#even if it effects employment and housing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heavenbarnes · 9 months ago

Text

I wanna make it (so badly)

Art Donaldson x Fem Reader

Warnings/Contains: reader is AFAB with she/her pronouns, swearing, inappropriate employer/employee relationship, dry-humping, a lot of heavy petting, implied age gap, effective-infidelity (reader tested, tashi approved), oral sex (f!receiving), art is a bit of a pervert and mega-pathetic (endearing), references to religion (worship).

Word Count: 5.8k

i white knuckled the steering wheel on the way home from this film thinking about art donaldson- this is, essentially, an ode to that

Youth tennis lessons, $20/h, call for details

Finding work was hard, keeping work was harder.

Cleaning, baby-sitting, pet-sitting, pet-walking. There was virtually nothing you hadn't tried.

Odd jobs, odd hours, and the occasional odd employer.

You'd played tennis for the last couple years of college. Nothing remotely competitive but you and your friends had looked cute in the skirts and they'd give you whole hours out of class to play.

You were above average with a good arm and better patience.

Another odd job to add to your growing list.

You'd been particular about where you'd posted the ads, the neighbourhoods you'd chosen. Only the ones with manicured lawns and white picket fences.

Tacking the paper to boards in upmarket cafes, fancy supermarkets, ladies-only gyms.

The kind of people that want their kids playing tennis and could find their way to increase your pay- if you did well.

You always did very well.

So your little car looked a little out of place in this neighbourhood, fingers holding the scribbled post-it note with the address. Your scrawling handwriting detailing the "Donaldson's" were enquiring within.

Pulling up outside the house, you had a quiet inkling that you might've been out of your depth. Whoever owned this house deserved more than an above-average-ex-college-student that only learnt the sport to spend time with friends.

But they'd requested you, you'd have to let them come to that conclusion on your own.

Your knuckles only hit the door once before it was being swung open by someone that looked destined to be a security guard, like he'd come out the womb with his future decided.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

He'd left you in the "formal lounge" to sit smack-bang in the centre of a couch that wouldn't even fit in the lobby of your apartment building- let alone the apartment itself.

As you admired a painting on the wall that you'd only ever seen in books, high heels on the stone floors made you jump in your seat.

The most beautiful woman you might ever see in your life appeared before you and said your name in a way that had you standing from your seat.

Your face faltered just enough that you hoped she didn't notice. There was something about her that told you she noticed everything.

Fuck me, that's Tashi Duncan.

If you know a thing about tennis (or even just watched the news) you know exactly who this woman is. You remember her more from your childhood but you remember her all the same.

The woman that once held the world by the balls.

She apologised for her husband's absence, that he was busy. It wasn't lost on you that the "husband" she casually referred to was Art Donaldson, US Open champion.

The Donaldson's.

Ah fuck.

Tashi went on the explain that they were wanting to begin lessons for their daughter Lily. You assumed this was the one you could hear running circles around the informal lounge.

"With all due respect, am I not the least qualified person in this home for that?"

You watched a perfectly formed cheekbone lift in what was nearly a smile. Strangely enough, something in the pit of your chest was dying to make her do that again.

There was something about her that demanded to be impressed.

You were no exception to the rule.

"My husband and I have seen some of your matches, we liked what we saw."

How? Your 'matches'- if you can even call them that, were nothing of note. You don't even think faculty bothered to watch them. You weren't quite sure why they'd even recorded them.

A silly part of you began to wonder how they'd even got a hold of them- until you remembered who they were.

The Hermes and Peitho of tennis.

"You did? I always thought of myself as more of a casual player."

"And that's what we liked, we know better than anyone how brutal tennis can become. We want someone to help Lily enjoy the game."

Oh, okay then.

You'd made a quasi-college-career out of purely enjoying the game. You were sure you could foster the same spirit for the six-year-old performing the entire 'Encanto' soundtrack in the other room.

Tashi laid down a tight schedule, Monday to Friday, 3pm to 6pm. You would teach Lily the wonders of the game on the court behind their home.

Their home you'd come to find out was a luxury rental when you'd complemented Tashi on another of the art pieces that'd apparently come with the place.

You'd also come to find out they typically live in hotel rooms, but they'd settled in this area for the time being as Art had a good thing going with a regular playing schedule and a sporting-goods deal.

You nodded along like you could begin to understand a life like that.

As she showed you back to your car (the one you suddenly felt humiliated for her to see you own), she called your name one last time from the doorway.

"You undersell yourself, we'll give you eighty an hour."

She left you choking on your tongue with one foot in the car and the other on an Italian cobblestone.

You were never going to walk or sit another dog again.

Lily was going to win her first Grand Slam by ten if that's what they'd pay you.

As your peeled your car from their turn-around area, you watched a Jeep Wrangler slow as it passed you. You couldn't see through the tint but you just knew it was him.

And you knew he was watching you.

The minute you'd told your roommate the situation you'd come into, she'd called bullshit.

A few texts from Tashi's now saved icon and a weird little photo you'd taken from inside the guest bathroom, it'd been enough to convince her.

"Fucking hell, are you God's favourite or something?"

You'd argue you were quite the opposite, she of all people should know. She'd seen some of the states you'd come home in after your other random jobs.

Felt good to be the winner.

Even just once.

In the air of some girlish fascination, she brought up a Youtube video of "Tashi Duncan Career Highlights" courtesy of "tennisguy779."

You'd protested it, rolling your eyes while feigning disinterest. No use, the minute you caught her out the corner of your eye- you were captivated.

It was entirely possible to imagine she hovered above the court, like there was a greater force placing her exactly where she needed to be, exactly when she needed.

It was even easier to believe she was just that good.

As you watched her play, listened to the sounds the game could draw from her- you wondered if this was how she and Art had felt.

Had they curled up in their informal lounge like you were right now? Had Tashi studied your every move meticulously like you assume? Had Art passed comment on your form? Did he think you were any good?

Tennisguy779's lineup changed quickly to "Art Donaldson Career Highlights" and you felt your chest constrict. An inexplicable feeling washed over you.

Like you'd been caught with God's forbidden fruit.

Your roommate had tried to question why you'd effectively flown off the couch, only to be met with a muttered 'goodnight' as you shut the bedroom door behind you.

Thin walls meant you drifted off to sleep that night with the rhythmic sounds of Art, grunting his way through an ATP Challenger.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

The Donaldson's tennis court was down a steep set of stairs, set back into an oasis of lush greenery.

Perfect for a 6-year-old's first lessons.

You didn't know if it was the grand balcony that overlooked the court or the fact a well-manicured Tashi stood atop it, but you felt positively observed.

Lily was in the midst of showing you how she could do a cartwheel (she couldn't) when the voice in the back of your head started echoing a promise of $80/h.

"Alright, lets channel some of that into your elbow."

Give a six-year-old a racquet half the size of her and she's going to blow effective chunks, but at least she has the spirit. Maybe it's her energy, maybe it has been a while since you've been on the court-

The kid's running you ragged.

Coupled with her height, you're spending more time bent over than you are up straight and it's all going to your head. All you can hope is Tashi isn't up there watching you stumble after the ball.

But you're sure there are eyes on your back.

Lily is a quick learner and you work out a tradeoff of one tennis skill for one spinning heel kick (mandatory that you watch).

Roll on 6pm and she's dog-tired, however, she's managed to hit the ball at least twice. Surely that's earned your keep. She lays star-fished on the turf and murmurs something about a piggyback.

You know you're about to earn your keep.

By the top of the staircase, you're more than happy to hand over a Lily-shaped-sack-of-potatoes to Tashi's mother. As you emerge from behind an ornate gargoyle, your suspicions proved correct.

Art Donaldson had been watching your every move.

Left alone on the balcony with him, you're acutely aware of the fact he's standing between you and your exit, and he's just had a full show of you bent over and flitting about his tennis court.

That and you still haven't said so much as 'hello' to the man.

You dwell on it for a moment and then there's that feeling back in the pit of your stomach, like any minute you'll be caught with fruit in hand- in throat.

The Original Sin.

Luckily, Art made the decision for you, crossing the space to shake your hand. If he noticed the way your hand trembled, he didn't seem to mind.

"It's nice to finally meet you."

You wished you had more to say to him, or maybe something more intelligent. Something better than a quiet "and you."

He was the better conversationalist, thankfully. Head motioning to the court, he looked down his nose at you when he spoke.

It should've felt condescending. It didn't.

"How did she go out there?"

"Yeah, really good- not a Disney character I can't name now."

He laughed.

Really laughed, like the joke was better than it was.

Like there was a preening little flutter inside you that said "do it again!"

You shrugged your shoulders like making him happy came naturally as you squinted up at him, as if he was the sun.

"You were watching? You must've seen her picking it up?"

Because he was the expert. Because he is the champion.

He hummed as he nodded, eyes skywards like there might've been something more important behind the clouds.

"Must've been distracted."

Within an instant- his eyes flickered to your own and you were sure he watched them change. He must've seen something he liked, the corner of his lip quirked up before he spoke again.

"Come on, I'll sort your payment and then we'll let you get home."

And for whatever reason, his hand fit perfectly in the small of your back as he lead you inside.

And how quickly did you become a strange piece of furniture in the Donaldson's home- in their life?

An ottoman for Tashi to rest her tired feet on.

An abstract piece on the wall for Art to admire when he passes it.

A projection of constellations across the ceiling to keep Lily bright behind the eyes.

At least you belonged- there was no doubt that this was where you belonged.

That wasn't to say your tennis skill had improved any, lesson after lesson you still couldn't wrap your head around why they'd even signed you on, let alone kept you.

"Ok, don't watch that one either- maybe just do what I say and not what I do."

You hadn't nailed a single one, at this point you couldn't blame Lily for skipping around pretending her racquet was a horse.

Wasn't like she'd be learning anything if she was paying attention.

"Ok, here we go just- ok right, when your parents ask how today went, please be kind."

"Your elbow is too low."

It was a miracle you didn't scream.

Art entered the court with a swagger that you could only assume struck fear when he was your opponent.

Right now it struck pure embarrassment and Lily wasn't helping.

"Daddy, she didn't hit a single one!"

"Alright, I don't think daddy needs to know that-"

"Daddy knows, daddy's been watching."

Daddy really needs to stop calling himself that.

Lily and her racquet took off for another tour of The Grand National as Art approached you with quiet determination.

It was like waiting for impact, his eyes never wavered off his daughter as he made towards you. At the last moment, he snapped his attention in your direction- with a smile that should've felt condescending.

It wasn't.

"If your elbow is too low you lose topspin and power."

If you deserved the $80/h you were earning, you might've known that.

As Art stepped up to you, the turn of the planets on their axis slowed down and it could've been entirely possible to believe it was only you two.

And Lily upon her trusty steed.

The gallops of her tennis shoes thinned out as Art placed one hand around your elbow, lifting it higher. His other hand held your waist as he pulled your back flush to his chest.

"Lily, go find grandma."

Then it really was just you two.

Your heart hammered against the shell of your ribcage, blood rushing around your ears as you felt Art's chin perch at your shoulder.

"If your elbow is high enough," His hand lifted it up and you let it stay there. "And your hip is turned."

He didn't have to say it with the gravel in his voice, but he did. He didn't have to hold your hips as he moved them, but he did. He didn't have to stay without so much of an inch between the two of you, but he did.

With one hand in the curve of your waist, he tossed the ball into the air with the other- then he whistled.

Like the obedient thing you didn't know you were, you raised the racquet and sent the ball flying through the air without even blinking.

As the streak of green hit the court and rolled away, you found yourself lying in wait, as if you were waiting for something- your next command?

"Good girl."

There it was.

Under the all consuming effect that Art Donaldson just seemed to have on people, you'd entirely forgotten you were in a position you could be 'caught' in. By his all consuming wife, of all people.

So, you should've moved.

Quite honestly you should've straightened up and cleared your throat and thanked him and told him it was time for you to go home.

You should've moved.

But Art wasn't moving. If anything he was staying purposefully still at your backside.

Obedient thing you seem to be.

"Show me that again?"

So,

You teach Lily the bare basics of tennis for three hours and receive $80 on the hour.

Then Art spends three hours of his spare time teaching you to perfect your swing- in a way that couldn't ever vaguely resemble professional.

A simple transactional arrangement.

Your tennis improves on a slow but sure basis and he gets the most off-court action he's seen since college.

Even if it is just heavy petting on astro-turf.

A hand under the hem of a tennis skirt. A pressing hip against your own. A deep breath as your hair brushes past him.

You figure Art will take what he can get.

And it's never enough to raise alarm. Sure, there's that fluttering in your chest that warns you might get 'caught' but you're never quite sure what one might 'catch' if they found you out.

It's undoubted who that 'one' is though.

The one who holds the cards- holds the throat, maybe.

Tashi, who's presence precedes her perhaps more than her reputation. Even when she isn't there, she's there.

So, when Art's hand lingers too long on the outside of your thigh and you think you can feel it verging into the territory that'll change everything- it's Tashi on your mind.

You're beginning to think your conscience sounds a lot like Tashi.

Who are you if not obedient to the Donaldson's?

Chasing Lily around a court.

Adhering to Tashi's every request.

Being Art's fantasy.

Being Art's.

Most of the time, anyway. Three hours a week.

Something to keep him bright behind the eyes, maybe. Something to keep him happy. Something to keep him-

Winning?

He tells you he plays better with you around. The way he says it makes you giggle, a girlish little noise that sort of just slips out. He serves the ball with his eyes on you and, sure enough, it lands smack where he wanted it too.

Everything where he wants it. When he wants it.

Shy and inconsequential touches and glances shared just between you.

Until, well- until they weren't.

"Would you like a coffee?"

Tashi's mother had taken Lily off to bed, leaving you and Art separated by an island. Kitchen island.

He braced both palms against it as he watched you watch the door, wondering if you should cut and run, wondering if someone else might come through it.

Talking yourself out of it. Whatever it might be.

"Yes please."

Even he looked surprised, brows raising an inch as he turned to the Nespresso machine. You took the moment to watch his back, the muscles moving under the cool-dry fabric of his shirt.

You spent all your time pretending not to notice him that actually allowing yourself the chance to study him made you lightheaded.

Had he always looked this captivating?

He broke your focus with a coffee cup, sliding it towards you as he rounded the bench. His eyes didn't even waver off you as he took a sip of his own.

It wasn't lost on you that he managed to tongue foam off the tip of his nose.

This was the longest you'd stuck around after a tennis lesson, longest you'd allowed yourself to be in his presence. You weren't quite sure how big this thing could get.

Your mouth was opening before your brain had decided it was a good idea.

"Mr. Donaldson-"

"Art."

"Uh, Art- I really appreciate the help you've been giving me- uh, you know- with tennis."

He placed his coffee mug down, nodding as he did it. "My pleasure."

Naturally.

That brain of yours was still firing off at a mile a minute. There was a very tiny voice right at the back that said it was up to you how this night would end- you had a choice to make.

Placing your coffee mug beside his, you scanned his face to find him already looking at you. Perhaps the choice was already set.

Maybe it was fate.

All he said was your name, it could've been the way he said it- but your whole body was losing the rigidity it'd formed when he first asked you to stay longer. When he'd made the choice.

Crossing the small gap between you two, Art was careful to keep one hand on the kitchen bench as the other hovered beside you. Not touching you,

Yet.

One step closer and the tip of Art's nose was touching yours. You think you might've been able to smell the coffee off his breath.

It thinned out- leaving you with his sweat. Musk. Art.

A sudden surge of morals overcame you, your voice broke out as a gasp.

"What about Mrs. Donaldson?"

"Actually, it's still Duncan."

You screamed.

Right in his face.

Tashi's voice made you jump out of your skin.

However, Art didn't move. As you turned your head to gauge the way his wife stalked across the kitchen, you felt his nose brush against your cheek.

Tashi retrieved a tall bottle of Pellegrino from the fridge, taking a poignant sip as her eyes flitted between the two of you.

What a fucking sight.

Her husband, eyes shut and face pressed pathetically to their daughter's tennis instructor- his hands itching to close around your waist.

You, young and bleary eyed looking utterly caught. Staring up at her like she might decide your fate.

It took all your strength to find your words.

"I’m not here to teach tennis, am I?”

“No, of course not. You’re frankly terrible at tennis.”

There's the Tashi you were expecting.

Her words should've stung, but they didn't. They couldn't, not when her husband was laying his hands against your back and rubbing soothing circles down the length of your spine.

Not when his lips were mouthing wet kisses along your cheek.

Not when she was right. Spade's a spade.

"Why am I here?"

She snorted, a real dissatisfactory sound- like she hoped you were smarter than that. She was halfway to her bedroom before she cut you loose.

"Careful, he makes that sound before he cums."

And he had, just like she'd said.

Art had cum in his shorts, pressed up against your thigh with his face still smushed against your own.

And you'd taken it, obedience in spades.

You'd stood there and let him hump your leg like a bad dog and you'd even pat his head and whispered kind words in his ear after the mess he'd made.

Then you slipped out the front door to your car and you'd pretended not to notice that there were two bedroom lights on upstairs.

You hadn't even divulged the freaky details to your roommate when you got home.

