#its cheesy but... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

specsthesecond · 8 days ago

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Birds chirp just outside the thick glass windows calling you from a deep sleep. You can see a bit of that light winter sun shine through the curtains, barely enough to brighten the room.

In his room every breath you take smells like him. In his bed the sheets are warm and soft, just like him. The chilly air forces you to burrow further into the covers as you regain consciousness and your muscles begin to stir. You stretch a little, teasing the sleep from your tendons, weighed down by the heavy arm around you. You hear a deep rumble from behind you as your lover stirs but quickly settles back into sleep, snoring softly.

You suddenly have the strong urge to turn around, you can feel him, you can smell him, you can hear him, you just want to see him. You try to turn around as gently as possible, twisting your waist under his arm and trying so hard not to stir your sleeping giant. A memory comes to mind of the first time you woke up in his arms like this, how you almost fell off his chest and he only stirred a little with the motion. Now that you think of it, he was fully awake only a few moments later, just in time to catch you admiring his face, awfully convenient. Your sleepy mind lights up and you eye your lover's sleeping face with new suspicion.

He breathes like he’s asleep, slow and rhythmic. His eyes are closed but he's not snoring anymore. You stare intently at his eyes, looking for any signs of consciousness, while your hands slowly move from his chest up to his shoulders. You take your time admiring him, like the first time except now, instead of being spurred by bewilderment and curiosity, there is actual admiration and love behind the action.

Your fingers flutter up his bare chest as you lean closer on your elbow. You lightly scratch at his stubble and see his lips twitch upwards just the tiniest bit, it breaks a smile onto your face. When your fingers make it to his cheek, you cup the fat there. One of his eyes squint open, trying to go unnoticed but obviously failing when he sees you looking right at him. He quickly shuts his eye again and snorts when he knows he's been caught, and you sit up, pushing him away while laughing, your suspicion now confirmed.

“You bastard!”

You push at his shoulders, and he laughs openly now, a raspy sound, thick with sleep.

“You were awake the whole time, even that first time!”

You shout accusations he doesn't understand, shaking his shoulders in faux anger and genuine embarasment. He finally fights back against your playful pushing by sitting up and wrapping his arm around your waist, also managing to grab a wrist. He brings your hand to his cheek, holding it there as he stared down at you in his lap. He makes it clear he wants you to touch him like that again while he's awake with all the admiration and curiosity you do when you think he's asleep. And you do, combing stray strands of hair from his face then moving down to tentatively touch his pretty tusks. You move in closer to look at the pretty carvings on them, blinking up at his eyes, which stare at your lips lazily. You inch closer and even closer until your lips barely graze his. And then you pull away, barely giving him time to grab for you before you hop off the large bed and dawdle your way to the bathroom.

You snicker as you hear him shout something like the orcish equivalent of “Hey!” You grab a cup and fill it with water from the water barrel in the bathroom, before grabbing the wooden toothbrush you got a while back from a travelling merchant and smearing on some minty herbal toothpaste.

The orc grumbles into the room and you grin at him as he grabs his own toothbrush, which is almost comically bigger than yours. After brushing the sleep off your tongue, you rinse your mouth with the cup of water, it tastes stale but it gets the job done. He does the same but you watch in curiosity as smears on a second glob of toothpaste before he starts brushing his tusks. You don't know why it hasn't occurred to you but it seems obvious now, he clearly takes very good care of them if they look that pretty, with all the careful carvings in the bone coloured ivory.

When he's done you walk to the kitchen, trying to not feel so unfamiliar with his home. The freezing cold tile of the kitchen is starting to feel atleast a little familiar, like the smell of the kitchen; doughy with hints of something earthy you can't name. You shiver as you reach for two mugs from the cupboard you saw him place your mugs in. He yawns and stretches in the doorway, as you look through the draws for a spoon.

He reaches over you to grab his own mug, placing his hand on your waist for an unneeded amount of time and then grabs the kettle placing it over the cast iron. You mull over what to drink, you don't want to drink up all your red tea, who knows when or if you’ll ever get more. Your lover opens another cupboard and pulls out a jar of cream-coloured powder, one brown coloured powder and a jar filled with a golden syrup. You watch him scoop a teaspoon full of the cream-coloured powder into his mug and then a much smaller amount of the brown powder that smells like cinnamon but is definitely not. You’ve realised now what he’s making and you push your mug closer to his, very subtly asking for a cup yourself. He looks down at you, gives you an amused huff and then plops some powder into your cup as well, along with a generous dollop of what is definitely honey.

