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millersfinest · 1 month ago

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untethered³ | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 8.1k

series: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three (you’re here!), chapter four , chapter five

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: +18, lmao flip phones, r and ellie NOT beating the cheating allegations, more use of y/n then i would prefer, she/her pronouns, afab anatomy mentioned, some vulgar language, fuckgirl!ellie (kind of), the millers, r is a writer (she doesn’t write much in this ch wink wink), dina being a bitch, more horndog ellie, r being a little self-deprecating, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, jealous ellie, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, r is still very jealous of cat, hella angst, rich!abby (one of r’s evil exes), emotional cheating (from ellie), r using abby for sex, repressed emotions, crazy mature chapter (wasn’t intentional lmao)

note: lmao guys, i just wanna say as i proceed with this series… i do not agree w cheating on your partners DONT DO IT. don’t be like ellie (or the reader), it hurts people’s feelings and it’s just not worth it. i hope i tagged everyone who wanted to to be. bisous little lesbians/sapphics in my phone <3 please, enjoy this dramatic ass chapter x

Normally, you wouldn’t be so pliant with Abigail—letting her hands drift toward the small of your back. Clearly, expressing her attraction, because she lost that privilege a while ago. But, you were weakened. And with the burning dark irises of an old friend into the back of your frame, you couldn’t help but let her. It was like she was some sort of cloak of invisibility. Some made up thing in your head ease your spirits.

You met Abby about a year ago, 2004, at some high profile event your agent made you go to. Isa introduced you as an aspiring author to anyone that she could, getting your name out there—which was a good thing, but horribly embarrassing at the time.

Abby was there with her dad, a well-known general surgeon in the city; when she was still in medical school. Wanting someone to talk to, you offered her a drink; a flute of expensive champagne. You didn’t hide your attraction to her, but you approached her with an open mind. Fortunately for you, the night consisted of flirting and great conversation. She was smart, and you loved smart women.

Give or take a few months, you withstand her busy schedule—dating each other, giving only a sliver of intention to one another. You weren’t sure what you wanted, but what you did know is that you couldn’t stand flakiness. Abby began to flake on you a lot; whether it was for her friends or work or school. For work and school you understood, but even then there were days you spent laying around each other completing your priorities. Somehow in the midst of your temporary romance, she began to cast you aside. Maybe it was because you weren’t drowning in money like she was. Or, she just didn’t like you—both were awful options.

Taking the lead, because you’d rather dump than be dumped, you broke up with her—she then hit you with: we weren’t in a relationship. Which was rough on the ears and heart. That was the first time you actually tried with someone in a long time, and she fucked it up. You learned your lesson, though.

The two of you didn’t speak for a few months, but then you called her on a very lonely night, begging for warmth. And, ever since then, it’s been off and on—you playing hard to get and her playing wanting to have.

In the bar, with your hand clutching your cold, cheap cocktail, you walked with her in the direction of Ellie. Abby had her eyes set on her friend group, so she didn’t realize you were slowing down. “I’ll catch up with you…”

“Oh—“ She looked down, seeing the table of three practically gawking at her. Abby made a face that was unreadable. “Don’t make me have to come and find you.” She purred in your ear, slipping her arm from around your shoulders. Abby was such a show off when she wanted to be, which was more often than not.

An uncomfortable smile rested on your lips, hand waving, shortly, to the three sat at the rocky table. Ellie looked completely taken aback, leaning forward on her elbows. “Who the fuck was that?” Ellie whispered as you slipped into the seat she saved for you. Her jacket was placed on the back of your seat, holding it for you.

“Hey, y/n!” Jesse spoke, grinning ear to ear, leaning back in his wooden chair.

“y/n,” Dina said, plastering a fake smile on her glossy lips.

Jesse snickered, taking a sip of his beer. “Is that all you? Goddamn.”

“She’s just a friend from New York…” You waved a hand, dismissively.

“We just watched her feel you up and buy you a drink. Some friend she is.” Ellie countered, glancing over her shoulder at the tall, muscular blonde sitting with her friends. And, weirdly enough, Abby had her eyes on her, too.

You scoffed, holding up a hand. “Okay, she didn’t feel me up. Just forget it.” Shaking your head, you replaced that stern look on your face with a smile. “Anyway, how are you guys? It’s been a long time.” You wrap your lips around the straw sticking out of your drink. The sweet tangy flavor of the alcohol mixed with cranberry juice spreading over your tongue—easing your worries.

He glanced at Ellie, briefly. So fast, you almost missed it. Almost. “I’m doing good. Just moved into my new place in Boston. How about you, Dina?” Jesse raised an eyebrow, nudging her arm.

She stirred the ice in her water with her straw, raising a thick eyebrow. “I’m great.” Dina responded, simply.

“Great.” You say, sipping your drink, awkwardly.

There was silence between the four of you that could only be classified as awkward, uncomfortable and tense. Ellie boring her big eyes into the side of your face as you, purposely, ignored her. Dina no longer having a reason to speak because of your sudden appearance. And, Jesse, well… He was normal. If anything he was trying to fight the demon that was the awkward silence.

Ellie shook her head, a scoff falling from her lips. Abruptly, she stood up, walking over to the bar. Even though her beer was barely touched. “What’s wrong with her?” You mutter, watching her get up. She motioned for the bartender, and you watched them fill up a shot glass. Her slender frame leaned over the bar top, on her toes. Pale skin exposed between the belt holding up her jeans and the hem of her shirt. You couldn’t help but let your eyes linger there—places you’ve touched with the pads of your fingers…

“I don’t know… But, I’m curious. Be right back.” Jesse stood to his feet, taking his beer with him. Leaving, none other than, you and Dina left alone.

Chewing your lip, you slide your drink forward, looking her in the eye. Perhaps, it was the liquid courage settling in your muscles. “Things shouldn’t be weird between us… Ellie wanted me here.” You felt the need to defend your place. Ever since that day, she always seen you as some predatory figure—now, that you think of it… She had even before that day. Just did a better job at hiding it. You were the predatory animal chasing over your gullible and prancing prey—Ellie

“Yeah, and sometimes she doesn’t know what’s good for her. So… I’m sure she did.”

Ouch.

You physically coiled at her words. A dry, pissed scoff fell from your lips. “Fuck you, Dina.” You cursed, leaning back in your chair. Ellie could never do wrong in her eyes—it was obnoxious. Did she have a crush on her or something?

She dryly laughed, shaking her head. “Fuck me?” Dina raised an eyebrow. “Look at her!” She jutted her brown eyes in her direction. “Every time you’re around, she ends up looking that. A wilted fucking flower.” She scolded you, causing you to follow her eyes. Jesse spoke to her with intent eyes. Ellie ran her hands through her hair, eyes shifting side to side. You didn’t know what they were talking about, but it seemed serious. “Just face it, y/n… You’re the common denominator here.”

The common denominator. What an interesting choice of words.

“She’d probably have a better night if you just leave. Go home. Let blondie over there take you home… Or a taxi. I don’t care.” Dina turned her face from you, like you were nothing.

Your hands began to shake and tremble from her words. The muscles in your face twitched and heated up like a furnace—eyes welling up with pained tears. You sniffled, standing up from your chair. Trying every which way not to make a fuss—saving face. She was always such a bitch! So, instead, you rushed to the bathroom with the stiffest posture. Heels stalking by Ellie and Jesse with eyes set on the women’s restroom to unleash your fury.

It was like a gust of wind passing her, Ellie’s words trailed as she unloaded onto Jesse about where her minds been. He was, probably, the only person she could even share it with. Dina didn’t like you very much, she was too emotionally involved. Jesse wasn’t bias and could give her proper advice—it was just up to Ellie if she wanted to follow it or not.

Ellie confessed that the feelings she had for you hadn’t gone away. Something he already knew. But she explained it like an act of a possession—as if the softness of your skin, the beauty of your features, the smell that exuded from you was a spooky presence that just won’t leave her alone. A poltergeist. It was becoming a carnal need the more she saw you.

But what about Cat?

What about her?

Then, on cue, you passed her. Ellie only caught a glimpse of your face. Jaw trembling, the sound of your emotional hiccups. Immediately, her olive eyes shifted to the young woman left at the table. She clenched her jaw, shaking her in disapproval. “Jesse, can you get a fucking handle on her?”

“Easy, Ellie. Don’t talk about her like that. She’s just looking out for you— or trying to.” He told, shifting on his feet. “…And she’s pregnant.”

Her eyes widened. “What?!” Jesse motioned for her to whisper.

“Shh! I wasn’t supposed to say anything. Dina’ll kill me.”

“You guys aren’t even together—“ Ellie pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. “Congratulations.” She intoned, running her hand through her hand. “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna go check on—“

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll talk to Dina.”

Meanwhile, you paced around the single person bathroom. Purse thrown to the ground, makeup smudged down your cheeks. Fists clenched at your sides, and every few minutes pounding a spot on your thigh that inflicted enough pain to briefly distract you from the pain inflicted on your heart. Dina doesn’t understand! You’re not a bad person for what happened that day. When will Ellie get the heat for what happened? Why does it always have to be you? It was always your fault.

So much time has passed, meaning you’ve thought about the altercation for a long time. Hell, it was all you thought about at times. You should’ve never put your hands on Ellie that way—you knew that. But, she shouldn’t have pushed you to do it either. That was her mistake. Pushing and prodding at someone she claimed to love. Ellie was aware of that, too. She wrote about it in that letter she hand delivered on her eighteenth birthday.

Wringing your hands out, you heaved. Emotions still weighing heavy on your heart. Her words cut you like a knife—triggering you. Before you met Tommy and Maria Miller, life was so much harder. Everything was your fault and your birth parents—and the numerous foster parents that you had—made sure that you knew that. It wasn’t fair then, and it wasn’t fair now.

What stopped your progressing thoughts was the gentle call of your name, and a soft knock. It was Ellie.

“Go away!” You sniffled, leaning over the sticky sink to get a look at your appearance. It was a tragedy.

“Please, just let me in. I don’t know what Dina said… But, I’m sure it was fucked up— look, she has her reasons.”

“She has her reasons—?!” You exclaim, looking at the door through the reflection.

“But that doesn’t make it right. I know.” You heard her lean against the door. “Please, y/n.”

Wiping your face, you sighed. Sniffling, you walked over to unlock the door, gulping. “It’s unlocked…” You spoke, weakly. Positioning yourself with your back against the sink, you crossed your arms. Watching her push inside the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Ellie pressed her back against the door, observing you with the softest pair of green eyes you’ve ever seen. It was charming. Through her thick eyelashes, pelvis leaning forward—like she was a child in trouble.

“I’m so sorry about Dina. I should’ve never invited you… I just thought things would be different.” She frowned, fiddling with her fingers in front of her body. Her fingernails had chipped black nail polish on them; focusing on that was easier than focusing on her.

“Well…” You dryly chuckled. “You thought wrong.” Slowly, you drag your eyes from her hands, to her face—avoiding her eyes, though. “Apparently, you’d be better off if I left… Or died; if it were Dina’s way.” Your voice trembled, tears falling from the corners of your eyes. Dina didn’t tell you to die, but that’s what her tone told you. All you were doing was existing. If that’s what stressed Ellie out then… Fuck. Maybe you should just croak, huh?

Ellie ran her hands over her face, taking quick steps towards you. “Fuck— I don’t know why she said that.” Her hand ran through her straight hair, frustrated at herself and Dina. “I—… I do want you here. She doesn’t know what the fuck she’s talking about.” She reaches a hand out for you, but you flinch. There was a slight height difference to the pair of you—your heels caused you to look down at her. But, you weren’t looking down on her.

She was close enough for you to notice the orange-brown flecks in her irises. The ones you missed… So much, and desired wholly. However, you pushed yourself into the ceramic sink, fighting temptation. “Don’t tell me you actually believe what she said?” Her doe eyes looked up at you, demanding a response.

“I don’t know… It’s more than that, Ellie.” You analyze her features as inconspicuously as you could—which wasn’t possible. She noticed everything because she was doing the same thing.

Your bodies drew to each other like the opposite sides of conjoined magnets. Eyes intertwining and overcoming like they always did. Tensions were high, and you were in an enclosed space—your stomach rumbled with anticipation. “Tell me what it is, then.” The feeling of her fingers sliding up the curve of your elbow caused you huff, moving to the toilet to sit down. Cold air replacing where her fingers attempted to tether to you.

Ellie sighed, bunching her hand into a fist at her side. She knew what she was doing—after all, she was a pusher. It was hard to identify when to stop.

You dropped your head into your hands, forcing even breath from your lips. “It’s just… Old shit, okay? Dina struck a nerve.” You glanced at her through your hands, lips quivering.

Ellie took your previous spot, pondering. She knew about your life before your parents—how awful those people treated you; and she couldn’t understand why. You were a scorned person, like most of the kids you grew up with, but underneath it all you were soft. She’s witnessed that softness. And she will regret it for the rest of her life that she was the one to pull you from that that—all for dumb proof of trauma.