But the showerhead knew all about them.

Visions of Art on the clouds of steam- replayed in your head the sounds he'd made right in your ear.

How he'd whimpered your name when he splashed his boxers like a fucking teenager.

It was no surprise you dreamt of him.

You even showed up next day, valiantly. You didn't run for the hills or even straight to a tabloid about how weird the Donaldson's really were.

And maybe that's why you hadn't told your roommate either.

Because telling someone what Tashi allowed? What Art liked?

That'd mean you'd have to admit your dirty little secret.

You loved it.

When you showed up, something was different. No usual chatter in the house, no shoes by the front door. You checked out the front window to see what you'd missed when you arrived.

Tashi's car was gone.

"She's taken her mom and Lily to the ballet."

At least you didn't scream this time.

You were lucky your back was to him, lest he see the self-righteous little smile that broke when the words settled.

"Oh, ok."

"I'll see you on the court."

Oh, ok.

Lest he see the disappointment that took over.

Following him close behind, you didn't know why you were effectively surprised that he still wanted to continue with your lessons. You'd half expected- hoped, he'd bend you over the kitchen island.

Tennis was fun too, you guess.

Thinking about it, something that bold didn't seem the style of the man who'd nearly blacked out rubbing up on you. Beckoning you onto the tennis court with two fingers and a wry smile did, however.

You fell into your usual position, hip turned and elbow curved on your side of the court. You waited for him to appear behind you, chest melding into the curve of your back.

It never came.

Art took long strides towards the net, vaulting it in one smooth motion. He ended up parallel to you, waiting with a ball and racquet in either hand.

The smile had left his face, a rather blank expression taking over as he sized you up. And there was that fear- knowing what it felt like to be on the wrong side of him.

This was going to hurt.

From the moment he pressed the ball to the neck of his racquet, it was all over. Your feet were never in one place for more than a second, your arms burned above you, your head permanently on a swivel.

Art didn't look like he'd broken more than a sweat.

You knew he had, you could see it in the neck of his shirt. But he didn't look it.

He looked calm, he looked in control, he looked-

Like he was enjoying himself.

For every rally that you managed, you thought you saw an inkling of pride set in his features.

For every serve that you missed, you knew you saw unbridled lust.

Not a point scored in your favour, you hit the ball towards him one last time before you collapsed to the turf. Flat on your back, reminiscent of your first lesson here.

You watched the clouds shift over your head, listening to your pulse thick and fast in your ears. Just underneath it, you could hear footfalls approaching.

No hurry, but impending.

Soon, the sun above you was eclipsed by Art Donaldson. His golden hair shone with the halo of light behind it.

Now this was God's favourite.

"You can't be giving up this easily?"

Forcing a laugh, you threw your arm up and over your eyes. "Wanna bet?"

Turns out he did- turns out Art struggled to do anything but win.

Somehow, you found it within yourself to stand back up. This time it was only a practice, you weren't brave enough to face off against him another round.

This was more your speed.

The hand that wasn't holding your elbow was curving around your front, the pleats of your tennis skirt lifting over his fingers. You felt a warm hand slowly moving across the front of your underwear.

Two fingers migrated south, pressing against the seam of you- he must've felt the pure heat radiating beneath his fingertips.

Turning your head even an inch, you found the curve of his nose pressing into your cheek.

"I didn't give up."

He hummed, the vibration rolled across your shoulders.

"Mmm, you didn't."

The hand sans-racquet dropped between your thighs to press his palm into your cunt. It was Art who flexed your fingers and cupped it.

"Where's my prize?"

There was no trophy, no podium, no medal.

But there was Art between your legs, slinging a knee over each shoulder like he might've been the real winner.

You'd never been inside the 'changing shed' behind the court, of course it was nicer than your actual home.

Your head made contact with the hard wood behind you, bench digging into your ass as you felt a hot mouth moving against the seat of your underwear.

Running your fingers through his hair, your gripped the ends of it- tugging him closer until you felt the flat of his tongue through the thin fabric.

Needy fingers tugged the ruined garment down your thighs, tucking him into the pocket of his shorts. You knew all too well that you'd never see them again.

You were sure Art would be seeing a lot of them.

His tongue ran up the split, one long stroke before you felt the curve of his nose press to your clit. The ridge of it moved as his tongue retreated back to your entrance.

With everything he had.

Your eyes had been rolling back in your head as you arched your back, the moment you were able to find a semblance of control- your gaze fell before you.

Naturally, Art was already looking up at you. Two hands splayed across each side of your hips as he pulled back to wrap his lips around your clit.

You couldn't help the hazy little smile on your face as you watched his eyes.

Utterly devotional.

The more you tugged on his hair, the hungrier he seemed. Pulling from the root seemed to spur him on, seemed to tell him 'good job' and he was responsive.

His tongue flicked beneath your clit, pressing it to his upper lip as he brought two fingers to your entrance. He stroked a couple times, making your hips twitch against him, before he sunk in to the last knuckle.

Turns out Art had a style about him. One he brought to the tennis court and, seemingly, to the floor of his changing shed.

The style was calculated.

Every move he made was engineered to get something out of you- a reaction, a whimper, a twitch. He was doing what he did best.

Playing a game.

Art struggled to do anything but win.

"Fuck- Mr. Donaldson."

"Art."

Even muffled against your cunt, you were good at following his orders. Even more so when he was the decider of your imminent orgasm.

You threaded your fingers in the sides of his hair, pulling his face flush against you so you could ride his mouth. Taking every last thing from him you could.

It drew the most pathetic moan you'd ever heard, straight out of his chest and hit you straight at your core. The burning coil tight within your stomach was unraveling quickly.

You heard the murmurings of words, among the blood rushing in your ears. Easing up just enough, you let him pull back to speak.

"Tell me this feels good, please."

Your chest thumped, the sight of Art helpless between your legs was one thing. Hearing him beg?

You might black out.

"Art- you feel so fucking good," Dragging him right back where you needed him, the tip of his tongue drove against your clit. "You're gonna' make me cum."

He whined.

A heady drawn-out sound that quite literally sent you over the edge. Your hips lifted off the bench, the heel of your foot digging into his back and making his whine turn into a whimper.

Your orgasm broke you apart until it felt like white-hot flame licking up your sides. Of course, Art never relented, drinking in everything you could give him- literally.

The moment you felt the peak begin to subside, the urge was ramping right back up. Like he knew what he was doing, his eyes locked back onto yours as he sucked at your clit.

He was going for gold.

A quick second orgasm hit, seemingly out of nowhere. Your thighs clenched around Art's head, his hands coming to each of them.

You relaxed yourself a bit, feeling like it might be too much- until you felt him pressing your thighs even harder to either of his ears.

Oh, ok.

Art Donaldson knew what he liked.

You physically had to push him off you, watching him fall back on his outstretched palms as you let yourself breathe for what felt like the first time.

Wet eyes, wet chin, chest rising and falling like he'd run a marathon- Art sat sprawled out before you like he'd stumbled upon an alter (he had).

Breathless, you gestured towards him. Your hand dropped a little as your eyes fell between his legs, wordlessly offering a deal.

A deuce.

His cheeks flushed, more so than they already were. His eyes fell an infinitesimal amount before he spoke up.

"Uh- I already have."

Of course he had. He makes that sound before he cums.

Instead, you heard him shuffle back onto his knees as he all but crawled towards you. He draped his upper half into your lap, head resting against the soft cotton of your skirt.

Coming off the other side of a high, the reality of your situation began to settle for you. Why they'd really called you here- what purpose you really served.

All you could do was gently stroke a hand across Art's head, feeling him go limp against you. Boneless, but not spineless.

He must've known you were going to speak, he must've heard the intake of breath or just felt you shift. He cut you to the chase- beat you to the punchline.

Art nuzzled his face further into your lap as you felt him mumble against your thigh.

"I can't lose- you."

#art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x reader fic #challengers fic #art donaldson fic #challengers smut #art donaldson x fem reader #art donaldson x fem!reader

7K notes · View notes

satoruhour · 1 year ago

Note

Just thought of something FREAKY in class… Single father Satoru looking for a babysitter and you’re looking for a side income during semester break and the tension goes crazy!!!! “We should’t be doing this my son will wake up” I’M GONNA SCREAMMMM

BLISS, PURE BLISS

a/n: happy new year LMFAOOO. thank you for all the asks btw i promise ill answer them asap 🥹 / @shotorus @osaemu @shidouryusm @mysugu @hyomagiri ♱

wc: 6.4k

warnings: ‘onee-san’ used but more of just addressing reader as an older figure because saying babysitter is kinda weird lol (kind of like how chinese people use 姐姐 even if they are not related), fem!reader, dilf!gojo, age gap (gojo in his late 30s, reader in mid-20s), angst if u squint, bit of slow burn n tension, making out, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, praise, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, p -> v sex, multiple rounds, consensual filming, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

“no fucking way . .” you mumble mostly to yourself, standing in front of the largest house of the gated community in roppongi, and while you knew the people here were excessively and obnoxiously rich, you’re never quite prepared until you’re getting a key card specifically mailed to your name just so you could enter.

you’re not even shameful when you take a video to send to your best friends, locking your screen almost immediately because you knew you’d never get to the job on time if you replied to them. with calculated steps, you’re walking up the house that’s designed with a modern structure, yet still retaining characteristics of a traditional japanese home. it’s less prominent at the front of the house, though.

“(y/n)-san, was it?” a voice startles you out of your ogling sessions. if the garden was already this nice, what would be in store for you when you went in? you’ll be finding out soon when your employer himself opens the door to you, a man with striking white hair and equally striking blue eyes that seem to look right into you. he’s dressed in a suit, probably no doubt ready to get to work while you’re out here taking your time. you cringe, immediately walking up to the door.

“y-yes! yes, i’m sorry sir, i was just uhm—”

he holds that intimidating stare just for a moment but then he breaks into a smile that mirrors the bright sun that shines down on the porch.

“it’s alright . . it’s not everyday you’re working at some rich guy’s house, right?” he jokes but that strikes a little ick into you — he’s already ticking the boxes of obnoxious and excessively rich, but you hate the effect he’s having on you.

“yeah . . no, i guess,” he hums in reply before sticking a hand out.

“gojo satoru,” he introduces himself, “call me anything but that sir shit, alright, doll?”

you nod obediently, trying not to let the little pet name get to your head because he probably does this to any babysitter who comes through the house, but either way, he’s welcoming you in and it’s like you step into a world unreal. it’s spotless, the floors shining under the sunlight, a large television in the living room, a spacious open concept dining-kitchen area, and this is just the first floor.

gojo takes his time to show you the house — where his kid’s toys were, where the food was, where the bathrooms and bedrooms were, it was never-ending. every step you took made you feel like you were walking the length of the nile, each turn only revealing more rooms and corridors.

and then, finally, his baby boy.

“he’s a cheeky one, takes after his dad,” even with all the cockiness he’s shown to you, you can tell he has a soft spot for his kid. the boy stirs from his father’s voice, gleaming in happiness as he puts out his smaller hands to be picked up. as he settles into his arms, it’s just sinking in how tall your employer is. he makes a toddler look like a baby with how small his son looks wrapped snugly.

“satoshi, hi,” he whispers, bouncing the kid in his arms, “want to say hi to your onee-san?”

you manage a small wave but all he does is turn to hide in his father’s arms, definitely scared from a random stranger suddenly talking to him.

“she’s going to be taking care of you for the next month or so, you know?” he mumbles, brushing a hand through the matching white hair, “be nice to the babysitter, okay?”

all satoshi does is hum into his dad’s neck before he’s giving you a sheepish smile. “he’s like that, don’t worry about him.” and you return the smile, thinking that he wasn’t that obnoxious that you thought and that maybe he’s really a dad trying his hardest for his one kid. you realise he’s taking too much time, though, and so you sought out to remind him.

“oh, uh sir— gojo-san, don’t you have to go to work?”

although he’s mentioned satoshi to be taking after him, the boy goes right back to sleeping when he’s put back into his bed so you follow gojo as he adjusts his cuffs and smoothes out his collar just outside the room and you make the mistake of glancing upon the mirror on the far end of the corridor — it was undeniable that you looked like a high-end couple who’s newly married and raising a kid. you try to shake off the thoughts of adjusting his tie for him.

“it’s not being late if you’re on top.” he smirks and you resist the urge to roll your eyes; at least you weren’t alone in purging the delusional thoughts from your head, he was basically helping you at this point and you struggle between characterising him as conceited and admirable. “but, yeah, i should get going.”

but he stands at the door with backpack slung onto one shoulder while he continues to explain satoshi’s routines to you, his habits and also had to sneak in a few cute photos of the kid while squealing repeatedly and you’re left wondering how this guy could be the CEO of a company.

it’s been like that for as long as you can remember — bidding goodbye to your parents as you tell them that you’re off to your part-time job over the winter break. they’re happy you’re even leaving the house, shoving your lunch into your hands with big smiles that you’re at least doing anything other than sitting in your room. the train ride to the gated residential was nice, too, apart from the very crowded subways for people going to work in roppongi.

gojo greets you every morning when you arrive, reminding you of satoshi’s feeding times and his favourite shows and everything a father should know but don’t have the luxury to experience with aforementioned kid. it’s a little bittersweet, every time you see him kiss satoshi goodbye that turns into remaining in his room, to holding your hand and saying goodbye to daddy from the second floor, to getting carried by you at the front door.

it’s slow but sure progress day after day, from watching his cartoons, feeding him at the kitchen island, playing with his toys, that satoshi feels more and more comfortable with you, learning that while he was a well-behaved boy, he definitely had hints of your employer in him. mannerisms, words, voice, you wonder whether he even got any part of his mother in his genes.

you’d never ask, though, but it was told. unexpectedly.

“i’m home—” the last parts of his word die down into a whisper when he opens the door to see satoshi cuddled up to you, the last bits of home alone playing softly. by now you already know what happens in the movie so you’re texting your friends and laughing softly to yourself, jumping when your boss steps past the doorway. gojo winces when he checks his watch (“fuck. it’s already ten.”), toeing his shoes off and apologising simultaneously.

“oh— man, i’m so sorry, i had a late meeting with the CEO of our neighbouring franchise, i totally forgot about the time—” gojo’s quick to make his way down to the small pit of the house (he likes to call it the conversation pit), settling down on the side where satoshi had his head in your lap as his eyes linger on the movie. instinctively, his hands reach to pat his leg.

“oh, it’s okay, gojo-san, it’s the holidays anyway.”

“yeah?” he turns to you, one arm propped on the back of the sofa, “and why don’t a pretty girl like you have any plans?”

that catches you off-guard, among the many other times he’s called you pretty or sweets like no care in the world. you’re never quite used to it, too, seeking to fluster you. “you shouldn’t say stuff like that to me, gojo-san . .”

“why not?” he’s turned back to the television, now, and you take his place, staring at his side profile as the scenes of the movie move along his face. “i’m a single dad, aren’t i?”

“yeah but . . you could have anyone.”

“what if,” he turns and you chicken out, head snapping back to the front while he watches you and the both of you cannot deny the tiring dance you perform around each other all the time. the clench in his heart when he sees you carry his baby boy at the porch and the small smile he gives you every morning before he leaves for his job. he doesn’t want to go through with it and sighs.

it’s become hard to breathe around you. it’s become hard to hold himself back around you.

“i worked too much.” he suddenly says, facing the TV again. “i was too engrossed and . .”

confusion seeps in at first. yeah, it was no secret he worked his ass off despite being at the very top. your gaze falls to satoshi, curling more into your side like he’s cold and you adjust the blanket. you nod in recognition.

“we fought a lot. i tried— i tried to alter my schedule as much as i could, driving to and fro whenever she needed me, bringing satoshi to work as a baby when we couldn’t come to a compromise, but it was a lot. for her, for satoshi. he could sense whenever we were about to fight, on edge voices, items clattering to the floor . .”

by now, he’s leaned back, back of his hand resting on his forehead, “and he’d cry like he was interrupting us. cheeky, i told you,” and his eyes close, “we hardly reached middle ground. it was either this or that, hire a nanny or we take care of him, my endless job or the joy of life. i’m ashamed that i’ve prioritised my job more, and still do it now.”

“if you didn’t, i wouldn’t be here, would i?”

that draws a chuckle out of him, “correct.”

“she couldn’t take it, not when she was a businesswoman on top of that. she was out doing herself at every aspect in her job, going to greater heights, and while she accused me of putting work first, she isn’t entirely innocent, either. but that’s . .”

“you don’t have to say anything, gojo-san,” you mumble as you watch the reunion of the characters in the movie before the screen cuts the black, no doubt affecting him in some way at the warmth displayed by the movie that contrasts heavily with his situation, “the fact that you even told me is . .”

the heavy atmosphere is disrupted by satoshi gasping, “papa! you’re home.”

you exchange awkward smiles as you watch the boy fight his way out of the blanket to hug gojo, the latter huffing when the boy drops his body weight on him and you take it as a sign to give them a bit of privacy, standing up to clean up the popcorn and cups. laughter and your employer’s voice resonate throughout the place even as they go up the stairs, a rare occasion where gojo is able to get his son ready for bed.

it’s only maybe an hour later when the house falls into silence. mouth burning from the mouthwash, the heater in satoshi’s room turned to a high setting, one bedtime story was read (which, he fell asleep halfway), the boy was out like a light. you felt it inappropriate to leave without at least saying goodbye, but you also didn’t want to cut into their time together; at least, that’s what you told yourself.

so you waited with your things on the kitchen island, getting a risky text just as gojo comes down, still in his suit from work.