You barely try to hide how you’re staring at him and you can tell by his slight smile that he can feel it. He finally turns to you when he’s done and leans against the counter, waiting for the kettle to boil. You hesitate for a moment now that you have his attention. Remembering your actions yesterday, he seems to like it when you’re upfront about your desires. You try to remember that as you place your hands on his chest and lean into him, gaze flicking between his eyes and his mouth. He cocks his head in response, even though you both know what you want. For some unknown reason, you can’t will yourself to just ask for a simple kiss, so you try and take it instead. He can’t help but chuckle when you start trying to climb him to reach your prize.

After a few moments of watching you struggle, he places his hands behind your thighs and lifts you up. The sudden movement makes you hit your knee on the kitchen counter and you yelp in pain, rubbing the sore skin while the orc places you on the counter. He looks down at the already bruising skin and bends down to sheepishly kiss the area, looking up at you apologetically with slightly darker cheeks. You laugh and place a hand on his cheek, he looks beautiful from this angle and you express that to him by leaning down to kiss him. He hums into the kiss, hands gently caressing up your thighs. Your hands roam his muscly back as he kisses you until your head is backed up against the cupboards, only allowing him to deepen the kiss further and-

The screaming kettle interrupts your intimacy and he gives an exaggerated sigh. Ignoring your snort he pours the hot water while you help with breakfast preparations.

After you eventually finish breakfast, he sits on the couch and you browse around his bookshelf. You pull a few of the cartography looking ones out and place them on the living room table, getting your pencil ready. He perks up and looks over when you slide over the finished note.

“You draw maps?”

Simple question to start. He nods his head.

You wait for him to write something down and elaborate but he just nods as if that’s the only question he expects you to ask about it. You fumble or a moment and slide the paper back to you, writing;

“Can I see?”

He seems surprised by that, like he didn’t expect you to care or ask about it. He nods and stands up, bringing the pencil and book. You follow him to the bedroom where he stands in front of the large map on the wall, placing the pencil and book down on the desk below it. He looks over to you, like he wants to confirm that you’re actually paying attention, and points to an orcish word on the map near the middle, gesturing to himself and the ground.

You light up a little and say,

“That's here?”

While gesturing down, he nods his head looking pleased that you understood and that he understood at least your gesture if not your words. He then points towards a point near the far right edge of the map, and points to you. It takes you a moment but when you realise that the bold line separating the two halves of the map is the Human-Orcish boarder, it becomes clear.

“That’s where I lived?”

While gesturing to yourself, he nods again. You look back at the map and notice that much of the right side past the bold line is blank, there's only a dot for your cabin, some trees and a lake.

You now have many questions and you go through them trying to figure out how to word them. When you grab your pencil and page through your translation book, you huff in frustration when you realise your questions are too long and messy to write down. You close the book and point to the lake on the map with your pencil,

“You found me here? When you saved me?”

After a moment he nods,

“Is that why you went past the boarder? You were drawing a map?”

You’d wondered what the hell he was doing just roaming around in human territory. He nods to you and says something about “drawing” while pointing at the area around the lake, then he says something, points to his ear and you catch the word “save”.

So he was mapping out the area, heard the ice crack and you fall in, and decided to bring you back home instead of letting you die. You just stare at the map for a little, as much as you want to berate him for crossing the boarder like that, if he hadn’t been there that day you’d certainly be at the bottom of that lake right now. The thought weighs heavier than you’d like.

You look over the map to try and distract yourself with the thick black inked symbols and sketches. On the far side of the map, deep in orcish territory, it looks like the land just stops. Maybe it’s another boarder or a river within Orc territory that he can’t cross. You point to the squiggly line with a confused face. He scratches his stubble, shrugs and says a word you don’t recognise. You look at him blankly and he huffs a laugh. He says a different word you don’t know, moving his hand up and down like he’s mimicking a snake or something. You still clearly don’t understand and he grabs the translation book, paging through it and pointing out a word for you.

“Sea”

You stare at the word in disbelief, that can’t be true, you’ve only ever heard stories of the sea. You look back at the map with scrunched eyebrows, It’s further away from his house than the distance between your house and his but that can only be half a days walk at most. There’s no way you spent your whole life not knowing the sea was a couple hours hike from your home. You look up at him and shake your head, and he just nods back to you. You cross your arms and fully turn to face him, looking a lot more serious. He fumbles a little at the earnestness on your face and gently takes the pencil from your fist, writing in the notebook.

“I can show you.”

You read it and soften a bit, nodding your head. You wonder if it looks like the drawings you’ve seen in books or if it really tastes as salty as they say.

The next hour or so is spent making lunch to carry with you to your destination. You pack the hard dough bread, berries and some dried meats into his rucksack and meet your lover in the living room. He tries not to laugh when you write to him asking if he’s sure it’s the actual sea and not a very big lake. He has a smaller map with him, one of just a small portion of orcish territory, he shows you the map and points towards where he’s drawn three little circles on the map that lie between his house and the alleged sea. He then points to his notebook which says,

“First bath then beach and lunch!”

