#“What does that have to do with the art” nothing! Hope this helps

[michellejonesgf]

come on, live a little • patrick zweig x reader

pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader

synopsis: patrick hasn't been kissed in a while. and so he asks for a kiss.

words: 1087

warnings: written in second person, pat zweig being persistent (he wants a kiss so bad) (not in a creepy way, you and him have a good friendship), hinge mention (author does NOT know how dating apps work), friends to lovers!

a/n: wrote this during a quick writing session in between study sessions, hope you like this <3

“hey can i ask you a favour.”

“nope.”

“if you were a really good friend.”

“good thing i’m not that.”

“you would really care about me.”

“pat, i don’t have time for this.”

“can you kiss me?"

and with those eyes so wide, so beautiful, who are you to say no?

“i haven’t been kissed in so long.”

patrick zweig has never been big on emotional vulnerability. he prefers to hide behind a veil of cheeky remarks and flirts with a mission, but laughter is all he expects even when he does happen to make a joke or two with personal anecdotes.

“did art put you up to this? or tashi?”

a part of his heart seizes at this. did you really not believe that someone could ache after you? or did it stem beyond that? did you not want this?

he says your name, “it’s already so embarrassing, you think they have that much of a hold over me?”

you shrug, looking anywhere but his eyes. your heart won’t accept its sincere but if you see even a glimmer of amusement in his eyes you will never be able to speak to him normally again.

“oh, i know they have a different kind of hold on you.”

“i don’t want to talk about them right now.”

“then don’t.”

patrick’s at the end of his rope. and he’s never at the end of rope, at least not in this way.

“the other day you said ‘what’s a little kiss between friends’. you know nothing’s going to change, or whatever.”

“is this how you get everyone to kiss you? no wonder you’ve been, what was it, thirty people in the last–”

“–don’t be mean.”

you feel bad. and you did say that a little kiss between one’s closest friends only makes the friendship stronger. but you also said that to tashi. who you don’t currently have feelings for (although art would say that’s debatable). maybe you should do this, be a good friend. “you really want a kiss, huh?” you squint your eyes at him.

“i don’t want to make you feel weird–”

“what about hinge?”

“what about it?”

the pause tells you all you need to know. "you got banned, didn't you?"

he averts his gaze, voice a bit smaller than before, "no i didn't".

he huffs and turns to you, eyes focused into yours, desperately peering, "do you not want to kiss? i won't bother you if its making you uncomfortable."

you think it's now or never. take a chance, risk it and hope that you can salvage what's left of your friendship over the next six months. art and tashi would understand right, they'd help you through it?

you lean closer to him, and slowly bring your hands to his face, cupping each cheek gently with each hand. you look into his eyes, smiling, "i'm going to need you to put on a shirt first."

he springs up and you hear the shuffle of his feet as he walks towards the bed. you smile at how he's quick to come back.

he sits back on the floor, just the way you both were a minute ago and you resume the position of your hands cradling his face.

“patrick zweig,” you say smiling.

“yes?” his voice is hesitant, he doesn’t know if you’re going to make fun of him or–

“can i kiss you?”

“please.”

you lean in and give his lips a slight feather-like touch with your own. neither party pulls away, both with closed eyes and held breaths. you make a decision. you lean in once more and press a kiss that feels more real this time. he kisses back but its so soft your heart melts at the thought that this could be something.

you try some more pressure and one of your hands goes to the back of his neck to pull him a bit closer. you’ve never felt this tingly while giving someone a kiss, you wonder if a friendship this deep makes it more special. if knowing someones hidden threads and tending to their bruised split knuckles when they try not to cry grants a special warmth to any potential future romantic dalliances with that person that sours any other romantic experience with someone else forever.

the leverage that your hand on his neck gives you feels dizzying because in this moment he is yours to hold and to kiss. you feel his palm in the small of your back, barely there, a bit more than ghosting. a deepened kiss, lips slotting between each other that meet for a moment only to slot a different way and you deign that enough. you both halt with your lips so close yet so apart.

you look into his eyes, from that so-close-so-apart distance and every resolve you had to stay civil dissolves. he looks at you and you feel dishonest and–

“i’ve liked you since that weekend at the basketball court.”

“i deleted hinge three months ago.”

so he was telling the truth.

a patrick zweig in love practices emotional vulnerability and tells the truth. who would’ve thought.

“so this isn’t just a kiss between friends?” as much as you don’t want to a smile creeps and lifts your cheeks so much there’s no way you can do a bit.

“come on, i just told my best friend i like her!”

“you didn’t tell me any of that.”

“well, the way you kiss told me that.”

“well, i also kiss your mother like that, if that helps.”

he holds your face the way that you were holding his just a few minutes ago, “will you stop seeing my mother and let me be your boyfriend, please?”

“come on, live a little, its the 21st century!” but your heart is beating so fast you cannot bring yourself to answer earnestly.

patrick’s smile turns toothy and you wonder what it would be like to taste the inside of his mouth.

“did you really save yourself for months so that you could kiss me?”

“you know how traditional i am.” this is the same patrick who kissed art to get him to stop talking that is now kissing you, and saving himself to do so.

“can we do that again but with tongue?”

“yes, director.”

[fyofyofyofyo]

i dont know who i am anymore

im really glad to have put my emotions in this drawing and using my favorite character as my model. nowadays i have been struggling with my mental health, especially existential crisis.

last night at 12am, i was genuinely dissociating so much that i forgot to turn off the water pump in our house, which would have resulted to either a flood in the bathroom or a small explosion.

to help me cope, i drew this, hoping to express existential crisis and not draw my usual like pastel art.

my dreams which mock me don't help at all. i dont like it when it does that, like when one of them said that nothing is real, i am just an illusion, after death is nothing but blank, and that everyone else has the same face except for me.

i have no idea who i am at this point and i feel like i dissociate more often. i do not have a medical diagnosis, but im planning to take one around february 13. :) thank you for liking the concept of the art! i hope i really showed what existential crisis was like for me, only having parts of me show who i am and not me entirely.

aside from the aesthetic, mikoto kayano tops as my number one kin. the words he said in the trailer of trial three made me relate so bad.

i dont know who i am anymore.

[inktr0vert]

hi! i just saw your recent ask from Birdie about commissions. i wanted to 1) tell you how proud it made me feel to see you be so candid about your mental health & 2) echo her sentiment that i would love to commission a piece from you someday if you were ever in the headspace to do so. you are so incredibly talented.

in the same way that i’ve spent thousands of dollars on art in the form of tattoos, your art is beautiful and valuable enough to spend money on. i’m not saying this to try to, like, persuade you to ever take commissions. i just felt the need to verbally express how floored i am by your art. my tattoo artist occasionally needs to be shaken/reminded how incredible she is sometimes, and i feel like you can just never hear it enough, especially when you’re struggling.

i profoundly relate to your struggles with bipolar/simply just existing. i see you. & i just wanted to be another voice temporarily speaking over the deafening bad thoughts in your mind.

if you ever want to scream into the abyss at a bipolar stranger on the internet, my DMs are always open 🖤

i hope you’re having a good day

Hi there :)

1--I am tired of feeling ashamed for being me. Fuck shame. I think that's why I still act like I'm 13--that's the last time I felt unashamed of everything I am. So I'm done feeling bad for who I am. *I* think I'm pretty fucking cool. So does my husband and my beautiful kiddo. So yeah. Fuck shame <3

In regards towards my mental health vs shame, I had an epiphany:

There is nothing wrong with me.

And the world is wrong for telling me otherwise.

We are all different. And that's not always a bad thing.

2--With all of this self-discovery shit, I'm realizing that I am worthy of so much more than I let myself believe. That I have allowed others to convince me that I am a nuisance, that I am incompetent, that I do not deserve love, praise, or that I shouldn't even be allowed to exist. By the by, someone telling you that you aren't worthy of being alive feels pretty shitty. Don't let those people in your life. Run away. Run away and warn the others, jesus fucking christ.

ANWAYS. I think I may work towards commissions.

I always thought it sounded fun, tried it out, but I pressure myself too much--what if they don't like it? what if they don't want to pay that much? what if my art is trashfire kindling and everyone that's ever complimented my art is a dirty dirty liar that wants to see me fall flat on my face?

And most importantly: What if it's not perfect? What if the eyes are off, or the anatomy is 'wrong', or it's not the EXACT thing I pictured it to be in my mind?

Newer motto (still under construction): Fuck perfectionism. What a stupid cage to lock yourself into. Working on unshackling myself. Have been KINDLY (*this is important) reminding myself whenever my thoughts head down that path to redirect back towards the joyous parts of creativity. And it's been going pretty good. Slow, but making progress.

So yeah! Rambling coming to a close. Thank you for being another positive voice in my head to help fight away the void that other's have created. And for being that for a fellow tattoo artist as well <3

I think I should create a discord group called "screaming into the void" and invite all of you wonderful humans that have invited me for private sessions to join. We can all caterwaul into the abyss together XD

I hope you are having a good day as well. Be kind to yourself <3

[coolgrl111]

HELP SO i dont usually really send asks im sorry if this is awkward lmao i sorta just lurk in the challengers fandom usually 😔😔 but like if you could do some kind of either like blurb or general hcs with art x goth!reader i would love you forever 🫶🫶 i completely get it if you either cant or dont want to^^

- 🦇

okay sorry if this is literally soo bad or tacky but i tried 😭😭😭 i hope u like❤️❤️❤️

bf!art donaldson x goth!reader

- art literally has no idea how he ended up with you but he loves you endlessly. like he’ll just watch you do your thing, especially your makeup. whether that be your black lipstick or sharp thick eyeliner— he watches with so much focus like he’s studying for the most important exam of his life. “jesus baby, how do you get the edges so sharp?”

- he loves your rings. actually cannot stop playing with them. will grab your hand just to spin them around your fingers, fiddle with them. especially if you wear multiple at a time, he loves when you stack them. he once tried to steal one and got it stuck on his bigger fingers. had to google “how to remove a ring without amputation” in a panic. he didn’t try again after that….

- bro does not understand how you carry so much in your bag. “what do you even have in here?” and then you pull out a dark fantasy novel, a half-eaten granola bar, some more dark makeup and a vial of fake blood like it’s normal. he stops asking after that. he’s turned on, however.

