chest as patrick trails his kisses down your stomach - where did your shirt go? it's a crumpled heap on the floor somewhere, and patricks tongue dips into your bellybutton and you gasp. but then arts there, warm hand turning your head - and he takes another hit - feeds it to you again - his lips are so soft, you think. his hand is so sweet on you - comforting.

you're melted between them. patrick tugs down your shorts - you think you hear him say they're cute, you think you hear art agree. "fucking hot." you hear - everything is swimming. it feels good. you spread your legs when patrick parts them. your bare cunt exposed - shining the warm light of the room. you've never been touched before, not by anyone other than yourself, but you can't remember why not - everything feels good. you want patrick to touch you there. "please."

art props his chin on your head. they talk over you, and through the fog you hear bits and pieces - you think she even knows what she's begging for?/shit, man. she's so fucking wet./spread her - let me see./ god - that's a sweet fucking pussy./keep kissing her, she likes it.

you do like it. arts sweet angel kisses. pink tongue licking inside your mouth, his hands on your breasts, squeezing - you like how he moans into you, like that you're making him feel good. there's a wet and warm sensation between your legs that feels amazing - you can't look down though, art keeps your mouth hostage - but you reach down and feel something soft - hair, between your legs. patricks head. you card your fingers through his hair and tug him closer - whatever he's doing between your legs - you don't want it to stop. feels slick and hot and it send tingles through your whole body. you think it's his tongue - licking between the lips of your cunt like arts tongue is licking inside the lips of your mouth.

you want to keep feeling this good forever.

[zweiginator]

need older dilf!art to fuck me prone bone 🙏 need to tongue his wedding band as he's gripping my face from behind, shoving his fingers in my mouth 😵‍💫 need him to groan in my ear and tell me how much of a slut i am for letting him use me like this 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

-🐞

dilf!art saying he’s not your boyfriend. that you can go and fuck whoever you want. that he doesn’t care. he thinks he believes that—until he sees you flirting with another man. he’s a little younger than art but he’s handsome, with similar features and it just fucking irks art to see you slutting yourself out like that.

don’t you know how men treat little girls who are easy? he wouldn’t want you to be taken advantage of, no.

so he comes up to you. you didn’t even know he was there. grabs you by the wrist and takes you home.

and you just sit in his bed, your legs dangling. he hasn’t said a word to you. he just unbuckles his belt. pulls it through the loops of his pants. you watch him strip until he’s in just his underwear and it makes you squeeze your legs together.

in reality, you want him to only be yours. you shouldn’t want it; like art told you—you can have anyone you want. but he’s your anyone and you just like when he takes from you. maybe it should make you feel used and worthless but you want him to want you even if it’s just for your pussy.

he sits on the bed now; the mattress sinks next to you and you feel his thigh rubbing against your bare leg.

“take your clothes off.” his voice is soft yet demanding.

you get up and do as he tells you. he watches you peel your little skirt off. your blouse. you undo your bra and peel your panties down your legs and art looks like he’s going to be really sweet. he has this look on his face, kind eyes.

but then he picks you up, puts you on the bed, on your stomach. he spanks your ass. it hurts really bad because you feel his wedding ring. he won’t fucking take it off, not ever. you like to think you’re married to him. the cold metal feels sharp against your flesh and your yelps are muffled into his pillows.

your back arches as he spanks you and you lift your head to look at him. he pulls your hair.

“dirty little girl—just begging any old man to fuck you.”

you shake your head. “no—you said—“

he fists your hair harder so his fingers are closer to your tender scalp. “i don’t care what i said.”

and then he releases his grasp and you hear him pulling his briefs down his legs. you mewl for him and he grabs your waist. he’s taking so long to give you what you want and he can see your cunt pulsing around nothing. so fucking wet for him.

you start to protest.

