#but if they ever have to go in the box they have to be in the SAME box | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

norr1ssturni0lo · 2 days

Text

meet my girlfriend

Matt sturniolo x fem!reader

word count: 2,294

warnings: couple spelling mistakes, a couple swear words, lots of fluff (a bit cheesy😅), italics = flashbacks

summary: Matt and childhood friend Y/N announce their relationship on his personal channel.

A/N: Matt is 18 in this fic and reader is 17 as said in fic!

❗️semi proof read❗️

Matt sets up the camera on the dashboard, his best friend of 12 years and girlfriend of 2 years in the car seat next to him. Matt hears Y/N let out a sigh, he looked to his side and saw Y/N looking nervous.

“It’ll be fine my love. The fans already love you, announcing that you're my girlfriend won’t change that, I promise.” Matt says, grabbing her hand and rubbing his thumb across her knuckles in a comforting manner. “We don’t have to tell the fans if you don’t want to darling. It’s completely up to you.” He added on as he lifts her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“No, I want to do it. Just some silly nerves that’s all.” She replied, intertwining their hands and smiling at Matt.

“You ready?” He asks.

“Yeah, press record.”

Matt hits record and started to talk to the camera, his hand still intertwined with Y/N’s.

“Hey guys, welcome to my personal channel, where I will be posting content without Nick and Chris. I won’t post as often on here, but I will try my best.” Matt starts with a little laugh before continuing.

“For my first video on this channel, as you could probably guess by the title, I’m going to introduce you to my girlfriend, she’s a girl that many of you will be familiar with and if not then she’s about to introduce herself.” He added on, Matt gestures for Y/N to introduce herself, she gives a little wave and smile to the camera.

“Hi everyone, most of you already know me but for those of you who don’t, hi, my name is Y/N and as Matt said, I am his girlfriend. I’m 17 years old, unfortunately I’m still in high school unlike Matthew here” she points to Matt and he lets out a little laugh at her dislike for high school before she carried on introducing herself.

“I just started my senior year, and like the triplets, I am from originally from Boston and I have known the triplets since I was in second grade and they were in third grade I think, is that right?” She looked over to Matt for confirmation to which he nodded.

“Yep. She’s been in our lives since we were 8 and she was 7. She’s known us longer than Trevor!” He jokes, the couple chuckled together at his random fact.

“Anyway, today, in honour of announcing our relationship, we’ve decided to answer some questions. I posted a question box on my Instagram story and we’re just going to scroll through and answer some of them.” Matt states.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened up Instagram and clicked on his story to see the questions. He read out the first question.

“Okay, first question is ‘how did you guys meet?’ you wanna answer it Y/N/N?” she nodded before answering.

“So, I actually met Nick first out of the triplets, mine and Nick’s science classes got merged one day because my teacher was sick and me and Nick got paired for a project together. Me and Nick became friends and one day he invited me to his house after school, and that’s how I met Matt and Chris, and we were all inseparable ever since. I constantly got them mixed up until they were about 14.” she replies, Matt and Y/N both smiling at the memory of how many times she got the triplets mixed up. Matt handed his phone to Y/N to read out the next question.

“Okay next question is ‘who made the first move?’ Matt surprisingly, made the first move, I’ll let him tell the story of how it happened.”

“So, it’s a pretty cliche story, but we were at a party for our high school’s sports teams and cheerleaders which we both had to be at since she’s a cheerleader and I was on the lacrosse team. Me, Chris, Nick, Y/N and a few other people were playing spin the bottle and it was my turn to spin and it landed on Y/N. At this point I’d had a crush on Y/N since we were in middle school, but I just never ‘had the balls to do anything about it’ as Chris would always say to me.” He rolls his eyes, remembering all the times Chris had tried to get Matt to tell Y/N how he felt. He carried on telling the story.

“So obviously, me and Y/N kissed and then the day after at school, I left a note in her locker asking her out on a date, obviously, she said yes to the date and low and behold, 2 years later, here we are. Pretty cheesy but, hey, what can you do about a man in love?” He shrugged his shoulders with a small smirk on his face.

“Fun fact, I still have the note to this day.” Y/N stated proudly, looking at the camera. Matt looked over at her shocked.

“You do?” He asked, looking at his girl in pure adoration. She looked at Matt and nodded her head, smiling at him. She handed him his phone back so he could read the next question.

“Okay, next question ‘what are you lockscreens on your phones? and what is the story behind them if there is one’”

Y/N pulled out her own phone and Matt locked his so that he was ready to show his lockscreen. She turned her phone around and showed her lockscreen. (a/n: pretend it’s Matt😭)

“Mine is a picture of Matt from a couple weeks ago. Me and the triplets went to the safari park, and I got this picture of Matt looking at the map and trying to figure out where one of the rides were and thought it was cute.” she smiled at her lockscreen before turning off her phone.