- if you go to goth/emo parties, you obviously take him after he begs to accompany you. he walks in wearing his stanford hoodie and a backwards cap, visibly nervous. he just wants to fit in. he craves being accepted. he tries so hard to dance but looks like a malfunctioning sim. you love him for trying, and you make sure he feels comfortable and you introduce him to friends etc etc.

- he LOOVES how protective you get over him. if anyone so much as looks at him wrong, you immediately stepping in. “what the fuck are you looking at?” and he’s all giddy like that photo of zendaya when tom defended her from paparazzi BYEE😭😭

- also the same for you. if anyone’s giving you weird looks he is immediately all over that defending you like a knight. he knows you don’t need that, you’re not a damsel in distress but he can’t help his protective instincts.

- he’s secretly scared of horror movies but won’t admit it. will try to act all unfazed but will literally flinch at everything. and he gets defensive if you suggest to turn it off. “i wasn’t even scared, i just wasn’t expecting it. no don’t turn it off, babe, im not even scared.. it’s more fun to act scared anyway…” yeah ok sure.

- he tries to match your vibe… TRIES!!! once he tried by wearing all black but literally just looks like he’s going to a funeral. like all he had was a button up shirt. in fact he definitely had worn it to a funeral. but you tell him he looks great though because you love him.

- late at night when it’s just you two, he gets all soft and tells you he loves how you don’t care what people think. that he wishes he was like that. you pretend to roll your eyes but secretly you’re blushing so hard. he’s the light of your life. and although you two are an unlikely pair, you’d change nothing about each other and love each other unconditionally <3

[nuttersincorporated]

Tumblr: A Beginners Guide

Hello and welcome to Tumblr!

If you're new here, this post is a little guide meant to help you understand how things work on Tumblr. I’m going to give you some guidelines and explain a little bit about Tumblr culture. Hopefully, this will help you settle in, avoid unnecessary pitfalls and enjoy your time here. I hope you’ll like it here on our hellsite (affectionate).

1. First and most importantly, please change your userpic and put something on your blog.

If you don’t, other users will think you're a bot and you'll be reported/blocked. It’s nothing personal but we are at war with the bot accounts. Most older users will automatically assume that a blank blog= bot.

You don’t need to do much. If you aren’t comfortable rebloging things or making your own posts yet, just change your userpic and add a short description to your blog.

Here’s an example of a description you can use.

‘Hi! I’m new here. I’m still working out how this place works but I promise I’m not a bot so please don’t block me.’

2. Go to your settings, then to your dashboard settings and change things to how you like them. I suggest-

Make Tumber show you posts in chronologically order, rather than pushing ‘best stuff first’

Pick a colour palate that doesn’t give you a headache

Make Tumblr show timestamps on posts and reblogs. While a post is never too old to reblog, you don’t want to accidentally signal boost something as ‘news’ when it's acutely years out of date and no longer relevant.

Choose not to shorten long posts

3. Go to the top of your dashboard, press on the toggle and arrange things how you like them.

I suggest pinning your ‘Following’ first. It means that when you go to your dashboard, the first thing you’ll see are the blogs that you’ve actively chosen to follow.

Some older users will tell you that the ‘For You’ page is useless and should be ignore. This is because for a long time it was either non-existent or terrible so most older users – myself included – just don’t bother with it.

However, nowadays it’s fine so use it if you want. ‘Following’ should still probably be pinned first though because you know what you like better than the algorithm.

4. Please don’t censor your words here. Tumblr doesn’t shadow ban you for saying random words.

Shadow banning does happen but it’s mostly at random or because you were targeted by trolls. If it happens to you, you’ll need to fight to get unshadow banned.

The point is that you won’t get shadow banned for saying ‘death,’ ‘murder’ or ‘rape.’ Don’t do things like saying ‘graped’ instead of ‘raped.’ If you do, you’re just going to piss people off and make it harder for people to avoid triggers.

5. Don’t spam the tags!

You can ramble in the tags all you want and nobody will mind. However, if you tag an unrelated post with a popular tag, you will be reported for spamming. It’s against the Tumblr terms and conditions, it’s annoying and it’s something the porn bots do.

6. Please, reblog things. It helps posts spread a lot more than liking them does. Think of your blog as a scrap book where you put stuff you like.

If you aren’t comfortable adding to a post, that’s fine. Just reblog it and share it with others.

7. That said, Tumblr posts are collaborative and we like it when you add to them. It doesn’t have to be much. You don’t have to add something every time you reblog a post but it is a part of the fun to do it sometimes.

If it’s an art or fanfic post comments like; ‘good post op,’ ‘I LOVE THIS!’ or even ‘OUCH my heart!!!’ will make an OP’s day.

If it’s another sort of post; you can add your thoughts or join in on committing to the bit. Try matching the energy the post is already giving.

8. The follow and block buttons are your friend. You decide what you see here. If your dashboard doesn’t spark joy, you can always follow someone new and/or follow an interesting tag. If someone is making your time here unpleasant unfollow and/or block them.

9. Tumblr likes to commit to the bit. Sharks are smooth (they are not) and the 1973 Martin Scorsese movie ‘Goncharov’ is the greatest film ever made (it doesn’t exist).

10. A post is never too old to reblog. We like old posts here.

Every now and again, you will see a post that is over ten years old. The reblogs will probably be full of people expressing delight about seeing the original post again or seeing it for the first time.

11. You don’t want to be Tumblr famous.

There are niche blogs that are dedicated to one thing and are well liked e.g. @the-haiku-bot (the one bot we love), @writing-prompt-s and @cantheykillmacbeth. However, they are either side blogs or blogs run by multiple people.

Your main blog should just be somewhere you like to spend your time. There are no benefits to being Tumblr famous on your main blog.

12. Tumblr spreads news with this meme

13. Tumblr loves dates. Whether it’s the Ides of March (it sure would be a shame if certain world leaders got stabbed), Halloween (which we start celebrating in about July) or just a random day of the week e.g. ‘Out of Touch Thursday’ there is always something happening that you can celebrate.

14. The staff always pulls a silly and harmless prank on Apil Fools Day. Last year we got to boop each other.

15. We like a silly poll

Okay, I think that’s the basics covered. You’ll get the hang of everything else as you go along.

I hope you have fun here and that you manage to avoid Apollo’s dodgeball of prophecy (try not to joke about a specific way things could get worse or you might be hit).

Yours faithfully,

A Tumblr Cockroach

[coffinkissez]

posting this before I decide I hate it

[puppppppppy]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also "textless" versions of these, wahooo

[heyitsphoenixx]

ever since i was a little [redacted] i always wanted to be a person who has a place in society

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[yuribalisms]

Essentially what it is all boiling down to is I have fully realized I am bad at being a person, that will always be true, and I don’t know how to handle that

[sugarverse]

Hiii! I was wondering if I could request either long or short fic about Tenya Iida. Likes it can be set in a modern setting where's he's a senior college student who's majoring in business and he has to take one more class to get his degree. It just so happened that the class is in the art building, and it is figure drawing (aka nude drawing) . Since he's just now hearing of the extra class he has to take, he's suddenly shocked when the model is an old friend of his from back home, whom he had a childhood crush on. Not only does his feelings for her come back, but he also has to have 1 on 1 section with the model for educational purposes. I kinda want it to be smut and fluff or however you see it fit. Anyway, I hope it's enough+

hi babe! omg I love this idea I kinda went a lil crazy and made it way too long. I hope u enjoy :)!!

𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙣 𝙏𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧

word count: 3.5k

mentions of: This is really just the fluff portion of it, kinda suggestive bc he pops a boner and leads to sex in part two. I think I’m going to make a third part simply so the two of you can go on a genuine date andsotheresmoreiidaxblackreaderouthere.

a/n: hells yeah that’s enough, hopefully I did what ya asked and so sorry I went overboard I have serious problems. here’s the smut part bc a 6.7k fic is doing too damn much but i can’t stfu my fault gang

moodboard here!

Tenya Iida.

4th year, Senior in college majoring in International Business and minoring in Spanish at Angelwood College of Arts and Sciences.

The visual arts building had only been a few minutes away from the business side of campus, which he gladly enjoyed the walk. This spring all he needed to finish was two gen ed classes, the rest revolved around his major and minor. His counselor helped set up his ‘missing’ classes before winter break considering he had to fly back to Japan to see his family for the holidays. He was ecstatic to learn all he needed was an art class with lab and a communications class. 

When he asked what the class entailed, all he was met with was “beginner artists learning anatomy.” It didn’t sound difficult, just draw what you see. It would be nice to try something new anyway. He was not much of an artist but like all things Tenya does, he planned to give this class his all. The first week had been pretty easy, learning how to draw what you see with the use of models, shapes, and lines. Nothing too hard to follow. He would practice drawing his friends on the sketchpad he bought specifically for the class as a form of studying in the free time he had.

He neverminded it for the most part, excelling his knowledge in different countries in his free time to get better at his major. Sure they could teach you the technical way to do things, but in the end, everyone is still human. It would be inconsiderate to do business with a country and know little to nothing about their culture! It took almost two weeks for him to finally be able to even start the art project anyway.

As time went on and the January snow grew less and less, it was time to start their first real project of the semester. One on One figure drawing. The class needed to fill out a form explaining their free hours due to the limited art space and everyone's different schedules. Tenya happily filled it out when it was posted, continuing to work on class work from the library so that the lecture room could also be used for said project.

Their professor had explained that in-person class would remain on Mondays and Thursdays. It just worked out better for the models and students to have so much space.

He made the small walk over to the arts building for his last class of the day, a small shine in his glasses as he entered the white light of the room. The walls were anything but bare, artwork and unfinished projects sat in every corner of the room. Paint racks, canvases big and small, even stacks of unused clay. There was a stool sitting on a small platform in the middle of the room, assuming where the model will sit. 

He stood next to the stool for a moment, looking up at the grey February sky through the skylight. The natural lighting was great, almost like a spotlight. He adjusted the lights in the room a moment, dimming them slightly so the white light hadn’t been so harsh on his eyes. He headed over to a more organized table, setting out the art supplies how he liked. He knew he was early, but he wanted to make a good first impression. What’s better than being on time?