You look at his written words then back at the map, so those three circles are little lakes? or maybe ponds? You suppose it might be warm enough to bathe but to hike what must be a couple of hours right after a cold bath is a bit drastic. You could absolutely do with a good clean though, you haven’t bathed since before you fled your home and a lot has happened since then. Your lover stands at the door, shoving his boots on and checking if he has everything he needs. You tuck the two books safely into your coat as you walk out the door into the chill outdoor air.

The sun tries it’s best to shine through the clouds as you walk amongst the trees, the ground snow has melted somewhat making traversing the landscape a bit easier. You’re walking behind the massive orc, staring at the neatly drawn map in your hands. You’ve found out you aren’t the best at reading maps as it turns out. Your lover very graciously had to reorientate the map in your hands multiple times and that didn’t even help you read it any better.

You’ve been walking a while and you have no idea where you are on this damn map. You hear your lover say something and you hum in acknowledgement still trying to read his map, until he moves your chin up and right in front of you is a beautiful steaming hot spring. Three little hotsprings actually, attached to a rocky incline in the forest ground. You look down at the map and then up again and then to your lover who lets out a very amused laugh.

You follow him to the nearest spring and dip your hand in, gasping as the hot water shocks your cold skin. You waste no time undressing, your lover doing the same, you step into the water and let out a genuine moan as the hot water seeps into your frost bitten bones. When your love steps into the pool the water overflows with his sheer mass making you laugh lighly.

He pulls a block of soap out of his pack and starts rubbing himself down with it, clearly this is his usual bathing arrangement which is a massive improvement from the freezing lake next to your cabin. The bastard, no wonder he has such soft skin and hair, especially for a damn woodsman. You scoff at him and he just gives you a confused look to which you shake your head and motion for him to pass the soap. Soon you feel cleaner than you have in a long, long time as you scrub the grime off your body, the sticky sweaty feeling finally being washed away.

The orc smiles endearingly at his lover, clearly pleased that you’re enjoying your hot bath so much. He unties his hair from the loose half bun it’s been in since he woke up and starts washing the thick mane. He pulls a wooden comb out his pack and starts untangling the strands. You’d heard that orcs take pride in their hair, you assumed this must have been to signal wealth or higher class or something. Your lover would have no use in that though so there must be some other reason? Maybe he’s just particular about hygiene. You’re completely unaware of how unabashedly you’re staring at him as you become lost in these thoughts. It doesn't go unnoticed by him though, he smiles at the thought of having to get used to it.

You watch him brush the comb through his hair, stretching to try and reach some troublesome knots in the back. You nudge closer and motion for him to give you the comb to which he hesitates. You retract your outstretched hand and look at him questioningly. You can’t parse his expression, surprised, hesitant, bashful maybe? When you’re about to shift away from him he reaches out and puts the comb in your hand. You move slowly behind him, a little worried by his earnestness at what you perceived as a simple gesture.

You gently untangle his knots, patiently brushing the twisted strands until they come free. He hums in thanks whenever you smooth the comb across his scalp after a successful untangling. You both enjoy the quiet atmosphere, its always like this with him, calm and comfortable. No pressure to entertain or engage, as if just existing near each other is all the comfort needed.

Your shoulders and breasts are exposed to the cold air and as you finish up brushing down the now tangle free locks a breeze blows past that makes your whole body shiver. You plunge back into the hot water and your orc looks back at you and chuckles. You click your tongue, of course he doesn’t feel the cold, the hot blooded bastard. You curl your arms around him from behind, pushing your perked nipples into his back. You feel him tense but you know it’s not because of the cold. You run your hands up and down his stomach and chest. It seems admiring your lovers body is becoming a frequent past time of yours.

He grunts a little when your hands wonder lower, following the black hair on his stomach as it thickens further down. He places a hand on yours as a gentle warning, as if you don’t know what you’re doing. You place your cheek against his warm back and reach deeper until you finally touch the base of his cock. He sighs as you wrap your hand around him, and thank the gods he can’t see your face. He might not have appreciated the look of absolute shock and a little horror on your face. It’s not your fault, your hand barely fits around him! You knew he was going to be big, obviously, but that’s just frightening. He groans low, and you realise you’ve kept your hand still for far too long, unintentionally teasing the poor guy.

You slowly move your hand up, one slow stroke all the way up his length and you are once again shocked by the size of him. You swore it didn’t feel that huge when you were grinding against him the other night. When you finally reach the head you stroke your thumb across the tip and he lets out a whine. A rather high pitched noise for an orc like him, not unlike the whines he made when you both came in your underwear on his living room floor.