“please—“

and then he pushes in. all at once, you feel every fucking inch of him and you grasp onto his sheets. his pelvis slaps against the fat of your ass. he loves you like this. all his, at his mercy. his plaything. his stupid little slut who will take anything he gives her.

he grabs your hair again. makes you move your head so your ear is against the pillow. grabs your jaw, your throat, slaps your cheek. shoves his fingers in your mouth until you choke on them. the metal of his wedding band tastes like it could be blood. maybe it is, from you biting the inside of your cheek. but it’s cold and you look him in the eye as he fucks you.

maybe he’s mad at you right now but you clench your pussy around him and tell him over and over: “i love your cock i love it i love it—“

and he groans, spilling his cum inside you. you fall asleep on his chest and he hopes to god his wife doesn’t come home soon.

[arkhamslvts]

leaving a shitty bf with bad dick just to get w jason - who the MINUTE he finds out he never made u cum makes it happen. again. and again. and again. he’s obsessed w it - 🐞

jason’s almost shocked by the confession, her mouth agape as he looks at you “what?” and you just chuckle a little “it’s not like.. just don’t feel bad if it doesn’t happen, i’ve only ever cum on my own”. he scoffs, he almost takes offense to it, “what? you think i won’t make you cum” and you laugh again, rolling your eyes “im just saying, it doesn’t happen”

and then jason’s in between your legs, he hasn’t been down there for more than two minutes but you’re going dizzy, drunk on the feeling of his mouth on you “jason please i… more” and he provides, two of his fingers right into you, he feels the way you clench into him, he knows you’re close and he keeps going. your orgasm takes you by storm, shaking legs and gasping for air, and jason smirks a little “it’s good, isn’t it angel, you think you can give me another one?”. you don’t even have time to respond before he’s back between your thighs.

[mattscoquette]

Stop I was up thinking about having sex with dad!matt after the twins are asleeppp😭like y'all are fighting for your lives to be quiet do you dont wake the kids up lolol

-🐞

yall have to be sooooo quiet and go so slow so u don’t make the bed squeak 😭😭 once every month or two u get nick or chris to take the girls for the weekend so u and matt have the house to yourselves

[neverchecking]

OOOOHHHH hear me out ok do with this what you will:

Warriors has to have like the BIGGEST praise kink yk? Reader tells him he looks pretty? He melts. Reader says he’s doing so good? He’ll do better. Just to hear any praise come from reader’s lips.

But when someone else compliments READER? It’s like a switch is flicked inside Warrior’s head. Someone at the bar a little to fond of reader’s smile? Reader’s laugh? Hoooo boy only hylia herself can save that person now. Warriors would have to drag reader somewhere and pound it into REMIND reader that compliments come from his lips only. If anyone says otherwise? Well, he’ll do what he must.

-🐞

🐞 anon. Your brain is so wrinkled. Every part of this is just *Chef's kiss* I'm hearing you out. He so unused to praise bc his higher ups just told him everything he did was wrong, so to hear he was doing something good from you?

He would take great care in absolutely destroying you for everyone else, the only name on your lips should be HIS and HIS alone Reminding you who you belong to :)

Smut so MDNI!

Smut CW: Possessive (Delusional) Wars. Praise kinks galore

・❥・Wars FOR SURE has the biggest fucking praise kink

・❥・Because let's face it, people tend to hate him. He practically brought upon the war of the Eras (Or that's what they tell him at least) and he's used to people just putting him down constantly.

・❥・And since Cia was attracted more to the power of his soul, she cared very little for who he was as a person. Just would he could provide her.

・❥・And the Captains before him treated him like shit, especially when he was a rookie.

・❥・But you? You had taken up role as a makeshift nurse when the chain had gotten hurt, the only one who braved treating him when he was angry and hurt. And when you did? You had nothing but gentle touches and kind words towards him.

・❥・It wasn't uncommon for you to look at him with starry eyes as you wrapped a gash, fawning over his dexterity on the field and how you had seen him with a sword.