He pulled out his laptop, checking that the few assignments for today were done and submitted. A small frown tugged at his lips as he realized he hadn’t finished something completely, typing in the last few answers. He always double checked, technology was reliable.. When it wanted to be. He couldn’t hear the shuffle of slippers against the floor over his typing and frankly, loud thinking. 

He could see someone walk past in a teal robe representing the university's colors. Glancing up from the computer to give the model a proper hello, Tenya opens his mouth to speak but pauses. 

“Y/n?” He asked, almost in a whisper in case he was wrong. A small look of confusion caused him to tilt his head to the side slightly. He hadn’t been able to see you for awhile with such busy schedules, but he knew your silhouette by heart. 

You turn at the sound of your name, mid sliding off the slippers and fumbling with the gold silk of the belt. “Tenya?” You smile, asking as you turn to slide your shoes back on and quickly shuffle your way over to him. He felt his face burn red, frozen in place for a moment with his jaw slack. He stood as if needing to detach from the seat, smiling at your happy demeanor and your quickness to wrap your arms around him. 

“It is you! I know those shoulders from anywhere!” You beamed, feeling his hovering hands slowly place themselves on your back to return the hug. He was very hesitant, simply because you were only in a robe. You pull away, hands resting on your hips and giving him a big smile. “Now what are you doin’ taking a figure drawing class, Mister businessman?”

He let out a sheepish chuckle, “I needed an art credit, W-What are u doing here?” He never had any classes with you at Angelwood, A few honors classes and gym in highschool but other than that, nada. Throughout the course of growing up, your interests drove you to different classes. 

However, classes don't matter when your families are as close as yours and the Iida family. Shared Holidays, playdates, game nights.. It wasn’t like you were some stranger. You both always made time to hang out a few times during the year to catch up without the family just to give a real check on each other. It was his favorite, almost like a mini holiday to talk to you.

He loved spending time with you. You were smart, articulated and incredibly creative. You never took slack from anyone.. Even in middle school he can remember you being the one to stand up and say something when things weren’t right. You were headstrong and determined in anything that you did.. Art majors always get a lot of grief but you never let that deter you. And that was admirable in itself! ..And he had always thought you were so pretty. 

He felt like a kid again, heart feeling as if it’d beat out of his chest at the mere sight of you. It had been around Halloween the last time he saw you, and here it was. Almost Valentine's day.. Still as pretty and bright as he remembered. Your next hangout wasn't for another month or so, so it was nice to see you sooner than that.

“I'm your model, silly!” You head over to the stool, continuing to speak. “The art department asked if I’d help in modeling and I said yes! People were too scared to sign up for the most part. I’m surprised this is the class you picked. Did you want to learn how to draw people?” You slide your slippers off once more, untying the cute bow on your hip that held your robe shut. 

Suddenly the room was very hot and he couldn't breathe. Now his heart really WAS beating out of his chest. He quickly did a 180, shielding his eyes and removing his glasses for extra measure. “WHY– do yoU have.. nothing on underrrrneath?” He croaked, voice cracking as his tone raised slightly.

You tilt your head at such a question, the gears clicking a little later than they should have. “Figure drawing is um.. Nude drawing, Tenya. You didn't know that?” You slide the robe back on, giggling at the flustered man across from you. You could see his shoulders tense, shaking his head slowly.

Now how the fuck could he have missed that.

“I um.. No, I didn't. I thought that it was.. I don't know what I thought. My counselor picked it for me and I.. Most models we've used so far have.. had skin colored undergarments… On.” He let out a nervous laugh, keeping his glasses off. He turns around, cleaning them with the end of his shirt but refusing to look up at you. He needed to mentally prepare his brain to be professional in a situation like this. Not that he minded the glance, he just never thought this would be how..

You prop your feet onto the edge of the stool, interrupting his thought. You held your knees up to your chest so he couldn’t see anything but your bare legs. “Oh Ten, I’m sorry! I can ask someone else to-”

“No! I am perfectly.. capable. It's professional and I can be.. professional..” He put his glasses back on, hand refusing to be steady as he did so. He let out a shaky sigh, smiling at you and finally looking at you once more.

You let out a small laugh at the blush on his cheeks. He was so handsome, but to see him so flustered over little ol’ you? It made your week. “We can start slow, that might help.” you slide the robe down your shoulders, slowly putting your legs back down so he could see your robed torso once more. You stopped at the top of your breasts, letting your collarbone show. “Do you have any specific poses..?” You ask quietly, trying to hold back your amusement.

He sits down, red faced and completely flushed. A nude model.. jeez. From sleepovers to recess, studying together to graduating, and now almost graduating for the final time together. That's something you don’t get to have in every lifetime. But why do these thoughts keep coming back to him now? 

There was no way he could still have romantic feelings for you. He’d never put your friendship at risk like that!

..right?

“I um.. yeah, small.” He cleared his throat, “Could you um.. Could you stand slightly off of the um.. Almost like getting up?” He fumbled over his words, staring at the empty paper as if he could burn the quick image in his brain onto the page to get the embarrassment over with. He sighed once more, trying to focus as he began sketching circles and lines as a starter sketch of the pose he wanted.

“When you need to draw a certain part I'll move it, Sound fair?” You ask, resting one foot onto the stool and one onto the ground. Your hand gripped the seat as your butt sat on the edge, similar to when people do that supposedly hot thing where they throw their head back and pull some weird rope to have water get poured on them. 

It was second nature at this point for people to see you. Of course some of them were flustered and it was pretty awkward at first, but normally not to the point of stuttering and stammering. It wasn’t often that you saw Tenya fall apart, but this was way different. Especially considering you flashed him without warning. He was one of the most endearing people you had ever met, there was no way you would have done that without proper context.

He could only nod in response, not wanting to further make a fool of himself. Lightly tapping the pencil against the table, He looks up at you. “You can um.. re.. remove the top part, y/n..” It was hard to simply draw your arms and collarbone without including the robe, so you might as well rip the band-aid off and start with the top. 

You nod, dropping it happily and letting the robe pull around your hips and between your legs. You close your eyes, facing up toward the skylight in an attempt to make him less nervous. “Sorry for flashing you at first, I would have explained but I assumed you had already known..?” You laugh quietly to yourself at your own mistake. Why would someone like him even take this class if he knew what it actually entailed?

And God, did he feel like a pervert staring at your chest like this. The boner poking his thigh almost immediately didn't help, making it even harder to concentrate. Way to keep composure. He pressed his lips together for a moment before speaking. “I had no idea, I’m sorry for my r..reaction.” He answered, stopping the pencil tapping to actually begin sketching more than just circles and lines. He hadn’t meant to yell, but he felt like he was close to passing out. 

“I think it was a pretty valid one.” You send a reassuring smile his way, seeing him send you one right back. Trying to ease the mood, you look back up at the ceiling and close your eyes to avoid staring at the ugly overcast sky above you. “How was winter break? You get to go home and see your family? How are they?” 

His smile grew wider at your question, scooting under the desk a bit more so that you hopefully wouldn’t notice his body reacting. “They’re great, Tensei is getting married soon,” He sounded excited at the thought alone, incredibly proud of his brother. 

“And my mother has started a hobby making soap, if you can believe it. She sent me some to bring back one that smells like lavender and another that smells like oranges mixed with I believe she said papaya.? She made a coconut smelling one for you– I was going to give it to you the next time we saw each other,” 

The sound of his sketching stopped and started as he spoke, giving your body small glances as he tried to study each part of your upper torso. The way your stomach creased, The way your shoulder was slightly lifted causing your collarbone to be more prominent, the curve of your breasts.. “How was your Holiday, y/n?”

“No way, Tensei is getting married?!” You accidentally stop posing, fully facing him in genuine shock. The robe was still covering your lower half, you had tied the belt to avoid accidentally flashing him again but here we are. You watch his face become even more red, eyes very obviously not meeting yours but still like a deer in headlights. 

You quickly get back to posing how you were, “Sorry Ten, That's amazing!! I hope everything goes smoothly for him and his soon to be wife.. And tell your mommy I said thank you for thinking of me. I can't wait to try it!”

A smile stayed on your lips as you thought about the times you’ve spent in the Iida household. His mother always had the best candles and incense burning, you were positive the soap would be the same. “My family is up to the same old shit, you know them..” You let out a small groan, the holidays weren’t an absolute disaster, but after not being home so long makes you remember why you aren’t going to school anywhere near home. 

“I did get some cool stuff for Christmas though! I got some new clothes and they got me a few art kits. You know, where it teaches you how to crochet? I also have a new diamond painting kit, I haven't opened either yet because it's just been so busy.” You replied, tapping your fingers on the side of the stool where your hand sat. 

You look up once more, this time because the skylight was beginning to be covered in snow. You watched as it fell, thinking back to old times when you and Tenya would spend the last three major holidays with each other. You’d always make sure to trick or treat together, your families have been sharing Thanksgiving for as long as you can remember, and spending the night in your basement on Christmas eve to wait for Santa until you were both too old. Then instead of waiting for Santa, you’d all eat at least one meal together on Christmas day. Sometimes homemade breakfast, other times a small trip to IHOP or Waffle House.

“God damn it.. It’s snowing again..” You let out a small laugh, looking over at him over your shoulder, fingers still tapping away at the base of the stool. “Hey Ten, Do you remember when we used to have those big snowball fights? The one near Red Fern?” 

“Of course I do! You refused to wear any kind of gloves and my mother would make you at least put socks on your hands so you didn’t get frostbite!” The two of you shared a small laugh at the memories of being young and dumb.

“Gloves always made my hands too itchy! They still do– But I kicked your ass in snowball fights with gloves or not.” You retort, a smirk appearing on your face. “Ice queen y/n of everything.” You could remember the insane snowball fights the neighborhood kids would have every. time. It snowed. If there was enough to make a few snowballs, there was enough to start a war. Tenya was always on your team, but it never stopped you from throwing a few his way. The ‘winner’ was King or Queen of the hill and first to sled down, which often enough was you.