He covers his mouth with a wet hand and the action makes you confused. You swipe your thumb across his tip again trying to get another sound from him. He shivers once more but any sound he makes is smothered by his hand, robbing you of any sweet whines. You huff indignantly and when you’re about to move your hand again he catches it and keeps it still on his cock, breathing into his hand. You’re somewhat puzzled by his embarrassment, especially since he was the one who quelled your anxieties the first time. You have to do the same for him and apparently your version of easing his apprehension was to pull the sounds out of him by force. With the hand he wasn’t holding you reached down past his cock and cupped his massive sack in your hand.

He lets out a rather high pitched yelp and his whole body jolts up at the no doubt unfamiliar touch. You burst out laughing and as he splashes water at you which does nothing to smother your laugh. He gives an incredulous look, you can only wheeze in response, which makes him splash more water at you as if that will hide his dark green cheeks. You wade over to him, saying apologies before being pulled up abruptly into his arms, your top half once again being exposed to the cold as he grumbles and hides his hot face in your chest. You can tell he isn’t really upset but you still feel bad, this gentle love doesn’t come easy to you like it seems to for him and it probably never will. You run your hands through his hair and mumble apologies to him,

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you, my love, I was trying to do the opposite. I’m sorry.”

You know he doesn’t understand what you’re saying but you know he likes it when you speak to him in your language. He gazes up at you from between your tits and you smile down at him. You hesitate before attempting an apology in orcish, which makes him huff a laugh into your skin and clutch you closer. Does this mean your forgiven? He runs his massive hands all the way down from your waist to your knees and back up. You smile down at him, having this massive orc make himself smaller so he can look up at you like this, it makes you feel so…wanted? loved? worthy? You don’t know the word but it makes your heart sing.

Another breeze blows by and you shiver again, nipples hardening and skin prickling up with goosebumps. The orc snickers at you from below, reaching up to oh so gently stroke a hardened nipple with his thumb. You shiver and keen, before you even realise it your hand shoots up to cover your mouth and you only realise this when you see the very smug look on his face. He's exposed you as a hypocrite without even saying anything.

You try and push him away in irritation but he holds you against him, slowly pulling you down until the water reaches your chest and you’re straddling him. You feel something against your stomach and you freeze. Actually feeling his cock against you, so close to your pussy stirs such a blazing heat in your stomach you think you must be sick for a second.

You look down and feel your breath hitch at the massive cock just below the surface of the water, it rests just above your belly button, hot and hard. You notice that he isn’t touching you any more and you look up to see he’s avoiding looking at you and his hands rest at his thighs. You lean up and place a hand on his cheek, he finally looks at you and you can tell he feels bad. Why? You have no idea. Is he ashamed or just shy? Is it something else? You move your body even closer to his, and mutter a little “It’s ok.” Not sure what else to say or how to convey it.

You think he gets the meaning by how you say it. He lets you push him down gently until his back is resting in the edge of the spring, head being supported by the big smooth rocks laid there. You place his hands on your hips and settle your weight down, his cock now pushing your pussy lips apart. You both moan, finally feeling the direct skin to skin contact has your brain buzzing and his too it seems.

You move slowly, dragging your pussy up the length of his cock, feeling the girth under you as you grind up his entire length. When you reach the tip you circle your hole around it, teasing the entrance with something you know you can’t take, at least not yet. He hisses and bites his lip, trying to hold himself back again and the action makes you sad.

You lean down, squishing your chest against his and wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him close. You nuzzle into his cheek, kissing from his ear to his tusk and looking him in the eye when you grind lightly into his tip, breath catching when the tip brushes your clit. You moan, as unabashedly as you can manage, trying to show him that you aren’t embarrassed by how good he makes you feel and that he doesn't have to be embarrassed by how good you make him feel either.

You lean forward and let him seal the kiss, letting his hot tongue mix with yours as you share moans and taste each others desires. You grind harder, longer thrusts up and down his cock, gradually speeding up as both your needs grow and your holds tighten.

He gets more confident with leading you, his hands on your thighs helping you grind down on him as the water sloshes and spills over with every thrust. He guides your hips up and down his shaft while jerking his hips in time. You both work in tandem, mouths never leaving each other for too long, you share hot breathes and groans as the pleasure rises each second. You clutch onto his shoulders and he grips your hips, both of you now feverishly humping one another, release so close.

All it takes is a few more well timed thrusts, his tip catches your clit and the forest is filled with the sounds of your shared ecstasy. You clench and shake against his cock as he thrusts against you, holding you so close, releasing his spend in the water with another loud grown. You both twitch and heave, bodies squished together, reeling from your orgasms. Your lover rests his head against the smooth rocks, breaths hot and thick in the chilly air. You look down and notice the now murky water below you and you let out a tired laugh, you’ll have to rinse off of in one of the other pools.