She realized too late that she was never alone in that traumatic suffering of the adoption system. After that day, she never wanted to see you hurt like that again. Or at all. Ellie wanted to make everything up to you.

Seeing those tears staining your cheeks; she wanted to kiss it better.

“I’ll talk to her.” The words fled from her mouth. Her old converse squeaked toward you, squatting before your sat figure on the filthy toilet. You turned your head, shutting your eyes and shivering at the thought of her. “Hey,” Her fingers grazed your jaw, pulling your eyes into her line of sight. “I will. She crossed the line— this isn’t my favorite version of you.” Her eyebrows deepened, pressing her lips into a firm line. She wanted to be level with you—not above or below.

Those words were music to your ears. Supple in its raspiness. The warm touch of her fingers on your face, you leaned into her hand. She had a favorite version of you? You reached up, gently gripping her wrist to pull it from you. Ellie shouldn’t have been touching you like this. But, even so, your bodies somehow gravitated toward one another. Eyes staring at each others parted lips, wanting. Needing. Her hand bracing on your thigh, pulling herself closer until your lips met.

Soft and forbidden. You gasped against her mouth, pulling away for a brief moment. Her olive eyes were pleading, and you just couldn’t say no. Being a victim of your flesh, your hand found its way to the back of her neck to pull her lips flush to yours. Mixed whines coming from the both of you; lips merging and meshing together. Creating something beautiful.

Every time you were physical with someone they were missing something. This was it! The passion, the history—the things that matter. The fucking chemistry; it was all there with Ellie. And, deep down, you knew that it was the only place you were going to find it.

She pushed into you, being guided by her carnal desire. Whining and growling into your mouth. Hands gripping at your hips, and the side of your backside. Ellie was hooked under a spell you concocted—some aphrodisiac that exuded from you. And she wanted to breathe more of you in until she couldn’t anymore. She was gluttonous.

Breaking her trance was a rough knock on the bathroom door. The two of you basically jumped apart; you falling into the toilet, nearly touching the water, her falling on the floor. Some of the glitter on your lips had rubbed off onto hers—it looked nice on her, but that was besides the point.

“Some people need to piss! Get out of the fucking bathroom!” Some heavy handed woman exclaimed from the other side.

A smile spread on her lips, hazy eyes watching as you pulled yourself up. “Fuck, Ellie. Why are you smiling?” You walk to the mirror, taking a look at yourself. You and Ellie had just kissed. The same Ellie who’s girlfriend is waiting for her back at the guesthouse. The pressure was already hitting you like a ton of bricks—Ellie was right, you had a terrible poker face. How could you forget about this? “Can you hand me that?” You pointed to the purse beside her.

She chuckled, standing up from the floor. Your purse was in her hand as she walked up behind you, handing it over. Her other snaking around your hips—clearly, still overcome. Taking the purse, you smack her hand away. “Enough!” You scold, deepening your eyebrows. She pouted, crossing her arms. Leaning her back against the wall, shutting her eyes. But it was soon replaced with a smirk.

Your fingers rummaged through your purse for your lipgloss. “This didn’t happen… This never happened…” You muttered to yourself. Once you found the sparkling tube, you began to apply it like a nervous tick. “I still don’t know what you keep finding so funny— nobody can find out about this, Ellie.” You turn to her, dropping your lipgloss back into your purse. “What just happened isn’t fucking funny—“

You were a homewrecker, a thief of girlfriends—watch out New York!

“You’re spiraling.”

“Yeah, and I have every reason to. This isn’t me. I’m not this person. You have a girlfriend!”

Ellie watched you ramble with a look of in awe in her eyes—you were fucked, and so was she. “I remember…” She couldn’t compel herself to care about the repercussions of hr actions; Ellie just wanted you. Even more now than before. She was given an inch, and she was ready to take a mile. Perhaps, longer if that was possible. Your ethics only made her want you more.

The glitter on her lips distracted you, causing you to reach your thumbs near her lips to wipe away the signs of you. Her wide eyes looked up at you, hands wrapping around your wrists. Where did she learn this type of behavior from? VHS porn?“Ellie, will you quit it?!” You stomped your foot, squeezing your eyes. “Fuck me.” You whisper to yourself, adjusting your purse.

“I’ll see you at home…” You mutter, placing your hand on the door handle.

“Am I not driving you?”

“No. You’re gonna stay here, mingle—fuck, I don’t care.” You shook your head. “Abby’s gonna take me home.” The words rushed from your lips because you were thinking and speaking at the same time. You needed an alibi and that’s what Abby was going to be.

The auburn-haired woman rolled her eyes, scoffing under her breath. Jealousy peaking inside of her like it did earlier. “Abby. Abby… The buff blonde you walked into the bar with— the one who was feelin’ you up.” She popped the p sound, nodding her head with searching eyes.

“She wasn’t feeling me up. I don’t think you know what feeling up looks like.”

“Show me, then.”

Your jaw almost dropped from its hinges, gasping at the woman before you. She was shameless, and you were the complete opposite—it was a recipe for disaster. “Like I said… I’ll see you at home.” You opened the door, slipping through to allow her some privacy. The people must’ve opted for the men’s restroom. Fucking freak. You thought, fighting the amused smile off your lips.

Adjusting your top, you approached Abby’s booth. She was surrounded by familiar faces—you knew them-ish. “Abs, can I talk to you for a second?” She looked up at you, blinking with slight confusion at your state.

“Oh, hi, y/n!” A short-haired woman grinned, wiggling her fingers at you.

You smiled at her, while Abby shimmied out of the booth. Taking her hand, you led her away from her friends, keeping her large hand in yours as you began to speak. “I know it’s early, but could you take me home? Like, now?”

She deepened her eyebrows, a hand dropping to your face, wiping at the mascara stains that had run down your cheeks. “Are these tears?” She bunched her eyebrows, gripping your chin and moving your head side to side. “I saw you run to the bathroom—“

“It’s not important, all right?” Your eyes peer up at the blonde woman, pressing your lips into a line. Pleading and batting your eyes at her—you really wanted to go home. And you weren’t necessarily doing it for Dina, it was more so because of her. As well as the fact that you had just made out with a woman who was spoken for. Whose girlfriend who is only ten minutes away, and who also offered to get champagne for Thanksgiving after you mentioned its absence. It was currently, probably, chilling in the fridge as all of this unfolded.

While you semi-sensually begged the woman to drive you home in her Jaguar, Ellie had gotten herself together in the bathroom. After you left, she released a joyful laugh once the door shut behind you. As if she had finished with making out with the hottest girl in school—very teenage-like. Her cheeks were flushed, blushing a warm mahogany through her freckles. You wanted her just as much as she wanted you; the kid proved that much.

But, then, a pang of guilt settled in the pit of her stomach. A fragment. Very small and minuscule.

It wasn’t right away; Ellie was certain that you thought of her to be cold based on how she was handling the situation. She had a girlfriend and found the situation amusing? You’re right—nothing was funny about what happened before you fell into the toilet and before she fell onto the floor. The both of you had managed to dig yourselves into a hole that she didn’t want to get out of. And she was sure you felt the same—she hoped you felt the same. Holes were fun, right?

Ellie wanted to keep digging deeper, and deeper, and deeper. She wanted to envelop herself with you, just like she used to. However, this time, she wasn’t planning on letting you go.

Cat was just something—someone she had to deal with in the meantime. She’s gonna fix it… Ellie just doesn’t know how, right now. She can’t think straight. Pun intended.

Leaving the bathroom, she checked her cell. Noticing the few messages her girlfriend had left her during the short period of time she had you to herself. Her avoidant nature caused her to skim them, then slap her phone shut.

“Everything good?” Jesse questioned, watching as she approached the table.

Ellie shoved her phone into her front pocket. “Yeah… Everything’s fine.” Her olive eyes averted to Dina. “Dude…?” She squinted her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Els. I went too far, I know.”

“I’m glad you know.” She sat in her chair, glancing over at you talking to the buff blonde. “What you said was fucked up, and I should be more mad at you, right now…”

She sighed, pouting her lips. “Well, thank you for your mercy, sire.” A smile creeped onto her lips.

“Dina,” Ellie narrowed her eyes, shaking her head.

Jesse side-eyed her, pressing his lips into an unimpressed line. She looked over at him, lips parting. “Just tryin’ to lighten up the mood. Excuse me.” Dina deepened her eyebrows, sliding down in her chair.

Ellie chortled, shaking her head once more, making sure to swing it far to get a glance at you. She watched you follow Abby back to her booth, telling them that you were leaving. Her hand guiding you, rubbing circles on the back of your hand. Fuck, that should’ve been Ellie. She hated watching you lean into her like that—shrinking yourself. That wasn’t you.

You were bold, opinionated, and despite your strict upbringing, you never shrunk. If anything, Maria and Tommy’s parenting gave you confidence. That used to intimidate Ellie, but it didn’t anymore. It influenced her.

As you walked out with Abby, Ellie gave an awkward wave, but you snapped your head in the other direction. You needed to clean your pallet, and that’s exactly what you were planning to do in that shiny black Jaguar.

When the door opened, the brisk, autumn air hit you, cooling your body down. But your mind was still set on using Abby as a cleanser—a handkerchief to wipe you of your mistakes.

You feigned a straightforward destination, giving her the address of your childhood home. But, halfway, you told her to pull over onto a dark dirt path. She made a joke, asking: Is this where you kill me and steal my car?

And you respond, full of need: I don’t want your stupid fucking car. I want you. Launching yourself over the center console, wrapping your arms around her face. You swing one of your legs over to straddle her in the driver’s seat. Hips grinding against her, shoving your tongue down her throat like she was going to leave you. Although, she wasn’t going anywhere—not with you on her lap, anyway.

Abby groaned into your mouth, gripping your ass over your jeans, pushing you harder against her. Messily, you begin to trail your lips down her jaw, toward the softness of her neck. Urgently nibbling at her skin. “Fuck, you’re eager…” Abby muttered through her heavy breathing. “I like this version of you.”

This isn’t my favorite version of you. Ellie’s voice echoed in your head. It frustrated you.

Warmth built up under the crotch of your jeans; the thick seam doing very little for the pleasure you wanted. “Please, Abby…” You breathed into her ear, tugging at the silver ring through her cartilage. “Touch me.” Reaching for her hand, you place between your legs, cupping her hand as she groped you. Meeting her eyes, you taunted her, chewing on your bottom lip.

The blonde didn’t hesitate, unbuttoning your jeans and shoving her hand inside. She was always quick to give rather than receive—listening to any command you spoke. As the pads of her fingers contact with where you needed her the most, you sighed. “You’re so wet for me already…”

It was debatable whether it was for her or not. With your eyes squeezed shut, you imagined the earthy, olive eyes of your past lover. The softness of the her lips. The desperation in which she put her all into pleasing you—it was experienced before. But, at that point, you were amateurs. So much has changed since then. You were curious how much, though. “All for you.” You whined, rocking your hips against her hand. Lying through your teeth.

She pressed two fingers into you, pushing a moan from your throat. Hands gripping her shoulders, bracing your weight. You imagined them to be her fingers curling deep inside of you—pulling sounds from you like a puppeteer.

You were worser than you thought.

Abby was supposed to be a pallet cleanser, but instead she was just a vessel for your horny fantasies.

The palm of her hand rubbed against your clit, pushing you closer to an edge you wanted to fall off of. A tightness built in the pit of your stomach—burning like a prosperous flame; standing by to erupt. “Ah… Fuck, yes!” You lewdly affirmed, fingers gripping the roots of her hair, back arching into her. The smell of lavender shampoo wafting into your nose from how close you were.

Ellie would never wash her hair with lavender shampoo. She stuck to sweeter, muskier smells. The one’s you liked.

Your legs trembled around her hips, jolting with every stroke and thrust. Her ministrations intensifying causing the sounds from your lips to get louder, laced with desire. “Abby,” You trembled with a warning tone. “I’m g—gonna… Fuck, I’m comi—“ Your choppy words are cut off with the snapping of a band in your stomach—spreading over you like a brisk gust of wind. Shocking your body into a brief state of paralysis against her strong frame.

She coax’s you through your orgasm, with that same come hither motion that got you there to begin with. Although, she was so quiet. That’s when clarity hit you, as you shakily rocked against her hand. Reaching down, you grip her wrist, kissing the pressure point under her ear. “Can you check the time f’me?” You sweetly ask, still subtly, rutting against her.

Abby checked the watch on her wrist. “Eleven-something.” She hummed into your neck.

“Eleven-somethin’, huh?” You tease, lifting off her, trying to settle back into the passenger seat. “I should probably get home…” You zipped and buttoned your pants. Normally, you’d be eager to return the favor, but your plan didn’t work—and, frankly, that irritated you. That nerdy, auburn-haired, freckled woman, that you knew so well, had burrowed herself under your skin already. It was a recipe for disaster.