“Remember when you almost broke my glasses throwing one right at my face?” He snickered, watching your smirk turn into a small pouty frown. He knew you didn’t mean to, that same day you helped your mom make cookies for him and his family as an apology, even though he wasn’t upset to begin with. But you knew it could have broken his glasses and you would be devastated if you were the reason for it. You were a real sweetheart, even if you had a weird way of showing sometimes.

“Hey! You know that wasn’t on purpose, I felt really bad after! I even let you get me back!” Which was true, but he never aimed for your face. Always a spot on your fluffy coat, never your legs because you hated your pants being wet… and a face shot just felt wrong to him. 

“Yeah, Yeah. I remember that part too,” He smiled to himself. “Those were really good times.. I remember Tensei always bringing us hot chocolate and we’d sit on your porch and draw things in the snow..”

“Oh! And when we’d come back all wet and mom already had spare clothes in her hands because she didn’t want it on the carpet. We’d put on too big clothes just to sit and watch Christmas movies..” You missed those times. But they never really had to stop, you two could have a huge snowball fight after this if you wanted to and the snow stuck. Was he too grown for that? Would it even sound fun to him?

“Do you still watch A Year Without Santa Clause every year?” He asks, breaking your train of thought. You nodded quickly at his question, grinning like a maniac. “Of course I do! And I watch Charlie Brown’s Christmas, Rudolph The Rednosed Reindeer.. And sometimes Spongebob's Christmas Special. Do you still watch old Christmas cartoons?”

“Why wouldn’t I? Don’t wanna ruin tradition.” He answered, pressing his lips together slightly as he stared down at the paper. You can tell he freezes a bit, the sound of his scribbling coming to a stop. He set the pencil down, rubbing the sweat of his hands onto his thighs.

 “You can um.. remOove-..” He quickly cleared his throat, “The rest.” He let out a disappointed sigh at his inability to keep composure. This wouldn't be half the problem it was if it was someone else modeling. But this is you we're talking about. 

“You sure? If you need a minute we can take a break, honey.” You gave him a sympathetic look, still smiling but this time more.. warm. The kind of smile someone gives to another when they genuinely care for them. Or love them for that matter. He adored it, it was the same smile you'd give him when saying he needs to take a break, the same smile you give him when the two of you out to get coffee and catch up. The same smile he's fallen for many, many times. 

But to tell you the truth? It’s driving him crazy. All of this. Was driving him crazy. No matter how hard he tried to be professional, he could stop his wandering mind. You were a goddess. What else was there to do besides take a break and hopefully release some steam in the bathroom or something. Completely inappropriate, but the pain from being hard for so long was starting to cloud the best judgment. 

He looks down at the sketch so far, then back to you as he rubbed his hand upward against his face. It pushed his glasses up, causing them to be crooked when going back down. “I um.. I think I do.. need a minute.” His voice died out as he watched you slide the robe back on, words failing him because couldn’t think completely straight.

© if you like what you see please reblog! It means a lot and helps me out. Want more? Heres my m.list! I write for x black reader so throw me some requests :P my other account are icons and x black reader moodboards if you’re interested!

thank you @thecutestgrotto for the banners and thank you @fizzintine for coloring the top pic!

have a good day/night/whatever!

[sapphire-writes]

the winner takes it all

Art x Reader x Tashi

summary: winners deserve rewards, and Tashi is more than happy to spoil her star athlete with the help of her ever-dutiful husband.

word count: 2.7k

rating: mature/explicit/18+

warnings: porn no plot (deep breath) m/f/f dynamic, threesome, dom!Tashi, switch!Art, sub!Reader, p in v, creampie, overstim, hair pulling, titty play, use of toys, praise, teasing, spanking, orgasm denial, oral (fem receiving), oral (reader giving fem), face sitting

note: hope you enjoy! my first non-HOTD related fic!

link to other stories from me!

To be notified when I post something new, be sure to follow @sapphire-writes-updates & turn notifications on 💙

Your match had taken place several hours ago. You’d been anxious the entire time, but ended up winning, much to you and your coach’s pleasure. The ride back to the hotel was torturous, as well as the following mandatory ice bath, sauna, shower, and footage review. It was the routine you’d followed ever since Tashi began coaching you.

She was nothing if not thorough.

After tying up several loose ends, including Tashi grilling you for every point you missed, every fault she could see when she paused the footage, you now found yourself in a more pleasurable position. 

Art held your legs open as he continued his even thrusts, cock sliding against the walls of your pussy at a torturous pace. Tashi sat beside you, clad only in a silk robe and lace panties, brushing some hair from your face that was sticking to your forehead with perspiration.

You had the suite to yourself for the night. Tashi and Art’s little girl was safely tucked away with her grandmother in another elegant suite on the other side of the hotel. Another part of the routine. 

“Tash….”

“You did well out there today,” she interrupts, reaching beside her to the end table drawer and pulling out her Hitachi wand. It buzzes to life as she turns it on and a strangled whine leaves your throat as she presses it to your clit,  “See what happens when you put in the extra time? That backhand of yours is a lethal weapon now.”

“Fuck!” is the only response you’re able to give as Art moans at the vibrations as he continues to pound into you. 

She likes you best like this, fucked dumb on Art’s cock, mindlessly agreeing to her plans for future matches, eyes rolling back in your head. Different moves she’ll have you practice. How hard she plans to work you on the court the following morning. 

“Come on, come for me,” Tashi insists, hand trailing over your breasts, “What’s my girl need to come, hm? Need these pretty tits attended to?” She pinches your nipple for emphasis and your jaw slacks, a pleasurable current in your gut winding tighter and tighter with the continuous stimulation.

Art slings your left leg over his shoulder, pressing a tender kiss to your calf as he does so. 

The new angle sends him deeper inside of you and you clench, mouth falling open with an uncontrollable moan.

“That’s it,” Tashi murmurs, eyes never leaving your face, “Feels so good doesn’t it? Art knows how to treat his girl, huh? Don’t you baby?”

“Yes,” he hissed between clenched teeth, beads of sweat forming on his brow, “Fucking perfect pussy, god—”

Tashi removes her hand from your breast, taking hold of your chin.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes water with pleasurable tears but you do as she asks, always keen to follow her instructions. The tennis court, the bedroom, it was all the same playing field in the end.

“Come on baby,” she murmurs, leaning down and pressing a kiss against your lips, “Come for me, you’ve been such a good girl, you deserve it.”

“Fuck!” Art courses as your pussy tightens around him, “Oh uhhh—”

“I’m cumming,” you helplessly whimper, the words nearly a sob, “Tashi…..fuck….Art fuck feels so—-“ your abdominal muscles tense as your reach your peak, white-hot ecstasy flooding your body as a shudder rolls through you. 

Tashi smiles as you come, fingers dancing down your neck. Art fucks you through it, leaning forward to pound into you at a harder rhythm, chasing his imminent release. It’s only then Tashi glances at him, her smile dropping slightly.

“Don’t cum.”

Art’s hips stutter as your walls continue to flutter around his thick length, his jaw slacks, eyes watering as he looks at his wife.

“Tash—”

“I said no,” she insists, shutting off the vibrator and throwing it to the side. Leaning forward, she captures your lips in a kiss. She sits up, a smile on her face as she kisses Art as well. He whimpers against her lips, hard and pulsating inside you still. But Tashi never changes her mind.

“You want to come, you should try winning.” 

“Tash please,” Art’s voice was strained, Adam’s apple bobbing, his expression pained, “please let me come.”

“Yeah?” She taunts moving up to kiss him. She brings her lips close to his, his eyes fluttering shut as she barely brushes the soft pout of her mouth against his. His lips part, head tilting to chase her. 

You watch from below them, still trying to slow your breathing. You like watching them dance, this push and pull they have. It’s hypnotizing, the effect she has on him. On you. Tashi pushes his chest and his eyes flutter open.

“Sit.” 

Tashi nods to the chair in the corner of the room. Art hesitates and she raises a brow when he doesn’t move quickly enough. Teeth clenched, Art unsheathes his aching cock from your warmth, hissing as he pulls completely out. Your breath hitches at the loss of him, and you gaze up at Tashi waiting for her next instruction. 

Fully naked, Art walks to the chair, cock hard and swinging between his legs as though he’s nothing more than a scolded pup. 

Tashi stands walking over to him, and Art tilts his chin to meet her eyes. Slowly, she lets the silk robe fall from her shoulders, and she takes her time removing it and placing it on his lap. You can see his erection through the soft purple fabric. 

“Hold that for me, would you?” she asks, turning back to face you.

You can’t help it as your gaze falls to her breasts; supple and mouth-watering, dark nipples taunting you. The dip of flesh between her abdominal muscles, a spot you’ve run your tongue along countless times now. Tashi rejoins you on the bed, lying next to you, looping her thumbs in the waistband of her lace panties. 

“You want a taste, baby?” she asks, smiling slightly at you.

You nod eagerly as she beckons you with a tilt of her chin. Scrambling into a kneeling position you slot yourself between Tashi’s toned legs, replacing her fingers and gently pulling off her lace panties, tossing them to the side and revealing her glistening sex.

Two things turn Tashi on. Telling you and Art what to do, and tennis.

Tashi brings her hand down her front tracing down her toned stomach until she reaches the soft curls that frame her pussy. She takes two fingers and spreads herself before you. 

“Come on, baby,” she murmurs, her voice low and seductive, “Eat up.”

She’s an enchantress, you swear, using some sort of siren song to pull you in. Even here between her legs, she’s in charge; it’s you who’s helpless. You lower your face toward her pussy, already drunk on the scent of her even before your tongue reaches her warm slit. 

You couldn’t hold in your moan of pleasured relief even if you tried as your tongue dipped lower, parting her lips and dipping inside her right entrance. There’s something about her, how she feels, how she tastes. You’ll never get enough of it. You nuzzle closer to her, nose bumping against her clit and she rewards you with a breathy sigh. 

“Art,” she calls as you eagerly continue lavishing her pussy with attention, “How’s the view?”

“Fucking breathtaking,” he answered, his voice strangled, “Tashi please….”

“She’s so good,” Tashi praises, nails taking against your scalp sending pleasurable tingles down your spine, “Put that pretty mouth of yours where it counts. Show me how badly you want it.” 