*flashback to safari park*

Y/N giggled as Matt looked at the map in his hands, confusion evident on his face. The four of them were stood in the middle of the path, Matt trying to figure out how to get to the log flume.

“Matt c’mon mannnn” Chris complained. Nick rolled his eyes at his younger brother.

“Baby, do you need help?” Y/N asked. Matt shook his head.

“Really? Cause you’ve been looking at the map longer than Nick was looking at the elephants.” she chuckled, and Chris laughed along with her, Nick had spent ten minutes staring at the elephants earlier that day. She walked over to him and looked at the map, trying to help him.

“I got it, I got it, gimme a second.” Matt said. Another minute passed of Matt looking at the map, looking adorably confused with a little smile on his face, Y/N thought he looked absolutely adorable and quickly took a picture before Matt laughed to himself and smiled as he looked at his brothers and girlfriend.

“I got it! It’s this way.” he pointed in the direction of the log flume, and they all made their way to the ride.

*end of flashback*

Matt turned on his phone and showed his lockscreen to the camera. (a/n: again, pretend it’s y/n and Matt😭)

“Mine is a picture that Nick took of us in the car about a month or so ago. We were going on our annual family trip and as always, Y/N came along with us, and we were parked at the gas station and I noticed Y/N had fell asleep on me and Nick saw and took a picture of us and sent it to me and it’s one of my favourite photos ever” Matt spoke.

*flashback to the family trip*

Y/N and Matt were currently sat in the very back on the car with Nick. Chris, Trevor and Justin sat in front of them, and Marylou and Jimmy were sat in the front seats. They were parked at a gas station filling up the car and Y/N was falling asleep with her head in Matt’s lap, sharing headphones with him and Nick was sat on his phone.

“You tired baby?” Matt whispered, looking down at the sleepy girl in his lap. She let out an incoherent mumbled reply.

“Look at this TikTok!” Chris said loudly, turning around to face Matt and Nick. Matt shushed him.

“Y/N’s asleep Chris be quiet!”

“Shit! sorry, look at this TikTok though” Chris repeated, much quieter. The boys collectively laughed quietly at the TikTok he’d shown them, Chris turned back around and showed Justin the same TikTok.

Matt moved a piece of hair out of Y/N’s face, smiling at his sleeping girl. Matt was unaware of Nick looking at the couple with a soft smile of his own on his face, he’d always been their biggest supporter ever since they told him about their relationship. Nick quickly opened his camera on his phone and snapped a picture of the couple and immediately sent it to Matt, the younger brother opened the message and a grin automatically grew on his face.

“Thanks man, I love this photo” Matt spoke as he set the picture as his wallpaper and sending it to Y/N, so she also had a copy of the photo. Nick smiled.

“Of course, I’m your personal photographer.” He joked and the brothers softly laughed before going back to doing their own thing waiting for Jimmy to get back in the car after filling it up.

*end of flashback*

Y/N put her phone back in her pocket and Matt passed her his phone to read the next question.

“Aww this one is cute ‘what is your favourite memory with one another?’ I love this question” she smiled.

“my favourite memory with Matt is probably last Christmas when Matt woke me up around 4 in the morning because it was snowing so much and he just couldn’t wait to go build a snowman, this kid literally had a jacket and coat and my shoes ready for me and just woke me up.” They both started laughing at the memory from last Christmas and Matt hit his head on the steering wheel as he leaned forward laughing, causing Y/N to laugh even more as Matt held his head in his hand.

“Laughing at my pain, I see how it is missy.” Matt exclaimed, he reached over the center console of his car and started tickling her sides causing the younger girl to yelp out and tears started streaming down her face as he continued to tickle her.

“Okay I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Y/N shouted, out of breath, softly chuckling as she held her hands up in surrender. She passed Matt’s phone back to him.

The couple continued to answer questions and laugh with each other replaying memories from as early as their childhood to as recent as last week.

“Okay, final question, this was asked by quite a few people ‘what is your favourite thing about each other?’ We’ll do one physical aspect and then one personality trait, okay?” Matt spoke and Y/N nodded in agreement before Matt continued.

“My favourite physical thing about Y/N has gotta be her freckles, I’ll admit that I have caught myself counting the freckles on her face before while she’s been asleep” he admitted with a slight blush creeping up on his cheeks.

“My favourite thing about her personality wise is how persistent she is. I’ve seen her get into heated debates with Nick over the most random things and most of the time she’ll win, and I could honestly sit there for hours watching them argue back and forth, it’s so funny” Matt adds with a laugh and he smiles in Y/N’s direction.