There was a twitch in Abby’s brow at your sudden departure from her. She felt that bite of coldness; it was something she wasn’t used to. Nonetheless, she drove you home. With you leaning on the window, watching dark, shedding trees pass you by. All the way until you felt that familiar shift from side to side as you cruised over the gravel that led to your childhood home.

“How long are you gonna be here for?” You asked as she pulled to a stop, where Ellie’s car was previously parked. It was out of courtesy to wonder; these parts of town wasn’t really for people like her.

“Until the end of the week, then back to work.” She turned toward you, pushing her hair behind her ear. “When am I gonna see you again?” Record scratch. Abby Anderson has never asked you that. She was always aloof and carefree. I’m too busy. Let me check my schedule.

You couldn’t help the laugh that fell from your lips. “I’m really tying to spend some time with my family, but— uhm… I’ll call you, okay?” Leaning over the console, you place a lush smooch on her lips—riding on the confidence from her lack thereof.

Getting out of her expensive car, you adjust your clothing before walking into your house. Thankfully, the lights were off, meaning your parents were asleep. Thank, God. You looked awful, and you preferred not to be questioned on your state, Ellie’s whereabouts, and who took you home.

Gently, you shut the door behind you, keys jiggling in your hand. Slipping out of your heels, you tiptoed toward the fridge just to prove something to yourself. The white light from the fridge illuminated your deadpanned expression as two tall bottles of champagne sat on the second shelf. Nobody likes champagne that much. You rolled your eyes, scoffing under your breath.

Cat didn’t deserve any of what happened tonight, and you hated that.

When you got to your bedroom, you wasted no time to peel the clothes from your body. Falling atop of your mattress like a starfish. Before you slipped under the covers, you pulled your laptop onto your stomach to log into your MySpace. There was a red notification on your activity icon. When you click on it, StarlightWilliams had added you back—you were mutuals now. The pads of your fingers touched your lips, remembering the softness of hers from that moment in the bathroom. The pressure of her slender fingers gripping your sides—wistfully you sighed, slumping your head against the fluffy pillows and stuffed animals against your headboard.

Suddenly, your computer makes a sound—a ping. You sit up, squinting at the incoming notification.

kit_cat79 wants to be your friend!

What a coincidence. The website exposes whether you were online or not—you couldn’t hide from her. So, you decided to add her back. Cat’s picture was of her with her tongue out, dark bangs styled to the side. You didn’t realize that she had a tongue piercing—could she get any cooler? Maybe you should get a tongue piercing.

Her mood hadn’t been recently updated, but it was: Optimistic.

Her bio didn’t over explain much, but said more than her freckled counterpart: my name is cat and i do tattoo’s !! message me for inquiries (or ur a loser). Your eyes and cursor skimmed her account, not paying attention to the smaller details. Quickly, you navigated to the pictures and videos. There were some pieces of her work, candids of Ellie, pictures of her at band shows—

kit_cat79: hey… i know it’s late, but that was you who just got back, right?

The messages appeared at the bottom left corner of the screen, blinking green.

BugsWritersRoom: Hey, yeah. That was me…

Duh.

kit_cat79: i thought you went with ellie in her truck. also… where is she? she’s not answering my texts.

Was she worried about her? Or was her questioning coming from a place of distrust? Or, a secret third option... you had a bad case of paranoia.

BugsWritersRoom: She’s still at TB. I’m sure she’s just distracted catching up with Jesse and Dina.

kit_cat79: oh…

kit_cat79: that was some car you pulled up in...

She was wanting to start conversation, but you were too tired. You didn’t want to think about, or talk to another person about Abby. Let alone, talk about her with Cat. No offense. Sleep is the only time when your mind was going to finally rest, and you can resume thinking tomorrow.

Leaving her message on seen, you shut your laptop, pushing it to the side. You took Cat’s message as a sign to shut it down, reaching to click your lamp off.

You allowed sleep to take over, cuddling into your pillows as if it were a body. Hitching your leg over it, tugging it to your chest. Could you have been more evident in your loneliness? In your restless dreams, your brain scoured for something to show you. Something relevant, of course.

Olive eyes, freckles, prominent beauty mark—it was obvious what images it was looking for. Ellie.

By the time the sun lingered on the horizon, a tragic alarming song sang in unison to wake you—the sound of your ancient alarm, and the sound of the rooster sat atop of the chicken coop. Groaning into the pillow you held, squinting your eyes open. It had pulled you from a dream that was… Certainly, a dream. It was untoward, lewd; just straight up nasty.

There was a wetness between your legs that was the first to get your attention. Out of shameful curiosity, you reached your hand under your shorts; hoping it wasn’t your period suprising you. Pulling your fingers out, there was an absence of the dark hue that was a symbol of your menstrual cycle. It was fairly clear, shiny, and slick. You were a victim of a wet dream. How juvenile.

The sight of it only made your hornier. So, while you still had time, you jumped for one of the bags you brought. You were expected for morning chores, but there was always time to rub one out.

Taking the battery-powered silver bullet from you bag, you attempt to switch it on but it doesn’t respond. You even switch the batteries around, blowing into the port. “Come on…” You complain, but it still it doesn’t adhere to you.

You groan, falling back into your pillows. There was nothing wrong with going old school, but you were a creature of habit.

Sliding your hand down your body, you slip under your shorts and underwear. It didn’t take long for you to completely rouse yourself, blinking your eyes shut to fall into your imagination. Usually, the best material was your most recent hookup—or some celebrity crush that you couldn’t get over.

The movement of your finger mirrored a strong blonde who always aimed to please you. You could imagine yourself gripping her long, silky hair, pushing her into your pussy—devouring you. Feeling her hands gripping your thighs, anchoring them to the mattress.

You relished in the feeling that was slowly washing over you. So much so that when the image of blonde hair began to fade and be replaced by short auburn strands, you barely noticed. Subconsciously, replicating the dream that kept you snug as a bug all through the night.

Your ministrations quickened as you neared finality. Bottom lip slipping between your teeth. Soft, repressed moans sneaking through them as your hand clutched your breast, thumbing your sensitive nipple. The serotonin levels increasing with every swipe and slide. Fuck, El—

Downstairs, the artist peeled dried paint from her fingers, waiting for you. Staying out late knowing she had to get up for chores was a huge mistake. There were many mistakes that happened last night. Another being, ignoring Cat’s messages. Ellie pulled into the driveway not too much later than you—it was nearing one o’clock.

When she entered the guesthouse, shrugging off her jacket—with a mind busier than New York City herself—Cat was found in the small living room. With her thin eyebrows bunched together and her arms crossed over her chest. Dressed in nothing but a fitted tank top and cheeky underwear.

Ellie had looked at her with a stressed look, “What are you still doing up?” Walking past her to the bedroom to undress and unwind. Cat scoffed, following her to the bedroom. Slippered feet stomping behind the artist.

“What am I doing up?!” She chided, twitching toward her. “I’ve been texting you all night, Ellie. You couldn’t respond to one?”

The freckled woman plopped onto her side of the bed, kicking off her shoes. She pretty much saw the messages as they were coming in; Ellie just didn’t have the nerve to respond. She didn’t feel like it. Not after what happened in the bathroom—she couldn’t come back from that. Hell, she didn’t want to come back from that. The only image replaying in her mind was your lips on hers. Your hands imbedded in her hair. The wanton sounds coming from you that she wanted to hear on again, and again, and again. That feeling of being between your legs...

And, let’s not even get into how it felt to see you leave with Abby. That ruined her whole night. Not even Jesse could cheer her up.

She ran a hand through her hair, looking over her shoulder with a tired expression. “Babe, I’m sorry, okay?” She began, standing to her feet to remove her jeans. “We just got too carried away talkin’ and whatnot.” Walking to the bathroom in the bedroom, she shed her shirt from her body. Ellie found it too easy to lie—she’s always been good at it. And, Cat was pretty gullible. But she had to throw a monkey wrench in there to really calm her down.

“Turns out… Jesse got Dina pregnant.”

“What?”

She turned on the shower, then peaked out of the doorway. “Yeah, how crazy is that?”

The tattooed girl fell onto the edge of the bed, eyes casting toward the ground, full of uncertainty. “Super crazy…”

Noticing the subtle dejection in her features, Ellie sighed. Leaving the doorframe as the shower ran hot in the background. She appeared before her, reaching her hand down to lift her chin. “Kitty Cat,” Her voice was soft and oh, so forgiving. “I should’ve responded to your texts— I’m an asshole. Let me make it up to you…” She sultrily offered, caressing the softness of her chin with her thumb.

And that’s what she did. Ellie made it up to her girlfriend of almost a year. By fucking her in the shower hard enough to make her forget about all of her uncertainties.

She had a long night.

This morning, she got up an hour earlier to get a better start on her sketch—she even started incorporating her oil paints. That’s what was stuck to her hands. The coloring in of her portrait of you in front of that shed. She felt the need to freeze that moment in time; where you embraced each other in the arms of company for the first time in too long. That hazardous kiss you shared in that sticky bathroom at the Tipsy Bison inspired her to color in the lines.

“I normally hear her up and movin’ around… She’s taking longer than I thought she would.” Maria commented, munching on a buttered bagel. “How long were you two out last night?”

Ellie inhaled, lifting her eyebrows in thought. “I got back around one, but y/n came back earlier than I did. She got a ride from a friend.” She shrugged, the ends of her lips curling, mischievously. “I think her name’s… Abby.” Ellie added, glancing between the two parents.

“Hm. What made her leave early—?” Tommy began to ask, but he stopped himself. He frowned, leaning his elbows on the counter, peering at the auburn-haired woman across from him. “How’s Dina doin’?”

She chuckled. “Still pissed, if that’s what you’re getting at?” Ellie went from peeling paint off her fingers, to fiddling with them. “They got into a bit of a…”

“Fight?” The blonde woman questioned, deepening her arched eyebrows. She never liked hearing about you fighting—or seeing it. That was a strictness Maria was never going to get rid of. Tommy used to get into fights a lot, finding himself locked behind iron bars at the county jail. But that was years before he moved to New York. When he still lived in Texas with Joel.

“No.” Ellie bunched her eyebrows in defense, shaking her head. “It was an argument, but it didn’t last long. I handled it.”

Steps sounded from the stairs, silencing the three. Pairs of eyes peered up the stairs, hoping that it was you stalking down the steps—but it wasn’t. When he began clearing his throat and coughing, loudly, they knew it was Joel. “Goddamnit…” Tommy rolled his eyes, slapping his hand against his thighs.

“Good mornin’ to you, too, Tommy.” Joel scoffed.

He huffed, licking his lips. Just like you did when you grew irritated—Tommy’s antics had rubbed off on you. “Is there any signs of life from my kids' room—? Because she should’ve been down here five minutes ago.” He looked to Joel before glancing at his watch. “Maria and I planned for her to teach Ellie how to do our grocery shipments.”

“Grocery shipments?” Ellie cast her earthy eyes toward Maria.

“It’s a lot of information, but I’m sure you’ll catch on just fine, Ellie.” She placed her hand atop of hers, pressing her lips into a smile. “If only your teacher could be timely…” Maria sighed.

The freckled artist stood up straight, pursing her lips. “I can go check and see if she’s up…” She offered, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’m sure she is— maybe she just needs a little nudge. I had rough time this mornin’, too.” To be frank, offering to grab you from the second floor of the house was clouded with selfish intentions. Ellie hadn’t seen your bedroom since she was seventeen. She couldn’t help but wonder if anything had changed.

And, she wanted a useful reason to talk to you.

Your parents are wondering what the hell you’re doing— also, how was our kiss from 1-10?

Hey, you’re supposed to be teaching me about grocery shipments, right now— hypothetically, would you kiss me again… Or?

She was such a loser for you; she always has been. “If you don’t mind. I’m sure she’d appreciate seeing you more than me.” Tommy chuckled, nudging his wife but she barely broke a smile. Staring her husband down with icy, blue eyes.

Ellie’s eyebrows twitched, but she decided not to interact with whatever happened there. Quickly, moving to the stairs to find you.

What she could remember about your room was the pink wallpaper and the posters. You used to be very persistent in upgrading old ones for new ones—saving the old ones in your closet. She found it amusing how you could never get over anything; you liked to collect things. As many things as possible—posters, collectors items, superhero figurines—you were an undercover geek!

The fascination you had with catwoman was insane. But, understandable.

The stairs of your home was guided by many picture frames. Pictures of you lining the walls. The bottom starting with photos of you when you still went heavy on the eyeliner and hairspray; gradually preceding with much happier images of you. The final photo being the whole family together, including Ellie. It was taken after your college graduation, in front of the house. You were sandwiched between your grinning parents while Joel and Ellie were on both ends; her sporting a timid smile, and him grinning just like his brother.

She was so proud of you that day, but didn’t dare to enunciate that how she really wanted to. At the time, the shoulder you gave her was ice cold. Brisker than the harsh weather of the east coast.