You lay there in the steamy water as the sensitive quiver in your pussy simmers into a dull ache. After a minute you sigh and lift yourself up before being immediatly thwarted by your lover who just grumbles, almost growls, and squeezes you closer to his chest. He makes it very clear that you’re not moving until he is done with his post sex cuddles. You have no choice but to comply, resting against your orcs chest watching the steam evaporate off his skin.

When you're finally done in the hot springs, your fingers are pruney but your muscles are relaxed. You had to get dried and dressed rather quickly with the volatile late winter air seeping into your skin the moment you stepped out of the heavenly hot water, as if the winter is offended that you tried to get warm at all. You wrap your hair in a cloth and cover it with your fur coat, lest the cold freeze down to your brain. Of course your orc lover doesn’t seem to mind as much as you do, simply tying his drying hair into a bun and throwing up the hood of his coat as if it were a mildly cold spring day.

Your lover takes then reins with the map this time and you walk for awhile more, until you notice the air smells different, more salty, and you can hear unfamiliar bird squawks. Your lover quickly turns around and motions for you to cover your eyes with your hands, you give him a blank look leading him to huff and do it himself. Covering your eyes with one hand and leading you with the other, you walk up an incline and then stop at the flattened top. He says something in orcish and then removes his hand, and you are completable and utterly speechless.

Blue. An incomprehensibly large amount of blue, as far as the eye can see and far beyond that. It moves and churns, little white waves in the distance and huge rolling ones crashing on the shore. It completely takes your breath away, the sound of the waves, the smell of sea salt, there’s even a portion of the sky where the clouds break and the endless blue sky meets the endless sea. The orc chuckles light-heartedly at your reaction and starts putting down a blanket and setting up lunch. You're so overcome with excitement you can’t even stop yourself from tackling him onto the blanket and giving him the biggest fattest kiss you can muster through your smile. You separate with a smack and he laughs dizzily. All this time such a beautiful sight has been a few hours from your home and you never knew it, all because of some damn boarder.

You spend hours there, munching on sandwiches, writing notes, watching the birds fly over the crashing waves. One of them tries to steal your sandwich when you get too distracted with your lover and you had to chase it down while he laughed. He takes you down to the sand and convinces you to step into the incoming waves which were even colder than you expected. He laughs at the face you make when you taste the salty water on your fingers. You pick up common shells and show them to him as if they’re rare gems. You carve symbols into the sand and watch them get washed away.

At the end of it you both sit on the grassy hill overlooking the beach, watching the sunset over the horizon.

You wonder what other wonders of the world you have yet to see.

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End ?

#Didn't mean to make it that fucking cheesy my bad #monster x human #monster lover #monster x reader #monster fucker #exophelia #monster boyfriend #orc x reader #orc romance #orc boyfriend #ITS DONE!!!!!! ITS OVER #I loved writing it dont get me wrong BUT ITS FINALLY OVER YAYYYYY!!#sorry if there are mistakes it's late lmao

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jesuistrestriste · 3 months ago

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nsfw (18+) cw : switch(sub leaning)!art donaldson, switch!fem!reader, art is a sensitive softie, dry humping, cumming in pants, mutual orgasms, fluff, porn with some plot

wc : 3.3 k

"Did you have fun?"

Art's words sound out softly against the background hum of his car's engine. You rub your hands together between your thighs, trying (and failing) to properly warm them up after being in an ice rink for over an hour. You look to him from the passenger seat and smile at his slightly eager-to-please tone, your cheeks burning from the cold. You should have worn a scarf.

"Yeah," you hum, "I did.. I haven't been ice skating in forever, it's been years.."

He laughs softly and nods, almost sheepishly, "yeah, same.."

It's the end of November, nearing the start of December, and tennis season is well over. Art still goes to the indoor courts pretty consistently, but he's decided to shift all of his focus to you now that he has the free time to spare.

The two of you met about a month and a half ago; he'd been rushing to meet Patrick at some restaurant near campus, and he had slammed right into you when he'd been looking down at his phone to text Pat back. Wide blue eyes met yours and his tender hands had come up instantly to steady you on your feet as he stuttered out at least five 'im so sorry's. Somewhere in between those apologies, he'd gotten ridiculously lost in your features. The way your lashes batted up at him, the soft smile on your lips, the way you chuckled at his idiotic carelessness.

And you had forgiven him pretty quickly, so that helped.

The whole thing was incredibly cliche; the both of you could see that now.

He'd gotten your number that day only because he had practically begged to get you a coffee sometime to make up for the whole ordeal. His wind-swept blonde curls and furrowed brow made him look just like a dumb little puppy, pleading with you to keep him and collar him, so it wasn't hard for you to rationalize giving him your digits then and there. He seemed genuinely sweet, unlike so many other guys at Stanford. You'd give it a shot.