“It’s true, I’ll never let up if I think my opinion is right.” She said laughing with him. “Anyway, my favourite physical thing about Matt is probably his smile, his has got to be my favourite smile ever!” She said proudly, the blue eyed boy next to her stared at her with a soft expression and a wide smile on his face as she carried on talking.

“My favourite personality trait of Matt’s is how attentive and kind hearted he is, like I remember before he made this channel, we were sat on the couch together and he said he wanted to make this channel to help people who may be struggling with mental health like him and to make it a safe space for everyone. And he’s just such a genuinely great guy and nowadays, that’s pretty hard to come by and I couldn’t be more thankful for him. I can confidently say, I can see Matt being the guy I marry when I’m older.” she finished talking. He smiled at her for what felt like the millionth time this video, his cheeks started to hurt from how much she made him smile.

“I love you baby” Matt spoke, planting a kiss on her cheek, her cheeks flushed.

“I love you too Matt. So much.” She replied, smiling at the boy she’d been in love with for as long as she could remember.

“I hope you enjoyed this video guys, we both enjoyed filming it. We love you. Stay happy and stay smiling.” Matt smiled at the camera and Y/N blew a kiss to the camera before he stopped recording. He put the camera down and looked over to Y/N

“Did you mean that baby? About me being the guy you’d marry?” He asked her, his eyes full of love. She nodded with a smile on her face.

“Of course, my love. You’re the best person I’ve ever known. You’re my person” she replied.

He stretched over the center console and placed a kiss on her lips, both of them smiling into the kiss.

“You’re my person too darling. I’ll marry you one day I promise.”

And he did.

They got married a few years later.

A/N: Lowkey was inspired by @imwetforyourmom one shot that was like this. Hope you don’t mind me stealing your idea ahah🫶🏻😅

345 notes · View notes

roosterforme · 2 days

Text

Aim for the Sky Part 6 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After you and Bradley make a mess and clean it up, your first wedding anniversary is in the books. There are so many changes going on, it's hard to keep track of everything. But some things seem like they will always stay the same, like the love you feel for him.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, cum play, food play, swearing, pregnancy

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

The sound of the ocean and the twinkling of the stars in the night sky were the only things Bradley recognized in the dark besides your body. You were on his lap, rolling your hips slowly against him, teasing him with your warmth and your voice as your lips met his ear.

"You're the best husband, and soon you'll be the best daddy. The Nugget and I decided we're going to keep you around."

Bradley groaned softly as he rubbed his palm along your belly. "Yeah, you ruined that for yourself as soon as you fed me. I'm not going anywhere. Ever."

You laughed softly before pulling your lips away from the side of his neck. "I forgot to ask. What's in the bakery box?"

"Huh?" he grunted in response as you pressed your soft thigh against his erection through his jeans. He thought he was supposed to know what you were talking about. It sounded familiar. A bakery box. But your hand was unzipping his pants now, and he was a lost cause.

"The bakery box, Roo," you whispered, voice laced with amusement. "On the backseat?"

"Oh," he sighed as you stroked him. He couldn't read your expression in the darkness, but he knew you must be smiling. "I got you a cake. A confetti cake for our anniversary."

"You did?" You sounded delighted as you added, "I want to see it."

Bradley let his head tip back against the side of the interior of the Bronco. You already pulled your hand back out of his pants and started crawling away from him. "Sweetheart," he whined. "I thought I was just about to get lucky."

He felt cold where your warmth had just been, and he let himself be annoyed for a few seconds until you softly squealed, "Ouch!"

"Shit, what happened?" he asked, realizing he wasn't sure exactly where you had crawled off to. He put one leg up to block the open tailgate while he dug around in his pocket next to his hard cock for his phone.

As soon as he turned on the flashlight, he realized you were already looking over the back of the seat, digging around under the blanket to find the cake. "I pinched my finger. I'm fine," you muttered. "Let me have your phone."

He handed it to you before he flopped down onto his back. You used the flashlight to locate the dome light as well, and soon that was shining directly into Bradley's eyes as he palmed himself for some relief. "Can't the cake wait until we get home?"

You turned and looked down at him over your shoulder with a little pout on your lips. "But I'm hungry again."

He would never deny you anything you wanted. As he got to his knees and scooted over next to you, he kissed your cheek. "Did you look at it yet?" Bradley reached down onto the seat and carefully opened the box to reveal the pretty, round cake with white icing and rainbow sprinkles. Then you started laughing. Apparently, in his horny state, he'd also forgotten what he had the baker write on it.

Happy First Anniversary. Thanks for marrying me and having awesome tits. I love you.

"Bradley!" you wheezed. "You made someone write that on a cake!"

He grabbed you up without putting too much pressure on your belly and said, "It's all true." He kissed down the side of your neck and back up to your ear as your laughter turned to a soft moan. "Now, can we turn off the lights and get back to where we left off?"