[11:02pm, nobara -> you] BITCH GET THAT DICKKKKK!!!!!!!

and you yelp softly, slamming your phone down onto his marble counter. thankfully, he doesn’t notice, eyes close to shutting from fatigue.

“oh, shit, you’re still here?”

“i thought it would be, weird, if i didn’t say goodbye,” you get ready to leave, slinging your tote bag on, “but i also didn’t want to intrude on your time with satoshi, limited as it is.” well, you did also wish something would happen, but you had too much pride to admit it to yourself.

“you got a ride home?” he yawns and you feel guilty for extending your stay already. you didn’t even need to worry about the front door, he lived in a gated community for christ’s sake!

“um, not really, but i can always book an uber home.”

“i’ll drive you home, it’s unsafe,” is all he says like he’s trying to convince himself, “let me just get changed and we can go.”

gojo doesn’t leave you any room to protest before he’s up the stairs again and you’re left with a pounding heart and dizzy head, not sure what might ensue. you know him to be honourable; you’ve seen him with his child, you’ve seen him interact with his neighbours, but a late ride with your boss sounds sketchy as it is.

but it doesn’t feel like it when you feel the tokyo wind blowing through your hair, a slight gap in the window bringing you the chills of the night as he silently drives you back home. sitting in your employer’s car most of all felt weird, but even more so when he’s reaching your home faster than the gps system had predicted. his knuckles are white.

“you—”

your head snaps to him, “yes?”

his car headlights are the brightest in the parking lot where every car is silent, quiet, much like his clammy hands and red cheeks. gojo satoru turns to you, feeling that familiar tug in his heart and lump in his throat for the first time in a while, and he can’t speak.

but you lean forward like your life depends on it and you leap inwardly when you see that he does the same. eyes trained forward, your stares boring into the other, waiting to see who’d close their eyes first. you just stop short of an inch, met with the hypnotising swirls of raging oceans in gojo’s eyes and you swallow when his eyes flit down to your lips and back up like he wouldn’t get caught.

with shaking hands, your fingers trace over his lips and you sigh when you feel just how soft they are, just like his skin, just like his eyes when they look at satoshi. your heart skips a beat when he just lightly kisses the pads of your fingers, and that encourages you to cradle his cheek, up his jaw, up his undercut.

“let’s just kiss, yeah?” he was afraid that if he spoke too loud, he’d shatter the glass, snap the string of tension, voice cracking until you swallow it, you stomach his nervousness with a lively, strong kiss from your lips to his, and he just melts.

gojo hums into the kiss, leaning forward over the stick shift and into the passenger seat before you counter it with your own movements: hand on his shoulders and pushing until you’re on his space of the driver’s seat and playing the game of tug that’s been going on for the past few weeks. you win.

“god, you’re so . .” gojo whines out when you climb onto him, whispering into your mouth while you get comfortable in your straddling position, cutting him off with a second, rougher kiss and you both moan softly, passion taking over in the evident way your arms scramble to wrap around him while he pulls you flush against his front.

the car is filled with sounds of your kissing, something that definitely shouldn’t be done in his home and yet you risk it all in your home’s parking lot. you break the kiss and hide in his neck, already starting the makings of a hickey there while your pelvis selfishly grinds into his front and he kneads your ass. in the mingling of breaths and moans, he’s left to stop the two of you when there’s a muffled ringtone coming from your bag and you swallow at the insanity of the situation.

“i’ll see you, monday, right?” gojo breathlessly says later, bulge still showing through his sweats while you hang outside the driver’s side, not wanting to leave. he takes your hand, planting a peck on it and then brings you in for another harmless kiss.

“yeah, gojo-san . . monday.”

you lose count of how many times you’ve swallowed throughout the night, but he says something to lift the mood just a bit.

“we just made out and you’re still calling me by my last name?”

you laugh lightly, “monday, satoru. i’ll be there, same time, on monday.”

gojo leaves a farewell kiss to the inside of your wrist, “attagirl.”

but if you’re not careful, it might just happen in satoru’s house.

the remainder of your employment at his house is tiring. it’s so hard not to kiss him before he leaves for work, so difficult not to long for him while you take care of satoshi, so entirely harrowing not to claim him as yours as you watch him play after his work. at this point, you’re hoping school will just start soon and the rush of assignments and readings will take your mind off of it, but you cannot deny the excitement every time you leave your house.

“you’ll bring food and cook every monday, wednesday, friday, and i’ll order food for the both of you every tuesday and thursday, how’s that?” gojo thinks it’s time to introduce him to larger pieces of food, but it’s gone past that by now and to your meal arrangements.

“i’m okay with cooking, though!” you assure him, and plus, you loved your parents’ home cooked bentos that they give you everyday, “do we gotta?”

“sorting out meals is tiring, (y/n),” gojo takes the place beside you, leaning against the counter just like you before drinking out of his cup, “i want to at least help at little.”

“you already are.” you smile, “i can see you making the effort.”

“it’s not enough, though, i could be doing better.”

gojo hates how this scene sets up — like two parents just figuring out the best for their kid — it’s a callback to the memory in the same exact kitchen. at least all you do is kiss and make out, because he wouldn’t know what to do if you moan out his name in that same intimate way that threatens his walls to come down again. he loved sex, he loved the bedroom, but he’s riding a thin line the way he’s doing with you.

“you are,” is everything that you say, and you leap forward to kiss him. you do it so hard that he has to put down the glass to fully embrace you, walking you backwards to the conversation pit and he carries you so effortlessly because he doesn’t want you walking backwards down some stairs.

he hates how you bring him into your lips, he hates how gently he lays you down, and he hates how you accept the kisses down your neck and body. you, on the other hand, aren’t doing so well, either — it’s either a hit or miss with a broken man like gojo satoru, and you’re stepping on glass shards hoping you don’t say anything wrong with him because he’s trying his best but he just can’t see it.

“are you okay with this?” he asks halfway down your torso and he gets lightheaded from how well his hands cover your waist. “tell me to stop, and i’ll stop.”

“n-no . . keep going, satoru.”

he exhales shakily at that, fingers tugging your top up and his hands are so cold you resist shivering, but you do anyway from the sheer fucking craziness that gojo drives you into. one pop of your button, and you’re already lifting your hips off the couch for him to remove your pants but movement on the stairs make you halt.

“papa?” satoshi calls out sleepily, rubbing his eyes and pouting. you can see it, almost, with how much time you’ve spent with the kid, and you hope he can’t see you. “i . . i had a nightmare and i just— i wanna sleep with you.”

he’s started sniffling and you feel your heart break that he knows his papa well enough to know he would never sleep in his room. his job always has him sleeping out in the living room.

go. you mouth, kissing your fingers and pressing it to his lips before he puts on a show — yawning, stretching his arms, already making satoshi feel at ease with his theatrics before he’s stopping at the foot of the stairs to look back at you. you already know gojo satoru has redeemed himself a hundred times over. i’ll see you tomorrow.

funnily, satoshi somehow does have some intervention powers, because each time the both of you attempt to go down on each other, he’s either saying he threw up, or he needs to use the toilet, or that he’s hungry. while you both love him to death, it’s also becoming difficult to hold back each time you see each other. his car in your parking lot is all he has and you dare not to go to his workplace where rumours would spark.

so after a tiring night of getting a hyper satoshi to sleep, you’d at least try. at this point, you know not to expect too much out of it, starting always with some talking. it was easy to talk to your boss, and when you phrase it like that, it did come off a little strange, but it was far from that when your boss in his late 30s looked just like he did ten years ago and that he had crazy blue eyes and insane white hair and was hot.

“thank you for taking care of him for the past month and a half,” gojo thanked you, leaning over to give you a peck to the temple, “it means a lot.”

“he’s a sweet boy, plus, i do need the money,” you giggle, nudging him, “and it did let me get to know you . .”

“certainly,” he mumbles. drunk off your scent, he leans in again, kissing you fully on the lips now. you hum softly, going on your tippy toes and wrapping your arms around his shoulder. swiftly, he props you on the kitchen counter and you yelp in surprise, unable to help the throb of your pussy when he slots himself in between your legs.

jokingly, he puts his hand to his ear. “no satoshi interruption tonight?”

you smack his shoulder, “don’t jinx it.”

he laughs, a proper laugh before he sighs shakily, fingers thumbing your sides gently. “you know . . we shouldn’t be doing this,” you feel your heart sink a little, but he quells it with hovering lips over yours, “he could hear and wake up.”

“then why have you been accepting all my kisses, gojo satoru?” your eyes challenge him, but you know one touch from him would have you submitting to him. his breath fans over your lips, and you can feel his pulse speed up when your fingers go over his neck, to his nape, to his undercut. you run your fingertips through it.

“you have too much power over me, simple.” that sentence has your eyes fluttering close. it’s too much for you and yet you welcome it with open arms, “it’s become so bad that you’re all i think about.”

“is that so?” you pull lightly on his hair.

he nods, foreheads touching now and he’s trying to hold himself back, but, “i’ve been holding back, entirely too much, baby, and i don’t think i can, anymore.”

“yeah?” you whisper, bringing him in with your legs, “show me, then.”

gojo satoru decides that maybe taking the leap isn’t so bad, so he fully gives himself to you, tugging your lips to his in a clashing kiss that has you groaning in pain just a bit. he giggles and apologises and tries again, and this time, it’s got your hips moving against him, whimpering into his mouth. gojo’s hard just from kissing, something that he’s desperate to relieve himself off so — he’s whispering for you to hang on while he slots his hands under your ass and lifts you.

satoru knows his house well, walking up with you in tow and lips still on yours, right into his room. you giggle when he plops you down and he’s already looking forward to ravishing you, but —

“let me check on satoshi for a sec.”

you laugh silently, “of course, satoru, go.”

and once your boss’ made sure his son is out cold in slumber, he’s all over you again and definitely showing you how much he’s been holding himself back. you’re the pure focus of the night, making you chase for more when he pulls away and kissing down your body. he worships it, tongue circling a nipple while his hand plays with the other, eyes staring holes into yours from how intense the blue was.

“s-satoru . .”

“yes, sweets, what is it?”

“feels good—” you whine, back arching into his hold once he leaves your tits and continues down your body. each kiss is like hellfire against your cold skin, and he pops a button and listens out again, both of you sighing in relief and giggling to each other when you don’t hear a knock on the door.

“does it? good.” it’s tantalisingly slow, the pace at which gojo peels your clothes off, but when your pants are finally off, he marvels at your beauty as he brings your legs apart. you’re shy, hiding yourself behind your arms and resisting his hands.

“aht, no, c’mon, show yourself, baby.” he only moans when he sees the dark patch at the centre of your underwear, pressing a finger into your clit and you’re ashamed at how intensely you react to it. gojo continues his torture, thumbing your bud just to watch your face contort into pleasure, “so, so pretty.”

you preen at the praise, even more so when he pulls your panties to the side and sucks slowly on your clit. it’s slow, again, and you’re clutching the sheets so tight when he lays his tongue flat against your pussy. satoru takes his time, savouring each bit of your cunt to make up for lost time, filling the room with the lewdest noises of your sopping cunt on his tongue.

“taste so fuckin’ sweet, pussy’s s’good,” he practically moans into your core, arms wrapping around your thighs to bring you closer while you try to keep your noises down to a minimum. little pants and mewls leave your lips, eyes never leaving the head of hair.

but he’s unpredictable, as gojo always is, so when he’s hovering over you just to give you a little innocent kiss, you think nothing of it, until he’s back in front of your pussy and starts eating you out like a starved man. you let out a loud moan, dragging it out until you’re gulping down your next sounds. it doesn’t help much, though, cause gojo’s slurping at your pussy like it’s the end of the world.

“s-satoru—! too much—” you moan but your hips grind into his mouth, your hands now finding purchase in his hair, “t-too loud.”

“mmf— don’t care,” he mumbles into your cunt, making sure he gets every drop of your arousal on his tongue while he abuses your clit, alternating between flicking his tongue and sucking hard and you think it’s the best head you’ve ever gotten.

“not when your cunt’s so perfect,” you only press his head deeper into you like it would stop his muffled sentences, but that only spurs him to suck harder before he just shifts down a little to plunge his tongue into your hole. you choke out a moan as his nose nudges your clit, clenching around his muscle.

“relax— mmhh, you gotta relax, baby,” he’s massaging your thighs but if anything it does the exact opposite, closing your thighs around his head in sensitivity.

“it’s— h-hard to,” you moan out, already feeling the coil in your tummy that’s approaching oh, so quickly when gojo eats you out like this. he shifts his attention back to your puffy clit, eyes flicking up to make contact with yours and you shrivel under his intense stare, “w-when you’re making me feel s’good—!”

you feel him smile into your cunt but he says nothing, taking note of the drop of your jaw, the scrunch of your eyes, the contractions of your stomach. your legs like to straighten out and shake when you’re close, he memorises. when you start to tighten your grip on his hair, he ingrains it in his mind.

“cumming— i’m c-close,” but it’s like satoru doesn’t even need it when his eyes digest the way he sends you over the edge with just his tongue.

“g— god! satoru!” your mouth falls into a silent scream after, head dipping so much into the pillow while you grind your cunt into his face, gushing all over his face with a renewed spirit and regret for all those times that men have rubbed your left lip thinking it was your clit.

“let it go, yeess . . that’s it,” satoru doesn’t hesitate to get sloppy, sucking up all your cum, gasping for air once he’s done with his meal, “pretty girl just came all over my face.”

you struggle to your elbows despite the words he utters, propped up just to catch a glimpse of him and the soaked bottom of his face that stretches into a smile.

“was that better than all the uni boys who’ve never felt the touch of a woman?” you laugh at that, making quick work of grabbing his chin and bringing him back to your lips.

“much, much better.” and you take the opportunity to flip the tables, trembling, shaking legs trying their best to wrap around his torso to straddle him — but once you’re over, you’re not quite sure what to do apart from letting your hands roam all over the expanse of his shoulders and chest.

“and can she do it again all over my cock?” the obscene words sound almost taboo falling from his mouth that your mouth drops open in initial shock, but it subsides into anticipation soon enough.

wordlessly, you take matters into your own hands, fingers making quick work of his trousers while he removes his top impatiently. the scowl on your face is prominent when you struggle to work his belt out and he chuckles with helping hands, the burn on your face deepening.

“there,” gojo giggles and he pulls you in with a peck-filled apology, “don’t worry, we have all the time in the world.”

you hum, “not when your son could knock any time soon.”

that prompts a giggle that fades off into a loud moan once your warm hand wraps around him, something that he’d never tell you how many times he’s fantasised about. slowly, you stroke his cock, excruciatingly slow just like how he’s done to your cunt earlier.

you’re hovering over him, now, dragging his tip along your pussy and whining softly at the pre-cum that mixes together with your juices. you need him into you as soon as possible, and apart from your soon burning thighs, you’ve been wanting this for as long as you’ve stepped foot into his house from the very first day.

inch by inch, you sink down onto gojo’s weeping cock, getting the luxury of feeling his sensitive twitches with the plunge into your cunt. you’re glad at least he had offered to stretch you out just a tad bit earlier, the intrusion of his fingers already having you panting for his dick; and now, when you have the real thing, it drives your mind insane.

“’t-toru— haah . .” your body curls up from the painful stretch, lips muttering the nickname unknowingly as you grasp onto his shoulders for support, and while he helps you on, he never stops saying the most filthy things, grinning each time you clench around him.

“never thought i’d be here, fuckin’ the babysitter, but here we are,” your oh my god is whispered only for the other to hear, body burning up from the words before he grinds his pelvis into yours and you slump forward in pleasure. your words are a bunch of nothingness, a string of incoherence, “and her pussy’s just so fucking— tight!”

giving you one or two breaths of rest, satoru coos in your face, cradling it and littering kisses all over it before he’s moving his hips and you’re breaking the kiss to whine out, moving your hips to meet his as well. you move sooner or later, bouncing on his cock once you’re more used to him in you and the position only hits all your spots just right.

“f-fuck— you’re so big—!” you roll your hips into him, eyes stuck on how there’s just a small bump in your tummy each time you bottom out. your boss from across you is equally ruined, eyes struggling to keep open with wet hair stuck to his forehead. “feel so so g-good . .”

“yeah?” he breathlessly mumbles, hand squeezing and kneading your ass and trying to help you, but the warmth of your cunt around his length just feels too good. “bounce on that dick, baby.”

and you do, planting your feet into the bed and fingers creating bruises along his shoulders as you impale yourself on his fat cock, switching to relaxing in his embrace and letting your hips do the work when your legs start hurting. there, you indulge in gojo’s lips as you hump him, the delicious friction of your clit against his pubes sending you reeling.