Seven dates later, and you two were officially toeing the line between "what are we?" and "let's move in together". Art, in particular, was completely infatuated. He would always look at you like you were the only reason he was breathing and moving. It was a little bit insane how hard and fast he fell for you.

And so he resisted the urges.

The ones that would coil in his lower stomach when he held your hand, and the ones that would throb in his veins when he pressed his lips to yours. All of them. He'd move at your pace. He wasn't one to push.

You nod and smile, before you pull your clasped hands from your lap and attempt to blow hot air in between them. Art's car was taking longer to warm up than normal.

He watches you for a moment before he shakes his head and tugs his hands out of his coat pockets.

"I told you to bring gloves," he jokes lightly, reaching over to envelop your hands in his warm palms, his calloused fingers curling over yours.

Your face heats slightly, and you chuckle as you look down to his grasp on you. After a long beat, your eyes raise to look up to his again, and he swallows thickly before his left thumb strokes over one of your knuckles. The little touch, the gesture, is so him. Always wanting to provide and comfort, but never wanting to risk shaking the foundation.

He’s never made the first move, it was always you.

"Thanks," you breathe out, your gaze darting just momentarily down to his pink lips.

It's hard for you to ignore the way he quickly wets them while the tense silence hangs in the air.

Art's feeling a steady thrum of tightness in his chest. How is it that he still gets nervous around you? He's kissed you lots of times before now.

And yet, here he was: still shy, still tense, still nervous.

"No problem," he whispers, hearing his heartbeat pound in his ears, "is.. is this better..?"

A gentle nod from you is all he perceives before he feels the warmth of your lips press against his own, and the tension that’s been brewing all evening finally reaches its boiling point.

He melts into it instantly, into you; leaning in to breathe into your open mouth when you pull back for just a moment to tilt your head the other way. His hands leave their position around yours, and move to clutch your waist as he pivots in the driver's seat to face you more. He's never felt so on-edge in his entire life, the sensation of a familiar sort of hunger starting to ignite in his belly.

Your touch moves to the back of his head, pulling off his thick beanie and tossing it to the back of the vehicle as you kiss him with rapidly increasing passion. You feel his tongue slip out to lick over your bottom lip, and you slack your jaw to let him taste you better. He laves his soft tongue over yours, moaning into your mouth. You swallow that noise down, and the next one that comes right after; just like you always do.

He tastes faintly like sweet peppermint gum, which he had been anxiously chewing earlier on this particular date in order to self-soothe. You had just looked so pretty with the cold first nipping at your skin when he came to pick you up; it scrambled his brain on the spot.

"Ahh," he whines shakily as he feels you tug his head back, your left hand tenderly fisting his curls, "hngh.."

You hum and smirk before you lean in to lick over his neck. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop any more needy sounds from spilling out, and his hands pull at the sides of your coat. Shit, he can feel himself swelling in his jeans. For a second he thinks the zipper might pop.

Once your tongue finds his weak-spot, right below his ear, he's jerking forward in his seat and letting out a choked moan. His hips rise desperately, trying to seek out some sort of friction, but all he can feel is his cock rubbing against the inside of his briefs — not nearly enough to put out the fire in his gut.

"You okay?" you breathe out lowly between kisses to his pulse, "this okay?

He nods feverishly. A reflexive buck of his pelvis follows suit.

"Can we... I dont know-" you whisper against his skin, and Art thinks he might die. He's so keyed up right now, he'd do anything to get to feel you under all of the layers.

"Please."

And there it is. He couldn't even stop himself before the word was already out and drifting into the minimal space left in between your bodies. You pause your lips and pull back to look to his eyes.

A hand moves from his hair to his cool cheek. "I- I'm ready to do more... If you are too, I mean.."

He's nodding before you even finish; and his pupils dilate into big, black, iris-eclipsing saucers as his brows pinch up and he whispers back to you.

"I want to touch you," he trembles, "I really, really, really wanna touch you..."

You feel a sticky heat cling to the inside of your panties.

Ugh, he's always good at making you feel this way, even if in the past it was relatively unintentional. Sometimes he's been too innocent for his own good.

"Can I?" he whispers, breaking apart your thoughts, like the very syllables have been beaten out of the depths of his desires.

You let out soft sigh through parted lips, taking in the look on his face before you're crawling over the center console and into his lap. Your body settles comfortably over his thighs, and then your head bumps up against the roof of the car. You make a slight noise of surprise, ducking down with a soft giggle, and Art's right hand instinctively raises to protectively cup the spot on your head that had hit the interior. He looks up at you, letting out a breath of a laugh before lifting his brows to wordlessly ask if you're alright.

You kiss him again instead.

He gasps and swallows as he feels you further straddle him, and his hands move to start unzipping your puffer as he kisses you back. It's easier said than done when his hands are shaking, but he manages and then helps you shrug off the coat before it gets tossed into the oblivion to meet his hat from earlier.