When she emerged at the top step, the first door in front of the stairs was cracked open. But that wasn’t your bedroom, that was your parents’ bedroom. Down the hall, to the right, after passing an open floor planned media space, was the guest room. Where Joel was spending his nights. A little further down that hall was your bedroom.

It was the best spot in the house. Your bedroom have the best view of the front of the house, and was far enough from the prying ears of curious parents.

Neither you or Ellie were innocent teenagers—you both couldn’t wait to get some alone time, and you couldn’t keep your hands off each other once you started. It was the perfect place for late night shenanigans.

Again, some things never change, huh?

Strolling toward your door, Ellie raises her hand to give a soft knock. But she pauses at the faint sounds coming from under your door. Breathy whines, the light rocking of your old, rickety bed frame. Could she hear just how wet you were from outside your door?

She leaned closer to the brown door, her bottom lip slotting between her teeth. Ellie wanted to be sure she was hearing correctly, of course. She heard you cursing and swearing, but nothing shocked her more than when she heard you squeak her name. “Fuck, Ellie…”

Apparently, Ellie wasn’t the only one who was overcome. Wanton sounds filled her ears like a mantra before she decided to interfere. Knock, knock! She heard you gasp.

“It’s Ellie... Your parents are gonna throw bitch-fits in T-minus five minutes if you’re not downstairs soon.” Ellie kept herself composed, using her hand to hold her weight against the wall. She heard you shuffling behind your door, cursing under your breath.

“I’ll be down in, like, five minutes!” You shout, the sound of quick maneuvering being heard from Ellie’s side of the door.

She wanted you to open the door, just to get a glimpse of that blissed out look on your face—Ellie anticipated that flustered look. Forgetting about her own blushing cheeks after hearing you say her name while touching yourself. She felt like a fucking king.

Stuffing her hands into her pockets, she walked to the media space. Lifting up CDs, VHS tapes, and eyeing thick books that haven’t been touched in years to pass the time. Fuck, Ellie—still played in her mind like a record. There wasn’t any scratching, only smooth playing; no interruptions.

When you appeared from your room, dressed in your working cowboy boots, a long-sleeve Abercrombie shirt and bootcut jeans—there was a shit-eating grin that just wouldn’t leave her face. Ellie turned around to lay her eyes on you, unable to help but ogle. “Do you have a condition that you’re not mentioning? Perhaps, a tumor—? Since you can’t help yourself when it comes to laughing…” You grumble, placing your hands on your hips.

Your words only made her smile more. The more time the two of you spent together, the more snarky you were becoming—she missed that. “Turns out, under some circumstances… I can be a morning person. Some circumstances.” She muttered, mainly to herself but she didn't mind if you heard. Ellie deliberated with herself on whether she was going to expose what she heard you say… Or, if she was going to hold onto it. Similar to how victorians put the hair of their lover’s into lockets.

“Whatever, Els.” You rolled your eyes, loosely calling her by that nickname, again. Ignoring the harshness of her eyes, you passed her to descend the wooden stairs. There was still a mindless sleepiness to you. It was charming to your past lover, as she followed behind you—floating on air. Thinking about how great of an idea it was to come back this year.

And, still, Ellie was barely harbored with guilt. Even more so when she inspected your features, intently. When her thoughts wandered into the gutters of her creative mind—spreading you wide in all of your glory.

taglist: @autisticintr0vert , @liasxeatt , @hopingforgoodblogs , @lia-winther , @macaroni676 , @tobiotruther , @anewkindofloove , @fatbootymuncher (i love your user lmao) , @maiaska

#🪅#millersfinest #ellie tlou #lesbian #ellie williams #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson #tlou #this ch was a lot hornier than my original plan ngl

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manicpixiedreamedwins · 6 months ago

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listen. listen.

I know it’s a fandom joke to be like “Edwin can’t read social cues and that’s why he’s a bitch lol” but like… yes he can? I kind of think there are moments he chooses to be kind and compassionate and gentle, and then moments where he’s just being cunty on purpose. Like this scene? Right here? This is on purpose (and Crystal clocks it, and gives it right back and I love their bitchy besties dynamic).

That doesn’t make him irredeemable or mean that we can’t like him as a character or whatever (the obsession with Good and Moral characters is definitely directly contributing to fandom rot and character interpretation, in this case). But I really need people to stop pretending he doesn’t know what he’s doing, because I kind of think he does.

Take the scene with Charles and the pot that the sprites were originally in. Charles did not drop the pot like Edwin claimed. As plenty of people have pointed out at this point, he broke it on a skeleton in a moment of panic because he was protecting Edwin from those skeletons in the dandelion field.

Edwin, however, subtly changes his description of events from threw to dropped. He knows what happened. He was there. He’s also trying not to make tensions worse, and he knows telling Crystal that Charles broke the pot intentionally would escalate things. So he doesn’t tell her. (Everything works out the same in the end anyway, and they do save Niko together).

Then there’s the scene on the cliff, after Charles pushes The Night Nurse into the fish. This one is interesting to me because I feel like it gets misinterpreted so easily. Edwin tells Charles what he did was extreme. Perhaps the wording was poor, because Charles feels like he’s being criticized for what he did and crumbles. I think Edwin was concerned for Charles, though, because he steps forward and does something that Charles does for Edwin when he’s upset or stuck on a case- he reaches out to touch him. This is unusual for Edwin, but he has to know it’s meaningful for Charles if he does it so often (there’s similar shoulder touches in episodes 1&2 pictured here). That’s a small, subtle gesture that he noticed over time. (He does get shrugged off, but he did try).

Or like— people have commented on this situation. I’ve heard a lot of “surely Edwin doesn’t really think Scooby Doo is that thrilling/clever/intelligent”?

Hear me out. Niko is his friend. When you’ve made a friend, you show interest in things they enjoy so you can spend time together and get to know what is meaningful to them. That in itself means he is aware this is important to Niko, which is very sweet. (Although I would like to think he genuinely likes the book recs, I’m sure those healed something within him).

So it’s not that Edwin can’t choose to be subtle, and it’s not that he isn’t aware. It’s that he simply decides to be a bitch sometimes (and tbh I would love to go into the why behind that sometime).

#Edwin Payne #dead boy detectives #thoughts #that have been rattling around in my brain for a while #My posts

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pynkfairyheart · 6 months ago

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pairings: Onyankopon x black!reader

warnings: beach sex, fluffy

a/n: this was something i quickly put together bc guess what y'all. a bitch turns 22 today!!!! AHHHHHH. ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ we'll see if im sober enough later to share some pictures, but i do hope yall enjoy this fic. she's very cutesy

Birthday wishes

Loved. That's the feeling coursing through your body as the ones you loved sang you happy birthday. Your cheeks hurting from the attention and laughter due to Jean and Eren's off key singing.

Looking up from the dessert decorated with flames your eyes scanned the tent before landing on him.

The single dimple decorating his left cheek was prominent as he happily sang along with the group. The most handsome smile being sent your way as your eyes locked, giving you a full display of his gold grills decorated with your initials on each upper canine.

To say Onyankopon was a good boyfriend was an understatement. He was everything and more when it came to your wishes in a man. He was respectful, kind, passionate, extremely handsome, and the most caring man you had ever met.

Birthdays had never been your thing due to something always going wrong leaving you sad at the end of the night. However, with Ony he made it his mission to have you feel properly celebrated, always leaving you feeling like a princess by the end of the night.

Throughout the entire 3 years of your relationship, he seemed to make each birthday better than last. This year being a surprise trip to Bora Bora.

Forcing yourself to break eye contact with him you looked back down at the dessert just as the song ended.

“Girl, make a wish. I'm hungry” Sasha blurted out immediately, earning a chorus of laughs and a light shove from Mikasa.

Quickly thinking of a wish, you lightly blew out the candles and basked in the cheers and applause sent your way.

After hours of having all attention on you, there was finally a time when you and Ony could run off together.

Silently the two of you walked hand in hand as you listened closely to the crashing of the waves.

“You having a good day?” He broke the silence once no longer in the eyesight of your friends

“I am” You smiled brightly as you stopped to admire the sunset “I can't thank you enough for doing this, Ony”

A small chuckle escaped him as he stopped to look at you.

Unable to tear his eyes away from your face as his heart melted at the glow the orange hue dancing on your face gave you.

God, you were just so beautiful to him. The way you smiled down to the way the soft breeze lightly blew your sundress was enough to make him fall in love all over again.

“Don't thank me, princess. You deserve this and more” He voiced as his large hands gripped your waist, a gentle hum leaving him as he finally felt satisfied with the feeling of your body flushed against him.

“I’d do anything for you. I'm just blessed to have you in my life” He admitted, voice softer than before.

Leaning down his lips brushed over the sensitive skin of your neck before trailing up to lightly place a kiss on your lips

Before you knew it you were staring up at the colorful hues of the sky as he delivered slow and passionate strokes

“Ony” You mewled softly, nails scratching across his back as he practically laid on top of you.

"Mhmm?" He murmured, his voice vibrating against your neck before lifting his head to stare into your eyes

There was nothing you could do but drown in those chocolate brown eyes. Complete bliss surrounding you as the waves seemed to time perfectly with his delicate movements.

“I love you so much” You finally gasped out. Voice wavering due to the intense amount of love and pleasure coursing through your veins.

“I love you too, mama” He whispered, strong arms reaching down to hook under your leg, giving him a better angle

The moment was perfect. The crashing of the waves, transition into nightfall, and grunts that slipped past Ony’s lips

You weren't exactly a true believer in wishes but at this moment in time you were the biggest believer of all.

#ITS VIRGO SEASONNNN #anime x black!reader #aot x black reader #black reader #aot x reader #attack on titan #chubby reader #aot smut #aot onyankopon #ony x black reader #onyankopon x black reader smut #onyankopon x reader #onyankapon #aot onyankopon x black y/n #aot onyankopon x black!reader #onyankopon smut #onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x chubby reader

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nvtstvrns · 3 months ago

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it won’t hurt - Chris Sturniolo

Bsf!chris, fem!reader, smut

In which: you get in a fight with Chris and you both go your separate ways, until he comes knocking on your door begging to let him inside.

Contains: smut, unprotected p in v, best friends, make up sex, no established relationship, pet names (ma, pretty girl, sweetheart, etc)

Authors note: I’m bored and idk where this idea came from. Enjoy! Divider creds: me

It was almost 10pm and I hadn’t gotten a single message from Chris after our argument earlier, no messages in general. I decided to finally let it go and just get in the shower. I was sore from practice and I wanted to relax my muscles, that’s when I heard my phone ring. I was just unbuttoning my pants. I pick up my phone. It was Chris.

I roll my eyes but I end up answering it. “What?” I say when I answer the phone.

“Damn. Couldn’t be nicer.” He says. “Can you let me in please?” He asks. I furrow my eyebrows. What does he mean let him in.

“Chris what do you mean? Are you seriously at the front door right now?” I ask buttoning my pants back up and turning off the shower. It was raining really hard out and he was probably soaked because he definitely did not drive here.

“Yeah I am. I felt bad for fighting with you earlier and I wanted to apologize.” He says. My eyes light up. I knew he felt bad for the fight earlier.

“Oh. Ok I’m coming.” I say opening the bathroom door and walking down the steps to the front door. He was standing there completely soaked from the rain. I look him up and down.

“Hey…come inside.” I say opening the door fully so he can come inside. “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier. I was being a selfish bitch and you had every right to call me that.” I say sitting on a nearby chair.

“no, I’m sorry for calling you that, you aren’t a selfish bitch I said that in the heat of the moment.” He claims.

After we apologize to each other he tries sitting down but I don’t let him.

“I think you might have some clothes left from the last time you were over here, I can get those for you.” I note before I walk upstairs and get the clothes for him. When I come back down he’s walking around and looking for food in the fridge. I hand him the clothes.

“Is there any way I could take a shower? I don’t like the feeling of the rain.” He says tugging on his clothes.

“Yeah, I was just about to take one but you can take one instead.” I say walking up the stairs with him following behind me. “Oh, y/n you can join me if you want.” He says shrugging as we reach the bathroom. My face turns red and I turn to face him.

“Uh, no it’s okay, you can shower by yourself Chris.” I giggle. He starts taking off his pants.

“Come on, it’s fine, we’re best friends anyway, we used to take baths together.” He says pulling his hoodie over his head.

“Yeah, Chris when we were fucking eight, not as adults.” I say sitting on the counter. Before he takes off his underwear he gets in the shower, throwing them over the top of the curtain rod.

“Oh come on, I’ll keep my hands and eyes to myself, it won’t hurt.” He says peeking out of the shower curtain. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”

“Chris fine I’m getting in.” I mutter pulling off my clothes. “This is weird.”

I step inside the shower and he immediately breaks his word. His eyes are on me immediately. I cover myself up self consciously. He grabs my arms and puts them down. “Sweetheart, don’t cover yourself you’re fucking beautiful.” He says staring into my eyes.