“you’re going to be soaking my sheets from how much you’re leaking,” gojo jests, letting your moans take over his mind while his lips trace down your neck, eyes just peeking over to see your ass ripple from the force. “not that i mind. how’s she doin’?”

“she’s getting,” a choked whine interrupts you, “a little tired.”

and that draws a laugh out of gojo who does nothing but tease you, something he likes to do even in makeout sessions, and he doesn’t hesitate to reach over to his bedsie table to grab his phone, leaning back to bask in your glory. here, your body just looks heavenly as you try your best to move on his lap.

“hang on a little more for me, princess,” with one hand, his larger hand leave chills all over your body and the other points his phone at you, not before making sure you were okay with it, “and smile for the camera.”

you try your best even when his hand make his way to your mouth, pulling it open with his fingers to slot it in. you’re sure you look like a whore right now, but the camera pointed your way only turn you on more, like it’s beckoning you to put on a show. and you loved the attention, so you close your lips around his fingers and start sucking, grinding even harsher on his cock that has gojo stuttering.

“y—yeah, attagirl . .” he grins at the video he takes, “show the camera how much of a cockslut you are.”

you whine, bringing the hand to your clit while you shove two hands onto his torso to really work your thighs out, feeling that familiar curl in your stomach once he starts rubbing his saliva-filed fingers along you bundle of nerves.

“r-right there, satoru—!” you swear under your breath, giving hooded eyes to the camera while you chase your high drunkenly, all sort of coherent thought banished from your head. “love your cock, love it, love it—!”

satoru swears he wants to cum from just watching you use him, and even holding himself back is proving difficult when you clamp and tighten around him until his fingers press particularly deep into your clit and you’re cumming with a loud cry of his name, body convulsing all over the video.

“tha’s a good girl . . cream my cock, yeeaaahh . .” gojo watches, hypnotised, as you lose control over your body, but the pleasure-filled whimper that you merge his name with is just too good, that he spills unexpectedly in you. the video is far from stable, so he only slaps the phone down to relish in his orgasm. gojo pushes his hips up and you gasp at the feeling, back arching when you feel his cum seep into you.

you’ve never even given much thought to pregnancy, but the feeling of his cum dribbling into you fogs your mind that you only want more after a mental note to buy the morning after pill tomorrow.

“n-need more,” you beg, fondling at his cheeks and undercut, “w-want more cum in me, satoru . .”

and it’s like a flip switches in him, because he’s flipping you over right after — he has to see his cum leave your pussy first though, taking the still ongoing video and putting it right up to your pussy, using his tip to smear your mixed juices all around.

“who knew i’d hired such a dirty girl?” he addresses the camera more than you, but he catches your flustered glance with a wink and after poorly setting up the camera on his bedside table (he just was too intoxicated on your cunt), he’s pushing back into you with a loud groan, not even caring for the consequences any more. his cum is just so much, too, spilling out the sides.

“only f’r you,” you mumble, grabbing at his forearms needily. your eyes flutter close as he bottoms out, your legs pushed right up to your chest as he folds you whichever way he wants to. at this point, if he wanted to own you, you wouldn’t object one bit, not when gojo satoru’s cock stretches your pretty pussy so nicely. “a cumslut only for you.”

“yeah?” he starts moving his hips and your arch into his hold, “i wonder how i got so — fuck — lucky.” everything is sloppy and wet and disgusting and you love every moment of it, even after he’s cummed in you the second, third, fourth time, you’re happy to be pumped full of his cum, giving him a tired, glistening grin that he returns.

“think i should be transferring over my life savings for a cunt this sweet,” you giggle at the compliment, but don’t protest when he’s pulling up the app to gift you with a hefty amount; both your salary and bonus, all from making gojo satoru fall helplessly just from your touch — something to brag about indeed.

3K notes · View notes

self-loving-vampire · 9 months ago

Text

1- Demands like these are not a new thing. Trans people were (and in some cases still are) medically gatekept if they were not judged as likely to end up living a normal, "respectable", "passing", and extremely gender-conforming heterosexual life. Often these judgments were made based on race.

In fact, what the suggestion above is is a repeat of historical trends.

2- This all is still working from the assumption that being trans is a disease and transition is a sort of last resort to be avoided as much as possible in favor of the alternative of just doing nothing, or possibly doing conversion therapy. Somehow they never seem to demand very strict evidence in favor of that.

It is a very uneven sort of skepticism. Transition remains suspicious no matter how many times people say it helped them but conversion therapy and HRT bans are treated as neutral, even effective alternatives based on nothing.

3- History and hypocrisy aside, it's just bad if someone's rights and autonomy are contingent on stuff like employment, isn't it? Imagine if you were required to prove the correctness of all decisions about your body this way.

Want an abortion? Well, we can't be sure an abortion would actually make your life better unless we make sure you're likely to be employed and having whatever I define as a good sex life afterwards. Don't you remember that "I regret my abortion" campaign? Sure most people say they don't, but what if they're lying?

You're gay and want to have sex and get married to someone of the same gender? Well, we don't know if you actually want that or if it would be good for you, thus we must ban those options for your own good until we make sure gay people are just as employed and socially connected after coming out and if not they shouldn't be allowed these freedoms. Hope your family doesn't just kick you out of the house when they find out!

#transphobia #100 #1k #2k

2K notes · View notes

dollfacefantasy · 1 year ago

Text

Can't Help It

pairing: dbf!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: your dad's coworker needs a housesitter, but the house isn't the only thing you'll be sitting on (haha pls laugh)

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, masturbation, oral (m receiving), age gap (i imagine early 20s/late 30s), both reader and leon are kinda pervy but not in a skeevy way <3

word count: 5.3k

a/n: hi hi i am back! this was such a pain to write for no reason, but as always, i hope people enjoy. i'm not sure what trope this really falls under, it's probably more accurate to say dcw (dad's coworker), but we'll go with dbf for convenience. i might make a part 2 of this idk. also, i know the header images are really giving graphic design is my passion but... it is what is lol. as before, thank you for all the support on my last fics. if you reblogged or commented, i'm giving you a smooch rn. and just wanna say that i do take requests. if anyone is interested, don't be shy ;) any who, feedback, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! <3

When your dad’s new coworker asked if you’d be interested in housesitting for some easy money, you couldn’t find a reason to say no. Agent Kennedy, like your father, traveled for work a lot. Often gone for weeks at a time, he needed someone to watch the place and take care of menial tasks like getting the mail and watering the plants. It paid well and all you had to do was basically live in his house.

You had met him several times in passing before he offered you this job, and he was always nice to you. He would say hi when you’d come down for a snack while he talked to your dad in the living room. He’d ask how college was and about the different classes you were taking. One time he even told you about some old band he liked that he thought you would too. And that was all great.

But what was even better was that he was fine as fuck.

You had a fat crush on him from the moment you were introduced. The way his eyes pierced right through you but in the softest way. How his lips curled into a knowing smile while his hand gripped yours in a firm shake. The way he said “pretty name for a pretty girl” when you told him your name. From any other middle-aged man, that would have been so corny and had you internally shriveling up. But from him… you had to fight the urge to get on your knees then and there.

He’d approached you about watching his house, saying something about how there had been some nearby break-ins in empty houses and it would be a good way for you to get some spending money and blah blah blah. You were on board as soon as the opportunity to have more of him in your life presented itself.

Unfortunately, it was the nature of housesitting that you rarely saw your employer. You would see him when you showed up and when he came home and that was it. But those moments were enough to sustain your delusion.

The first time you came over, you walked into the house, glancing around the den of the man who enraptured you. It was pretty basic, but you figured that not being home a lot would be the reason for that. When you were done trying to psychoanalyze him from looking around his house, he gave you your own set of keys with a wink that had you blushing an embarrassing amount.

“Thank you, Mr. Kennedy,” you said softly.

“Call me Leon, Sweetheart,” he replied.

You had to look away to conceal your giddy smile. You didn’t think he noticed the effect he had on you. Or if he did, he didn’t care about your pitiful infatuation. But other times, you could have sworn he did this kind of thing on purpose.

Your first stint in the house went smoothly. You made sure to do everything he asked and even cleaned up the place a little bit. When he returned from wherever his work had taken him that time, he seemed impressed to your delight. He looked around, making small talk with you before writing your check.

“You get up to anything crazy while I was gone?” he said, smirking as he scribbled his signature on the small rectangle.

“Yeah, I was real wild - I brought out your vacuum for probably the first time.”

He laughed, handed you the check, and teasingly purred “good girl.”

Now, he may have been joking, but your panties nearly soaked through with arousal regardless. You yet again hid your revealing expression as you said a timid goodbye and headed out to your car. You were shifting your thighs together the whole ride home, fantasizing about being a good girl for Agent Kennedy so he would relieve that ache between your legs that clouded your thoughts.

Honestly, all of this made you feel pretty pathetic. Lusting after your father’s coworker, now technically your boss, who was a good fifteen years older than you. Blushing and squirming every time he said something more than ‘hi.’ Weren’t you better than this? But then you’d see those thick biceps and mysterious eyes, and the answer in your mind would be a resounding no.

Because honestly, you weren’t better than this, you were so much worse. After the good girl incident, you decided that if he didn’t want you yet, he would. You would make sure of it. From then on, every time you were housesitting, you wore your most revealing outfits, did your hair all pretty, and even tried special perfume so you’d smell extra nice.

But none of it seemed to work. He kept up his regular teasing and charm, but to your dismay, he hadn’t railed you on that sad leather couch in the living room. You tried to convince yourself that his gazes lingered longer and that his touches were more strategic, but that felt like reach even for you.

It was so frustrating. What more could you do? You touched his arm while he spoke. You laughed harder at his corny jokes. You even hugged him once or twice when you could justify it. You tried to drop hints every way you could without literally just trying to seduce him, and he did not seem to care. You nearly gave up. You decided that maybe you should just cut your losses and spare yourself the humiliation. Leave yourself with some dignity and resign to just being his housesitter.

You would have done this if not for the fact that he lets you sleep in his bed while he’s gone.

His house was meant for one person. It didn’t have a guest room. He told you on your first gig that you were obviously allowed to sleep in his bed since the alternative was the aforementioned sad leather couch in the living room. He told you to bring whatever you needed to be comfortable - sheets, blankets, pillows - since you’d be there for weeks at a time.

At first, it was too weird. It made you feel dirty, sleeping in his bed while harboring your secret carnal desires. But goddamn, that couch in the living room was uncomfortable. You stuck it out for the first time, but the second time you housesat, you relented and dragged your belongings back to the room you’d forbidden yourself from knowing.

His bedroom, like the rest of the house, is pretty blank, but there’s a little more personality here. It made you feel like such a stalker, but you couldn’t help making observations, right? You got to see the type of cologne he wore, the few dusty books he kept next to his bed, what kind of stuff he crammed in the nightstand drawers. It sounded creepy, but you just had curiosity, right?

You set yourself up in his queen size bed, draping the plush blanket you brought with you across the mattress. The bed was comfy enough, but the absolute best part, the part that kept your fantasies alive and well, was the way the sheets smelled like him.

You nearly moaned when you took a deep breath, filling your nose with that familiar scent. It gave you such a rush pushing your face into those smooth gray linens. It was so wrong, but you couldn’t help shamefully slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts to play with your swollen clit. You clutch the sheets in your fists as you writhe on the bed, whining as you fantasize about your special agent.

Leon had gone years leaving his house desolate without an issue. All that nonsense about potential burglaries and spending money for you had been total bullshit. It’s not like there was anything of value in his house anyway. Those excuses served only as a way to get more of you in his life. He thought housesitting was a happy middleground, a tether to you without being obvious about his motivations.

Ever since he saw you for the first time, heading out your front door, offering a timid ‘nice to meet you,’ he had been hooked. You bewitched him with your sweet temperament, that soft laugh when he told you bad jokes, those gorgeous eyes projecting all the emotions in that pretty head of yours. God, you were so fucking cute.

You made him feel like a dirty old man, sick and perverted for coveting his colleague’s daughter. The embarrassment he felt within himself when he’d notice he was staring at your tits or imagining how your soft lips would look wrapped around his cock was immeasurable. Even though the guilt boiled inside him, he couldn’t stop himself. He craved you. He started finding more opportunities to visit your house, hoping he could steal a few moments of your time. That’s when he knew enough was enough.

Having you as his house sitter worked perfectly. He could have his moments with you without feeling too disgusted with himself. Even though he liked to tease every so often, he kept it friendly. He noticed that you, on the other hand, seemed to be doing everything to change that.

He wasn’t a fool. He could see the changes in your appearance. Those skimpy outfits you’d flaunt yourself in drove him crazy. The way you’d playfully roll your eyes and brush his arm had his cock twitching in his pants. It was becoming all the more tempting to spread you out on the dining table and take what he wanted. But he still wrestled with that part of himself that said to not take it too far. That you deserved better.

That was until you started sleeping in his bed.

He had come home after your second gig, given you your check, and sent you on your way quickly because he was exhausted from his mission. He went straight to his room and collapsed on the bed. He could tell the sheets had been freshly washed by the soft feel, but also because you were always going above and beyond to please him. Despite the recent cleaning, he swore to himself he could smell some of your perfume on them.

He looked like a madman, smelling his bed sheets for the faintest hit of that scent. He groaned, picturing you lying here, your beautiful body sprawled out on his bed. He inhaled deeper while conjuring images of your unkempt hair and sleepy eyes. It wasn’t long until his dick sprung to life as he saw images of you with one of his pillows between your legs, whimpering as you drag your dripping cunt back and forth along the fabric. He couldn’t help the need to desperately pump his cock to sinful visions of his precious girl.

This morning it’s about six when Leon unlocks the front door and quietly walks inside. He completed his mission hours before. He was tired, but it had been short, only about a week, and relatively easy. He told you he would be home in the evening, but he’d finished earlier than expected.

He trudges through the house and down the hall to his bedroom, collapsing in bed at the forefront of his mind. It’s not until he reaches the door and hears your deep breathing that it occurs to him that his bed is currently occupied. He gently pushes the door open and walks in, planning on rousing you so you could get your money and be on your way. When he sees you though, that plan vanishes from his mind.

The sight of you nearly melts him into a puddle. He pads closer to the bed, careful not to disturb you. Your shiny hair is draped across the pillow as you lie on your stomach with one leg hiked up. Your arms rest close to your face, their raised position causing your t-shirt to ride up and allowing him to see your waist. The blanket was tangled between your legs, and his eyes are immediately drawn to the junction of your thighs covered only by those thin panties you wore.

Despite your beauty, he controls himself. He pulls the blanket over your lower body and sits beside you to contemplate his next move. He came up with a few different things he could do, but all he wanted right now was to watch you sleep. He felt like such a creep, but you looked heavenly in this state. His ears strained to hear those delicate exhales coming from your parted lips.

He could just go sleep on the couch until you woke up. He could just wake you up and offer to let you stay until you had your bearings. Or he could just let himself enjoy this a little more.

He wanted to wake you though. He wasn’t fully sure of what he was doing, but if there was any part of you that had reservations he wanted to know. It would rip his heart to shreds if he frightened you somehow. He begins rubbing your back in long soothing strokes. He makes small circles with his fingers every so often. You stir a little, but don’t wake.

He continues his ministrations, smiling at your sleeping form. He uses his other hand to brush your hair from your face. He strokes the locks away from your closed eyes before leaning closer to you. He can smell that familiar scent that had driven him to humping the sheets for the last few months.

“Hey Angel, need you to wake up for me,” he coos in your ear, his hot breath fanning across the side of your head.

It slowly registers inside your unconscious mind that you aren’t dreaming. Actual fingers are coasting along your back. An actual voice is coaxing you back to reality.

A low hum emits from your throat as you shift to face the source of your disturbance. Your eyes open, still heavy from sleep, and Leon enters your field of vision. For a second, you wonder if you’re still dreaming.

“There she is,” he whispers, giving you that charming smile. He runs his fingers along your jaw and tilts your chin to turn your face completely in his direction.

You feel your brain malfunctioning as he floods your senses. The morning light coming through the window illuminating him as he looks down at you. The deep timbre of his voice speaking to you. His rough fingertips dragging across the smooth expanse of your cheek.

Soon as your eyes come into focus and your mind clears the fog of sleep a little, you grasp enough of the situation to feel a jolt of panic. It felt like you woke up late for school. You shoot up in bed and look at him with wide, apologetic eyes.

“Oh my God, Leon, I’m so sorry. I thought you wouldn’t be back until tonight. I’ll be ready in a minute. Just-” you ramble. You go to fling the blanket off of you, but remember you didn’t wear shorts to bed. You have to sit there, looking at him as you feel heat creeping to your cheeks.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he cuts you off with a quiet chuckle, gently catching your arm when you sit up, “I finished a little early. You don’t need to rush out the door. I figured you’d still be asleep.”

The look in his eyes soothes you. He has that rugged, worn out look that he gets when he comes back from missions. Your heart rate falls back down to normal levels, but your eyes still cast downwards, a little embarrassed he’d caught you unprepared. His fingers trail up and down your arm, and you shift a little to try and hide the fact that your nipples are hardening beneath the flimsy fabric of your shirt.