Your tummy flutters with excitement and you suction your lips around Tashi’s clit, sucking the sensitive button as you hear Art stand up. 

“Put that ass up,” Tashi instructs you, her voice airy, nearly breathless. You arch your back, leaning forward into her as Art’s hands cup the front of your thighs. 

You wiggle as he kneels behind you, his breath on your pussy before his lips meet your pussy. You moan against Tashi’s cunt as Art trails his hands up your thighs, spreading your cheeks wider as he feasts on you, tongue dipping inside of you and then up to circle your clit. 

“I’ll make you a deal baby,” Tashi purrs, back arching off the bed slightly as your tongue circles her pearl, “If you make her finish before I do, I’ll let you come.”

Art groans against you, finishing with a frustrated whine as Tashi chuckles. You glance up at her, drinking in the blissed-out expression on her face, that sly smirk that reaches her eyes. 

“Deal?”

Art doesn’t hesitate, he simply redoubles his efforts, tongue entering you with desperate precision. Your lips falter, the pleasure messing with your coordination as Art ups the ante. You feel him pull away from you, and hear the wet pop of his fingers entering his mouth and leaving just as quickly. Then he’s breaching you, fingers slipping inside you with ease from the continued attention following your first orgasm.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as Art fingers you. He sets a rough pace, placing his opposite hand on your asscheek and squeezing the soft flesh. 

The two fingers he has plunged inside you to the knuckle curl perfectly against your spongy walls, hitting that sweet spot inside you every time he curls his fingers. 

“Come on,” Art murmurs, slapping your ass, “I know you want to come again.”

“Yes she does,” Tashi agrees, unable to help herself. 

“Greedy girl, never satisfied with just one, huh?” Art teases and Tashi chuckles at his efforts. Art never speaks to her like that, only you. Tashi prefers the more dominant role over both you and her husband.

Still eager to please her you sloppily continue eating her out, lost in the sensation of Art's fingers in your pussy, Tashi’s fingers in your hair—

“Come on baby,” Art encourages, though there’s a hint of desperation in his tone. He wants to come just as badly as you do.

“Such a messy girl,” Tashi coos, propping herself on her elbows, “Oh but so so good. I’m getting close…”

Art slaps your ass again, curling his fingers against your g-spot, and it’s no use. Your jaw slacks and your head lolls against the softness of Tashi’s inner thigh as your walls clench around Art’s fingers, your release barreling through you like a freight train. It knocks the air from your lungs, a desperate cry leaving you as Art makes a noise of triumph. 

“So you are capable of winning,” Tashi snaps, a little too cold to be simply a bedroom taunt. Art stares at her, before she sits up, “I haven’t come yet.”

“Let me,” you murmur, looking up at her, still lying on her thigh. She smiles down at you, stroking your cheek.

“You’re a sweet girl,” she praises, “But Art won. I think he deserves to finish in that sweet little pussy of yours. Would you like that?”

“Tash…I can’t,” you whimper, still sensitive and tingly from your previous orgasms, “I can’t come again.”

Her smile fades back to that familiar smirk. She glances at Art, nodding at the bed. Cock still standing at attention Art joins you both, lying on his back. Tashi’s hand winds its way in your hair, tugging you not so gently from your resting place. You follow her lead like a puppet on a string. 

“Don’t be ungrateful,” she accuses, pushing you towards Art’s lap, “This is a reward. You deserve this.”

Art’s cock pokes at the soft plush of your inner thighs as you straddle him. His hands move automatically towards your hips, rough thumbs brushing against you leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

He looks at you with wide, watery eyes, blonde hair a tousled mess.

“One more?” he asks, and you know at that moment if you tapped out, he’d respect it. Art was never one to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape, or form. 

He rubs your hips again, a soothing motion, and you lean into his touch. Something deep inside you tightens with want. You need him. You need her. You inhale a shaky breath and lift your hips, lining the swollen head of his cock with your entrance. Sinking onto him slowly like this is something else. The way he stretches your insides as you come to rest against him is a feeling you’ll never get used to. 

“Good girl.”

Art’s head falls back against the pillows and then Tashi pulls them from underneath him. Her husband knows immediately what she’s after and tilts his head back as she climbs onto his face. 

Tashi sits on her husband’s face as though it’s her throne. As though he was made for her and no one else. 

She pulls you closer as you lazily begin to ride Art. Lips crashing against yours she kisses you passionately, rolling her hips at the pace you began. Soon you find your rhythm, moving in sync together as Art moans beneath you, happy to pleasure both his girls at once. Tashi’s hand finds your hair again and she tugs your head back, latching her lips against your neck.

She’s fond of leaving marks. Art is hers through their marriage, but she likes to remind you that you belong to her as well. 

Art bucks his hips up into you, the head of his cock nudging perfectly against your sweet spot, just as his fingers had moments before. A whine leaves your lips and Tashi laughs against your neck. 

“He’s good at that, yeah?” she murmurs, placing soft kisses up your neck and returning to your lips, “Good with his cock, good with his…his tongue.” Her eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy as Art does something you can only imagine.

He moans again, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise as he decides the pace you’ve set simply isn’t enough. Art’s hands dip below the curve of your ass right where it meets your thighs, lifting you with ease up and down on his cock. He meets you halfway, thrusting up into you as he slams you up and down. 

Your whines increase in volume, turning into elongated moans swallowed by Tashi’s kiss. You can feel her nipples pressing against your own and you reach out to caress them. Tashi gyrates her hips on Art’s face and his pace becomes more frantic as he plants both feet on the mattress fucking up into you harder, faster, deeper.

“I—” 

Words are lost to you as your mind goes fuzzy; that familiar pressure in your gut builds, a wave of pleasure cresting deep within you. Tashi’s mouth captures yours once more as she snakes a hand down your front, nimble fingers circling your clit giving you just what you need to reach your end. Again.

With that the rubber band in your belly snaps and you come with a startled cry, pleasured tears leaking from the corner of your eyes as you clench around Art’s thick cock. His hips falter only for a moment as he chases his own release, and soon you feel his cock twitch within your warm walls, his spend blooming inside of you.

Tashi smiles proudly as you and Art ride out your highs, the pair of you moaning, limbs jerking from the exertion. Everything’s a game to her. And she always wins. 

“Just like that,” she murmurs, hips still swirling around Art’s face, “Oh god I’m—” 

You watch as her thighs tense, her head dips and her eyes squeeze shut as her orgasm crashes over her at last. 

Carefully you ease Art’s softening cock from within you and lay between the both of them. Tashi on your left, Art on your right. You’re facing Tashi, watching as she comes down from her high, feeling Art’s chest press against your back.

It’s quiet for a moment, the soft sound of a kiss being pressed to your shoulder the only noise in the room. Art snakes a hand around your waist, fingers brushing the soft skin of your tummy. You giggle slightly at the ticklish sensation which causes him to bite down gently on your shoulder. Tashi simply watches, wetting her lips. 

“On the courts at five tomorrow,” she says, before standing, “I’ll run us a bath.”

Art sighs and you can’t help but agree with his subtle frustration. Back to business.

“Whatever you say, coach.”

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected 🩵

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Okay, please tell me I’m not the only one frothing at the mouth at the idea of Baby Daddy Dick Grayson???

AHHH YES I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMETHING LIKE THIS💙 I'll have Dick's babies any time tbh.

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson who still insists on calling you "babe" even though you two have clearly been on rocky terms ever since the breakup. He acts like he's still the charming, lovable guy you once knew, but it’s a little harder to ignore his flirty nature now that you're co-parents and he's dragging his feet on the whole "responsibility" thing.

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson who shows up late to pick up your kid, always looking like he just got off of a rooftop, trying to juggle his crime-fighting schedule with his duties as a father. But when it comes to helping out around the house, he tries to pull the "I’m too busy saving Gotham" card... again. You’re starting to roll your eyes every time he uses it.

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson who, when asked to pay child support, tries to sweet-talk his way out of it with an overconfident wink, joking that "how could you possibly put a price on this?" while flexing his abs. But it’s hard to stay mad when he shows up with ice cream for your kid and flirts with you like you’re still together—just long enough for him to sneak out without paying.

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson who, despite his flirty nature and charm, genuinely tries to be a good dad. He’ll drop everything when your child needs him, even if it means cutting his patrol short or rearranging his schedule. You can always count on him to be there for the important moments, even if his timing is off sometimes.

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson who genuinely adores his child but still struggles to grasp the concept of boundaries. He’ll show up unannounced, claiming it’s to "spend time with the little one," but really, he’s just looking for an excuse to rekindle that old spark with you.

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson who sometimes forgets that he’s supposed to be a grown-up, trying to get away with showing up at your house in his Robin gear to make everything feel like some sort of "happy family." His tendency to leap into action (sometimes literally) makes things complicated when you're just trying to have a quiet evening.

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson who, despite his complicated life, always makes time to bond with his child. He might not be perfect, but he’s the first to throw on his old Robin uniform for a "training session" or teach your kid how to juggle or do acrobatics, giving them a fun and loving memory that they’ll cherish forever.

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson who, when you finally call him out for his lack of involvement, just gives you that boyish smile and says, "Come on, can’t you just cut me some slack?" He’ll promise to do better, but deep down, you know he probably won’t—at least not until you hold his feet to the fire.

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson who swears he’s "getting better" with commitment and responsibility but ends up over-committing to things, like training your child in martial arts when you specifically told him no, or disappearing for a few days on a "secret mission." You don’t know what’s worse—the lack of communication or him acting like nothing’s changed when he comes back.

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson who, when he actually pulls himself together, is a total sweetheart. He'll leave you little notes, either tucked into your child’s backpack or stuck on the fridge, reminding you of how much he appreciates you and how proud he is of the family you’re raising together, even if he’s not always the most present.

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson who secretly listens when you talk about your hopes and dreams for the future, and while he doesn’t always show it, he supports you in subtle ways. He’ll show up at your kid’s school play, even though he’s exhausted from fighting crime, just to let you know he’s on your side. His actions often speak louder than his words.