Your stomach growled so loudly as you met his eyes, it was almost comical. "I'm sorry, but I'm just really hungry, and I think Rose the Nugget is, too."

Bradley was absolute putty in your hands as soon as you used her name. He kissed you sweetly and whispered, "Then let me make sure my girls are well fed."

He guided you over the pavement in the darkness and got you buckled into the passenger seat. Then he opened the back door and said, "You know, I never ever let anyone else eat in the Bronco before you. I still don't even eat in here." He cut into the cake and put a slice on one of the paper plates he brought along. "But apparently I have no boundaries when it comes to my wife and my daughter."

When you turned around, he handed the piece of cake and a fork up to you, and you beamed back at him. "Thanks, Daddy."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get his body under control so he could drive home. He closed the back door and walked around the front of the Bronco. You were smiling and licking the frosting from the fork when he climbed in with his pants still unzipped. He was still almost painfully hard, and he was desperately praying there was still hope for some relief on the horizon.

Bradley drove carefully around the orange cones and out onto the road that ran along the main strip of Coronado. The indecent little sounds you were making had him jealous of the cake, and then you held out your fork to him. "This is so good. You need to try it."

"I told you I don't eat in the Bronco," he muttered before opening his mouth wide for you to feed it to him. "Holy hell. Gimme some more."

"Right?!" You fed him another bite and another one. By the time he was parking in the driveway, there was icing in his mustache, and he was still unbearably horny.

Bradley handed you the keys, kissed your lips so hard you gasped, and said, "Go unlock the front door." He watched you scamper up the walkway as he grabbed the bakery box from the backseat before following you inside. "Now get undressed," he said, giving you a firm smack on your ass that left you biting your lip as you looked at him. "I'm serious, Baby Girl. Take it all off and wait for me in the kitchen."

"He's so demanding," you said, either to yourself or to the baby, and regardless he laughed as he pretended to throw a treat out the back door so Tramp would go outside. Then he was right on you with the cake in his hands as you pulled your dress over your head and let it drop to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your little Mrs. Bradshaw panties.

"Those are some awesome tits," he whispered, setting the cake down and running his hands up the soft swell of your belly and all the way up to stroke your nipples.

"You're obsessed right now," you told him. You weren't wrong. He was about to bring his lips down to play with you, but he narrowed his eyes and reached for the cake instead. "What are you doing?" you gasped as he dunked his fingers into the icing before spreading it all over your breasts.

"I'm still a little hungry, too," he murmured, tracing your nipples slowly with his messy fingertips until you were trying to grind yourself against him. He slipped his thigh between yours, and you moaned his name as he brought his lips down to taste the exquisite icing on your perfect skin. Everything was sweet and warm as he buried his face in there, licking and sucking on you until you were as far gone as he was.

With your arms around his neck and your pussy rubbing against him, you begged for it. "I need you to fuck me. Please!"

He couldn't say no to you on a regular day, but especially not on your anniversary. He spun you around, pulled your satin panties to the side and bent you over a little bit over the counter. He got his cock free, and with a snap of his hips, he thrust himself inside you, and he was rewarded with his name echoing off the kitchen walls.

"Feel good?" he grunted as he slipped one hand in the front of your panties and squeezed your gorgeous breasts with the other.

"So good," you whispered as he rocked himself into you a little harder.

He pressed his nose to the back of your neck and inhaled the smell of your skin and the icing which he got everywhere. "I thought we'd have slow and sexy anniversary sex. I didn't know I'd end up fucking you hard over the kitchen counter."

"Blame it on the cake," you whined, reaching for his hand which was on your tits and guiding his sticky fingers up to your lips. Bradley had no idea how he was still going. You'd had him wound up all night. And the way you were circling each digit with your tongue was so fucking hot.

When he pinched your clit, you bucked back against him. When he did it again, he soothed you with some slow circles, and he knew you were getting close. He could feel you starting to clench him a little tighter as your moaning got louder. You sucked on his fingers while your pussy treated his cock to your orgasm.

"God, you feel good," he gasped, fucking you through your highest peak. But he still had some left in the tank. You seemed to be a little surprised as you looked at him over your shoulder, and he was sure his eyes were wild and his face was red.

You spun to look at him as he stared down at his hard cock, bobbing excitedly and glistening from your wetness. You took his chin in your hand and kissed him on the lips. "Is it my turn to have a little fun?"

Bradley nodded, because he didn't even care what you did right now, he knew he was going to love it. This time you were the one coating up your fingers with icing, and you jerked your hand up and down his length while he gripped the edge of the counter. Just the idea of the confection mixed with the flavor of your pussy had him bucking into your hand. "Let me taste it," he whimpered, and your bright eyes grew a little wider, but you brought your hand up to your own mouth first. "Please," he begged, watching you lick your palm.