“Thank you. I’ll be up in a few though. I know you’re probably tired,” you say, giving him a sheepish smile.

He moves so that he’s further on the bed with you. He lays back on the pillows and looks up at you, rubbing your back how he was before you woke up.

“Mmmm, I am, but you still don’t need to rush. I’m not gonna complain about a sweet thing like you warming my bed,” he says, that teasing smile spreading across his face and his fingers starting to trace patterns exclusively on the small of your back.

Your eyes flit away as your own smile grows on your face. How were you supposed to be normal about this? You look down at your hands in your lap and mutter a thank you.

“Honey, you really don’t need to be so shy all of the sudden,” he says softly, but there’s a smug lilt to his voice as well. You bite your lip as his hand begins fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

He can’t help the smirk and predator-like glint in his eyes that form at your reaction. This was it. That little smile and refusal to meet his eyes was all he could stand. He was closing in now. The flirtation between you two had gone on long enough. He wanted this, and if you wanted it too, his mind couldn’t find a reason to deny the two of you any longer.

“Sweetheart, if you have something to tell me, you can come out and say it. I don’t bite. Unless you want me to,” he says as he reaches up to pull your hair behind your shoulder and out of your face, “And, lately I’m starting to think that’s what you want.”

You look over to him now, your eyes staring into his. Your limbs feel weak, disbelief coursing through your veins. Your thoughts stampede through your mind, but you eventually force the words from your throat.

“I think I want that too,” you breathe. Your heart seizes at his brows playfully rising. You lay down on the bed, resting on your side so that you and Leon are face to face. Your pulse thunders in your ears while you try to conceal how shaky your breathing is.

He scooches over to you, pushing you on to your back and propping himself on his elbow so he’s positioned above you. He leans down and presses two faint kisses to your cheeks. Pulling back, he looks into your eyes and strokes your cheek again with the same soft and slow movements.

“Think, babydoll? I think you know what you want,” he whispers, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip, “I think you’ve known for a while. Wearing all those cute little outfits, prancing through my house and brushing against me like a kitten. You were just begging for my attention.”

You squirm slightly under the spotlight of his affection. Somehow, you maintain eye contact even though every cell in you feels the urge to look away. Part of your mind wonders if he’s still teasing. If he’s about to pull away and leave you wanting.

Before you could overthink anymore, his head lowers to the crook of your neck. He takes a deep breath of you as he moves himself further on top.

“Now, you’ve got it, but all you had to do, sweet thing, was ask,” he says as his mouth ghosts over your neck, “That’s all you have to do right now. Just want to hear that you want me as bad as I want you.”

“Yes,” you whimper without a second thought, “Please touch me.”

“That’s my good girl,” he hums as he begins kissing your neck. The kisses are soft. They’re barely there, but they’re overwhelming to you. You can’t help the pathetic sound that leaves your lips as you tilt your head back. The hand that had been touching your face trails down to your waist and begins caressing your side under your shirt.

His tongue gently laps against the skin of your neck between kisses. Your whole body is starting to heat up while simultaneously getting chills. Every inch of you aches for his touch. Your thighs subconsciously spread as your breathing becomes heavier.

Leon lets out a small laugh at your display. “You must really want this Baby. Just a few kisses and rubs and you’re already mine,” he murmurs as his lips move up your neck and down your jaw. He kisses your lips next, giving your bottom lip a little nip.

Another needy sound escapes your mouth. You return the kiss and flick your tongue against his lips. “I do, wanted this since I met you,” you moan, your body writhing for more.

“Naughty girl,” he teases against your lips, “That’s okay though, Angel. I’m the same way. Wanted a handful of these pretty tits since I saw you.” His hand moves up and kneads your breast. His fingers massage the flesh before centering and pinching your nipple.

You whine and arch into his touch. Your eyes flutter as your face contorts with desire. He slides over you, straddling your waist. He stares down at you and takes in what was finally in his grasp. He coos for you to sit up a little while he pulls your shirt off of you. You comply and then flop back against the pillows. Now exposed from the waist up, his eyes feel even more intense. He’s locked on to the view of your tits.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he mutters, “Even better than I imagined.” His hands cup the sides of your breasts, groping them a bit. You can now see his cock beginning to strain against his jeans. Your mouth waters at the sight, but it’s gone when he leans down to take a nipple into his mouth.

His tongue circles the peak before lapping against it, drawing more whines from you. Your body arches into his touch while his hands never let up their fondling. You take your lip between your teeth again. He moves to give the other nipple the same treatment, leaving the other one cold as the air touches the saliva-coated skin.

He plays with your breasts for a while more before drifting down your abdomen, lavishing your stomach with kisses. He squeezes your waist as he playfully tugs the hem of your panties with his teeth. He looks up at you deviously. “Your nipples were so hard, I bet your pussy’s fucking soaked for me.”

All you can do is nod, any verbal response tangled up in your esophagus. He leans back on his knees and swiftly pulls the garment off. His pupils seem blown out as he gets a look at your cunt. He pushes your thighs to your stomach, spreading you out for his gaze. You felt so exposed, at his mercy as he held you there and just looked at you. Your arms reach down and pull at the hem of his shirt.

“Wanna see you too,” you whimper with pleading eyes.

“Yeah?” he says with a soft smile. He leans back and pulls his shirt off. It takes everything in you to hold back a gasp. “Been fantasizing about me, have you?”

Your eyes rake along his chiseled abdomen, drinking in every line and shadow of his muscular frame. You reach out and pull him back on top of you. His grin grows, and he indulges you. You connect your mouths again, this time sliding your tongue inside his. He groans at your sudden eagerness. He runs his hand through your hair while you feel up his back, exploring the definition there.

You give him a little push, signaling that you want to roll over. His body flips over and takes you with him so that you’re positioned how you wanted. You make out for a minute more until you pull back, looking at him with your lustful eyes and swollen lips.

“Wanna suck your cock,” you say simply, sliding down his body so that you’re lying between his legs. You nuzzle against the bulge in his pants before unzipping them and tugging them down.

His eyes follow your every movement. He pets your head as you rub your face against the outline of his dick. He tilts his head back and lets out a sigh.

“That’s a good girl, just gotta give you some love and then you loosen up, don’t you?” he coos.

“Mhm,” you hum. You kiss his solid length over the cloth of his boxers. Then, finally, what you had been waiting for since meeting Leon. You loop your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and pull them down, unveiling his beautiful cock.

You wrap your fingers around it, just an exploratory touch. You feel the veins in your hold and the heat radiating from his shaft. You slowly bring your head to the tip to give him some tiny licks. Your eyes dart to his face, looking for approval.

Leon’s chest ached from the way you were looking at him like he was a god. When your tongue sticks out and your eyes return his stare, he nods at you and keeps stroking your hair. Your lips soon wrap around the tip, and you bob your head a little. He groans and his hips twitch.

“That’s a good girl, baby. Good fucking girl,” he moans as your head slides further down his member. His fingers lace through your hair, pulling a little.

The praise only makes you more enthusiastic. You move up and down with more speed, making lewd slurping noises as you work. His hand on your head and his sounds of pleasure has heat collecting in your belly, leaking out of your dripping pussy.

His head rests against the head board as he watches you with half-open eyes. His eyes squeeze shut and his body tenses as you push your head all the way down, taking him into your throat. Spit trickles from your mouth and drips on to his pelvis.

“Fuck, Sweetheart,” he whimpers, tugging on your hair a little. You taste his pre cum leaking on your tongue. A gagging noise comes from you and his hips twitch harder. He barely restrains himself from bucking up and lodging himself deeper in your throat. You moan around his cock, driving him even crazier. He feels the rush of an orgasm approaching and tugs your hair with more firmness, guiding your head up and off his lap. You whine softly as you lose the taste of him.

“Sorry, pretty girl, don’t wanna cum just yet,” he says.

You crawl back up his body, so you’re in his arms again. You kiss his cheeks and the corners of his mouth as he rolls the two of you over so he’s on top again. He connects your lips in a deep kiss, tasting himself on you as he drags the tip of his cock through your slippery folds.

He doesn’t tease for long though. Soon enough, he’s pushing himself into your tight cunt. You both let out a symphony of sinful noises. Leon watches as your face contorts with pleasure as he stretches you out. You both felt a budding sense of satisfaction after finally receiving what you craved for the last several months.

He bottoms out inside of you. His head falls forward against your neck. He pants as he holds himself together and lets you adjust, keeping an iron grip on your hips. Your fluttering around him as you accommodate his girth. Your nails lightly dig into his back while you cling to him.

He begins thrusting with slow and deep strokes. You moan out his name a few times with a variety of expletives. He keeps his face buried in your neck, grunting as he feels the velvety sensation of your walls around his length. His motions become more fluid as he finds a rhythm with you.

“That’s right Angel, better than your dreams?” he murmurs against your neck.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you whimper, “So much better. Think your cock was made for me.”

“That so, Baby? I’m made to fill up a precious girl like you? Keep you happy and full of cum,” he growls into your neck, his thrusts gaining intensity.

You nod thoughtlessly as he continues battering your insides, gliding over your sweet spot repeatedly.Your arms wrap tighter around him as you feel yourself getting dragged closer and closer to the edge. Your noises become more strained as Leon lays sloppy kisses on the side of your head.

He hooks his arms underneath your knees and brings your thighs up to your abdomen again. His arm loops around and thumbs your clit as he slams himself in and out. Your back arches and you squirm from the rush of white hot pleasure. You’re right there, not able to hold on for much longer.

“I’m gonna have you so full of my cum today, it’s gonna be dripping out of you still the next time you’re here,” he grunts into your ear, “Make sure your pussy remembers me till I can fill her again.”

His vulgar words rip a high pitched moan from your throat and cause your eyes to roll back. “Fuck, Leon, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Go ahead, sweet girl. Squeeze me nice and tight,” he moans, his own voice getting strained.

You do as he says. The orgasm overtakes you. You release a strangled cry as your body rhythmically rolls into the feeling. Your pussy clamps around Leon tight, sucking him deep and keeping the attention on that blissful spot. The thrill of satisfaction rushing through your mind only works you further. Your eyes flutter and your lips part as you completely let go.

As he watches you cum, he notes that it might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The sight of your gorgeous body writhing and trembling because of him. The primal sounds of your moans and cries. It’s too much for him. He growls and grunts into your neck, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He snaps even harder into you and floods you with his sticky, hot cum.

You both ride the waves of euphoria together until you both start coming down. He basically collapses on you as he catches his breath and you wipe the sweat from your brow. After a minute, he pushes himself off of you and flat on to the bed next to you. He gazes at the ceiling as his chest continues to rise and fall with the need for more oxygen.

You sit up slowly, realizing he probably wants you gone now. Like he said, you feel his cum leaking out of you as you move to grab your panties from the corner of his bed. This is how you expected it to be, but it still hurt a little. Nothing you couldn’t handle though. Your pulling them back on when your snapped out of your thoughts by Leon’s arm around your waist, dragging you to him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks teasingly, spooning you and softly kissing beneath your ear, “You got what you wanted and now you’re running out?”

“Oh, uhhh… I thought you’d want me to leave,” you say quietly.

He guides your face so you’re looking at him. His eyes are still soft but more serious. “You think I would just fuck you and then throw you out on your ass? You’ve been sleeping in my bed for months, but you don’t know me as well as you think,” he says and kisses your nose, “You don’t have anywhere to be today, yeah? You thought you’d be here till later anyway.”

You nod in agreement, your eyes casting down with some embarrassment over your assumption.

“Hey, don’t get all shy on me now. There’s no reason for it,” he teases, “We have all day for me to show you how I want to take care of you. Just give me a moment, I’m not as young as I use to be.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil smut

3K notes · View notes

krisluxxeeempress · 7 months ago

Text

VENUS 10th HOUSE | ASTRO NOTES

Venus in 10th House undoubtably suggest an individual being attracted to older people with established careers. This placement can also reveal how to attract financial success for yourself, depending on the sign in 10th house. From a relationship perspective, if you find yourself interested in someone with Venus in 10th house, be prepared to pursue them, like you would a promotion at work. Earning a promotion at work takes years of a** kissing, consistency and overtime (OT). Point is these individuals are extremely difficult to win over. When you first approach/ get to know them, expect to be silently judged as if you were in an interview. Depending on the sign in the 10th house, they may or may not ask you questions directly however, they will be judging what you reveal about yourself and judging whether you're worth their investment in you. If you make it past their silent judgments (interviews & background checks), expect to be on probation. Like a new job, you aren't eligible for benefits until you work 30-90 days with no problems. Same concept applies for Individuals with Venus in 10th house. Benefits may include sex; however, I have mainly observed benefits for these individuals means giving you more of their time or your name ACTUALLY being saved in their phone- that kind of thing. If you get past this stage, everything you do or don't do will be constantly under review to determine your "promotions", i.e. the level of seriousness your relationship is on. Like a job, you have very little leeway to make mistakes, lack in consistency, and zero tolerance for disloyalty. Some jobs won't even allow you to have another job. (or keep you too busy to effectively balance another job) This concept is the same for those with Venus in 10th house. They have little tolerance for mistakes, disloyalty, and you investing your time and energy into someone else. These individuals truly mean business, nothing is game, joke or for play. If you want an individual with Venus in 10th house, you better be serious- ready to "settle" down for long term. Think of it like, having a " grown up " job, a career that you want to retire from with retirement benefits. Plan to die with Venus in 10th house individuals. It's embarrassing getting fired and I can promise you, it'll be embarrassing for you if a Venus in 10th house FIRES YOU, DROPS YOU, CUTS YOU OFF, ETC. Again, like a job- you will never be able to regain employment back at a company you've been fired from. If you get cut off by these individuals, it's forever. Being with these individuals should truly be viewed as an opportunity, an opportunity that you do not want to FUCK UP. . .

#venus #10th house #astro notes #astrologer #astrology observations #krisluxxeeempress #astro community #astro observations #astrology placements #10th house venus

408 notes · View notes

blackhairandbangs · 1 year ago

Text

That's What Friends Are For

Seo Changbin x Reader

info/masterlist

word count: 2.8K

genre: smut smut!! but its a little fluffy in the beginning

summary: you head to the studio to return bestfriend!changbin's hoodie and end up talking a bit about your friendship

warnings: smut! minors DNI, oral (f recieving), unprotected sex (don’t do it!) maybe a little choking? Reader is called “baby”, “baby girl”, and “bunny” Let me know if I’m missing anything!

a/n: this is currently unedited... i was too excited to post this and haven't given it a second look-through yet.

reblogs are MORE than appreciated <3

You and Changbin had been friends for years. Chan had introduced the two of you just pre-debut and you both had been inseparable since. From late nights over at his dorm, to early mornings at the studio, he just seemed to get you in a way you others didn’t.

Him and Chan were spending another evening in the studio, finishing up songs for the next comeback. The booming of bass flooded out as you opened the soundproof door.

“Hey,” you started to speak, giving the boy a small wave. “Hope I’m not interrupting, Binnie, you left your hoodie at my place last night and I know how cold the studio can get so I figured I would come run it by.” You saw the blush fall on his cheeks as you walked over to where he sat at the mixing table to hand him his tan hoodie. Truthfully, you had planned on stealing the hoodie, wearing it around the house, but you two were just friends and that didn’t seem like the appropriate “friend” action. A good friend would wash the hoodie, fold it up nice, and bring it to the owner’s place of employment, right?

“Oh my goodness, you are so thoughtful, thank you!” He takes the hoodie, slipping it over his broad shoulders. “Come have a seat! I was just finishing up this new mix before Chan gets back.” You nod your head, happy to have a chance to hang out with your friend. You loved watching him work. Something about the way his eyebrows furrowed when he was deep in thought, the way his hair would get ruffled underneath the booth headphones, the way he would bite his lip trying to get the audio effects just right, the way he… But all of the things you noticed couldn’t be anything more than platonic… You just loved to see your friend passionate about the things he enjoys and is good at. All friends love to see that!

“Do you want to hear a bit?” Changbin asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. You whip your head to look at him, taking the headphones he held out in his hands.

You give him a sincere smile, “I would love to.”

He leans over the table, pressing a few buttons before leaning back in his chair to get a clear view of your reactions. You get engulfed by the sound, taping your hand on your leg as the beat carries.

“Oh my God, Binnie, this is amazing!” You say, removing the headphones as the cut comes to an end. “My best friend has to be the most talented person in the world.”

Changbin gives a shy laugh at your praise. He is so grateful you enjoy his work, but the word “friend” hits him in his heart every time you say it. “I’m glad you like it,” He tries to hide his disappointment with a smile, just happy to have you here with him, even if it’s not in the way he wants.

“How has everything been going for you today?” he continues. You two saw each other the night before but were used to talking multiple times a day. However, his studio schedule left him with no free time to do so all day.

“Oh you know, the usual,” You start. You look down at your lap, twiddling your thumbs a bit. “Just another failed date, I really need to get off these apps.” You give a small chuckle, hoping to move on from the topic. You had met a really nice guy through one of the many dating apps on your phone and had planned to meet for coffee earlier in the day. You waited at the shop for an hour before realizing he was not planning on showing up and went home where you threw yourself on the couch until you could muster the strength to get up and bring Changbin his hoodie.