・❥・You would distract him from his pain with honeyed words and praises.

・❥・It was no wonder he fell for you as fast as he did.

・❥・It was like you knew what he needed, exactly when he needed it.

・❥・And when you evolved past just praising his skills on the battlefield and into complimenting the way he had done his hair that day or the way his smile seemed to light up his features or the way you noticed how his eyes showed every one of his emotions?

・❥・He's down bad. Because he's the only one you do this with. So obviously he was the only one you wanted, right?

・❥・This was your way of telling him you like him, right? You were just too shy to come outright with it! That was obviously the case.

・❥・You ignite such a fire beneath him. He aches to impress you. You need someone who can protect you. Who can provide and give you the live you deserve to live.

・❥・He can do that. When he's fighting he's putting a million percent into it, ensuring not even a keese gets near you. When your in a market and he sees your eyes linger on something, he's handing over the rupees without so much as a second thought. He has the money and it's no issue. Not even when you bashfully attempt to wave off his act of affection.

・❥・Just let him take care of you. It would be easier for everyone.

・❥・He realizes, however, that as much as he would like it to be the case, you aren't in a bubble for his eyes only.

・❥・Other, unworthy pests can see you. And some have even dared to talk to you.

・❥・They sing their own compliments about your form or your jewelry, never the things he knows you really care about. They have no clue about your heart, that he fears is too big for this cruel world, or your brain, which works in such incredible ways.

・❥・Which cannot stand.

・❥・He's been dragged out of more than a few bars by Time or Twilight before he can launch himself at the disgraceful traitor that dares to impose on your sanctity.

・❥・That doesn't stop him from tracking this disgrace down and giving him a quick, and much too merciful, death. Anything longer would be delaying the time spent with you and he could already feel his skin itching without your presence.

・❥・ When he gets back, he's already formulating a plan to brand you as his. Because that's what you were.

・❥・You were his and his alone.

・❥・He had no issues dirtying his hands when it came to other parasites trying to impose on his territory, no, the problem came with you.

・❥・Not with anything you did, but you still needed to understand that the only praises you should listen to, come from his lips and his alone.

・❥・He would just have to remind you.

<><><><>

Your chest heaved as War's hands caged your own against the wall. The mirror in front of you fogged quickly as your hot breaths painted it with a misty sheen. You could barely see his blond hair as he gripped your hips, hips crashing with yours over and over again.

You couldn't exactly pinpoint what had gotten him so riled up, but he could.

He had taken you to a darling little bakery hidden away in some alleyway and the baker there seemed a little too friendly with you. He had kept offering you other goodies than what you had decided on, on the house he had declared, reaching for and catching your hand when you went to grab the paper bag full of treats. He was insistent on letting you know just how radiant your smile was and how he wouldn't mind seeing it more often.

Drove him absolutely fucking mad.

Wars knew he was...possessive. It was both maddening because he knew what it was like to be chained and locked down by someone too obsessive to be healthy and liberating because you were his. You had chosen to give yourself to him. You had chosen him.

And he would make sure everyone knew it.

The knights that would eye you every time you came to visit, the council members that would gawk at you every time he brought you with him to visit Artemis, the servants that would hesitate when it came to leaving your bathroom, and that fucking baker who didn't understand you were taken. That you were his.

But he'd make sure they knew. He would make sure they all knew that he had sunk his talons deep into your psyche. You were his. There was no changing this.

Maybe you could use a nice, big, shiny rock to show everyone you were his.

[ddejavvu]

okayyy !!!!! spencer girlie till the day i die

spencer is absolutely... ABSOLUTELY.... very very touchy in relationships. he cannot keep his hands off of u !! not even in a sexual way (though ofc in a sexual way too) he just always has to be touching you. hugs, kisses, cuddles..... hand holding, thigh touching, massages. he just needs his hands on you at all times 🥹

- 🐞

send me your headcanons!