"Oh my god," you gasped, eyes drifting closed as you dipped your index finger between your lips.

"Please," he asked one more time, afraid he might just cum all over your body and the floor. You looked up at him and reached out to part his lips with your thumb, and then you carefully placed your index and middle fingers on his tongue. He sucked at the flavor and swiped his tongue between your fingers. He swallowed it down, convinced that this combination was one of the best things he had ever enjoyed in his life.

He cleaned off your whole hand as you watched in awe, and when you realized he was still hard, you used his help to get yourself kneeling on the floor in front of him. Bradley lasted exactly eight seconds with your tongue circling his cock while you licked at the icing and sucked on him. "Fuck!" he barked, tapping the back of your throat as he came. "Holy shit." Then you had the audacity to show him the mess he made on your tongue before you swallowed him down.

"You taste very good mixed with icing too, Roo."

Bradley was so fucking in love with you and everything you did. He would marry you a hundred times over just to get all of the sweet and filthy moments with you. "Why don't you get back up here and let me try it for myself?"

You were all too happy for him to help you to your feet so he could slip his tongue between your lips. You were absolutely right.

----------------------------

When you woke up on Sunday, you were a little sore. Bradley was still sound asleep, and he looked exhausted himself. The Nugget was rolling around on your bladder, and you had to quickly shimmy walk to the bathroom. Your husband did a bit of a number on you in the kitchen with the rough sex.

You reached for the toilet paper and mumbled to yourself, "Maybe he was right. Maybe anniversary sex is supposed to be a little calmer?"

"Blame it on the cake, Sweetheart." You looked up as Bradley strolled into the bathroom completely naked. His cock even looked impressive when he was soft, and his hair was wild from the way you'd been running your fingers through it before you fell asleep last night. He grunted as he yawned. He was perfect to you.

"I can't believe we've been married for a year," you whispered as he leaned down to kiss your forehead as you sat on the toilet. This was probably peak domesticity right here, and it made you smile.

"How's my Nugget?" Bradley asked before kissing your forehead once more.

"Almost made me wet the bed," you told him as you stood up. "I slept very soundly last night, but she woke me up by thumping on my bladder."

His brown eyes lit up as he put his hands underneath your shirt. "Is she still thumping?" You knew immediately that he was able to feel her as a smile bloomed on his lips. "Hey, Rose. It's Daddy."

"So that's really her name? We're definitely going with that?"

"Mmhmm," he hummed, eyes closed as his palm circled your belly button.

You kissed his cheek and then his temple. "Your excitement always makes me even more excited."

When he patted your belly again, he asked, "Are you going to brunch with Cam and Maria?"

"Yeah, but I don't need to be there for another hour. Do you want me to make you breakfast first?"

Relief filled his features as he turned on the sink and looked in the mirror. "Please. Then I'm going to try to finish up the playset. And don't forget Bradley Ross is coming over after work tomorrow." Bradley Ross. Bradley Ross. The name was familiar, but you couldn't place it. "The contractor? For the attic?"

"Oh! Yes, of course. Bradley Ross," you told him, having completely forgotten that your house was about to become a construction zone. "I hope he can finish it before my parents come out for Christmas."

"That's the goal," Bradley muttered as he looked at his hair. "We can throw them upstairs so I can do whatever I want to you in our room all night long. The separation will be key." You snorted as you started to get your toothbrush ready, and then he turned to you and said, "Nat commented on my gray hairs the other day."

He looked perhaps a little bit concerned. "Did she?" One thing you really appreciated about your husband's best friend was the way she picked on him. It was good for him to have a friend who gave him shit. It probably helped build character in him, similar to the way Cam usually gave you a hard time. But you wanted to make sure his feelings weren't hurt, especially not about his. "What did she say?"

He shrugged, trying for nonchalance. "That it's getting a little noticeable. At my temples."

"It's so fucking sexy," you told him, reaching up with your fingers and running them through his hair. "God, Roo. Women eat this shit up."

"They do?" he asked, perplexed.

"Oh, definitely," you promised. "A handsome man with some gray hairs? Jesus, I'm going to have to start keeping a closer eye on you when we go out to the bar."

Bradley rolled his eyes. "You'll have to do nothing of the sort."

"That's right," you whispered with a smile. "Your sexy hair belongs to me, Bradley."

He stood behind you while you brushed your teeth, and he kissed your neck. "I'm afraid you're stuck with all of this."

----------------------------

You were sitting in the kitchen after work on Monday, eating a sliced up apple that you were dipping into hot sauce while you talked to your parents over FaceTime.

"We could come out the Tuesday before Christmas," your mom said for the fourth time.

"I already told you, just let me know when you're coming, and we'll pick you up from the airport," you said, also for the fourth time.