I burst into laughter. “Okay Chris, I’m beautiful.” I say through my laughs.

“I’m being serious pretty girl….” He says softly, his left hand trailing up my side slowly. I look down at his hand and then back up at him. “Chris…you broke your word, you didn’t keep your eyes or hands to yourself.” I note feeling my legs start to go numb.

Before I know it my mouth is gravitating towards his and we’re kissing in the shower. Kissing my best friend in the shower.

My hands attach to his shoulders and I jump up wrapping my legs around his waist. He pushes me against the wall and leaves sloppy kisses all over my chest face and neck. “God you’re perfect ma.”

Soon enough we’re out of the shower and in my bed his body hovering over mine as he kisses me deeply. His hands roam my whole body leaving me feel like I’m on fire. I’m ready for him. More than ready for him.

“Chris…Chris I want you…please I want you.” I say quietly, rolling my hips under him.

“Mmm you want me real bad ma?” He says his hand reaching in between our bodies as he rubs my clit.

“Oh my god, Chris, please…more.” I say. He finally complies and he pushes into me slowly. I bite my lip and furrow my eyebrows together.

The deeper he goes the more vocal I am. His tip brushes against my cervix just right and his hand stimulates my clit. He has too much experience on how to make a girl feel good. My legs start shaking and I lift my torso up hugging him tightly.

“God ma, you’re clenchin’ around me so perfectly, you’re so perfect baby.” He says as I feel the knot in my stomach get tighter and tighter. When it finally releases I arch my back and he holds me tight against him as my body trembles.

“Shh I gotcha ma.” He says as I whimper into his shoulder from the intense orgasm.

When I finally come down he’s laying next to me with his arm draped over my waist. “You really are perfect pretty girl.” He says quietly. All I could think about in the moment was how I just fucked my best friend.

“You really think I’m perfect?” I ask quietly turning to face him.

“Look at you! You’re perfect, your body, your face, your personality…I just can’t get enough of you…I’ve wanted to do this with you for years.”

My eyes go wide and I smile a little bit. “You know I’ve liked you for a long time Chris…and tonight was perfect…”

I don’t really like this one, but hopefully you do 🤷‍♀️

#christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #p links #sturniolo p links #Christopher Sturniolo smut

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misctf · 4 months ago

Note

Can you turn two homophobic bullies into a gay couple that still had their muscles and not into twinks, they love to have sex with each other and others please

“Dude, you don’t think I’m being too unreasonable, right?” Seth questioned, while in the midst of his bicep curl, “I mean, you would’ve total done the same, right?”

“No dude, totally.” Nick replied, “Can’t risk that shit.”

Seth nodded, “She was a total bitch about it too.” He recalled the angry expression on his girlfriend’s face. How shocked she was when he told her he was ending it, “Can’t risk that shit. I can’t have a gay kid.”

When Seth discovered that his girlfriend’s brother was gay, he quickly broke things off. If being gay ran in her family, he couldn’t commit. No way in hell he’d be raising a gay son. As the proud son of a long-line of conservative, military men, Seth knew he had a duty to continue the family tradition. He was glad Nick could understand.

“Yeah, I hear ya.” Nick continued, “I couldn’t really imagine it either.” He ran a hand through his dark hair, “God, could you imagine having a gay kid?” He chuckled, “But she was hot though.”

“Yeah...” Seth mused, thinking of his now ex-girlfriend’s chest, “Alright, I’ll spot you.”

Seth stood at the head of the bench press and watched closely as Nick slowly raised and lowered the bar. He had to admit, Nick was getting good. It seemed like it was just yesterday when the two started going to the gym. He was always the stronger of the two, yet Nick was quickly catching up.

“Atta boy.” Seth encouraged.

The more he stared at Nick, the more he came to appreciate how much work his buddy must’ve been putting in. The way his biceps bulged and his triceps strained with each movement. Up, down, up, down. Seth shook his head.

“You okay, man?” Nick asked, sitting up.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

They walked over to the bench and Seth grabbed his two dumbbells. Up, down, up, down. He always enjoyed the strain an incline bench press put on his muscles. But he could feel his arms shaking from the heavier weight.

“I got ya.” Nick reassured, supporting his buddy’s arms.

Seth blushed at the feeling of Nick’s calloused hands on his arms. The way his buddy gently applied pressure to help him complete his set. He looked up at Nick, who seemed a bit surprised by the look in his buddy’s eyes.

“Dude, you in love with me or somethin’?” Nick chuckled and Seth quickly broke eye contact.

“Fuck, don’t get too full of yourself.” He replied, dropping his weights.

Nick slapped his buddy on the back, which only made Seth shudder in pleasure. There was something about Nick’s touch. But he shook his head. What the fuck was he thinking?

“Gotta work tris.” Nick said, raising a dumbbell above his head, exposing his musky pits.

Seth could only stare. Up, down, up, down. But the smell of his bro’s musk was making his dick twitch. He wondered what it would be like to bury his nose in his bro’s hairy pit. Get right up close and personal with that musk. Seth’s eyes widened when he consciously realized what he just thought.

“Fuck, I need to go splash some water on my face.” He said, his voice trembling.

Before Nick could say anything, Seth quickly started walking towards the locker room, not realizing that his gait had changed somewhat. He sauntered- his ass sticking out just a bit more. And Nick certainly noticed. For whatever reason, he couldn’t look away. His buddy’s firm ass swaying with each step. And the young athlete wondered what it would be like to squeeze it. He shook his head and cursed under his breath, doing his best to focus on his workout.

When Seth arrived in the locker room, he walked over to the sink and stared at himself in the mirror. What the hell was he thinking? He never had a gay thought, right? I mean, he could appreciate a guy who goes to the gym. But that was all it was-appreciation. He splashed some water in his face and nearly jumped when he saw some of the other gym patrons. All shirtless or nude. Their musculature on full display. Their soft dicks. Seth could feel himself salivating. His body betraying his mind. His cock starting to stir in his pants.

“No, no, no.” Seth thought, shaking these thoughts from his brain.

And without another word, he fled. Running back to his apartment where he slammed the door and went to his bedroom. The young jock immediately pulling up some porn, desperate to prove to himself these thoughts were an aberration. But no matter how big the tits on screen or feminine the moans, his dick remained soft. Only when he focused on the guy did he feel any attraction.

“This...” Seth didn’t understand, “How...?” A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts.

He sauntered over to his door, not even bothering to put on a shirt or pants. And when he opened it, he saw Nick standing there. A strange look in his eyes.

“Dude.” Nick breathed, “Where the fuck....?”

“Something’s wrong with me.” Seth huffed, beckoning his buddy inside, “I don’t...”

When the door closed and the two were alone, Seth noticed it for the first time. The look in Nick’s eye as he roamed his buddy’s nearly nude form. And Seth crossed his arms over his pecs, wanting to appear smaller. To disappear from view of his buddy’s lustful eyes.

“Nick... don’t...”

“It’s okay.” Nick reassured. Seth had heard this voice before. It was the one he used to pick up chicks at the bar. Breathy and seductive. Dripping with confidence. Seth shuddered, “Here, don’t worry.”

He approached Seth and wrapped his arms around his waist, giving his buddy’ juicy ass a firm squeeze. Seth whimpered, his cock starting to harden. He shuddered as Nick guided his hand under his shirt, allowing him to feel the firm, sweaty muscles he had seen only in the locker room. Seth’s mind wandered as he explored his buddy’s thick pecs. His fingers tracing firm abs. And then Nick guided him further, his hand moving below his waistline. Into his boxers. Around his friend’s erect manhood.

“No... this is...” Seth’s eyes widened as Nick’s lips crashed into his own. And slowly, he returned the same level of passion. His eyes closing, his hand stroking his friend’s cock.

It wouldn’t be long before the two were in the bedroom. Their hands greedily roaming each other’s muscular forms. Their tongues exploring each other’s mouths. And as Seth kissed his buddy’s abs and made his way down, he could hear a voice begging him to stop. Crying that he wasn’t gay. That he wasn’t just some cock sucker. But it became muffled as he began deep-throating Nick’s member. The voice drowned out by the sound of his friend’s pleasure-filled moans.

“Don’t worry,” Seth thought, reassuring the whimpering voice in his head, “You’re not just a cock sucker.” He looked up at his friend and grinned.

Nick smirked, “Ever try bottoming?” He asked.

The voice in Seth’s head screamed for him to stop. But Seth’s grin only widened. His muscular ass aching with need for it to be filled.

“There’s a first time for everything.”

#male tf #male transformation #straight to gay #personality tf #mental change

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tteokdoroki · 1 year ago

Text

ೀ⋆OCT 31ST LEGALLY BLONDE ━━ seishiro nagi + coercion !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. seishiro nagi + coercion. there’s no way someone broke up with nagi because he’s too blonde!? poor baby, maybe you could provide a little emotional support…(5.5K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, dark content, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, strangers to lovers (?), teaching assistant/student relationship, dom/sub dynamics, some switching, reader is lifted up by nagi, coercion, dubcon, handjobs, virginity loss, cherry chasing, oral fixation, mind break, praise kink, creampies, soft sex, clothed sex, unprotected sex, TA!reader, elle woods!nagi.

୨୧ — director’s note. happy halloween my loves! i hope you enjoy the final kinktober fic! its been super fun writing and editing for you all. stay tuned for the bonus in the coming weeks <3 - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

this law school thing wasn’t all what it cracked up to be.

after the love of his life, reo mikage, had broken up with him for someone smarter, blander and richer than him — nagi had been blessed with the genius idea of following his ex all the way to one of the top law schools in the world. the plan was practically fool proof, the guys at his sorority worked hard to help seishiro study — pulling all nighters for practice tests and rewarding him with naps every time he had gotten a question right.

rin itoshi had even convinced his parents to reach out to a hollywood director so that they could film nagi’s audition tape. it obviously featured isagi and bachira too. nagi had even worn his best designer swim trunks to impress the board of admissions. they’d all been super supportive of the light haired male in his endeavours and were there when he passed his LSAT exam

with all of this combined, he had managed to get in in — if that wasn’t enough for reo, then what was?

the answer? nothing.

reo still wanted that bland, basic bitch his family was marrying him off to. she was sensible, she was rich and seishiro quickly realised that he had only ever been a bit of ditzy fun to reo — a dumb blonde to stick his dick into whenever the time felt right. eye candy and nothing more. balancing his shattering hard with the complexities of law school had been tough for the white haired male and everything seemed to be going wrong. no one would study with him, reo wouldn’t even look at him and his friends back home were busy with the wedding plans nagi so desperately wished he had.

however, that’s when you came along.

after having the epiphany that he didn’t need reo to succeed — nagi knuckles down and studied hard for the law firm internship being offered amongst his cohort. he was relieved to have you as a teaching assistant in the process, not only were you absolutely gorgeous but you were compassionate and empathetic. you were smart, eloquent and everything seishiro wished he could be for his ex.

perhaps that’s what drew him to you, why he followed your every word like a puppy drooling after a treat. you’d been kind to nagi for the entire semester, from helping him out with studying for the internship right down to today, where he would be taking on his very first case in a court of law. it should have been easy, the facts were simple too. the client and fellow fraternity brother (shidou ryousei) was accused of and arrested for the murder of his wife… but something about the events weren’t seeming to add up. nagi couldn’t come up with an alibi either.

it was as if the words; the reasonings, the justification for shidou’s freedom were right in front of grey-scale eyes, only scrambled up like morse code. “how about we take a break?” as if you were a vision from his dreams or an angel from up above, you appear behind nagi’s tall frame as he slumps defeatedly against the hotel room desk — your hands fixing themselves to his broad shoulders for a massage. “you’ve been at this all night, seishiro.”

the law student swears your touch could heal all human ailments, the warmth of your palms seeping into the tense parts of his muscles like a cell performing diffusion — relaxation forming a comfortable fog over his brain. “i know shidou didn’t do it,” nagi defends with a grumpy pout, leaning back into you so that his head rests lazily against your stomach. “he told me… he said he was getting liposuction.”

“we’ll need evidence of that,” you note, jerking your head to the side so that nagi can write it down. this entire time you’d been such a good mentor. “good boy.” something clicks in the light-haired male’s brain, a crackle of electricity shooting down his spine at your praise — swirling around in his guts as if to activate arousal. “run me through the witness statements again.” there’s a sensual lilt to the tone of your voice and your touch cascades from his shoulders up to his neck like a backwards flowing waterfall.

seishiro isn’t sure if he’s making things up or reading the signs correctly — but he knows that there’s some kind of tension bubbling in the air. particles that resemble an aphrodisiac using kinetic energy to collide together, painting the room with lustful colours. “shidou’s step daughter says she heard a gunshot around 2:15pm after leaving the shower, walkin’ downstairs only to find shidou hangin’ over his wife’s body — covered in blood. ugh, this is too much hassle. this doesn’t make any sense!” he tosses an annoyed sigh into quietness of the room, moaning in surprise when you cup the base of nagi’s neck to pull his head up to face you and your eyes meet.