--

SOBBING AND WEEPING AND CRYING 'CAUSE YEAHHH :( maybe it's cause he's touch starved, or maybe it's just because he loves you That Much, but something about it just magnetizes him to you. especially if you work together, he's more than eager to bump shoes with you under the round table or sit by your side on the jet :') kisses in the SUV before going into the field Just In Case

[marauderseraconfessions]

I hate the way that the Marauders fandom likes to shred characters up beyond recognition and take out everything that makes them interesting.

Remus went from being a mild, pushover, quiet, cowardly guy to being a jackass 'casanova' with anger issues who smokes all the time and is hypermasculinised. (If that sounds familiar it's because how most fics used to write Sirius.) We get the most time with him. You can find details on him on the HP Lexicon. You can find the books pretty swiftly online, too. (🏴‍☠️, or even scans people put online. They're out there, you don't gotta give JKR money lol.)

And Sirius. Oh Sirius. Right now the popular characterisation for him is either damn near offensively stereotypically queer who can't do a damn thing without his bf, or he gets raked over the coals for absolutely everything and bashed to hell and back. Am I saying he is perfect? No. But god please let him be the well intentioned but flawed, SMART person he is.

James will always remain Perfect, the sunshine, the does-no-wrong mum friend, despite the fact that of the three, we see him LEAST. Quite funny how 'oh we can just make up stuff to make them actually be interesting' doesn't seem to apply to one of the most important characters.

And Peter, I hear you ask? As ever, he still fades into the background or has all the imperfect bits about his character carefully removed.

- 🐞 (sorry for the yap session lol)

ᯓ★

[fangswbenefits]

Miguel trying to keep it together when one of the other male spiders decides to overstep sweet girl's boundaries.

---

"Hey, Miguel?"

Miguel tears his eyes away from the screens and looks down to see her standing below the platform. He steps off, already feeling uneasy that she's not smiling like she usually is.

"Hey," he greets softly. "What is it?"

She struggles to put her thoughts into words, then finally takes a breath before asking, "Could... Could you maybe not partner me with James in the lab anymore? He's too touchy for my liking, and I want to make sure I can do my work without someone constantly trying to touch me. Also, the comments that he makes are a bit inappropriate for work."

Sweet girl continues to talk, but Miguel can barely think past the bubbling rage in his body. His hands clench into tight fists, and he feels his claws threatening to protrude.

Someone had touched her and made her uncomfortable. Some asshole is the reason she's not smiling right now, and the mere thought of it made him want to rip something in half.

Rip HIM in half.

"I'm so sorry," he says to her once he snaps out of it. "Thank you for telling me. He won't be returning to the lab."

Sweet girl's shoulders slightly slump in relief. "Where will he be working then?"

"Not here. I did not build this place for people like him."

She still looks tense, so Miguel takes a small step closer to her, his voice lowering to a soft level. "I promise," he says, "he won't even get near you again, let alone touch you again. I'll take care of it while you and Jess handle your mission. You already did enough by telling me. I'll take it from here."

Finally, she gives a gentle and relieved smile. "Thank you, Miguel."

"No problem. Go get some rest, okay? If you need me, just use your watch to get a hold of me."

She nods, gives him a departing wave, and leaves. He waits until she's fully out before heading back up to the platform, furiously typing on his screen and bringing up James' profile.

He won't be returning to HQ.

He'll be lucky if he even returns back to his home universe alive.

- 🐞

HELP! That James dude is D E A D. Literally. Dust.

Miguel would fling him to the damn sun

[overstuffd]

last one today i think but for so long i used to dream about clearing out an ice cream shop i think from some cartoon but i would love to see empty buckets just piled up around my swollen belly -🕷️🐞

Aww, such a pretty image! I'm thinking about working a shift in a gelato store with you hanging out on a cushion on the floor behind the counter, just out of sight of the customers.