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson who, when he does take responsibility, goes above and beyond. He’ll make sure your child has everything they need—school supplies, a new bike, or even just a good bedtime story. It might take a little nudging, but when he gets it right, he really gets it right.

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson who might joke around with you, but he’s fiercely protective of your family. He’d rather face down a villain than see you or your child in harm's way. He’s always got your back, even when you fight, because deep down he wants you both to be safe and happy.

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson who tries hard to make amends when he messes up. If he misses an important date or forgets something, he’ll make it up to you with an over-the-top gesture, like taking you and your kid out to dinner at your favorite restaurant, or even organizing a little weekend getaway—just to show he’s trying to make things right.

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson who sometimes tries to make it up to you with a bottle of wine on nights when your kid is at a sleepover. "It's just the right thing to do," is almost always his excuse, and you know better. Despite your better judgement, you still let him in, anyway. What's the worst that could happen?

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson who ends up between your legs after only a couple of drinks, greedily lapping at your neglected cunt as the TV plays on in the background. It was almost enough to cover up your soft moans as you tugged on his black locks while he practically made out with your pussy.

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson who's on top of you pretty soon after that, rutting into you at such a ruthless pace that it was almost hard to remember your own name. His arms are wrapped around your torso just like yours are around him as he drills into you on the couch of your apartment.

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson who likes to say the nastiest things during these nights that he knows you haven't heard since you were together. "Yeah? You like it when Daddy does this, baby?" His voice is caught between being a moan and a tease as he twists your perked nipples between his index finger and thumb.

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson who never leaves your unsatisfied by the end of the night. Does he like to tease you? Yes. Does he like to make you work for it? Absolutely. But not once has he ever left your apartment without having made you cum at least twice.

BabyDaddy! Richard Grayson who will always stay the night, if you let him. He misses you so much more than he would ever admit, even to himself. There is absolutely nothing he wants more than to be able to hold you in his arms like this every night. He misses being able to stay the night without having to ask. You do too, for the record, but you just need a bit more time to think about letting him back into your life.

Masterlist

[amysteryspot]

A Woman's Worth - Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Anthony tries to salvage what's left of his marriage and discovers what his wife is truly worth. (Part one)

Fandom: Bridgerton (TV Show)

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Female Reader

Warnings: mentions of miscarriage, cheating and lots of angst. English is not my first language and this wasn’t proofread.

Word Count: 4648

A/N: After so long, this piece is finally here. Thanks for patiently waiting and thanks @cevansgoodgirl for the help.

There is a mix of a scene with Laurie and Amy in Little Women and another one with Benedict and Tessa (the model/painter in 02x05), just so you know.

He remembers the first time he saw her—really saw her.

The (Y/L/N)s were guests in Aubrey House, and (Y/N) was in the balcony with Benedict while both their mothers and most of their siblings were in the lawn.

Anthony is not even sure what drew his attention when he was passing by, he did not have a habit of eavesdropping, but he got himself held back when his brother commented on (Y/N)’s painting.

"I declare that's rather good." Benedict said making (Y/N) huff.

“We both know that good is not enough, Ben.” She said with a hint of sadness in her voice.

Anthony could understand what his brother was talking about. The painting was a rendition of the scene unfolding before them—their siblings playing around while their mothers watched over them. It was rather good, indeed.

"It doesn’t matter, there's no place for me to do art."

Benedict frowned. "That's quite the statement to make at twenty. If you don't think you're good enough you have plenty of time to try some more, do better." He pauses, poking her. "You say that to me all the time."

"Then perhaps inform the academy.” She says, sarcasm dripping in every word. “Although two of the founding members are women, we are still not allowed to enter the classroom. It doesn't matter how much money we do or do not have."

"At least not while clothed." He comments, making (Y/N) throw the rag she was holding at him, which Benedict swiftly catches, changing the subject. "Well, now that you’ve given up all your artistic hopes, what are you going to do with your life?”

“Polish up my other talents and be an ornament to society.”

It was as if Anthony was seeing his sister speak.

“You sound like Eloise.” Benedict took the words out of Anthony’s mouth.

“Maybe she has been rubbing up on me.” (Y/N) smiled.

“You are searching for a husband, then?” Benedict asks, helping her pack her things.

“Yes.” She replies sheepishly.

“That's where Mr Scott comes in, I suppose.”

Anthony had noticed how Mr Scott had taken an interest in (Y/N), he never thought she felt the same.

Benedict continued. “You’ll accept him if he comes down properly on one knee?”

“Most likely, yes.” She said, pausing to look ahead for a moment. “He’s rich, respectable.”

When Benedict stifles a laugh, she lightly slaps his arm and Anthony has to fight back a smile. “Don’t make fun.” (Y/N) reprimands him.

"I’m not, I’m not, I promise.” He pauses. “It does sound odd coming from you.”

"I've always known that I would marry rich. Why should I be ashamed of that?"

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, as long as you love him." Benedict answers in a more serious tone.

Once upon a time Anthony would have easily seen himself at his brother's place, talking about love, but not anymore.

"Well, I believe we have some power over who we love, it isn't something that just happens to a person." (Y/N) says, closing the trunk with her paints, pencils and brushes inside.

"I think the poets might disagree." Benedict offers softly.

"Well, I'm not a poet, I'm just a woman.” She reminds him. “And as a woman I have no way to make money, not enough to earn a living and support my family. Even if I had my own money, which I don't, it would belong to my husband the minute we were married. If we had children they would belong to him not me. They would be his property. So don't stand there and tell me that marriage isn't an economic proposition, because it is. It may not be for you but it certainly is for me."

For the first time since he stopped to hear the conversation, hiding himself between the curtains, Anthony felt like he had overstepped a boundary, so he made quick work of fleeing the scene, her words echoing inside his head.

Anthony remembers Benedict joking about how him and (Y/N) would make a good match. He listens as his brother tells him about the conversation he had with her and Anthony feigns ignorance to the subject, despite having heard the entire interaction. Benedict’s voice turns into white noise in the background as Anthony is transported back to a conversation he had with Daphne last season.

At the time he didn’t understand his sister’s words—perhaps, he never would. Daphne and (Y/N) shared the same struggles, but his sister had been set in marrying for love, (Y/N), on the other hand, had already resigned herself about having to marry for convenience.

It was then that Anthony recognized that the both of them were, indeed, a good match. (Y/N) was beautiful, well mannered, educated and very good at charming people. She came from a not very rich but respectable family. Anthony knew he was one of the most eligible bachelors of the season, despite his fame as a rake. It wouldn’t be a sacrifice to marry (Y/N), which made making the decision so much easier.

Anthony visited her the next day, explaining his proposal to her.

“You listened to us?” She blinked a couple of times, trying to digest the information.

“Yes,” he confessed, “and I’m terribly sorry for it, but we have to recognize that this might have been for the best.”

He observed as she took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling, a little frown on her face. She was beautiful this way. Even more than when she was charming half of the ton in the many social events he had seen her.

“If you don’t mind me asking, my lord, why marry now?”

Anthony sighed. “My mom has been forcing my hand since Daphne married. Even before that, if I’m being honest. It’s time to find a good wife, settle down, and fulfill my duties.”

“Don’t take my question as an offense, but why me?”

She seemed unable to quite grasp his words. Anthony wondered if she still hoped, deep down, to marry for love and that her conversation with his brother had been only a fickle attempt to protect herself.

“You’re intelligent, (Y/N),” He kneeled in front of her. “You are beautiful and your family is respectable. If you are serious about your words to my brother, we both want the same thing from such a union.” He paused. “Would it be so bad to be married to me?”

(Y/N) bit her lip and Anthony caught himself observing the action with a little more intent than he should.

“No, my lord, I believe it wouldn’t,” she said.

“Then why not make the best we can from a predicament we can’t escape?”

She averted his gaze, looking out to the balcony where her maid was sitting and reading a book, while watching over them.

Anthony took the opportunity to look at her—hair carefully brushed and pinned up, the way the light contrasted with her silhouette, making it easier to see her nose, her lips, the  curve of her neck…

“If I were to accept your proposition, would you be committed to this relationship?”

He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I know that for our society standards maybe that’s too much to ask, but if I can’t be loved I’d wish to at least be respected.” She looked straight into his eyes and then Anthony understood what she was asking of him.

“You have my word that once we are engaged the only woman in my life will be you.”

Anthony asked her father for permission to court her in the same day, then he got properly down on one knee a second time to ask for her hand in marriage, the two of them married within months. Benedict had been shocked by the whole ordeal, but all he cared about was seeing his brother and his friend at least a little bit happy.

The process of knowing each other had been smooth, a lot easier than what Anthony first anticipated. (Y/N) took her duties as the lady of the house seriously, making a point of listening to Violet quite often. His siblings seemed to adore her even more than they liked him, and although inexperienced, as he knew she was, (Y/N) had proved herself to be a good lover. For all of those reasons, Anthony thought that keeping his promise wouldn’t be such an impossible task.

Then he discovered that Sienna had never left town and Anthony, who always prided himself in being a man of his word, proved himself to be as bad as the rest of the men he was surrounded by.

He fell back into the sheets with Sienna, and not long after that his relationship with (Y/N) became purely a show. At first, Anthony thought his wife was oblivious to his escapades, but he had clearly underestimated (Y/N)’s intelligence.

They never shared a bedroom, but there was no disguising how his visits to her chambers happened less and less, as there was no denying the gossip of the house staff that could only lead her to his broken promises.

Anthony expected a fight, things being thrown at him, screams and hits, but they never came, and that was somewhat worse.

One night when he got home after meeting Sienna, (Y/N) was sitting in the dressing room between their chambers, knitting. She lifted her eyes from her work to bid him good night. It didn’t go unnoticed to him how her smile fell from her face as she took in his disheveled state. Anthony felt ashamed for the first time in years.

(Y/N) didn’t give him time to explain himself for being so late—maybe it was for the best because he honestly didn’t know if he could find a suitable excuse for that—she just got up, leaving her unfinished work resting in the loveseat, and marched to her room.

Anthony sighed, throwing his coat away carelessly. The force knocked out (Y/N)’s knitting to the ground and Anthony groaned before bending down to take it. He furrowed his brow when he recognized the pattern—an onesie.