“you need a break seishiro, we can come back to this later,” you hum, the vibrations of your voice laced with sex appeal. as he swallows thickly, the law student’s Adam’s apple bobs under the pressure of your fairy-light grip on his throat — anticipating more from you. at this point, you’re half bent over him as he leans back in the chair, pink tongue slowly darting out to cover your lips in a spit shine. “how about it?”

this feels so wrong. nagi’s cock stirring beneath his slacks at how good and kind you’re acting towards him. no one has ever gotten him this hot before — no one aside from reo. and you were still his teacher, by technicality, it would be wrong for nagi to even consider sucking your tongue down his throat. and yet, he can’t find it in himself to stop the temperature from rising between you, for falling into your dangerously salacious trap.

“y-yeah,” he breathes deep when you squeeze his throat a little to test the waters. “i could do with a break.”

“me too,” you gasp all too agreeably, bending the rest of the way down to capture seishiro’s lips in a searingly hot kiss. just as he wished you pry his mouth open with the tip of your curious tongue — pushing through his plush lips and curling around his own pink appendage. the lip lock is passionate, ravenous despite the mess and spit that you exchange. he chases your lips until he can’t breathe, sloppily accepting anything you give him, letting you lead where he can’t.

he’s never done this before, not like this, not without reo. but in this moment, the silver-blonde doesn’t think he could ever go back to making out with his ex. not now that you’re the one kissing him.

“i-i've never done any of this before.” the blonde gulps, swallowing down the copious amount of spit that builds on the palette of his tongue — looking into your eyes as a sense of hunger dawns on him, as if you’re the very meal he’s set to devour. “not without anyone that wasn’t—“

reo.

sure they’d done stuff together. naughty touches here and there, hands ghosting over boxer briefs and fingers tweaking nipples (sei’s were especially sensitive because of the cute little piercings his ex insisted he get) — but nothing close to actual sex, nothing with a girl, nothing with someone like you. a burning heat, unlike anything nagi’s ever felt before, begins to brew in his lower stomach. his cock rises beneath his pants that suddenly feel all too tight.

nagi’s girth twitches against his thigh as your nails rake their way down his chest and slowly pop open the buttons of his crisply pressed white shirt. it heaves beneath his clothes — heart hammering against its calcium cage of his ribs.

“i can tell, pretty boy.” you soothe him by purring into the shell of his ear, teeth tugging at the softness of his lobe. “but you’re a good kisser though. did reo teach you that?” your lips cascade down to his neck like a gentle flowing river at the same time that your hands delve below the belt to squeeze at seishiro’s swelling erection — testing the waters.

his hips instinctively buck up into the warmth of your palm and a grin spreads across your plush lips at the feeling of his precum soaking his underwater and smearing across your fingers in thick, clingy webs.

white and seedy and he’s nowhere close to cumming. almost like a little virgin.

“have you ever done this before, seishiro?”

the sound of his name, salaciously spelt out on his tongue, earns you a high pitched whine from nagi — his head rolling to the side and his thighs squeezing together with vicious need. “n-no,” he pauses before he grunts out a response and his entire body seizes as you take a firmer grip on his cock — jamming a thumb into his leaky slit to spread his arousal. “but i wanted to i just… reo said not until marriage—“

“— you don’t have to listen to reo anymore.” you announce breathily, setting a steady pace to your fist to jerk him off with. you’ve barely started and yet your hand is already glossed in a slight sheen of pre, soiling your knuckles from its viscousness. it’s so much for someone who’s never gone father than sloppy kisses and grinding while making out. it nurtures a certain seed of satisfaction in your chest to see him so messy so fast. “you can listen to me, sweet boy. do you want this… do you want it with me?”

without letting go of the fat, drippy cock within your grasp — you shift to stand between the desk and nagi’s chair, shoving papers and court notes to the ground in your lustful haze. nagi thrusts lazily into your closed fist as if it’s instinct, following the sensation like a moth takes to a candle light. his grey eyes grow murky like a pond, swimming with desire for you and only you.

who was reo mikage to seishiro nagi? when there was an angel like you willing to feed this inexperienced man morsels of a heavenly pleasure he’s never felt before. the lawyer in training nods at your words like an eager man fallen to siren’s song as bait. “i want you,” he whimpers airily. “i wanna with you.”

you rub down his thick, lengthy dick far enough to have your fingertips briefly brush against seishiro’s sensitive, weightly balls — just pulsing full of seed to give to you. the feeling makes nagi jump up from his seat so that he immediately towers over you. his height doesn’t overwhelm you, not when the towering blonde collapses onto you with a case of the shakes. he trembles above you, supporting himself by using one hand on the table while is mouth sloppily finds your neck to suck on and pacify himself.

“good boy, sei,” you coo, voice as sweet as hot sugar or candy. “i want you too. i always have. you’re such a pure, darling boy. glad to see that it’s true.” your praise is hidden in your soft moans as seishiro licks at the crystalline salt on your bare skin. you’re a little too twisted, taking advantage of his inexperience and his position beneath you as a student, but neither of you seem to care in this very moment.

sweat beads against nagi’s hairline like diamonds on an expensive Chanel necklace and roses bloom across his cheeks with exertion — his hips rise and fall into your sticky fist in fluid motions, changing the steady stream of ecstasy you provide him. your hand is a solace for his aching cock, but you still make your student work for it. make nagi chase you since he only works hard for the things he wants. and right now, he wants to reach the end of the tight rope of pleasure you have him walking on. and to stave off the stormy frustration he feels from the case.

your hand wriggles it’s way into his wet silver locks, dragging nagi’s hungry mouth over yours since he’s so desperate to taste you, to have at you. it shows in the way he roughly grabs your hips too, grip so tight it threatens to leave bruises he’ll have to apologise for later. “ngh… please. g-god. miss…a-angel please,” he stutters, his bucking into your hand faster and harder, back and forth, back and forth through the tight ring of your fist. his bright and angry red cockhead peeks through the other side, glazed in opaque white — it’s a nice feeling, blistering hot and sensitive. “i…hah… gotta—“

nagi’s lashes flutter against your cheek — a strained whine reverbing in the base of his throat while you let him fuck your hands to his heart’s content, let him chase this new pleasure he’s never known. let him fall from the high heavens with blackened and burnt angel’s wings. you make him sin, for the first time ever. something about this should feel off to nagi, his law teacher taking advantage of him like this — but at this point, he’s too far gone, drowning in a hellfire of lust.

mocking his moans, your mouth falls open in one of your own as you follow along with the pitiful expressions crossing the contours of seishirou’s face. “what is it, sei? what do you need?”

the room is too hot. your bodies against each other are temperate in the sex tainted air — accompanied by wet slapping sounds from your hand around his throbbing cock. “n-need to let go. it h-hurts,” he sniffles out, forcing his tongue into your mouth again to calm himself down. the more you speed up, remorselessly jerking him off, the closer nagi gets to the end of his own tether. this sensation is unfamiliar, the crumbling foundation of his orgasm coming crashing down as you fling droplets of his precum and arousal about the place — some of it landing on your clothes, the desk and discarded papers.

again, neither of you care.

“surrender to me baby, it’s okay. i’ve got you.” guiding the pale blonde through his first ever orgasm, you pour your heated words into his slobbering mouth — tongue running over his pearly white teeth and tangling with his drool coated tongue. that’s all sei needs to hear before he crumples against you with a shout — the first wave of his high crashing over him and pulling him under.

it’s world shattering, brain melting as he cums. his abdomen contracts under your never-ending touch, ropes of hot white dribbling from his stimulated tip like a tap that keeps running. nagi swears he almost blacks out, falling dizzy and victim to your lustful charms as he twitches and cums and cums into your soiled palm.

“f-fuck,” a soft whimper bubbles up on his raw bitten lips, stuttered out in suprise. “w-what was that?”

“you orgasmed for me, sei, so pretty baby.” comes another set of your gentle praises. he feels his entire body wrack with a shakes at your words, his cock doesn’t dare to soften either. “you look so good when you cum.”

his greyish-brownish eyes roll back into his skull when you let him go, his tip slapping against his clothed tummy. the brush of his cotton shirt against the slit on his tip makes him writhe from the sensitivity. “c-can i cum for you again? promise i’ll keep being good.”

“of course,” you grin, proud that to have corrupted the poor boy. “are you okay to let me touch you again or do you want it now?”

“touch me. now.” he growls, gripping your hand and guiding it towards his dribbling shaft, aiding the movement of your palm around him to start slow and lazy — working seishiro up into a heat once more. this time, the way your hand languidly jerks him off is made smooth by the evidence of his last orgasm, which you now use as lube. if you weren’t pressed for time and with a court case first thing tomorrow, you would have gotten onto your knees to clean up his copious amounts of mess.

you quickly reduce him to a babbling mess against you, drool laden on his tongue and dripping onto his skin as you drive your thumb over nagi’s hot tip in tight circles with your free hand — touching what doesn’t fit in the other. “reo treated you so badly, poor baby,” you mewl sweetly, kitten licking at his pulse point just below his neck. “you work so hard, you deserve so much better. you deserve me.”

he believes you, blindly and naively. nodding tenderly despite the way he widely fucks both of your hands as if they’re a makeshift hole — warm and slick, all for him. dopamine shocks him at the stem of his brain, spreading throughout his body like a wildfire only you can tame — it burns so good and feels even better to have your dainty, perfectly manicured fingers wrap around his chubby girth so deliciously.

for a moment, you let seishiro go to squeeze at his heavy breeder’s balls — noticing the way they pulsate in your palm to signify the pale blonde’s second impending orgasm. “i think…hah… i think ‘m gonna… c-cum! again!”

pushing at his shirt, you press a kiss to the creamy skin of nagi’s shoulder and hum pridefully. “thank you for letting me know, sweetheart. cum for me. give it to me.”

with your permission granted, another blinding ecstasy takes over nagi, and he falls victim to you and your merciless hands once again. blood rushes through his ears like a storm surge, drowning at your angel coos while you guide him through his high, never letting up as you palm him through it all. he quivers and his knees buckle, shooting a hot and hefty load of seed all over your hand and clothes and the papers nearby. “o-oh! fuck…” nagi chokes on a weak sob, bleating like an innocent lamb at the slaughter house while he weighed against your shorter frame — allowing you to bare the brunt of his weight and height.

he’s so pretty when he cums, silvering blonde locks matted to his forehead by sweat — cheeks pink and lips swollen and red. if you could, you’d swallow him whole and selfishly devour your student for all that he has to offer. silly little blonde, stupid for trusting you, for wanting to fuck you.

your hand doesn’t slow around his pulsing cock but instead speeds up, digging your thumb into his oozing slit as arousal pearls at its centre once more. “n-no, s’too much.” seishiro cries quietly, tears stinging a pathway down the apples of his milky cheeks. “it hurts.”

“poor you, poor baby.” you say harshly, mocking the poor blonde’s sniffles and hiccups. he’s exhausted and frustrated but doesn’t dare to pull away — his hips running after your hand hungrily. “you’re so cute sei, panting for me like a bitch in heat, fucking my hand like the dumb little blonde you are.” he hisses at the overstimulation, gargles on spit as it floods his mouth to accompany his appetite for you.

“i’m not…ngh… ‘m not dumb.” he whinges in response and before either of you know it, seishiro is cumming again. hard. soiling his lap with abundant amounts of white. his chest heaves as he comes down, collapsing against you. he might deny it later, but being dumbed down and reduced to a stupid blonde seemed to really do it for him.

finding his lips again, you soothe nagi with short and sweet kisses that grow more feverish by his own demand. all of a sudden you find yourself pinned to the desk below with the tall blonde between your instinctually parted legs so that he can grind against your panty clad core. “you’re…you’re right,” you say, breathing deep through your nose as your composure threatens to fall apart. “you’re so smart, sei. you’re the best lawyer on our team but…” bucking your hips once, you lower your voice by an octave so that your words slip through his ears like molten chocolate. “you’re acting like a dumb slut right now. don’t you wanna be my dumb slut, sei?”

his palm flattens against the mahogany desk just above your head, caging you in against its cold surface. “y-yes i do, oh fuck. please lemme fuck you. lemme be inside. i’ll be good.”

“are you sure, baby?”

“please—“

“but sei,” you brush a stray hair that curls at the centre of his forehead, the dumb blonde looking down at you with swimming grey eyes because he’s so needy. “it’d be your first time…”

his face scrunches, nose crinkled at its bridge and brows knitted together in frustration. now that nagi’s had a taste of your sinful elixir he can’t seem to stop, you’re like a drug an addict can’t quit. something that could ruin his life or future prospects if he doesn’t get help. and yet he can’t look away, can’t pull his body away from yours and his achy dick from between your thighs — instead leaning closer so that it sinks between your plush pussy lips.

nagi licks his lips, tongue rolling over his bottom one as he pants desperately. “please angel,” comes his broken beg, hanging pathetically in the sex tainted hair. “i need you. need it so bad. please please please— mph—!”

satisfied with his begging, you shove a set of cum soaked digits past the swell of seishiro’s pretty lips — chuckling darkly as his tongue laps over and in between them, and he whines at the salty taste of his arousal on your skin. “atta boy,” you coo, thrusting deep into the hot cavern of his mouth until the pale blonde gags around you, swallowing your fingers down like they’re a cock. he sucks so obediently, so desperately as if to please. like a good student too — and all the while, you work on kicking off your panties and flipping up your skirt so that he can get a nice rewarding view of your glistening cunt.