Every time someone makes an order, I fix you a little of the same flavour and pass it to you. For the first few hours of the day it's in a tub with a spoon, and I get to enjoy the sight of you shovelling the sweet cream down your throat.

After a while it gets too much for you, and I start blending each order into a shake. You were struggling to keep spoon feeding yourself, but chugging down the thick, blended mixture is easier.

Still, eventually that's too much for you as well. Not to worry - I let you take a sugar-induced nap until closing, the thousands of calories you've already packed away already churning in your belly and spreading across your soft thighs and ass.

Meanwhile, I'm keeping track of your tab.

By the time you wake up the store is closed. I wipe some of the smeared icecream off your face and coo at how sweet you look.

Then I pull one of the icecream tubs out of the freezer and hand it to you, along with a spoon. My meaning is clear - you're going to be finishing it.

This flavour must have been popular, there's not too much left, and you manage to scrape the tub clean. Rather than take it off you though I leave it on the ground and pull another tub from the freezer.

This one I'm going to feed to you by hand. I need to keep the pace up if you're going to devour all these leftovers before morning.

[seattlesellie]

i have a feeling that college au ellie has a retainer that she has to wear at night, but she avoids it as much as possible. and one time you catch her with it in and she gets defensive, making up lame excuses.

-bug

she’d scream at you like “TURN AROUND— please turn around right now” and like pull it out of her mouth and wipe her stupid spit away with the back of her hand and go bright red and try and tell you “it’s something i’m trying on it’s for halloween” and you’d be like “what the fuck are you dressing up as?” and she’d be all nervous and helpless 😭🥺

“a cool… fucking robot can you just please turn around?”

“a robot with a retainer?”

“it’s not a retainer leave me alone oh my fucking god”

[artdcnaldson]

yknow those wives who have affairs with men they meet at the gym? yea so that but its art fucking the pretty, young thing from the yoga class his trainer signed him up for. something about mindfulness and old joints, honestly art wasnt listening, too busy thinking about how embarrassed he would be trying to do yoga in a public gym, a nice gym, but public nonetheless. but the first time he goes he picks the matt next to yours, youre no professional but youre a hell of a lot better than he is, as is everyone else but he's not looking at them. you end up chatting afterwards and it just kind of become routine for you to share those classes when you're both there. grabbing a juice together afterwards. and before either of you really understand whats happening, juice turns to lunch, one class a week turns to 3 or 4, a cup of coffee on the weekend turns to regular dinners. and suddenly he's fucking you in the back of his car in the parking lot of your building, all the yoga really paying off with the ways he's bending you trying to make it work in the cramped space. he was really just going to drive you home, like he always does, but you're just so pretty and he swears he saw tashi texting a number with the name "p" last night... so he kisses you and then hes rutting into your pussy, begging oyu to cum around him, let him feel your pussy get tight like that, strangle his cock.... many a thought

-🐞

GODDDDD <3 <3 <3

He isn't going to cheat, he isn't going to cheat, he is NOT going to cheat. It runs through his mind every fucking class after that first one. He's there to improve mobility, to help him get out of his head and be mindful, to kick the horrible anxiety that he's developed since the injury, that's worsened since New Rochelle.

He's not there for you. Even if you're the only person there he talks to. Even if he looks forward to seeing you every morning when he wakes up. Even if he suffers through gross pressed juice after each class because it means more time with you.

You make him happy, in a way he hasn't felt in a really long time. Desirable, interesting, worthwhile. You smile at him across the table when you go out for lunch, and sometimes you duck your head to hide giddy little smiles when he says something sweet. He'll reach across the table and his fingers will brush against your hand, and you won't move away. Your fingers stretch out, feel his, and that's good, that's fine.

It's not cheating. Coffee on Saturday mornings when there aren't any classes scheduled isn't cheating. Texting with your name replaced with a single letter to be discreet isn't cheating. Getting dinner isn't cheating. Watching movies together in your cute little apartment isn't cheating.