Maybe Daphne was pregnant again? She would’ve told him, right? Simon would, for sure. Then it hit him. Holding the unfinished piece between his fingers, Anthony realized that that was the reason why (Y/N) had stayed awake waiting for him until that hour—she was pregnant and wanted to tell him the news. Instead of the happiness she must have expected, she only received the sight of an unfaithful husband and a broken marriage.

(Y/N) never mentioned it to him and Anthony pretended as if he didn’t know, waiting for her to make the first move, tell him at her own time. (Y/N) never said it though, but he couldn’t ignore the knowledge, and the more time he passed observing her, the more evident it became to him that his wife was, in fact, expecting their first child.

In no time she distanced herself from him and all came to the point of no return in the night where she had gone through the loss of their child alone while he was rolling in the sheets with Sienna.

Anthony tried to reach out to her, succeeding only one time, a week after that fateful night, but in the following weeks, there hadn’t been much talking between them. (Y/N) would barely answer his greetings or the occasional question he threw her way trying to start a conversation. They had a few events to attend and these were the only occasions where she would grant him more than a couple of words. Anthony knew that that was all pretend for the sake of their reputation.

She refused every attempt he made to apologize or explain himself—not that there was much to explain. He couldn’t blame her, even if he wanted her forgiveness. It was her right to hate him and not want him around after he broke his promise to her.

They had never talked about it. Not until today.

(Y/N) was holding Augie, smiling down at the baby that smiled back at her, barely blinking with a look of pure adoration in his eyes.

“This one seems really enchanted by you,” Daphne comments, caressing her son’s little fingers.

“He’s just getting used to me,” (Y/N) answered,  smiling at his sister.

“Well, it’s good training, since I guess you and Anthony will probably have one of your own soon.”

Is as if Anthony’s blood turns to ice. He looks at his wife whose expression turns into shock and then sadness in the blink of an eye. He recognizes the tears pooling in her eyes as she gives the baby back to Daphne and excuses herself, leaving the drawing room too quick not to draw attention.

He hurries back after her. Simon gives him an apologetic look to which Anthony answers with an equally sad smile. It doesn’t take him long to find her, bend down in the windowsill of one of the windows of the library, one hand covering her mouth to muffle her sobbing while the other rested on her belly.

(Y/N) doesn’t hear his approach, but when he touches her as if she was expecting him too. She jumps as far away from him as she can get as if his touch burned her.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t…” she doesn’t finish the sentence but Anthony could hear it loud and clear in his head.

Don’t touch me with the same hands you’ve touched her just a week ago.

“Okay, it’s okay,” Anthony reassures her, raising his hands so she can see them. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me too, but I want to help you.”

“Nobody can help me,” she sobs, hands clutching tightly at her dress.

The sight breaks his heart. Anthony wants nothing more than to take her pain away and make it his, even though he is mourning the loss of their child with her. He knew her pain was fairly worse than his, she did not only lose a child but she had been losing her husband too.

“Why, Anthony? Why us? There are so many couples that don’t love each other and still have children, why can’t we?”

Anthony takes a step forward, then two, and then he’s bringing her into his arms, wrapping her tightly against his chest, his chin resting at the top of her head. She struggles against his touch a little, but she’s so worn out that it doesn’t take much for her to relax into him.

(Y/N) fists the lapels of his waistcoat, resting her forehead against his chest, letting herself cry.

“I wanted them so bad, Anthony,” she whispers between sobs, “so bad.”

Me too, he wants to answer. Me too.

They stay in the library, in silence, for a while. When (Y/N) finally stops crying, exhausted, Anthony takes her home without even saying goodbye to his family, sending a maid to let them know his wife was not feeling well.

Their relationship shifts after that day. (Y/N) appears so exhausted by the recent events that slowly, she starts to let her guard down again. Anthony is careful when dealing with her, his wife is fragile and the sadness in her runs so deep that he is always afraid to say or do something that will put her through more pain.

“You don’t have to worry so much, you know.” She says, making him look up from his papers to see her already staring back at him.

“I always worry.”

“I won’t break if we talk about it,” she guarantees. “We have to talk about it.”

Anthony is not sure if she’s talking about their baby or Sienna. Either way it wasn’t exactly a conversation he was eager to have.

“How are you?” He asks before he can contain himself. Anthony wanted to ask that for a while but never found the opportunity.

“Healing,” she answers, “or trying to.”

He nods, nervously picking at his nails.

“When did you discover?” She asks.

“The onesie.” He looks up at her.

“The onesie,” she scoffs.

“You were… waiting for me?” His question is almost inaudible, full of regret and shame, but Anthony knows that she heard him.

“Yes,” she answers, “I was.” There’s a pause, and then the blow to his face. “Obviously you were occupied with more important matters, my lord.”

“(Y/N)—”

“I know about her,” she confesses. “I’ve always known, just didn’t want to acknowledge it and have to face the fact that my husband, the one that promised to respect me, at least, had so quickly forgotten his own word.”

“It’s not your fault.” He tries to explain but it seems like (Y/N) has had enough of silence.

“Oh, I know, my lord. This is entirely your fault.” She paused. “And hers. Not that it will matter for anyone, I’ll be the one to blame, after all.”

Her words cut through him the same way they did the week after her miscarriage: it’s always the woman’s fault. Hers or Sienna’s, it didn’t matter. Anthony would never understand the full extent of the pain it was to be a woman in their society, he would never fully understand how much he put her through and yet, would never be blamed for it.

There’s no answer to her words, no explanation for his behavior or broken promises. All he can do is watch her swallow the tears that were threatening to fall and take a deep breath. Anthony opens his mouth to speak but she beats him to it.

“That night,” she says, “the night I… lost our child. You were with her.”

It wasn’t a question, but Anthony felt the need to answer it anyway, his voice low with shame.

“Yes.”

“I see,” she hums.

“If I could go back—”

“The outcome would have been the same.” She says.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I should have been there for you.”

“Yes, you should have.”

Anthony always knew that, since the moment he put foot inside their house and heard her screams, but hearing her say it had another weight.

“Are you still seeing her?” She asks, looking at him.

“No, it won’t happen again.”

(Y/N) scoffs. “Forgive me if I have trouble believing in it, my lord.”

“I know I haven’t been a good husband. God, I have been barely a good man since we married, but I promise you, I’ll learn from my mistakes and I’ll do better by you. I’ll be a better man, a better husband, one that you deserve and maybe, just maybe, I’ll get close to deserve you.”

The following days, they start to talk more during meals, and the silence that falls between them when they’re both at the drawing room—Anthony working and (Y/N) reading—is not uncomfortable anymore. Each day that passes makes Anthony believe that they can fall back into the friendship they had right after they married.

He doesn’t see Sienna again. Anthony sends her a letter telling her that they should stop seeing each other because he doesn’t want to hurt his wife anymore. Which is the truth. Every time he thinks about the last time he met Sienna, his wife’s cries of pain and sorrow plague his mind and he just can’t see himself hurting her even more than he already had without even realizing it.

Anthony watches her playing with Gregory and Hyacinth in the garden. His younger siblings are fighting for her attention but she doesn’t seem to mind, going back and forth in between the two of them with ease. Then she looks at him, a huge smile on her face that made him smile too. Her attention was quickly snatched from him to his siblings again and Anthony felt a pang of jealousy in his chest—he didn’t want to share her attention.

In the past few weeks, Anthony discovered that his wife was more than the character of the perfect wife that she played for the ton. She was very much real and very much a woman with desires and ambitions. Everything that happened between then made her more bold, she didn’t take his poor excuses anymore, she talked openly about all sorts of things and Anthony caught himself wanting to listen.

“Hum, did you finally realize that you got a diamond in your hands, then?”

Anthony turned his head to look at Benedict, who had a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

His relationship with Benedict was stranded since his brother discovered about Sienna. Anthony didn’t blame Benedict, he was friend’s with his wife since they were kids. He only had himself to blame for being so foolish.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Anthony answered, not bothering to pretend he wasn’t observing their siblings with (Y/N).

“Keep lying to yourself then,” Benedict smirked, turning away to leave.

Anthony called after him. “Will you ever forgive me?”

Benedict sighed. “I’m not the one who has to forgive you. I just expected more from my brother.”

“I know,” he agrees. Benedict makes a move to go out the door, and then comes back, pulling Anthony into a hug.

“Look, I could say a thousand things to you, but nothing will undo what’s done.” Benedict says when they part, a hand resting on Anthony’s shoulder. “Just… learn from your mistakes and do better. You’re my brother and I love you, but trust me when I say that you don't deserve (Y/N). Can you imagine what mother would have done to our father if they ever found themselves in the same situation?”

“They loved each other,” Anthony protested to prevent his mind from wandering.

“You are truly oblivious, brother of mine.” Benedict scoffed.

His brother’s word haunted him for the rest of the day and all the way back to their home. Always perceptive, his change in behavior didn’t go unnoticed by (Y/N).

“What happened,” she asked when they were alone in the dressing room.

Anthony hummed, turning around to look at her and trying not to get distracted by her beauty as she braided her own hair after taking off the jewelry.

“Nothing.”

Her reflection raises a brow at him.

“Do better,” she warns, getting up and walking up to him, face softening as she stands in front of him. “You know you can tell me anything, don’t you?”

He nods, taking one of her hands and bringing it to his face. Anthony’s eyes close.

“Is it about her?”

The question gets him off guard. His eyes open instantly to look at her and he drops (Y/N)’ hand instantly.

“No,” he answers, “no,” he adds firmly, cradling her face in between his hands. “There is no one else in my life but you. There won’t be no one else in my life but you.”

“Anthony…” She breaths, closing her eyes as her delicate hands take hold of his wrists.

He wants nothing more than to kiss her, but refrains. It’s not the time for that. They’re both healing and he doesn’t want to taint whatever it is they’re creating by getting ahead of himself. Instead, Anthony presses his lips to her hair, inhaling her scent.

“Stay with me tonight,” he pleads, not sure where the urge to stay close to her came from. Anthony expects her to put up a fight, but (Y/N) only nods, murmuring an okay, before guiding him to her room.

It’s the first time since that fateful night that the both of them sleep through it, getting up later than usual the other day.