Your dad was already in his pajamas since it was three hours later on the east coast, and you could tell your mom was annoying him as much as she was annoying you. "I sincerely hope you eat a real meal besides that," she said, looking at your snack in disgust.

You wanted to roll your eyes. You were about to call Bradley in from the backyard where he was throwing a tennis ball for Tramp so you could make him deal with her for a little bit. "I'll eat a real meal later, mom." Just then, there was a knock at the door and you hopped up. "Oops, that's probably the contractor. I'll talk to you later! Bye, love you!"

Saved by the distraction, you shouted out the back door for your husband to come in. And that's when you met Bradley Ross. He kind of reminded you of your own Bradley, just a little bit older. When the three of you ended up in the attic space, he looked around at it like it was the most beautiful diamond in the rough he'd ever seen, when in reality it looked like a disaster that your husband demolished.

"Wow," he told you, measuring along each wall. "This is going to come together perfectly. What a beautiful space. I'm sure you'll cherish it."

"Right," your husband told the other Bradley while you tried not to laugh. "Look, having a cherished attic is great and all, but we just really need a space for my wife's parents when they come out to stay, especially after the baby is born."

"You'll have both," he promised.

Your husband rubbed lazy circles on your back as you wrote out a check for the deposit on the kitchen island and listened to Bradley Ross go over the detailed plans. Two more bedrooms and a full bathroom? Part of you couldn't believe there was enough room up there to accommodate all of that, but you would just have to trust this man's life changing vision.

You handed him the check and took his business card. "I'll be back on Wednesday to start the project," he said as you entered his number into your phone.

Once he was gone, you looked up at Bradley and said, "We should probably get a Christmas tree soon. And maybe some lights? I'm used to us going to my parents' house. We never decorated before."

He chuckled. "I haven't decorated for Christmas since my mom died, but if you want to, then I guess I'll get into the holiday spirit."

"You better get used to it," you informed him as he tugged you toward the bedroom across the hallway from yours which would become the nursery. "After Rose is born, you're going to need to go overboard with it."

"I love going overboard," he told you, as if you didn't already know that about him. "Speaking of which... all of the stuff we ordered on Friday got delivered today. Wanna take a look?"

You squealed with excitement as you saw that he had opened up the boxes and set everything on the floor in the empty room. "Roo! The crib bedding is adorable!" When you went to kneel on the floor, he insisted on helping you get down comfortably. That's when you opened the bedding and ran your hand over the pastel airplanes. The fabric was soft, and your eyes got a little misty as you imagined your baby snuggled up on them.

Bradley knelt down next to you and kissed your cheek. "I was thinking your dad and I could put the crib together when they come out in a few weeks? I know how much he likes working on little projects like that."

You threw yourself into his arms so quickly, he grunted in response. "He would love that, Bradley. He would absolutely love that." And now it was too late to try to get your hormones under control again as you started sobbing in his arms.

He kissed your ear and whispered, "That will give me time to paint in here while you're out of the house. Maybe you and Nat can go see a movie and go shopping or something. I don't want the paint fumes to bother you since this room is so close to our bedroom."

"You're so fucking considerate." You hugged him tighter and straddled his legs, and soon he was on the floor underneath you as you both laughed. "Can we start calling it the nursery? Rosie's nursery?"

"That's music to my ears, Baby Girl. And you know what? I also kind of feel like picking out a Christmas tree now."

"Yeah?" you asked in excitement.

He nodded up at you and let his hand slip down to your belly. "Yeah. How about we go look at paint colors and trees? I want an enormous one that looks like it's covered in snow." He gave you a little shrug and said, "You know, since we're hardy east coast people."

"And we're having a hardy east coast baby."

The two of you ended up at Home Depot until they were closing. Bradley picked out an eight foot tall tree and string lights, and you decided to ask your parents to bring out some of their ornaments with them. You also had approximately fifty little paint samples in your hand while you watched Bradley awkwardly shove the tree into the back of your red Bronco.

"I'm leaning toward this lavender? Or maybe a light gray? Blue could be nice though, so it looks like the sky."

"Let's hang them up in Rosie the Nugget's nursery for a few days before we decide," he crooned as he buckled you in.

You already thought you might melt onto the floor as you ate a little snack while he drove home, and then you realized he would soon have someone else to buckle in. "Bradley," you mumbled around your granola bar. "I can't tell if I'm horny, emotional or just starving again, but the way I need you to install car seats in both Broncos while shirtless is absolutely essential to my wellbeing."

He chuckled and said, "I'm certain I can do that for you."

You crunched through the rest of your granola bar in contentment.

------------------------------

The month of December brought about a routine of sorts that Bradley was kind of in love with. You were just about to start your third trimester, and it seemed as though your belly was growing noticeably every day now. You came home from work so horny most days, the two of you ended up sneaking off to your locked bedroom for a quickie while Bradley Ross worked his magic upstairs. Then inevitably there was a more leisurely round of sex before bed where more time could be spent admiring your perfectly round belly and delicious tits.