Surely Tashi knows. But why would she care when she's got a secret of her own? He know's she's texting Patrick. She has been since the challenger, working out the minutiae of what her coaching him will entail, and it makes Art's stomach turn. That incessant buzzing in his ear like a gnat, the constant question of if Patrick is fucking his wife. Again.

Art had said he would try. He would try to keep playing past the open, and he'd try to fix their marriage. But that was an optimistic promise made in the aftermath of a great fucking game of tennis. It wasn't until later that the resentment and anxiety reared its ugly head.

And then there's you. You don't watch tennis, you don't care about his ranking, you don't expect anything of him. All you expect of him is the pleasure of his company. And god, you look so sweet, sitting in the passenger seat of his jeep. For the past ten minutes, you’ve been rambling on and on about the new show you started watching, how you swear he'd like it, really.

"You're quiet," you say once he's pulled into the parking garage and killed the car. You reach across the center console and put a hand on his arm. "Everything okay?"

No. He's thinking about Tashi and Patrick. Of a text that flashed across her screen that morning from a contact that's just P, "when are you telling art?" He's thinking about affairs, about how he wants one thing to himself, and why can't that be you?

So he kisses you, and you can feel the desperation and need in the rough press of his mouth against yours, in the slow lave of his tongue, licking into your mouth like he wants to savor the taste of you. And you just take it, moaning into his mouth, soft and pretty.

"You're married," you pant as you both climb into the backseat. You say it like you haven't been craving this exact moment since you first saw him walking into the class with an overfull gym bag and a plain gray mat slung over one shoulder. You say it because if you don’t, you’ll feel worse.

But he just silences you with another hungry, desperate kiss that you return in kind. You paw at his shirt, trying to tug it off without breaking the kiss. Art laughs against your mouth and sits back on his heels to peel it off.

He likes the way you look up at him, like he’s the best thing you’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s never felt that from anyone before, never felt like much more than a second choice. A consolation prize. Your hand is small, sliding along the plane of his chest, dipping down to his abs. It’s like you’re marveling at him, appreciating his body the way you’d appreciate a work of art.

Your hand slides down and you palm him almost timidly, feeling the hard length of him in your palm. He groans, a low, masculine sound that makes heat bloom in the pit of your stomach. You’ve heard something similar, when he’s stretching out a particularly tight muscle, or when you’re doing partner poses in yoga class— a hot, panted groan in your ear due to the proximity. But this is entirely new— addicting in the best way.

You don’t care that he’s married. Well, you do, but you just want him to be happy. You can make him happy— can give him something more than what he has. Doesn’t he deserve that?

Your clothes are shed quickly, easily. Peeled off smooth skin, discarded into the floorboard. All of your senses are flooded with Art’s hands, the way they grasp at your exposed skin, feeling, holding, possessing— His mouth, searing hot where he laves at your throat, over your tits. He sucks your nipple into his mouth and it makes you mewl. Arching into his touch.

“I want— fuck— I want to do so much to you,” he mumbles against your skin. He nips at the plush skin of your tits, promising bruises that will remind you in the morning you hadn’t just dreamt it all. “I just need to have you.”

You’d let him do anything. You’d let him carve you open and replace everything inside with him, him, him. And he does, in a way. When he lines up with your cunt and drives in, burying himself deep inside, it feels like he’s all that’s left of you.

The car rocks on its axels as he fucks you, deep and slow. It drives gasps and moans from your lips each time he bottoms out, when you feel his cock deep in your cunt, when his balls press tight against your body.

Art moans a desperate, masculine sound, his breath coming hot. The windows fog, dripping condensation in slow trails. “I think I love you,” Art groans, the words slipping out as he gets closer and closer and closer.

He’s married. He’s probably only saying it in a fuckdrunk haze. It’s a bad decision, you’d both regret it in the morning.