A string of spit connects your mouth to his as you pull back, and he drinks in the sight of you above him; your thermal long-sleeve clinging to your skin so tight that he can see the outline of your bra underneath.

You lean in once more and kiss his jaw twice before letting your hands wander down to help him take off his own jacket. Once it's off and on the car floor with the other pieces of discarded clothing, your palms move up under his shirt to caress his bare skin. You feel his abdomen shudder as your nails graze the pale flesh there.

"Where do you want me?" he asks breathlessly, his eyes already glazed over with arousal and a wish to please you.

"Anywhere.."

".. Here..?"

His hands reach up to palm your breasts over your top, and he relishes in the soft moan it elicits from you. The sound of it rings out in his head and then he can't help but whimper as he leans into your body, his cheek to your jaw. Art's hands slither hastily under your shirt and then to your back before he fumbles with the clasp of your bra. You smirk softly and fondly as you feel him struggle, and you decide to maneuver your touch up to the back of his neck. Your fingertips tease the back of his hair. Teasing turns to stroking, and suddenly you're petting him to ease his nerves. If he had a tail, it'd definitely be wagging; you can feel him buzzing with eager energy all over.

Once the bra is popped open, he gently pulls back to look up to your eyes and then he's huskily whispering up at you, "can I take this off of you?"

"Yeah, take it off-"

He doesn't waste a second once he sees you raising your arms, nearly tearing the top in the process of getting it up and over your head. The bra comes off quick right after; he doesn't even notice that it's red (his favorite color). With how much is going through his head, it's a miracle he can even manage to undress you without losing it...

The moment that you're bare in front of him from the belly-button up, he sags back in his seat and takes you in. His lips parted in a gentle 'O'. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." he moans lowly, his palms pressing to your lower stomach before they slide up and cover your soft tits, "you're so beautiful, oh my god.."

You moan when you feel him start to knead your breasts under his tender touch, nipples pebbling in response, and you roll your head back with pleasure.

"You're.. s-so sweet," you groan.

He squeezes your chest again before he leans in and presses a kiss to the right side, and a kiss to the left (it's only fair). He looks up to you through heavy lids before he surges forward with a renewed sense of passion and attaches his lips to one of your nipples.

"Shit-!" you gasp, and your hands tighten in his blonde locks, "ugh, don't stop, Art.. that feels nice.."

He moans around your squishy flesh and then his eyes flutter shut as he flicks his tongue over your bud and suckles. His mouth is warm and wet and perfect. His teeth brisk your sensitive skin.

A sharp moan slips from your lips in response, and then your hips jerk over his quickly. Just once; just enough. It's denim on denim, thick fabric dulling the sensations, but god- the pleasure bites perfectly at the both of you.

Art can barely process how good it feels before he's drooling around you over his tongue and rolling his own body up, trying to meet yours again. Wordlessly begging you to keep going.

Please, please, please do it again.

You breathe heavily and then rock down over his lap again, chasing the stream of electricity that it sends up your spine from your cunt. There's a mess of slick seeping from you as you push your clothed clit against Art's bulge, humping him like some sort of depraved teenager, but it's going to get you there.

Hell, it's getting you there quicker than you thought.

"Ooh, fuck," he hiccups out against your skin, releasing your breast from his mouth as his eyes fly open and then promptly roll back into his head, "ohh god, oh g-god.."

You rock a bit faster over him, a little moan escaping with each needy motion, and you move your hands to hold his shoulders for leverage. You feel him wrap his toned arms around your middle.

"Sh-Should I move too?" he gasps.

You can feel his thighs quivering.

If you really focus, you can even feel his dick throbbing in the confines of his pants.

"Yeah, ohh, yeah.. yeah, move, move.”

In an instant, Art's hips are grinding up to meet yours while his hands move urgently to hold your waist. He buries his face into your neck and tries to bounce you on his lap in his grasp. Up, down, up, down, over and over and over. Like he’s fucking you; buried deep inside your oozing pussy.

"you feel so good," he breathes out, hardly taking enough air into his lungs to get the words out, "this feels... f-feels so good.. ohhh-"

A few stuttered whines slip from your mouth and then you're working harder to press yourself further down over his erection, trying your best to relieve the scorching heat building in your core. More, more, more, you just need more.

"fuck me..!"

It tumbles from you unexpectedly, and the young man under you chokes on a guttural groan that's already halfway out. His nose crinkles with pleasure, and he swivels his hips harder to rub his boner against your crotch. He tries to speak, he really does, but all of the words get swept away on broken, strung-out whimpers that clog his throat.

You two are fogging up all four windows in his car, and anyone who's looking on from the outside will know exactly what's going on just from the shaking alone.