“I told you, you need to try meeting people in different ways!” He laughs. This was a conversation you two had often. You would constantly complain about all of your failed dating app dates. The dates you went on to clear your mind of the crush you had on your best friend. Your best friend would then suggest you meet people in person rather than on your phone. “Maybe you can find dates through hobbies, or maybe your friends?”

You give a small laugh before leaning closer to him. “You know, thats not a bad idea…have any friends I can date?” The question wasn’t serious, just a little joke to get a reaction out of him. You knew you didn’t want any of his friends, just him.

Changbin laughs, scratching the back of his head. “Well, there’s me-” he starts before realizing what he was saying, “and Chan, of course.” His original comment was muffled and flew right over your head. “But, I don’t think you want to date Chan, hes practically married to that sound booth,” he says, gesturing to the open booth in front of the desk you two sat at.

“Hmm… I don’t know, Chan is pretty cute…” You tease, avoiding eye contact with Changbin. What were you doing? Sure, Chan was good looking, but definitely not who you have been pining after. Actually, the guy you were into was sitting right next to you and you just told him you found his friend cute!

“Oh come on, I am not allowing you to date Chan,” Changbin says, playfully hitting your arm.

“Ow!” you laugh, rubbing where he hit, even though it wasn’t even close to actually being in pain. “I’m only joking, Binnie.” You take the opportunity to lean your head on his shoulder, the contact making your ears hot. “Besides, I’d choose you over Chan any day.”

Changbin moves his shoulder so you pull your head up to look at him. He gives a small smirk, “Oh, really? Hm, well you know I’d have to think about that,” he says to tease you. He wasn’t sure where this confidence was coming from. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but he was having a hard time keeping his feelings in tonight. He lets himself come back to the moment, remembering who you are. “You’re quite interesting, but our friendship will always come first,” he says, hoping you couldn't read the sadness in his eyes.

“Right,” you speak quickly, looking away, leaning back to your chair. The space between you grew back to what it should have been. “And we are really good friends.”

“Yes we are, and I am so happy about it,” He gives a fake smile and places his hand on your knee. “You’re really special to me…” his voice trails of as he sees the blush growing across your face. He rolls his chair closer to you reaching his other hand out to gently cup your cheek.

“I might have been teasing you earlier about Chan, but I mean it when I say you’re special to me. I..I like you, you know?”

Your blush goes deeper, feeling his warm hand on your face. Sure, you two had spent many nights cuddles up watching a movie, but something about this contact felt different. It felt intimate.

“Binnie, please don’t play with me like this…” You look down, not wanting to show the disappointment in your eyes. “You like me as a friend, right?

Changbin turns his head the other way, pulling himself away from you. “Yeah,” he nods, “As a friend, I promise. I’m just messing with you,” he says, trying to cover his tracks, hoping none of this is making you uncomfortable. “Friends do that, right?” He asks, turning his attention back to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder pulling you into almost a sort of side hug.

You give a small laugh, “Yeah, totally! Friends can do a lot of things.”

He releases his arm from you, meeting your eyes. “And what kind of things can friends do?”

You look down once again to hide the color of your cheeks, which you are almost certain are about as red as a tomato at this point. “Oh you know…” you trail off, trying to think of an answer. “Friends can cuddle, and…” you don’t allow yourself to finish the thought, feeling the tension sitting in the air.

Changbin leans in, placing a small kiss on the top of your head, sending a shiver straight down your spine. “Well then, friend,” he says, placing an emphasis on that last word, “How about we cuddle for a bit? I could use a break from this song.” He pats his lap, motioning for you to come over. Without hesitation, you are straddling his lap, head resting in the crook of his neck.

He smiles softly, feeling your warmth against him. “Good friends,” he sighs, reaching a hand to stroke your hair. “I’d say we make quite the comfortable pair.”

None of this was feeling real to you, you had to bring yourself back to reality. You lift your head from his shoulder, “How much is left to finish on the song?”

He gives a small chuckle, feeling your breath on his neck. “Oh not much, actually. We’re almost done, just a few more lines,” he starts to rock you gently, feeling your hearts beat in sync.

“That’s good,” you reply, looking up and leaning close to him. “Binnie, just out of curiosity, is there anything else you think close friends could do?” You run a hand through his hair, loosing control of your brain. The words came out without a thought.

Changbin’s heart races slightly over the close proximity and your question.

“Well, good friends can share secrets, and support each other…” he trails off feeling the warm breath of your lips above his. “But were just friends, remember”

You look him up and down, “Binnie, if we’re just friends, why can I practically feel your heart jumping out of your chest right now?” You let yourself be bold, knowing you need him in ways he will never understand.

He swallows hard, unable to meet your eyes. “Friends…um friends…do that…we’re um…just really good…” He struggles to get the words out, reaching out to touch the side of your face.

You decide to just go for it, letting all rationality leave your brain. Your hand comes up to grab his chin, turning his head to look at you. “Now, as a good friend, does this do anything to you?” you ask, practically feeling the heat of his cheeks radiating into the air.

His breath hitches, your faces inches apart. “Well, um… a good friend might be curious about the feelings of another close friend.”

“I think this good friend has maybe had strong feelings for the other good friend, bit was too scared to ruin anything.” His heart races even more, wanting nothing more than to say the words he has been waiting to say for years now.

“A good friend might have those sorts of feelings too…maybe..” You cut him off before he could finish, finally bringing your faces together, letting yourself lean into the kiss, your arms snaking around his neck.

Changbin moans softly into the kiss, gripping your hips as he leans back in the chair, allowing himself to be pinned against it by your weight. He pulls away momentarily, looking you up and down.

“Your lips, feel so soft against mine, I’ve always wanted to taste them.” A shiver sends through your body, feeling his grip tighten on your hips, leaning in to take more of his lips in yours.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Changbin’s tongue sweeps against your lips gently, begging for entry as he deepens the kiss. He is completely lost in the moment, his mind blanketed by the desire to have all of you.

Your lips part, allowing him access inside. A small moan leaves your throat as the kiss intensifies. You pull away for air, your mouth still lingering close.

“Baby, when was Chan supposed to get back?”

“Not for another hour at least,” he starts, peppering your neck with kisses as you through your head back. “He had some things to take care of.”

“Perfect,” you lean in to take him into another string kiss, this one feeling different. It lingered with lust and need.

He pulls your hips closer, his tongue gliding against yours. A small whimper escapes the back of his throat as his hands travel up and down your back. You grind softly against him, feeling his hard grow underneath you.

“Fuck, yes…” he moans, kissing every part of your lips, down to your jawline and neck. He growls low in his throat as his hand moves down to grab your ass. “Tell me what you want, baby”

You moan, continuing to grind your hips, wanting to feel more. “Anything please, I just want you.”

He takes this as an invite to stand up. You allow your legs to wrap around his waist as he carries you to lean against the back wall.

“Binnie,” you whimper, feeling the contact of your head against the wall.

“Fuck, that name,” Changbin breaths out, his hands exploring every inch of you. He tugs on the hem of your shirt and you lift your arms, allowing him to take it off in one swift motion.

“You are so fucking sexy like this. All needy for me,” He starts to speak, lowering himself to his knees as his hands grip your thighs.

“Binnie, please” you moan out, desperate for his touch. He takes this as an invitation to swiftly remove your pants, leaving you in nothing but a bra and panties.

“Let Binnie make you feel good, baby” He says, brushing against your sensitive folds, pushing your underwear aside to leave kisses on your clit. He licks a stripe down you before inserting a finger inside of you, thrusting with precision.

Your head hits the wall as you moan. “Fuck, how are you so good at this?” Your words come out as jumbles as he continues to please you.

“Come on, baby. I’m not stopping until you cum all over my fingers,” Changbin murmurs, picking up the pace of his fingers inside you, working you up to the edge.

Your hands reach down to grip his hair, feeling more pleasure than you’ve ever felt before.

“Go ahead, cum for me baby. Let it all go,” he whispers against your clit, sending your legs shaking above him. He feels your walls clench around his fingers and presses his mouth against your clit one last time before standing up and sucking everything off his fingers. His breathing is ragged as he watches you come down from your high.

“Fuck, youre incredible, bunny.” You pull him into a needy kiss, moaning as you taste yourself on his lips. Changbin hums into the kiss, running up and down your back as he holds you close, “I could do this all night.”

“Please,” you whine, “Binnie, I need you to fill me up.” He laughs, picking you up and throwing you down on the couch that lays in the back corner of the studio. Changbin gets on top of you, leaning down for his tongue to invade your mouth once more. Your hands reach down to tug on the waist band of his sweatpants, pulling them and his boxers down.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, pulling away from the kiss slowly. You nod your head, looking at him, the hunger in his eyes making you flutter. He takes his cock in his hands lining up with your entrance before pushing himself in slowly.

“Tell me when I can move, baby”

“Please, Binnie, I need you,” You whimper, needing to feel him take all of you. With a hum, he starts a steady pace, hitting every spot inside of you. You throw your head back in pleasure, moaning out his name, his cock hitting places you never even knew about.

“I’m not gonna last much longer, you feel so good,” He whines, reaching a hand up to snake around your neck, squeezing gently. “Come on baby, cum for me, you can do it.”

You feel your stomach tighten as you reach your high, trying to use your hand to muffle your screams, remembering where you two were. You clench around him as his body shudders in pleasure as his seed fills you up completely. He reaches down, planting kisses down your neck, not yet pulling out from inside of you.

You speak out, breathless between kisses, “You should probably finish that song before Chan gets back…”

“Mhm..,” he hums, pulling out and sitting up on the couch, his breathing finally stable. “Come here, baby girl,” he says as he pulls you up into his arms, nuzzling his nose against your hair. “You’re amazing.”

Your head falls in the crook of his neck, taking in everything that just happened.

“I take it we’re not good friends anymore, huh?” you ask, giving him a small laugh and placing a kiss on his cheek.

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before returning a giggle to your question. “Definitely not,” His voice is soft as he leans your foreheads together. “You're mine now, and I promise I’m never letting you go.”

A/N: there ya go! this was my first time writing smut in years so I do hope this turned out okay! my requests and asks are open if anyone wanted to pop some hot takes, suggestions, comments or anything else you may want to say. Thank you for coming along with me as I finally return from my 3 year long fanfic hiatus. Happy Holidays guys!

#changbin x reader #bangchan x reader #felix x reader #han jisung x reader #hyunjin x reader #jeongin x reader #lee know x reader #seungmin x reader #skz #stray kids x reader #changbin smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids #stray kids smut

460 notes · View notes

tomorrowusa · 1 year ago

Text

Don't risk a rerun of the 2000 election.

In the first presidential election of the 21st century many deluded progressives voted for Green Party candidate Ralph Nader.

Their foolishness gave us eight years of George W. Bush who plagued the country with two recessions (including the Great Recession) and two wars (one totally unnecessary and one which could have been avoided if he heeded an intelligence brief 5 weeks before 9/11).

Oh yeah, Dubya also appointed one conservative and one batshit crazy reactionary to the US Supreme Court. Roberts and Alito are still there.

Paul Waldman of the Washington Post offers some thoughts.

Why leftists should work their hearts out for Biden in 2024

Ask a Democrat with a long memory what the numbers 97,488 and 537 represent, and their face will twist into a grimace. The first is the number of votes Ralph Nader received in Florida in 2000 as the nominee of the Green Party; the second is the margin by which George W. Bush was eventually certified the winner of the state, handing him the White House. Now, with President Biden gearing up for reelection, talk of a spoiler candidate from the left is again in the air. That’s unfortunate, because here’s the truth: The past 2½ years under Biden have been a triumph for progressivism, even if it’s not in most people’s interest to admit it. This was not what most people expected from Biden, who ran as a relative moderate in the 2020 Democratic primary. His nomination was a victory for pragmatism with its eyes directed toward the center. But today, no one can honestly deny that Biden is the most progressive president since at least Lyndon B. Johnson. His judicial appointments are more diverse than those of any of his predecessors. He has directed more resources to combating climate change than any other president. Notwithstanding the opposition from the Supreme Court, his administration has moved aggressively to forgive and restructure student loans.

Three years ago the economy was in horrible shape because of Trump's mishandling of the pandemic. Now unemployment is steadily below 4%, job creation continues to exceed expectations, and wages are rising as unions gain strength. The post-pandemic, post-Afghan War inflation rate has receded to near normal levels; people in the 1970s would have sold their souls for a 3.2% (and dropping) inflation rate. And many of the effects of "Bidenomics" have yet to kick in.

And in a story that is criminally underappreciated, his administration’s policy reaction to the covid-induced recession of 2020 was revolutionary in precisely the ways any good leftist should favor. It embraced massive government intervention to stave off the worst economic impacts, including handing millions of families monthly checks (by expanding the child tax credit), giving all kids in public schools free meals, boosting unemployment insurance and extending health coverage to millions.

It worked. While inflation rose (as it did worldwide), the economy’s recovery has been blisteringly fast. It took more than six years for employment rates to return to what they were before the Great Recession hit in 2008, but we surpassed January 2020 jobs levels by the spring of 2022 — and have kept adding jobs ever since. To the idealistic leftist, that might feel like both old news and a partial victory at best. What about everything supporters of Bernie Sanders have found so thrilling about the Vermont senator’s vision of the future, from universal health care to free college? It’s true Biden was never going to deliver that, but to be honest, neither would Sanders had he been elected president. And that brings me to the heart of how people on the left ought to think about Biden and his reelection.

Biden has gotten things done. The US economy is doing better than those of almost every other advanced industrialized country.

Our rivals China and Russia are both worse off than they were three years ago. And NATO is not just united, it's growing.

Sadly, we still need to deal with a far right MAGA cult at home who would wreck the country just to get its own way.

Biden may be elderly and unexciting, but that is one of the reasons he won in 2020. Many people just wanted an end to the daily drama of Trump's capricious and incompetent rule by tweet. And a good portion of those people live in places that count greatly in elections – suburbs and exurbs.

Superhero films seem to be slipping in popularity. Hopefully that's a sign that voters are less likely to embrace self-appointed political messiahs to save them from themselves.

Good governance is a steady process – not a collection of magic tricks. Experienced and competent individuals who are not too far removed from the lives of the people they represent are the best people to have in government.

Paul Waldman concludes his column speaking from the heart as a liberal...

I’ve been in and around politics for many years, and even among liberals, I’ve almost always been one of the most liberal people in the room. Yet only since Biden’s election have I realized that I will probably never see a president as liberal as I’d like. It’s not an easy idea to make peace with. But it suggests a different way of thinking about elections — as one necessary step in a long, difficult process. The further you are to the left, the more important Biden’s reelection ought to be to you. It might require emotional (and policy) compromise, but for now, it’s also the most important tool you have to achieve progressive ends.

Exactly. Rightwingers take the long view. It took them 49 years but they eventually got Roe v. Wade overturned. To succeed, we need to look upon politics as an extended marathon rather as one short sprint.

Republicans may currently be bickering, but they will most likely unite behind whichever anti-abortion extremist they nominate.

It's necessary to get the word out now that the only way to defeat climate-denying, abortion-restricting, assault weapon-loving, race-baiting, homophobic Republicans is to vote Democratic.

#paul waldman #liberalism #election 2000 #election 2024 #joe biden #third parties #vote blue no matter who #donald trump #dumpster fire #trumpster fire #fascism vs. democracy #nra republicans #abortion #climate change #lgbtq+ rights #race-baiting #take the political long view #phil hands

498 notes · View notes

llyfrenfys · 10 months ago

Text

Disabled trans author (me) in financial worry zone

Prynhawn da pawb

I'm making this post to keep you all updated with what is happening in my life and where I'm at currently. There's no need for panic just yet, but things are more tenuous than they were before and I hope by explaining what has happened I can keep you all in the loop regarding everything.

So, first things first - I was in A&E last month due to suffering a shock (which I would prefer not to talk about at this time). Suffice to say, this shock was so intense that it caused the knock-on effect of my body entering a state of ketoacidosis caused by involuntary starvation. You can read more about what happened to me in this reblog which I posted earlier.

The ordeal caused me to need to take anti-nausea medication for a while before I ate in order to be able to stomach anything. Thankfully I am able to eat normally again now.

However, I didn't have long to recover from this ordeal before some more bad news came my way. Due to a change in circumstances, I will need to move house at some point this year (ideally as soon as is humanly achievable, which could still be several months) into a smaller flat than the one I'm currently living in. House moves are costly and to make matters worse, more bad news this week.

It looks like I will become unemployed by the end of the month. I'm already looking for some more part-time work, with a few options lined up. But none are guaranteed unless I am successful as a candidate for these jobs.

Which means I'm going to be living on remaining student loan funds in order to pay rent (hence the need to move to a cheaper flat as soon as humanly possible - which could be several months from now. My remaining student loan is *only just* enough to be able to cover this. I'm hopeful I will be able to find part-time employment somewhere - however, the jobs I am applying for don't quite offer enough hours to fully pay for rent as it stands, therefore I'm going to be promoting my patreon for creator support purposes a bit more in order to help me get through this difficult time.