“c’mere,” you reach out to the blonde and he leans into you, letting you wrap an arm around his shoulders to keep him in place. “sei,” you gasp at the first contact of his thick, long shaft against your throbbing wet mound — mouth agape as if you’ve taken a gunshot wound to the chest. “do you know how to do this, smart boy? do you know how to fuck?”

nagi nods, pressing his forehead to yours while his hips jut forward on their own and his seedy tip brushes against your pearling clit so deliciously. at first, his movements are lax and the room is filled with the lewd squelches of your sexes moving over one another, but your breathing soon grows ragged and the salacious bump and grind becomes stickier and wetter.

“u-uhuh.” he mumbles in response.

he’s so good for you even when his mouth is full and his mind is dazed, sucking on your fingers while he lets you overwhelm him. however, the blonde is only so well behaved and patient, and it’s not long before he slips his girth past the tight ring of your entrance without any warning. his fingertips dance up to your waist, grabbing at the fat there and using it as leverage to drag you to the edge of the table so he can sink into you further.

“oh…fucking hell!” you whimper wetly against the junction of nagi’s neck, nails digging into his shoulders to steady yourself while he sets the pace to your sinful dance. he’s bigger than what you expected (despite mapping his girth out with your hands), stretching your sloppy walls wide to accommodate for his size. you don’t complain, however, eyes rolling as he brushes up against pleasure spots you could never reach on your own. “o-oh baby, fuck me.”

you pull your fingers out of his mouth with a lewd pop, desperate to hear the symphony of his sweet, low and sexy moans instead of having them muffled by your fingers while he fucks you for the first time. the pale blonde can hardly believe it — having your warmth wrapped around him and your cunt drool down on him like a waterfall.

the law student throws his weight into fucking you, bullying his way into the deepest parts of your womb to slothfully fuck up your gooey insides. your cunt, your moans, your whole body has some kind of control over nagi — dumbing him down and reducing him to a sex crazed mess. to the point where he can’t even remember his ex’s name. he’s a mop of pale blonde hair and sweaty clothes, entirely hunched over you.

“y-you’re so tight,” he tells you in a dreamy sigh, lost in the heat of your core. nagi’s grabs at your pudgy thighs and drags you back and forth onto his dick, the new deepness to his thrusts causing you to squeeze and froth around the fat base of nagi’s cock. “hah, feels so…so good.”

wrapping your shaky legs around his slender waist, you offer up the same treatment to nagi — pulling him close to the point where he’s buried in your sluice sex right up to the hilt. his precum smears against your ribbed walls and his broken whimper echoes around your hotel room. “that’s it, fuck me like you fucked my hand, sweet boy.” lust sparks against your sex slicked bodies, your breasts bouncing with every one of nagi’s calculated yet sloppy thrusts. you can’t get enough of one another, clinging and clawing at one another’s bodies madly. “you can do it, prove to reo that you don’t need him. only me.”

“o-only you.” nagi repeats weakly, tucking his face into your neck as he pounds you to the high heavens. the desk creaks beneath the force of his thrusts, threatening to break at the nails and bolts that hold it together. his eyelashes flutter against your skin, his low and deep moans mixed with high pitched gasps send a hot rush of dopamine across your brain and it really is all too much.

nagi’s already cum three times and managed to fold you in half over his desk as a virgin. he feel as though he might break with how much he loves this, loves fucking you senseless. another fresh set of tears burn tracks down his face and gather in his unfairly long lashes as they tickle your skin. he hiccups and heaves against you, whilst his breathing grows ragged every time his glistening cock escapes the snugness of your tight pussy, precum stringing along your puffy folds.

“so good baby, s-so fucking good!” your voice is broken and husky as you praise him, making his dick pulse against your g-spot over and over again. you’re fairing no better than he is, your skin blistering hot to the touch and bruised from how tight your student is gripping you — pulling you back onto his cock.

the pale blonde feels though he might burst, cream your insides like he did your hand and ruin that pretty skirt of yours — the one that sticks to his pelvis because of how close your bodies are. it’s rubbed him raw while he fucks you raw. “‘m i the best?” seishiro asks, cherishing the embrace of your viscous walls, his shaft coated in a crude mix of white as it froths from your tight little hole. “t-tell me i’m the best…”

“t-the best i’ve ever had! f-fuck, sei!” you squeal in response, only egging the law student on, babbling your praises while fat droplets of your arousal flies about the place — painting nagi’s pelvis in a shiny gloss, curling in his white happy trail as well.

“‘m the best. i’m the best for you.” grunting from the exertion and the very force of his own thrusts, seishiro wraps both of his strong arms around your middle and stands up from the table — taking you with him. at the new angle, the coil in your stomach only tightens and you fling your arms around his neck to prepare yourself for what’s to come next. “s’not enough, not deep enough. fuuuck you’re so wet and warm. i-i can’t,” he drawls lowly, nipping at the shell of your ear on instinct.

that’s when seishiro begins to use his sheer strength to lift and drop you back onto his thick girth, fucking up into you at the exact same time. “g-good god!” you cry out, your impending orgasm prickling at your pelvis — shooting down each section of your spine. all of it only serves to spur nagi on.

“give me your fingers,” he demands huskily, cantering into you from bellow — your juices running a steamy track down his heavy balls as they harshly smack against your peachy ass. “wan’ suck on ‘em. give ‘em.”

you don’t have time to register his ask because he grabs your wrist before your mind can even catch up (too occupied with the way he’s churning up your guts) and has two of your fingers in his eager little mouth — sucking on them diligently. you shudder as nagi runs his tongue between them, coats them in spit and drool that tracks across his chin once he’s done with them.

“touch yourself for me?” he pleads through a wet whine, almost too innocently. “wanna see you cum this time.”

it’s only then that you realise he’s been holding himself back, staving off his orgasm so he can see you writhe and gush all for him. the overstimulation must be burning at his brain, sizzling off his nerve endings and it’s probably more than the dumb little blonde virgin can take. so you do as he asks, trailing your spit slicked fingers between your bodies as they grind down on one another and you with your sensitive clit, pulling its hood back to draw tight circles over the pleasure nub.

“o-oh! seishiro!”

“that’s right, touch yourself f’me. wanna see you lose it like you make me lose it,” he moans softly constraining with how rough nagi pounds up into you. one of his hands slips from your hips to grope at your ass, pushing you down on him and forcing his cock to grind against that one special spot threatening to make you break. “‘m sorry,” he whimpers as though he’s going to cry. “d-don’t think i can hold back, angel.”

“then don’t,” you gasp at the new friction, holding onto your last strings of sanity as you fumble with your clit tucked away between your ravaged folds. “i know you wanna cum for me, sei. l-let go, yeah? wanna see you break for me, like a good blonde slut.”

your encouragement doesn’t give seishiro much choice, and while he’s in control of your bodies — his lean, strong frame anchoring you down onto his cock as it bullies your insides, you are in control of his mind. you destroy his train of thought, ruin the self-made man he was and send him tumbling into his final high. nagi’s orgasm breaks the surface viciously, pouring another load of his cum against your ripe and rippling walls. there’s still so much of it, the warm and viscous white seeping from your cunt and smearing all over your hot mound.

the force of nagi’s high is so strong that he nearly drops you, just about managing to pin you safely to the desk once more. he’s still cumming and cumming and cumming — but that doesn’t stop him from thrusting into you hard and fast, desperate to trigger your orgasm so he can reward himself. it doesn’t take long, he’d already had you seated on the edge before his mind had shattered to pieces just from fucking you.

you gush down his length and all over what remains of your shitty case notes (he probably didn’t need them anyways) with a pornographic shout when you finally hit your peak. it’s like the crescendo of a beautiful song — the world around you spinning and flashing white as you squirt and gush for the white haired lawyer.

“f-fuck.” you giggle with a soft smile, fatigue washing over the both of you come down from the gates of heaven — crashing back down to earth with ecstasy still buzzing in your veins. “good boy, sei. you did so good for me,” you hum softly. “do you feel any better?”

seishiro looks up at you from where his heavy frame has collapsed on your chest — clothes sweaty and askew, and offers you a lazy grin in return. “better,” he mumbles meekly and kisses a slither of your exposed skin, still grinding his seed into you as if to make sure it sticks. “thank you.”

bringing a hand up to toy with his hair and soothing him, you nod. “good, we should get some rest, you’ve got a big trial tomorrow, pretty boy.”

“do you think I can do it?”

“i know you can, sei.” you scratch at his scalp. “i meant it. what i said earlier. you’re the best lawyer on our team. shidou’s defence stands a pretty good chance.”

nagi grins once more, only this time he leans up to press a chaste kiss to your unexpecting mouth — pouring all of his gratefulness into it.

because thanks to you, he feels more confident about the trial, — almost as if he’s won the trial already. and even if nagi goes lose, at least he’s won you over.

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vultbae · 7 months ago

Text

small world ❀

art donaldson x female reader

part two (soon)

↳ summary: Art and Patrick were once your peers at the Mark Rebellato Academy —not the nicest ones. Five years later, you've made a friend that can help you fuck with their minds a little.

↳ warnings: making out, dry humping, manipulation, a lot of pettiness, mentions of bullying, and weight!! the dumbification of art donaldson tbh

↳ notes: Istg I be having the most random ideas, but I hope you enjoy!! as always, english is not my first language lolz

word count: 3.1k

Tashi enters the living room with a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes, moving gracefully in a beautiful blue mini-dress. With a soft pop, she eases the cork, instantly pouring the effervescent gold-ish liquid into the two glasses.

"You shouldn't even worry about them," Tashi says with a wry smile. As she finishes serving you some rosé Veuve Clicquot, she hands you the glass. "What are you—like, the second or third in Europe? They are gonna be broke by their thirties," she concludes, staring at you with confident eyes.

You nod, taking a sip of champagne. "Don't see it as serious; it'll be fun."

Tashi raises her glass, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. "Im just saying, don't stress over men."

You clink your flute against Tashi’s. "Alright."

A year and a half ago, you had met Tashi Duncan, who you believed was a hard-hearted bitch but ended up being a close friend of yours. She is merciless, proficient, and goddamn; she has that vicious aura you worship so much. While living in Biot, you'd always look for the nearest CRT to watch Tashi flawlessly play, enchanted by how she unnerved her adversaries.

During summer break, your father dragged you out of the academy to visit California for a benefaction event. Amidst the glamour and chatter of the event, you caught sight of Tashi —most likely attending due to her relevance spiking around the area. Luckily, your connection rapidly deepened, fueled by reciprocal admiration and tennis dependence.

And the commitment to stay in touch despite the geographical distance worked. Tashi became pretty much your best friend, and you became hers. Aside from the workaholic aspect, the resemblances between you were too much to ignore. Sooner than later, you discovered much about Tashi's personal life, the players she liked and despised, and her daily anecdotes regarding tennis and her intimate life. And that's how you became acquainted with Fire and Ice's peculiar hyper-fixation on Tashi.

Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig.

You thought it was a unique offering from God. You didn't expect you'd get the opportunity to face the golden pair again. When Tashi told you she had met Zweig and Donalson, a powerful sentiment of gratitude washed over you. You nearly fell to your knees when she proceeded to explain they were a walking boner for her. If that wasn't high power granting you a second chance to delight yourself, it was an insane coincidence.

But telling Tashi the backstory was a different pain in the ass. Although she expressed some sort of disgust towards Zweig and Donaldson's brainless carnal-based attitude, you couldn't buy it. And your skepticisms were demonstrated as valid when she —dreamy voice and all that shit— confessed through the phone she nearly had a threesome with them. A fucking threesome. You couldn't hold it back anymore, so you told her everything.

Tashi was aware of tennis's influence on your household, as you were raised by two renowned tennis coaches from the States. When you turned eight, your parents turned you in at the Mark Rebellato Academy —as if you were condemned to play tennis by default. The detrimental part of your journey was developing thyroid issues when you were twelve. Jesus, twelve years old — the commencement of the preteen period where kids either kiss your feet or bully you. One year after, along with the anticipated weight gain, you met Art and Patrick. And as if you weren't unfortunate enough already, the two —who at the time looked like fucking Beavis and Butthead— decided they didn't like your physical appearance. They hated it.

“Hey, Y/l/n!” Patrick’s voice rang out, sharp and mocking.

You froze, your heart sinking to the underground. You tried to focus on your serve, but your hands were immobile.