"Which day are your parents flying out again?" he asked you as he peeled your underwear slowly down your legs leaving your soaking wet pussy bare for him.

"The twenty-first," you whimpered as he stroked you and kissed along your tattoo. "Can we talk about something besides my parents while you're down there?"

"Sure," he replied smoothly. "How about you tell me what you want for Christmas?"

"Roo," you whined as he licked your clit to your exact personal preference. "I want a million orgasms."

He smirked with your clit between his lips and said, "Already wrapped and under the tree for you. What else?"

Your hands tangled in his hair as he worked you up. You were babbling incoherently so he intentionally slowed his tongue, and you started to panic. "Everything I want is for the baby or the nursery! But maybe we can go on a little babymoon trip?"

Your eyes were wild as you were looking at him over your belly, begging him to keep going. But honestly, your idea sounded pretty great, and he was going to look into it. "Anything you want, Sweetheart. You get to have it all." He proved it to you by letting you have one of the million orgasms early.

-----------------------------

Oof, these two are really enjoying her pregnancy hormones and her cravings. Up next we have a California Christmas with Roo's in-laws, and honestly so much more. Thanks for reading! As always, if there's something you'd like to see in this series, shoot me a message! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@horseslovers2016

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

@daggerspare-standingby

@nessjo

@trickphotography2

@lyn-js

@marve2014

@furiousladyking

279 notes · View notes

martinpilled · 2 days

Note

day in the life w/ Emily?

listenin' to lovers rock

– warnings : a lil suggestive but nothing explicit

– summary : day in the life with you and emily

a/n : this was so fun to write ty anon for the req. this def turned out longer than expected so i hope you enjoy it <33

Waking up with Emily Engstler was possibly one of the best things that could ever happen to you. You woke up to being tangled in between her long limbs and her peacefully asleep.

You had work off today and Emily had practice, but she said you could come and join her which made you grin so hard you thought your cheeks were gonna go numb.

You glanced over at the time and realized you two should've been up and moving a while ago.

"Emily." You said, untangling yourself and shaking her

The con to dating Emily was that she slept like a rock. Absolutely nothing woke this woman up. You kept shaking her and she just laid there and snored.

"Emily! Get up!" You grabbed the pillow off your side of the bed and smacked her over the chest with it, that woke her up.

She jolted up and looked so confused. Her reaction made you bust out laughing.

"The fuck was that for, ma?" She asked sleepily.

"Look at the time, my love."

Her eyes widened when she realized the time and jumped out of bed. "Fuck! It's so late!" She shuffled around your guys' room, trying to get ready.

You tried your hardest to hold back your laughter as you got up and went to go make coffee for the both of you.

Once you reached the kitchen you started the coffee and made eggs for Emily. After plating up her breakfast and setting it on the table with her coffee, Emily came out fully ready in her practice gear.

"Oh you are such a trad wife." She laughed as she sat down and started eating.

"Oh shut up or I won't make you lunch." You threatened as you made her sandwich.

She did a 'zip it and lock it' motion to her mouth, making you giggle. After you made her lunch you packed it up and went to go get ready yourself.

You changed into a cute outfit and did your hair and makeup and went back out to the dining area. Emily came up to you and wrapped her arms around you.

"You look pretty baby.." Emily murmured against your lips as she leaned in for a kiss. Her hands made their way down to your ass, groping them gently.

You pushed her away before it got too heated, "You have practice, my love."

She sighed dramatically and grabbed her bag. You two walked out to the car hand in hand. She opened your door and helped you get in then rounded the car to get into the driver side.

As you two drove to the training facility her hand made its way to your knee, rubbing it gently. She was so whipped for you.

You two arrived at the training facility and she went to the locker room while you found a seat in the stands. Training went by fairly quickly, you loved watching her do what she loved.

"Okay! Lunch break!" Thibault yelled. All the women dispersed on the court, going to enjoy their lunches with each other. Emily made her way to where you were sitting, carrying the batman lunch box.

"Really, batman?" She asked, gesturing at the case. You giggled and motioned for her to sit down.

"Its cute!" You argued. She rolled her eyes sarcastically and opened up the box to retrieve her meal. She shared bites of the food with you til it was all gone and she had to return to practice. You gave her a quick peck on the lips along with a,

"Good luck!"

The rest of practice went smoothly and you two drove home together.

"Are we eating in tonight or?" You asked curiously, washing up some dishes.

"I was actually planning on taking you out." Emily grinned. Your face lit up which made Emily smile even more. It was the little things that made you so happy, like when she would open the car door for you or surprise you with a dinner date.

You two got ready for your night out and Emily drove you two there.