I already can't thank patrons enough for helping me afford a dental mouthguard earlier this year to protect my teeth from my bruxism. If anyone has anything to spare - even in the short term, this will go directly to keeping a roof over my head and food in my fridge. Once I'm able to move house, costs should come right down and hopefully things will be much smoother sailing. But until then, please share this post or donate to my patreon or tip me on tumblr if you are able.

Diolch yn fawr iawn i chi gyd

Luke

Photo of the beach at Aberystwyth I took yesterday for tax:

#cymraeg #welsh #cymblr #mutual aid #trans author #donation post #please boost if you can #Aberystwyth #Wales #diolch

151 notes · View notes

just-aake · 1 year ago

Text

Boundless Devotion - Part II

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.

Warnings: slight angst, violence, abuse

Words: 2582

The carriage leaves the castle gates, carrying the two noblewomen inside.

“I don’t understand why I can’t be outside with the other knights,” Kate pouts as she looks out the window at the guards riding their horses beside the carriage.

Her dog mirrors her position, resting its head sadly against the opening of the window.

Flipping to the next page of the book Queen Melina gave you earlier today after your meeting with her, you respond without looking up at her.

“Because, Kate, even though you chose to become a knight, at the moment, you are still the daughter of a noble family."

You finally glance up at her with a pointed look as you continue your explanation.

"That means you still need to have some form of protection until then.”

Kate groans in disappointment as she slumps back on the seat across from you, crossing her arms as she sulks.

After numerous pleas and persistent requests to her mother about her desire to join the Royal Guard, she finally gained permission to begin her training, though under a lot of conditions and restrictions.

Quickly bored with her sulking, Kate glances at the book in your lap curiously before asking.

“Chronicles of the Red Room? Why are you reading about that?”

With a nonchalant shrug, you reply casually, “I just wanted to learn more about my family’s involvement in the war.”

The book in question recounts personal stories from the previous war between the Romanov Kingdom and the Stark Kingdom.

More precisely, it focuses on a place known as the Red Room, which was apparently under the control of your family's house during the war.

According to your findings so far, this place was mainly used for interrogating captured enemies, and it appears that during the war, the Dreykov House gained considerable recognition for its effectiveness in infiltrating enemy ranks and securing strategic advantages for the kingdom through the Red Room.

The queen graciously provided you with some books on the subject when you inquired about it.

Kate hums in casual interest before commenting curiously.

“Wasn’t your old governess also a general during the war? What was her name again…?”

Kate snaps her fingers when she remembers.

“Madam B!”

Your hand pauses mid-flip at the name, but Kate doesn’t notice your sudden discomfort as she continues.

"She's always been by your side since you were young, but I haven't seen her around for a while now. Where did she disappear to anyway?"

You compose yourself quickly when Kate looks at you, giving her a faint smile before replying, “I believe she moved to the countryside.”

Kate nods in acknowledgment, accepting your words.

As you're about to return your focus to the book, Kate's next words cause you to tense once again.

“It's odd that she decided to leave you now. You'd think she'd want to stay close, considering what happened."

Kate looks at you cautiously, knowing how sensitive the subject of the incident is for you.

You sigh internally at her words.

Despite her cheerful and carefree demeanor, you sometimes forget how observant Kate can be about certain matters.

“Madam B has been a part of my family's employment for many years. It was just simply time for her to get what she deserved,” you explain vaguely.

Noticing Kate nervously biting her lips—a telltale sign of her uncertainty—you anticipate there's something else she wants to say.

Eventually, she gives in with a sad expression.

“That wasn’t the only thing that changed.”

Letting out a deep sigh, you're already aware of what she's referring to.

“I already told you, Kate,” you reassure her gently. “Just because we don’t spend all of our time together anymore doesn’t mean Natasha and I are not still friends.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you return your attention to your book, commenting, "We just…each have our own responsibilities now.”

Kate sighs sadly, slumping back into her seat, “I know, but it just doesn't feel the same. We miss having you with us like before, especially Natasha.”

Choosing not to reply, you pretend to concentrate on your book, ignoring the tightness in your chest at her words.

The truth is — you miss Natasha too.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The carriage stops at the entrance of your family’s manor.

Your gatekeeper, Pietro Maximoff, waves at you as you enter. When he opens the carriage door for you, you see your lady-in-waiting, Wanda Maximoff, rushing down the front steps.

“Welcome back, Lady Y/n.”

The twins stand side by side when they greet you.

You give them a warm smile and nod at them graciously.

As orphans from the remnants of the war, Wanda and Pietro were brought into your family’s house by some of the staff members.

Due to their young age when they joined your household, the three of you practically grew up together.

As a result, you genuinely see them more like siblings than anything else, and they reciprocate the same sentiment.

However, in the presence of those outside the manor, they still try to maintain a respectful attitude toward you.

“Thank you,” you say before gesturing to the back of the carriage. “Pietro, can you help bring in the box?”

He nods at your request, moving to reach for the item.

When you’re about to go up the stairs, Wanda places a gentle hand on your arm, stopping your movement.

Her face holds a tense smile as she speaks.

“Your father has come home early from his meeting,” she states in a casual tone. Though, her eyes dart behind you with a meaningful glance.

The news causes you to freeze, your eyes slightly widening. Swiftly, you turn around and intercept Kate's path, stopping her in her tracks.

She tilts her head at you curiously in confusion.

You offer her a reassuring smile, dispelling all the tense emotions that had crossed your face just moments ago.

“I think I’m just going to rest early today, Kate. It's probably best if you head home," you suggest.

Kate begins to examine you carefully, her expression turning worried.

“Are you okay? Do you feel sick?”

You shake your head, turning her around and lightly directing her back to the carriage before responding.

“I’m fine, just a little tired from reading during the ride.”

Kate casts a skeptical glance your way as she ushers Lucky back into the carriage.

“Okay…,” she says, her voice trailing off. She bites her lip again with uncertainty, remembering something. Then with a deep breath, she speaks again.

“Yelena and I plan to have a picnic at the usual spot by the lake tomorrow,” Kate hesitates briefly before continuing. “Natasha will be there too. I could come in the morning, and we can go together if you’d like?” she proposes with a hopeful tone.

You give her an apologetic look and shake your head, denying her offer.

“I can't, Kate. I have a meeting with Lady Maria tomorrow.”

Kate acknowledges your response with a disappointed nod, retreating back into the carriage with a sad goodbye.

You wave as the carriage disappears through the gates. Once you're certain she's out of sight, you hurry up the front stairs and make your way into your family’s manor.

Wanda and Pietro fall in step beside you. Together, the three of you move swiftly along the hallways, taking a less direct route to your room within the manor.

“Where is he now?” you ask, turning slightly to Wanda.

“He was in his study before you arrived,” she replies.

You glance at the box in Pietro’s hand, which contains other books that the queen gave you today. These books concern subjects that you don't want your father to know you are researching.

“Can you keep that in your quarters for now?”

“Of course,” Pietro replies, nodding without hesitation.

You turn the corner toward the staircase that leads to your floor.

“What do you think you are doing?”

The booming voice from above causes you to freeze, and you look up to see your father, Lord Dreykov, standing at the top of the staircase. His gaze is fixed on the three of you, examining you critically before shifting his eyes to the person behind you.

He points at Pietro, ordering, “You, take that box to my study.”

Pietro doesn’t move at the command. Instead, he turns his attention to look at you for direction.

Dreykov watches the interaction with narrow eyes, and a flicker of irritation crosses his face. He descends the steps slowly, clasping his hands behind his back.

You hold your breath nervously when he stops in front of you, your eyes watching him cautiously.

The sound of a sharp, echoing slap rings out in the room, and your head snaps to the side from the impact of the hit.

As you instinctively bring your hand to your cheek in shock, you cry out in pain when he harshly grabs your wrist and pushes you forcefully to your knees.

You hear some movement from behind you. Glancing back, Wanda and Pietro both have shocked and concerned looks as they step towards you.

“Don’t move,” Dreykov commands threateningly.

Your father twists your wrist in a painful direction, causing you to cry out in pain again.

In response, Wanda and Pietro come to an abrupt stop, freezing in their tracks.

Dreykov chuckles darkly at them.

“So, the two of you can follow orders after all.”

He observes your two obviously loyal attendants, seeing a mix of restrained anger and concern etched across their faces. Annoyance tinges his expression as he clicks his tongue in irritation.

“It seems that in my absence from the manor, some of the staff have forgotten who’s the one in control here.”

He turns to Pietro threateningly, his hand still holding your wrist in a deathly grip.

“Am I going to have to repeat myself?”

Pietro clenches his teeth in anger, his gaze shifting between you and your father’s vice-like grip on your wrist. With a reluctant bow, he hurries away toward the study with the box in tow.

When Pietro disappears around the corner, your father finally lets go of your wrist.

You swiftly pull your hand back, cradling it protectively against your chest.

Immediately, you sense Wanda’s presence behind you. Her hands grasp your arms, pulling you up and drawing you closer to her, creating a safe distance from your father.

Dreykov sneers at you, turning to leave.

“Don’t ever disrespect me like that again, daughter,” he warns, his tone threatening.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

“The nerve of that man!” Wanda fumes as she holds your injured wrist in her lap.

You could see the purplish discoloration on your skin, indicating that a bruise was already forming.

“He’s absent for most of your life. Now, suddenly, he decides to stay and terrorize you and everyone else in the manor!”

Though her words are angry, Wanda is gentle as she applies the medical salves on your wrist.

She's also not wrong about your father. Throughout your childhood, he was rarely at home, always away on trips and meetings to other kingdoms.

Honestly, any memories of moments when he was actually at the manor are hazy to you.

For some reason, he has chosen to stay in the kingdom for a full year now. His return happened shortly after the incident that unfolded on Natasha's birthday.

However, it's hard to believe that his presence is solely driven by concern for you.

Wanda continues, “Not to mention those creepy guards of his that hide in the shadows.”

You wince when she begins to wrap the bandages around a tender area.

“Which is why you should lower your voice, Wanda,” you warn her.

A familiar knocking pattern sounds at the door before Wanda can respond.

Knowing who it is, she calls out, “Come in!”

Pietro slips inside quickly, his gaze immediately focused on your wrist in concern.

“How is she?”

You respond before Wanda can continue her rant.

“I’m fine. Both of you calm down.”

Wanda huffs at you, crossing her arms, before noticing Pietro’s slightly disheveled hair and asking, “What took you so long anyway?”

Pietro's expression shifts into his usual mischievous grin as he pulls out the bundle of books from behind his back.

You recognize them as the ones the queen had given to you from the box.

“I ran to the library and switched these out with some of your geography books,” he explains proudly.

“Pietro!” you chastise before reprimanding him with a sigh. “Thank you, but please don’t do something that risky again. Who knows what my father would do if he caught you.”

Noticing Wanda and Pietro communicating silently to each other with their eyes, you ask them knowingly.

“What is it?”

Wanda's gaze turns sad and uncertain as she speaks, “We can’t really help you much given our position, but maybe if you tell Princess Natasha…”

Wanda gives you a knowing look before confidently stating, "She wouldn’t let this happen to you."

Sighing tiredly at the repeated reminder of the princess’ absence from your life, you adjust your sleeve to conceal the bandages as you explain.

“Her coronation is in a couple of months. I’m not going to burden Natasha with problems of a single noble family when she’s going to have to worry about an entire kingdom soon.”

The twins give you sympathetic looks, already aware of the real reasons for your reluctance to involve the princess.

With a sigh, you remind yourself of the decision that you made after that incident last year.

It was the best option.

The further you stay away from Natasha, the safer she will be.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

The following afternoon, accompanied by Wanda, you go to meet Lady Maria Hill at her manor.

The purpose of the meeting was to see the compatibility between the two of you.

In other words, it was sort of like a first date.

The Hill family is renowned for their significant contributions to the kingdom's military. A majority of their family members hold distinctions as decorated soldiers or knights in the kingdom.

In fact, her cousin is the Captain of the Royal Guard at the castle.

Even now, Maria wears her commander uniform while she sits across from you. Her posture remains perfect and attentive as she places her cup down on the table before addressing you.

“To be honest, Lady Y/n, I was surprised that you still wanted to meet with me today, given the recent news.”

Confused, you glance at Wanda in question, wondering if she knew what Maria was referring to. She shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders in response.

With a polite smile, you return your attention to Maria.

“I’m afraid we haven’t heard any news,” you tell her.

“Well, it’s more like a rumor, just something Steve heard amongst the castle workers,” Maria comments casually before leaning forward slightly as if whispering a secret.

“Apparently, Princess Natasha disclosed last night that she’s in a secret relationship.”

You ignore the new uncomfortable feeling in your chest at the fact that there was something concerning Natasha that you weren’t aware of.

You manage to conceal the surprise and discomfort on your face as your hands cradle the cup in front of you, its warmth offering you little comfort.

“Oh? And did she mention who it is?” you ask, curious to learn more.

“That’s what makes this meeting so strange,” Maria pauses before nodding at you.

“She said that she was in a relationship with you, Lady Y/n.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

a/n: Thank you for reading! Hopefully the tags work, just let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this series.

Taglist: @lightwhoranoutoflight, @taliiiaasteria

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

539 notes · View notes

technofeudalism · 2 months ago

Text

every reddit community is being flooded right now with posts about how amazing Joe Biden is and how he is the greatest President in American history and how "he's still got it."

normally, i'd find this kind of odd. because the tone has been drastically different everywhere else since the election loss. but then i found out why there's a sudden explosion of pro-Biden content.

During the 2020 presidential primary, Jill Biden campaigned so extensively across Iowa that she held events in more counties than her husband—a fact her press secretary at the time, Michael LaRosa, touted to a local reporter. His superior in the Biden campaign quickly chided him. As the three rode in a minivan through the state’s cornfields, Anthony Bernal, then a deputy campaign manager and chief of staff to Jill Biden, pressed LaRosa to contact the reporter again and play down any comparison in campaign appearances between Joe Biden, then 77, and his wife, who is eight years his junior. Her energetic schedule only highlighted her husband’s more plodding pace, LaRosa recalls being told. The message from Biden’s team was clear. “The more you talk her up, the more you make him look bad,” LaRosa said. The small correction foreshadowed how Biden’s closest aides and advisers would manage the limitations of the oldest president in U.S. history during his four years in office. To adapt the White House around the needs of a diminished leader, they told visitors to keep meetings focused. Interactions with senior Democratic lawmakers and some cabinet members—including powerful secretaries such as Defense’s Lloyd Austin and Treasury’s Janet Yellen—were infrequent or grew less frequent. Some legislative leaders had a hard time getting the president’s ear at key moments, including ahead of the U.S.’s disastrous pullout from Afghanistan. Senior advisers were often put into roles that some administration officials and lawmakers thought Biden should occupy, with people such as National Security Adviser Jake Sullivan, senior counselor Steve Ricchetti and National Economic Council head Lael Brainard and her predecessor frequently in the position of being go-betweens for the president. Press aides who compiled packages of news clips for Biden were told by senior staff to exclude negative stories about the president. The president wasn’t talking to his own pollsters as surveys showed him trailing in the 2024 race.

so it turns out that, after the last year and a half of leftists saying "hey, isn't this guy really fucking old and kind of dying?" and being completely shit on, told to shut the fuck up, sit down and know our place... the guy was indeed dying behind the scenes.

and now, because this story is gaining attention in the mainstream media (CNN ran a segment earlier), reddit has full tilt re-engaged the Biden propaganda machine in order to "preserve his legacy."

throughout the entirety of the Biden presidency, and even before the 2020 election, Biden's cabinet, advisors, spokespersons, campaign staff, etc., abdicated their duty. their lust to remain in power, retain influence and secure gainful future employment in Washington along with their contempt for the average human being (including Palestinians) has effectively doomed us to 4+ years of Republican rule. now, they will go onto lobbying in the private sector and cash in on years of clout accumulated through being a dutiful stooge.

target your anger appropriately. stop blaming the voters. the Democratic party has never and will never care about you or anyone in this country other than their corporate owners.

#us politics #politics #uspol

39 notes · View notes

satansapostle6 · 6 months ago

Text

I Left The Light On And The Back Door Open For You | Robert Chase

From the moment he first saw Margot Lange from legal, Dr. Robert Chase knew he was in for a wild ride that he never wanted to end.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Sexual content.

Chapter One: Office Tiger

Dr. Robert Chase was annoyed, to say the least. His employer, the cantankerous and sometimes chaotic evil Dr. House, had sent him all the way down to the first floor for something that didn’t exist, just for his entertainment during the work day. Intending on confronting him, Dr. Chase returned to the fourth floor of the hospital when he realized that the department of diagnostic medicine had a visitor, who was currently speaking with House. He had never seen this woman before.

Dr. Chase realized that the woman speaking with House was another Princeton-Plainsboro employee, most likely not one of the doctors, based on her attire. Lisa Cuddy was, in some cases, a very lenient employer, focusing more so on an employee’s skills and results as opposed to superficial factors, such as behavior or approach toward less important rules. This had been demonstrated on many occasions through her hiring and continued employment of Dr. House.