"Shit, you're gonna make me—“

Art cries out as he digs his heels down into the mat below the pedals; his toes curling as he registers the rapid feeling of boiling tension brewing in his balls, seeping out and pulling his limbs taut against yours. He's so close.

"—you're gonna- 'm gonna come—“

He tries to warn you, shuddering when he hears you squeal in response, and he has to force his eyes open and crane his neck back so that he can savor the sight of you falling apart on top of him when he tips over. A small part of him wishes he was being hugged by your tight, gummy walls; but this was perfect for now. It was what you wanted, so it was what he wanted too.

"Fuck, Art! I'm almost—!"

The sound of his name coming out of you like that sends him spiraling, his cock pulsing in his boxers with want.

"Me too, me too, oh god, pleasepleaseplease-"

You two are rutting and thrashing against each other like a couple of animals, breathing heavy and moaning as you both try to maintain eye contact in those split few seconds before everything fades away.

"Can I come?" he trembles, and you can see wetness glistening over his lash line, threatening to spill. He can’t say it now, but he's barely holding it all in.

For you, he'd wait.

Even if it felt impossible.

You speed up your humping, the seam of your jeans slotting perfectly against your swollen clit as the warmth of his cock sends you hurtling towards the finish line. You nod down at him, moving your hands from his shoulders to his flushed face, "yes, god, please come with me!"

It only takes three more snaps of his pelvis against yours before the both of you are gasping and crying out simultaneously as the hot coils burst loose; Art's back arching up from the seat as you curl over his chest and yelp. He's moaning, voice cracks and all, as his legs shudder under your seat over them. His hands fly up to hold you close, almost like he's scared you'll somehow slip away.

"fuckyesfuckyesfuckyes, please, god, i'm coming so hard..!”

He whimpers helpessly, feeling sticky heat bloom against his kicking length as each wave of his orgasm floods his system. It's wholly all-consuming, his vision whiting out around the edges before he has to squeeze his eyes shut and give up the sight of your face as you climax. He thinks he might legitimately pass out.

You're left wheezing over his lap, groaning pitifully as you feel a wave of slick and wetness drench your underwear while the height of your own peak ebbs, and you finish yourself off fully against his thigh as you come down. One of your hands reaches down to rub yourself over the soaked fabric, and you twitch before falling forward into his frame.

You both jolt a bit while the aftershocks keep you feeling pleasantly numb, but it's blissful.

It's completely and utterly blissful; it just feels right.

Him being so close to you, you being so close to him. Sharing something so deeply intimate and yet feeling so comfortable and so safe— it was like something clicked into place.

One of Art's hands reaches to your upper back, rubbing it comfortingly as he tries to steady his breathing.

".. Woah," he whispers in awe, fingertips tracing soothing patterns on your skin, "that was.. really.. haah.."

A little shiver passes through him and he then decides to cut himself off before he lets slip something dumb and ruins everything.

You gain some semblance of consciousness back and lift your head upright slowly, gazing down to him. His hair’s a mess, his blue eyes shining with low lids, and his bottom lip looks freshly bitten.

"That was really good," you chuckle breathily, finishing his sentiment for him. You were good at that- helping him feel whole.

He just nods and you get to watch his cheeks turn a deeper shade of red.

"I... I was thinking.." he starts, only to shy away from your gaze by looking down.

"Yeah..?"

You stroke his hair, pushing it back from his sweaty forehead.

"Well, I just, we've been, like, 'seeing each other' or whatever," his eyes reluctantly raise again to look up into yours, "and, I just thought that.. we might..."

"We might...?" you smile as you urge him to speak up for himself.

He can only muster a soft, shy chuckle at first.

"I just thought that we might be.. together.."

Your breathing catches, only for a moment, as the word—and the weight of it—sits heavily in the dense air being kept trapped in by the car's doors. Art swallows thickly.

"You wanna be together?" you whisper, barely audible.

He seems hesitant to answer that.

But he does anyway.

"Yeah, I do."

A soft smile creeps onto your face, and then you lean in to brush your lips against his. He closes his eyes in preparation for a kiss, but it doesn't quite come. They flutter back open, and his fingers twitch idly on your lower back.

Please say something, he thinks. He's holding his breath.

You murmur against his mouth, delicate and earnest, with a shrug almost gracing your shoulders as you speak to him. You want to let him know that he doesn't have to be scared to tell you what he wants.

That it's okay.

That you want the same thing.

"Okay.. then let's be 'together'.."

#🩷 - thirsts #fic #this was meant to be a drabble #but its basically a full fic whoops #im trying to get back into writing full pieces instead of short ones #also i never know exactly how to end fics like this lol #reader and art are just cheesy !#let them be cringe #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson x female reader #challengers smut #challengers x reader

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