Patrick sauntered over, his smirk widening as he looked you up and down. “What’s the matter, Y/n? Ball too heavy for you to lift?”

You heard Art’s laughter behind your back. He joined in a kind of trembling voice. “Or maybe she’s saving her strength for lunch. She doesn't hesitate when it comes to eating.”

The echo of them and the rest of the kids on the court laughing was a sound that felt like daggers piercing your heart.

After two years of ceaseless bullying and humiliation—which also distracted you from tennis—your parents sent you to The Mouratoglou Tennis Academy in Biot, a small town in France. You are not sure if it was the harassment itself, the low self-esteem, or possibly your undeniable attraction for Donaldson. It didn't matter. By the age of seventeen, you were undoubtedly one of the major promises of European tennis.

So, explaining the theatrical, soap opera-like backstory to Tashi for your detestation of Zweig and Donaldson took time. But when you did, it was worth it because Tashi didn't distrust your testimony, and if anyone was exhilarated to play some moves against them at the beginning, it was Duncan.

That's the explanation behind Tashi pitching a tremendous party to celebrate her commitment to Stanford. This was absurd, to say the least, considering she had college offers piling up, and no one doubted she would commit to a prestigious school. But Tashi knew you'd visit from France, and this was just the perfect instance to hook you up with both condemned.

Because, of course, her biggest fangirls would attend.

It didn't take long until the country house was full of people ranging from Tashi's cousins to bare acquaintances. And spotting Fire and Ice was easier than you thought.

Tashi elbows you discreetly and signs with her head the direction they are standing. "There they are."

Your gaze falls over Art, who is laughing with —who you assume is—Patrick. His features are sharper and more defined. The lanky, slender physique you remembered from his premature teenage years had filled out into a more athletic build, with broader shoulders tapering to a trim waist covered in a light pink shirt. His blonde hair, which was no longer too light, was now strawberry blonde-ish, slightly tousled, and cascading over his ears.

Patrick, standing a few feet away, was equally transformed. His brunette hair, just a bit longer than you remember, frames a face that had hardened over the years—angular jaw, defined cheekbones, and piercing eyes that seem to miss nothing. The fucking smirk is still there, and you can see how he displays it every two seconds at whatever thing Art is telling him.

The interior of your stomach resembles a volcano about to erupt. You feel ambivalent, so many emotions overlapping each other. You see two cute, hell, gorgeous guys, and you wish you could approach them without considering crucifying them before. And you can't help but feel envious at how effortlessly Tashi managed to tame Art and Patrick while the only thing you got from them was hostility.

Your eyes can't seem to unbuckle from them. Tashi catches you slightly frowning at the panorama, and she isn't certain if you are infatuated or planning murder on the spot. "Come on."

You have no time to react before Tashi leads you through some partygoers to reach where Zweig and Donaldson are. Like dogs sniffling fresh meat, it's pathetic how their heads twist simultaneously when Tashi approaches them, conversation instantly pausing. It is as if Tashi's presence was magnetic for them.

"Well, hello, both of you," Tashi greets them excitedly, still holding your hand. "Didn't think you'd come."

Art's eyes widen, "Are you kidding?" he's about to keep speaking, but his gaze merges with yours for a split second, and he shuts off. Dead. Silent.

"—Stanford's a big deal, Tashi." Patrick interrupts, compensating for the awkwardness of Art's sudden number. "I had to drag this lazy fuck out of his bed, but we made it."

Suddenly, Art's out of the trance, tearing his blue eyes off you to bombard Patrick with a killer look. "Hey—shut up, Patrick."

Tashi sweetly, softly giggles at their word exchange. God, she's good, you think. Tashi turns to gesture to you, "This is my friend, Claire, by the way. She is visiting from the Mouratoglou Academy—

To be fair, Claire is a believable name.

"Wait, the Patrick Mouratoglou Academy? In France?" Art runs over Tashis's sentence, incredulously shooting you a broad-eyed glare. You nod in agreement, still processing you are having a civil conversation with Art Donaldson.

You feel Tashi squeezing your hand at your quietness.

"Yeah, you know it?" you timidly ask, forcing a polite smile that, if you were Art, you wouldn't buy it. But, of course, he's as dumb as a pigeon.

"Heck... Of course, I do. I wish I could go there."

Tashi smirks, enjoying the spectacle.

Patrick’s investment in the conversation piques. "Mouratoglou, huh? That's impressive. Maybe we could hit the court sometime."

And that's the first time Patrick makes eye contact with you. He's stabbing you with his stare. You abruptly wonder if he's as dumb as Art, probably not.

You squeeze Tashi's hand.

Tashi leans closer to Patrick, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "Hey, Pat... do you remember what you mentioned about erectile dysfunction? My aunt's a sexologist, I think—

Patrick loudly chuckles, apparently alarmed by the deficiency of filtering confidential information. "I need to smoke sum' stronger. Wanna come, Tash?"

Tashi purses her lips, casting a quick glance at you. "Sure."

Your point of view is like a sitcom scene, swiftly panning from Tashi's body leaving your radar to the boy in front of you, staring at you with soothing eyes and reddened cheeks. It's basically comical.

Art's eyes dart around the lively yard before landing back on you. He clears his throat. "So, uh, Claire? That's a cute name."

It takes tons of willpower not to drop the good girl act right there. You attempt to return the sentiment with a quirk on the corner of your lips. "I need to get a drink. Come with me?"

He shakes his head up and down, finding it easier than answering with words.

For the first time in a couple of months, the inside of Art's mind has more than a giant cardboard cutout of Tashi Duncan. He is in awe.

You lead the way, weaving through clusters of drunk teenagers towards the house. You feel Art's gaze lingering on your back —or ass, you don't know—a magnetic pull that makes you hyper-aware of his presence.

You arrive in the kitchen and quickly grab a bottle of vodka, a can of soda, and a party cup. Art watches you closely with a look of hypnotic admiration as if you were concocting the most complicated cocktail in the world. You want to roll your eyes so badly.

"That dress looks amazing on you." Art blurts out, unable to contain his thoughts any longer.

You look at him. Art is sitting on one of the high stools by the kitchen island, his elbow resting on the table's sleek surface, supporting his chin with his hand. There is a softness in his eyes completely foreign to you, an infrequent vulnerability that contrasts sharply with the characteristic asshole demeanor you remember.

To Art, you appear almost ethereal, like an ideal concept from a wet dream of his. His thoughts are a kaleidoscope of jumbled fragments of memory that make no sense. You look so familiar... but no.

There's no way he would forget about you.

You glance up, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. "Thank you," you reply, handing him a drink.

Art sips on his red plastic cup, eyes hooked on yours. "So, uhm. I just realized I never introduced myself properly. Im Art—

"Yeah, Donaldson, I know." you cut him off, leaving him completely silent and confused. "I've seen you play. Not bad," you clarify, with an unconscious hint of pride in your voice.

Art's smile widens. "Wait, you've seen me play?" he exaggeratedly emphasizes me.

You nod.

His eyes twinkle with excitement. There’s this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "That's, uh, great. Next time you are watching, I'll play better..."

His innate nerdiness and try-hard flirtiness provoke nausea in you. If you didn't know him, it would be a different story. But seeing a former, intense crush who shamelessly bullied you for so long, giving you heart-shaped eyes...

It's fucking bizarre. And it pisses you off.

Art begins conversing about something else. You don't know what—tennis-related, maybe. You are not wearing earphones with noise cancellation, but you can't hear him anymore. It's a blur as his words course through one ear and depart through the other. Immediately. Your brain has simply blocked the action of listening to him.

You step closer, so close you can see the fine lines in his eyes, the flecks of green amidst the blue, with a hint of brown sectoral heterochromia on his right eye. You can smell the faint woody scent of his cologne, something spicy that makes you salivate. His lips keep moving, forming words that dissolve into the dim background noise. The music, the laughter, the chatter—they all blend into a distant hum.

Art's voice vanishes into oblivion as you fix your gaze on his mouth, the curve of his lips, the way they part and close as he speaks. "Art," you say, stopping him in his tracks.

His eyes flicker with uncertainty, puzzlement, and a spark of hope. His adam's apple throbs as he notices you staring at his lips.

You lean in, your breath mingling with his, your heart pounding in your chest. Your hand reaches up, fingers brushing against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin and the slight stubble that prickles against your touch. Art's breath hitches, his eyes widening in surprise, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he leans in, too.

Your lips crash against his. Although you don't want to make it weird, you fail. It's not a gentle kiss or a precious, out-of-a-book lips meeting. It's fierce, instructing, a clash of sour sentiments and intent. You pour all your frustration, your pent-up anger, and your fucked-up desire to overpower him into that kiss.

Art's shock melts away and quickly replaces it with an appetite that matches yours. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, his body pressing against yours. The kiss deepens, his lips parting to allow your tongue to explore, to taste the unmistakable flavor of cigarette and cheap vodka. You can feel the warmth of his breath and the way his hands tighten on your waist. It's almost as if he's frightened you'll pull away at some point.

And you can only fantasize about the moment you walk away.

—but not yet. You push harder, your fingers tugging slightly in his messy strawberry-blonde hair. He lowly moans into your mouth, a sound that dispatches a shiver down your spine. His hands roam your back, tracing the curve of your spine and dangerously lowering to your ass level. There's a distress in his touch you never thought would come from him.

The way he's dissolving under your venomous touch is already a win for you. You've managed to put him under you. And it's intoxicating, this control you have over him, this ability to make him forget everything else.

You pull back, your lips hovering just above his. Art's eyes are half-lidded, his lips swollen and ridiculously red from the intensity of the kiss. He looks at you in pure infatuation, "What- I... Did I do something wrong?"

You press a finger to his lips, silencing him again. "Come with me."

You peek at the party going outside—most people are outside. The living room is nearly empty, with a few alcoholized individuals entering the country house to refill their drinks. It's perfect.

You take Art's hand, your fingers lacing through his, and you lead him toward the sectional, six-seat couch in the center of the living room. You push Art down onto the couch, and he complies without resistance, his lust-drunken eyes never leaving yours; he nearly chokes on his spit at the sight of you slowly straddling him, your knees sinking into the soft cushions on either side of his hips.

"Jesus, Claire—"

You get the ick at the roleplay name Tashi baptized you with.

"Shh," you whisper, leaning in to brush your lips against his in a soft, teasing kiss. "You never shut up, Donaldson."

And that's odd for him. He gives it a second thought because he isn't aware of how much he has talked, but definitely not that much.

The overthinking vanishes as soon as you begin to kiss him again, slowly at first, savoring the way his lips deliciously move against yours. Art's hands rest tentatively on your hips, his fingers twitching as if afraid to hold on too tight. You guide his hands around your waist, urging him to hold you closer. His grip tightens, and you can feel the heat of his palms through the delicate fabric of your black mini-dress.

A sigh rolls out from your throat when you perceive something hard putting pressure against your core —which, because of the dress, is only shielded by thin lace panties. The coarse fabric of Art's light denim jeans rubs splendidly against your pussy.

A primitive groan slips out of Art's lips the moment you grind your hips against his clothed dick. Suddenly, he breaks the kiss, and his eyes wander downwards. "Shit— you'll kill me," he pants into your mouth.

You pull back slightly, looking into his eyes. They're dark with craving, his pupils dilated. "Then let me."

You are about to attack his lips again, but he hesitates. You tilt your head in confusion, murmuring a low what?

Art starts to speak, his voice shaky and breathless. "I... I was wondering if you wanted to go back to my hotel with me."

Before you can respond, Tashi suddenly appears in your vision behind Art's head. "Claire, there you are," she says, fucking loud with a knowing, manipulative smile on her lips. "Your dad called, he's outside."

You feel a surge of delicious triumph as you see the apparent dissatisfaction in Art's eyes.

"Sorry, Art," you say, standing up and smoothing your dress. "Maybe another time."

There’s a raw sadness in his eyes, an almost childlike hurt that he can’t quite conceal. He isn't even drunk; he's fully conscious of the stunning girl he just met and now is evaporating as if she was going to turn into a wolf at midnight or something.

As you are about to disappear from Art's vision, he shouts at you, "I'll see you later, right?"

But you don't answer.

Instead, you hurriedly walk with Tashi to reach the front yard.

"I didn't lie about your dad being here, though," Tashi clarifies, pointing at the big Jeep parked in front of the country house.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, a smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, alright." You glance back at the house to ensure you are out of earshot. "I think fucking him would've been better. Do you think he's gonna remember about this tomorrow?"

"Oh, yeah. This is definitely gonna fuck his head up for a while." Tashi chuckles, "he's pretty obsessive."

You feel a swell of fulfillment at your best friend's words. "How obsessive?"

Tashi smiles. "A lot."

❀

#art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #challengers #challengers fanfic #challengers fic #fanfic #patrick zweig #tashi duncan #challengers x reader #tashi duncan x reader #x reader #female reader #fem reader #x female reader #art donaldson smut #challengers smut

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