Chase was beginning to understand that this was also her approach toward the woman House was speaking with, based on her attire that normally would be somewhat frowned upon in a typical work environment. While the woman’s attire wasn’t exactly inappropriate in nature, Chase couldn’t help but find it somewhat distracting to him, even if he knew that that was more so his own problem than the woman’s. Chase couldn’t help but be distracted by the tall hospital employee, whether it was because of her pretty face, long dark hair, or full-bodied characteristics.

“Miss Lange, I seriously don’t have time for this.”

“And I ‘seriously’ don’t have time to go to court for ten malpractice cases in a week, but then again, here we are,” the woman, addressed as ‘Miss Lange’, retaliated firmly.

Her voice had a rather bright, airy quality to it that was oddly inspiring. Inspiring of what, Chase had no idea. He noticed that it was almost like she was speaking in a way that was oddly retro, to the effect of being almost transatlantic. She was a rather interesting and unique type of attractive, but this didn’t stop Chase from being attracted to her at all. She was unlike many of the women he’d been with before, and also unlike many of the women he’d seen before.

She was slender and tall, especially in high heels. In heels, Chase estimated that she had to be almost six feet. She was taller than him in her stylish black Louboutins, but he hardly minded. This was one of the most remarkably beautiful women he’d ever seen, with her long black hair, blunt bangs, and dark hazel eyes. Her skin looked like pale silk, and he was mesmerized.

“Did you know the legal department has employees, like myself, specifically designated as ‘House damage control’?” the lawyer questioned Dr. House.

“I’m flattered,” the man smiled sarcastically.

Chase then realized that the woman was part of Princeton-Plainsboro’s legal staff, and patiently stood with his arms crossed by the door to try and see how her argument with House would pan out. Most people who dared to go toe to toe with House either lost, or lost their minds in the process, but usually it was both. However, this woman didn’t seem to be budging.

“I’m telling you, House, the legal department doesn’t have the time or energy to deal with this. As much as I appreciate you almost single-handedly getting me that SLK I wanted, I’m gonna have to ask that you not violate the Hippocratic Oath every Tuesday, or at least wait until I’ve had my morning espresso.”

“Honey, if your arguments are as solid as your ass, I think you’ll be just fine,” he promised her.

“They are,” she stated, as Chase raised an eyebrow, looking around the room completely flabbergasted.

Dr. Foreman and Dr. Cameron, who were sitting around waiting, both seemed relatively used to this behavior between the two of them.

“I’ll tell you what. You cut down my case load by three a week, I’ll let you bounce a quarter off of it,” the attorney incentivized.

Robert Chase did everything in his power not to let his jaw physically drop to the floor.

“Oh, challenge accepted, toots,” the older doctor said immediately.

The woman, affectionately referred to as ‘Miss Lange’, who couldn’t have been older than thirty-two, turned as she left the room, stopping in front of Chase on the way out.

“Do you happen to have a lighter on you?” she said after a moment of thought.

“Erm, no, sorry,” he shook his head, snapping himself out of his trance as she walked by.

“Shame. Anyways. You gonna be at the casino thing tonight?”

“Yeah,” Chase smirked, glad there was a work event that night.

“Alright. Cool,” was all she had to say to him.

He looked out into the hall as she walked off, shamelessly fixed on the way she moved, her hips moving lightly from side to side as she walked.

“Who is that?” he asked excitedly.

“Hey. Don’t make me spray you with the hose,” House sarcastically interrupted his depraved train of thought. “She’s mine. Back off.”

“What?” Chase snapped back to reality.

Eric Foreman and Alison Cameron both shook their heads at him.

“That’s Margot Lange. I’m only gonna say this once: do not hit that,” House warned.

“What?” Chase questioned, shocked. “Why?” he complained.

“Because. She’ll eat you alive, like some sort of office tiger,” the man informed him, leaning on his cane.

“What does that even mean?” Chase stared at him.

House sighed at his hopeless employee. “You know how you can compare a woman to a shot of espresso?”

Robert Chase had no idea how to answer this particular question.

“I guess…?”

“Well, that woman is a double shot of warm Everclear,” House told him.

But Chase just stood there, staring at him with a clear lack of understand. House made a show of rolling his eyes impatiently, trying to reiterate his warning.

“Do not engage. No man who’s ever tried to pursue a relationship with that woman has ever succeeded,” Gregory House ignored him. “Or come out unscathed.”

“Who said anything about a relationship?” Chase scoffed, a slight insecurity to his response.

“Nice try,” Dr. House commended him, “But even if you don’t want a relationship with her, after a few nights, you will. Trust me. And then, that’ll go south really fast, and you’ll quit, and then I’ll have to find someone to take your place. So just, don’t.”

“Why, are you speaking from experience?” the thirty year-old doctor stared.

“Yes, but not mine. Dr. Wilson’s. ‘Nuff said.”

Chase thought about Wilson for a moment, fully aware of the man’s addictive ‘falling in love’ tendency.

“Yes, but that’s also Dr. Wilson,” he reasoned in his distinctive Australian accent, “He’d fall in love with a blowup doll.”

“Well, what about Dr. Michaels? And Dr. Bettencourt? And Dr. Gonzalez? And Dr. Yu?”

“How can someone even have that much free time?” Dr. Cameron murmured, as Foreman just shrugged.

“Who’s Dr. Yu?” Chase didn’t recognize the name.

“Exactly,” House frowned.

“What if I only get with her once?” Dr. Chase tried to bargain.

“Buddy. She’ll eat you alive.”

“But… What if that’s what I want?” Chase asked cheekily, only to be met with disgust.

“Ugh!” Allison Cameron practically gagged.

“I promise you, you’ll somehow end up with your heart on the floor.”

“Seriously?” Chase asked. “She’s that bad?” he said in disbelief.

“Yes, now can we move on? I’m getting bored, we’ve been on the same topic for a whole two minutes!”

That particular day working for Dr. House wasn’t necessarily the worst that Dr. Chase had ever experienced. They had all left the hospital at a fairly reasonable hour, in time for him to head home and get changed for the office outing to a casino that night. Chase had been fairly excited to get out and head to the casino, mostly because he hadn’t had much of a social life in the past month or so. He was hoping he’d meet someone, or at least have a fairly pleasant evening of socializing with his colleagues, preferably not involving Dr. House.

The casino seemed to be decently populated that Thursday night. Motivated to get the night going, Chase approached the bar, ordering himself a decent scotch. He sat down for a moment, finishing the drink so he could start to feel a light buzz. He looked at the seat beside him, pleasantly surprised to find it was already occupied by a woman. And not just any woman.

“Hey, blondie,” the woman teased him, downing an entire martini right before his eyes.

“It’s you. From earlier,” he realized, almost having forgotten she’d asked him if he was coming.

“What’s your name?” she asked, nodding as the bartender took her glass and offered a refill.

“Robert. Robert Chase,” he told her. “What’s yours?” he decided it best to pretend he hadn’t been told.

“Margot Lange,” she introduced herself confidently.

Robert had to admit he found her confidence attractive, to say the least. The more he drank, the more he couldn’t deny that she was a generally very attractive woman, with her wide, alluring eyes and her chic stature. Robert had to admit he was certainly not opposed to being with a tall woman, especially if that woman was Margot. She wore her height well, embracing it with high heels that had to have made her around six feet tall.

Unlike most men, Robert Chase didn’t feel emasculated by a beautiful, tall woman. If anything, he found her height to be rather attractive, in the way she carried herself as if she were something to be chased. Chase did love himself a tall woman.

“Nice to meet you, Margot,” he smiled charmingly. “Can I buy your next drink?”

“Sure,” she smiled, a seductive purr to her voice.

“So, what do you like to do in your free time?” he asked in turn.

“I’m a lawyer, and I deal with malpractice at the same hospital House works at, do you think I have any free time?” she crossed one leg over the other as she turned to face him.

“Good point,” Chase offered a good-humored smile. “So, what would you like to do in your free time?”

“Honestly, at this point, I’m lucky if I get to make cosmopolitans and watch TV or read a book for a whole day,” she explained. “I’d like to do that.”

“That does sound very relaxing,” he nodded in agreement. “My days off pretty much work the same way. I don’t get too much time to myself, so when I do, I tend to spend it on pretty simple things.”

“Do you like clubbing?” Margot asked.

“Er, I used to, sort of, when I was a little younger,” the young doctor thought. “I never went a whole lot, but when I did go out, that’s the kind of thing I would do.”

“What about raves? You ever go to one?”

“No,” Chase considered, “Not really. Honestly, I’m pretty vanilla.”

“I can see that,” she smirked, prompting him to reconsider the exact wording of that statement, looking embarrassed.

“You seem like you’ve really lived,” he chuckled nervously, feeling his own social life paled in comparison to hers.

“Wanna play a drinking game?” she asked, trying to put him at ease.

“Depends on what the game is,” he looked at her curiously, folding his hands in thought.

“‘Never Have I Ever’. If it’s your turn, you say something you've never done before, and if the other person’s done it, they take a sip of their drink. We take turns,” she concluded.

“Wouldn’t you end up way more drunk than me?” he wondered.

“Not if you guess right,” she sipped on her martini.

“Alright. Consider me game,” he smiled.

“I’ll go first,” she offered, thinking hard about her first turn. “Never have I ever… peed myself in public,” she watched him for a reaction.

“What—” Chase stared at her in disbelief, reluctantly sipping on his glass of scotch. “That’s what you went with?”

“I was curious,” she grinned at the humor of the situation. “Besides, you peed yourself in public, I don’t think you get to judge.”

“I was seven!” he complained defensively.

“Okay, okay, fine,” she agreed mockingly. “Your turn, then.”

“Okay. Never have I ever…” it took him a moment to come up with something he felt could be successful. “Done heroin,” he threw out satirically.

Margot smirked at him, pointedly dragging out her actions as she picked up her martini glass and dramatically held it out to him before taking a small sip. Robert Chase was in shambles as he tried to decide whether to cry out incredulously or simply apologize profusely.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to feel bad,” she promised him, “I’m still here. And a lawyer.”

Chase laughed as the two of them enjoyed the moment, continuing with the childish game as they drank together, both having a surprisingly good time. Robert knew that he’d have a good time with Margot. He knew that House had to have been exaggerating. Right?

“Never have I ever shoplifted,” she suggested eagerly.

“I’ve never done that before, actually,” he told her as she took a tiny sip of her drink.

“Really?” Margot asked nonchalantly, “It’s fun.”

Robert stared. “Why do I almost feel like you’ve done it more recently than, like, high school?”

She just smiled, not giving away her secrets. At least, not all of them.

“Never have I ever… been… in an orgy?” Chase said slowly.

“Define ‘orgy’.”

“Sex with at least three other people?” he decided.

Margot laughed. “That’s the only thing you could think of that you don’t think I’ve done?”

“Sorry,” he apologized quickly, feeling awkward.

But she still seem amused. “No, it’s fine.”

He watched, gulping as she took a sip of her drink. Soon enough, the two of them were out, and Robert ordered them another round. Although they both occasionally ran out of alcohol, he found that the one thing that didn’t seem to be running out, luckily, was conversation. Both of them seemed to lose track of time sitting alone together at the bar.

“Never have I ever… posed nude,” Robert baited, definitely feeling the scotch getting to his head.

Margot rolled her eyes at the basic question, as both of them took a drink. She seemed satisfied by this outcome.

”Never have I ever been leaked,” she stated.

Once again, both of them took a drink. Robert stopped for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts as he looked curiously at the woman across from him.

“How is it that you’ve lived such a life?” Chase wondered.

“That’s not the game,” Margot reminded him.

He just nodded, disappointed as he tried to think of something good. “Never have I ever… done it in public.”

Both of them scoffed and drank.

Margot grinned mischievously. “Never have I ever kissed someone of the same sex.”

“Well… there was one time,” he braced himself, earning a pointed eyebrow raise, “I didn’t actually do it, but there was a dare, at a party, and… I guess I kind of wanted to,”

“I just want to point out that that was definitely a lie, by the way. More so than anything else we’ve said. I have. Plenty of times. I just really wanted to know the answer,” she remarked.

“Never have I ever slept with a coworker,” Chase lied, as she took another sip of her drink.

He felt pretty confident, until her next quip. She looked him right in the eyes as she said it, and he could’ve sworn his knees buckled.

“Never have I ever done someone in an alley behind a casino.”

The subsequent taxi ride to Margot’s place felt unnecessarily long, but as soon as he’d front door closed, the clothes came off. They were both stripped down to their undergarments before even reaching her bedroom upstairs. Margot broke the sloppy kiss, much to Robert’s disappointment, sitting promptly on the bed as he looked down at her in confusion.

“Why’d you stop?” he almost whined, unable to take the way she looked up at him.

“I think… I wanna see you take over for a minute,” she told him, slowly leaning back as she spread her legs for him to see. “I wanna see how you fuck.”

Her words were so deliciously lewd they seemed to have their own unique resonance to them, and he was entranced.

“Alright,” he agreed quickly, tilting her face upward with his index finger.

He kissed her so softly, Margot thought, it was more like kissing a girl. She allowed herself to be entertained by him as he moved his hands, from just above her knees to her hips, the pads of his fingers gently digging into her soft flesh. She felt him passionately slipping his tongue into her mouth, smiling as she toyed with his hair for both amusement and support. He got up on the bed and rested his knees on either side of her, gradually leaning forward so that her body would move backward.

Eventually, she laid on her back looking up at him, eyes full of this feigned innocence. He thought for a moment about how truly good she looked.

“Take this off for me, love?” he asked politely, thumbs circling around the cups of her bra.

She wouldn’t have admitted it, but Margot felt herself growing desperate at the simple act. She then lifted her torso so that he could reach his hands underneath her to unclip her bra, gently putting it aside. She let a tiny, but still present moan escape as he leaned over her, hands holding her breasts as his thumbs tweaked her nipples. Margot pulled him closer to her as he kissed all over the side of her neck, suckling gently despite her gestures and signals for more.

Robert Chase smiled to himself, quickly reassured that he could keep up with a woman like Margot. After all, he’d had his own fair share of amorous exploits. His spike in confidence definitely enhanced his performance, noticeably. Margot smirked to herself triumphantly, realizing she’d chosen well for her midnight snack. Her subsequent responses were overwhelmingly enthusiastic for Chase as she pulled his body over hers on the excitingly large bed. Chase allowed his own animal instincts to take over, crawling on top of her as he kissed her almost harshly, guiding his knee toward her wet center.

“Take these off,” he huffed, slipping off her panties.

Margot chuckled happily as she slid them off, pulling Chase closer to her by the collar of his shirt. He let out a quiet groan as he helped her unbutton and throw off his shirt, thinking he felt more aroused than he ever had in his life. He couldn’t undress fast enough. It wasn’t long before he was stripped down to his underwear, gasping euphorically as he felt Margot’s bright red almond nails digging into the taut flesh on his back. He let out a soft gasp as she rose up from underneath him, flipping him over as he panted softly.

Chase looked up at her with widened blue eyes, heart racing as Margot grinned as she pinned him down. Chase could tell she took pleasure in seeing him helplessly defenseless, which seemed to only excite him more.

“Gotcha,” Margot taunted.

“You got me,” Robert agreed, not sounding particularly broken up about it.

Margot smiled at his eagerness as she slid his briefs down. He gasped as she sank down on top of him, gasping ecstatically. Margot all but pounced on him as she planted harsh kisses on his neck, forcing relieved moans out of him as he thrusted up into her, swearing he’d died and gone to heaven. His hands moved from her ass to her hips, massaging her as she bounced up and down so fast he could hardly think. He could hardly see as he felt himself getting hot.

“Fuck!” Margot sighed, tossing her head back.

Chase grinned, more than satisfied with himself as he watched her. She really was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, let alone slept with. She was confident, and sharp, and fiery. It made for some of the best sex he’d ever had, as ridiculous as it sounded. He even made sure to force himself to last even longer than usual as she clenched tightly around him, just to indulge in the unbelievably intense sensation for longer. He had no idea how long it had really been, but he knew they went at it for at least a solid ten minutes.

Chase suddenly felt the need to switch things up, to add an additional element of spontaneity. So, he took a page out of Margot’s book and pushed her off of his lap. She landed on her lap in the middle of the bed, looking up at him with an animalistic sense of fear in her eyes. She looked up at him with disappointment, pouting seductively as he stood over her on his knees.

“No happy ending?” she teased.

“Not yet, sorry darling,” Chase panted.

Before she knew what was happening, Chase pulled a Margot, flipping her over on her stomach as she let out a squeal of excitement. Margot chuckled as she arched her back. Chase sighed as he slid into her, groaning at the warm feeling. He felt himself twitch at the sound of her loud moans, her pleasure giving him more gratification than anything else.

“Oh, fuck!” he hissed, no longer able to contain his arousal.

“Shit!” Margot whispered, her walls tightening around him.

Chase grinned, feeling himself about to climax as she leaned down, kissing him hungrily as they both clung to one another passionately.

Chapter Two

#robert chase #dr robert chase #house md #dr robert chase fanfic #robert chase fanfic #robert chase x reader #jesse spencer #dr robert chase smut #robert chase smut

71 notes · View notes