Their first kiss after everything that threatened to push them apart for good, happens so suddenly that none of them expects it.

(Y/N) had received the news that one of her younger sisters was going to marry the man she loves, her happiness made her throw herself at him and before either of them could realize, they were kissing each other.

It was just a chaste peck on the lips at the beginning. When they realized what had just happened they parted, his wife didn’t bother to step away from him to escape his embrace. They just stared at each other, eyes flicking between their eyes and their lips and then she placed a hand at the back of his neck, bringing him close to seal their lips again.

Anthony responded in kind, his hands on her waist, traveling up her back as he tasted her. It was like he was kissing her for the first time. They were discovering each other again, learning what each other felt like.

Desperately, Anthony wanted to discover what the strange feeling at the pit of his stomach was. Since before they married (Y/N) made him feel different, something he couldn’t put a finger on. He pushed it down to the depths of his mind—the last thing he needed was feeling something other than respect and partnership for his wife.

He protested when (Y/N) parted her lips from his and it took him a second to notice Benedict standing at the door, a smirk on his lips.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to let you know that our mother is waiting for (Y/N) downstairs. Something about the charity?”

“Oh,” his wife exclaimed, “I had forgotten about it,” she said, wriggling herself away from his arms, making Anthony growl in frustration.

If she noticed, (Y/N) made a good job at ignoring it. The same couldn’t be said about his brother.

“I figured,” Benedict smirked.

“Not a word,” (Y/N) warned as she passed him by, slapping his arm playfully.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Anthony watched as she turned around, stealing one last glance at him before disappearing and taking his breath away with her.

“Huh,” Benedict hummed, “I see.”

Rolling his eyes, Anthony asked, “And what do you see, dear brother?”

“You love her.”

“Nonsense,” he protested, “we’re just good partners.”

“Good partners don’t kiss like that.”

The ride home was silent, but Anthony’s heart fluttered in his chest when (Y/N) searched for his hand. Could Benedict be right? Did he really fall in love with his wife? He frowned while looking out of the window of the carriage and (Y/N) might have noticed it, because she made a move to take her hand away from him. Anthony didn’t let her.

“What’s going on in your mind?”

“Something Benedict said to me.”

“If it is about the kiss, don’t mind him. It won’t happen again.”

Anthony looked at her exasperated.

“I surely hope you’re not serious about that.”

“Anthony…”

“How can I live without your kisses again is unknown to me.”

“You lived quite well without them all your life,” she smiles, shyly.

“But now that I know them, I can’t anymore.”

Painfully slowly, she moves closer, giving him the chance to meet her halfway and bring their lips together again.

It’s like a breath of fresh air on a hot summer day and Anthony can’t seem to get enough of her. They get so distracted that they don’t even realise the carriage has stopped in front of the house until the door is open.

Recomposing themselves, he observes as (Y/N) giggles at the situation and feels his heart flutter at the image.

As they prepare to retire for the night, Anthony stops for a minute before following her into her room—he has been doing that for quite a few nights.

When she notices that he hasn’t entered the bedroom, (Y/N) looks back at him with a frown.

“Anything’s wrong?”

Anthony smiles, “No, nothing’s wrong,” he answers, as she extends her hand for him to take, and they retire for the night.

[imdumbhi]

☆ ＣＡＵＳＡＬ

summary: basically what the title says lol

pairings: vi ✘ fem!reader

warnings: angst, smut

a/n: I hope you enjoy!

╰┈➤ MASTERLIST

If it wasn't for those stupid powder blue eyes, you would have known better to have walked away and not into a fucking wall.

How pathetic of you.

You were knee deep. That cut on her upper lip being the first thing you feel when her mouth collides with yours and feeling blown away by how she kisses you.

Vi kisses you like she misses you. It throws you off a bit because you never been kissed this way before. It's like experiencing a drug for the first time and wanting more because the second she pulls away from kissing you, you crave more.

How did you find her? You found her in a bar, drunk off her ass with no one around to guide her or help her as she babbles about some chick from Topside. You don't care. Yet, Vi did. 'I miss her blue hair' or 'She was so sweet', it was honestly sad. The sight of people like Vi astonishes you because you hadn't seen yourself ever being in their place.

That was foolish of you to believe.

The second you feel her fingers slide teasingly through your wet puffy folds, a moan slips from your mouth and your hips twitch towards her touch. That had your clit twitching for attention. Your glossy eyes with furrow brows then peer down, watching the pad of Vi's thumb move up to rub firmly against your clit. She kisses your gasp away and makes a circular motion.

How did you get here? She kissed you and grope your ass while trying to lead her down a dark alley.

You really couldn't help it. She was so hot.

And she wouldn't stop touching you.

The way she had touched you, taking her time and actually paying attention to how your body responds to her touches — maybe it was the whispers of sweet nothings or the kisses with something sweet and bitter. Or maybe you just don't go out much. The fact that you tried to come up with many excuses to convince yourself that what you were doing was okay when really, you would find yourself staring at a wall. Literally.

The flashes of Vi between your thighs never subsides. That memory has been playing in your head ever since she left the house Sunday afternoon. Her tongue swirling and lapping at your puffy wet folds like a hungry dog, god did she know what she was doing. Your fingers had thread through her pink hair, gripping a fistful and tugging her close to meet your grinding. Your pussy lips and clit sliding back and forth on her flat wet tongue in just the right ways.

"Good? 'Mm..." You remember her raspy voice and the look/feeling of her face when asking against your cunt, teasing your clit with a flick of her tongue and without warning teasing your slick opening. You can feel her tongue push in and push out, the pace slow but Vi kept pushing her face further. Her nose breathing heavily and pretty powder eyes staring greedy for your reaction.

Then there was this aggravating voice-

"Why the fuck are you moping and staring at the wall like that? It's weird, stop it."

"Am not."

"What? Yes you are. I can clearly see you doing it right now."

"Then fucking pretend you don't!"

"I can't! You're in the way!"

"Oh. Why didn't you say so?"

Art, your best friend ever since you were a child, sighs at you like he can't believe you're you and keeps walking by carrying a box of supplies. You and him own a shop in Zaun. It's small but pretty popular since the shop sells specific and expensive pieces of metals of all kinds. How do you get them? Art is pretty friendly and known with a Topsider, they trade a lot. You just don't know what exactly.

He comes back to find you staring but not at nothing, at someone.

"Hello, uh, did you need anything?" Art spoke for you. He then noticed the staring and mouth gaping by you.

The woman doesn't say anything. She does stare back at you.

"I'm so sorry about her." Art apologizes to the woman sincerely.

Silence falls in the shop. You can only hear faint music in the background.

"Wait, did you do something bad?" Art breaks the silence, frowning and squinting his eyes at you when he realizes the woman with pink wild hair is wearing hextech gloves. He knows you can't get that tech just from anywhere.

You break off the staring and blink, turning your head slowly over at Art with a 'what the fuck?' look when he assume you did something to break the law.

Shit is expensive and rare down here in Zaun, he thought as his eyes check the woman out. He could see how attractive and butch the woman was. She did look injured and bloody in some parts of her face but Art hasn't seen anyone like her around and if he had, he knew — he then notice your staring.

"Well did you?" He rose his brows at you.

"No!"

─── ⋆⋅𖤐⋅⋆ ───

She wanted to talk.

Talking isn't this.

Your face flush and press into Vi's shoulder, your nails digging into her back. The sound of slick and wet fills the room, along with skin to skin. The woman above you had her strong hands wrapped around your thighs, holding them as she repeatedly thrusts her hips between your thighs.

Plat! Plat! Plat! Plat!

She felt so incredibly good that it hurt. You shove your face further into her shoulder and dig your nails deeper into her tatted back. She was getting rough, angling her hips and moving deeper. She was practically hitting your cervix. It wasn't fair and she hadn't let you up once. Vi was driven to make you lose control.

"Yessss!" It's cried out and for some reason that just causes Vi to drive harder into you. Shes grunting and huffing on top looking drunk on you. The bed creaking and your eyes shaking with emotion as you watch her above. You almost forget that this is only—

The pink haired girl slips out, you, gasping confuse feel her strong hands guide your ass to straddle her lap. Your pussy glistens and swallows her fake cock in one go, Vi growls at the sight. She starts to help you ride her and you think she's deeper than before.

"That's right..." Her words tickle your skin and you can't help but ride faster, your hips moving back and forth. But then, your eyes find hers when leaning back and you instantly want to be good, better, for her. You start raising your hips and slamming them down, your hands using her shoulders for support.

Plat! Plat! Plat! Plat!

"Ffff-fuck~"

Vi curse with a long moan and with her hands, they move to your ass to grope and squeeze. You gasp at the treatment by her. You suddenly then cry out her name again when she shifts under and thrust up, your vision going white. You didn't expect that but you aren't complaining when you're near the edge.

Everything is completely perfect 'till that name slips from her mouth.

"Caitlyn!"

That's how you found yourself awkwardly stopping and climbing off her lap. You know she's embarrassed when she doesn't stop you or apologize. You could also feel how tense she had been after she said it. You grab a blanket and cover yourself, sitting at the edge of the bed.

"It's fine. Don't worry." You reassured her, tone slightly playful and light, your back turned towards her. You don't know why you said it that way or that in general when it clearly wasn't but you'll believe it because you don't get to be upset. Vi isn't your girlfriend nor will she be, you had to constantly remind yourself what you walked into.

You feel the bed behind you move and suddenly feel empty. You frown and turn your head to find Vi undoing the strap-on. You can see from her pink cheeks and narrowed brows, she was either upset or still embarrassed. Maybe both?

"Vi?"

"Can't even fucking do this without thinking about her..." You caught her muttering under her breath. She's definitely angry with the way she throws the strap across the room. She's huffing and puffing, her mouth trembling.

"Vi." You call her name softer this time.

Glistening powder blue look into your eyes and your heart flutters then twists at the reminder of the woman's clear lover. You could wonder and ask about what had happened but you don't. You wanted to help her forget even if you're left feeling used.

You offer her your hand which she glances at and hesitantly takes. You smile, pulling her back onto the bed.

"My turn."

It's only causal.