“I love you,” you tell him, softly. Earnest as he’s ever heard it said. He cums hard, grinding slow and deep so it’s as deep as possible.

He walks you to the door, kisses your cheek, tells you he’ll see you at the studio soon. When he gets home, he doesn’t tell Tashi, but she can sense it on him. The secret seeps from his pores. Good for him. It’s about time he does something for himself.

His next tournament is beautiful— his best tennis in a while. And maybe it’s best for Tashi to turn a blind eye while Art’s winning again. Maybe.

[zweiginator]

RRRRAAAAAAHHHHH that link.... going crazy y'all. twitching and screaming....

-🐞

sCREAMINGGG

imagining telling divorced!art that no guy has ever made you cum because they expect you to solely from penetration and art just pets your hair and feels so bad for you because his pretty girl deserves to feel good :((( and you tell him its okay he doesn’t have to!! that it’s your job to make him feel good. that it’s probably just a you issue. but art shushes you. says that’s ridiculous. and when he latches his lips around your clit and licks you like he wants to devour you — you do finally cum and your legs are shaking around his ears and he talks you right through it. tells you never to be with a man who doesn’t prioritize your pleasure. he hopes you’ll stay with him.

[arkhamslvts]

have u ever considered: Jason has a god kink. He died and came back and noooobody thinks that wouldn’t go to his head a lil? ??? ~ 🐞

omgsh anon this is crazy bc i was just writing smth abt priest! jason

listen guys… it’s something about erotic catholicism that just makes me wanna whimper. and jason probably meets you and you’re so innocent and such a good girl, which is surprising because i mean… you live in gotham. and jason with his big ego & his big dick just decided that he had to have you, now fast forward three months and you’re bent over his kitchen counter, and he’s got you in one of his helmets and he’s just talking. he talks like you aren’t really there but he still expects you to respond “so fuckin pretty for me… say it baby, say you’re only this pretty for me” “my fucking pussy… mine. made for me”. he wants you to worship him, he wants you on your knees when he gets home. and then he rewards you.

[tangytiramisu]

Would la squadra let their S/o put makeup on them?🤓 I feel like Pesci definitely and ghiaccio would be hesitant. What abt you?

Oh this is a funny question xD You’re right about Pesci and Ghia! Pesci would also be hesitant at first but he loves you so he’d eventually cave. Ghia has to have been with you for a long time to let you do it lmao

Risotto and Prosciutto will have to be convinced and maybe even pled with. We all know how carefree Melone and Formaggio are so they’re up for anything. Illuso almost always says no so you’ll straight up have to bribe him 😭

[mattscoquette]

https://www.tumblr.com/mattscoquette/765640833416445952/i-lowk-miss-the-pervmatt-au-sm-like-no-one?source=share

HELLO HI ITS ME

im lit perv!matts biggest fan girly I just don't know what to say😔😔

Everytime I think of perv!matt my mind immediately goes to brothersbsf!perv!matt, ik I've sent smth about this but lol

Like he's always trying to hang out at yours, always trying to be close to you, always trying to do things with you, and i swear to sigma he will get close with your friends to find out what you like. Lil bro is a STALKERRR n proud tbh. He's literally stalking ur reposts, all ur socials, u in general, ykkk???

OH MY DAYS RYLEE imagine like your sneaking out to a party right? But matt catches you and threatens to tell your brother on you because NO ONE is finna see you in those little dresses so hes just in your room annoying u until u finally tell him you were sneaking out to a party, and bro is pissedddd like hes out here bullying you into getting ur number byt in a protective way, bcs u would hateee if your brother found out you were sneaking out night

WAIT WHY IS RHIS KINDA GOOD WTF...PLS SOMEONE WRITE THIS

-🐞

WAITT I NEVER THOUGHT AB BROTHERSBSF!PERV!MATT I ALWAYS DO BEST FRIENDS BROTHER