It was a nice steakhouse she took you guys too. "This is beautiful baby, thank you"

"Anything for you." She smiled.

You two ate your dinner and talked for a good hour or two before you two finally made it home.

Once you closed the front door you went up and kissed her.

"I love you."

#emily engstler #emily engstler x reader #washington mystics #wbb #wnba #kal.fics

205 notes · View notes

ghouljams · 2 days

Text

Sin Summer (Gaz) Rating: E (MDNI) Words: 4.8k Tags: Gaz x f!reader, anal, body writing, tickling, pwp, dirty talk, rimming(f!receiving), clit torture(minor), vibrators, overstimulation, free use, dollification(sort of), Gaz is a nasty freak and I love that for him Summary: You're having a lot of fun(and sex) staying with Ghost, but you're still learning your way around the barracks. Good thing Gaz doesn't mind being walked in on. <Part 4 ao3

It’s decided that you’ll stay in Ghost’s room. Less likely anyone will inspect his rather spartan dwelling is what you’re told. Really you think Ghost just wants to keep you to himself. Unfortunately it’s not all sex and blowjobs. The space of time when Ghost and Johnny are off doing whatever soldiers do is sort of boring. You spend two days just sitting in Ghost’s room reading naval fiction(the only thing that man seems to have on his small bookshelf) before Ghost gives you a look and tells you you’re not trapped on base. The man even hands you a card and tells you to have fun.

Which just opens up a whole new world for you. Free room, free sex, and you’re right by a bus station. You spend the rest of the week exploring London and sending postcards to your friends back home. You know where you’re sleeping every night and every morning you wake up to Ghost’s giant frame between your legs. You may as well be in paradise. Except the mattress sucks and you’re having to look up yoga exercises just to get the kinks out of your back.

Ghost shows you where the bathroom is, though he has his own, and gives you the key to his room. “Free reign” you’re told, something about the rest of the team being out and the recruits being home. Doesn’t matter much to you. It’s the military, there’s always people on deployment or off doing something. The specifics are unimportant. You’re here for one thing.

You open the door to Ghost’s room, unlocked, he must be back from training.

“Two words baby:” You call out, bursting into the room with your usual flair, “Crotchless. Panties.” You shake the little pink bag dangling off your fingers. Only it isn’t Ghost you’re talking to.

Your eyes dart around the significantly less spartan room, the football flags, family pictures, record box and definitely not Ghost unpacking a suitcase on the bed. No, this man is smaller, with beautifully warm umber skin and broad shoulders. Actually everything about him seems to radiate warmth, from the deep brown eyes that sweep over you, to the growing smile that lights up his face.

“Christ you’re pretty,” you blink, hold your hand up to shield your eyes from looking at the sunshine on his face. He laughs and it’s movie worthy, are you in a dead wife montage or something?

“You’re the bird Soap was talkin’ about,” Ooh even his voice is like honey, you don’t think you’ve ever heard anything sweeter. You’ve heard Ghost call Johnny that once or twice, this must be one of the guys they said was on mission.

“You’re…” You fish for the names Ghost gave you. You weren’t really paying attention when he told you. Not your fault, his dick was in your mouth.

“Kyle,” Kyle introduces himself, “can call me Gaz if you want.”

“Pleasure,” You return his smile. He tips his head, eyes dragging over you slower this time. His gaze feels heavy, appreciative, thoroughly and explicitly interested. When he blinks you find his gaze holding yours and your cheeks heat.

He holds his hand out, and you walk closer to shake it. His grip is firm, his fingers wrapping around yours are tight and unyielding. When you go to drop his hand, he yanks you closer, pulls your arm up, leaning back as you’re forced against his chest. Your heart beats a little faster, your face burns, and your breath catches.

“Now what-” Gaz asks, his mouth dropping to brush against the shell of your ear as he speaks, “-is a pretty doll like you doing with those two muppets?”

You tip your head instinctively for him. The stubble along his jaw, evidence he’s been without a decent shave in weeks, tickles your neck and you can’t help the bubble of giggles that escape you. Gaz breathes you in with a sigh. You feel his lips curve into a smile and he rubs his scratchy cheek against the sensitive skin until you’re laughing and squirming to try and get away from him.

His grip on you is like iron, even when you shriek and giggle, bumping him with your shoulder until you’re breathless and hiccupping. Your stomach hurts from laughter, the hand he isn’t keeping held out of the way pushes against his firm chest. Nothing you do seems to budge Gaz. The same way you can never move Johnny or Ghost. His fingers pinch your side, and you flinch away from him.

You bounce when he tosses you onto his bed, still letting bursts of laughter slip free, your neck tingling with the memory of his touch. Gaz drags his hand over his jaw, feeling the stubble for himself, and reaches down to strip his shirt over his head. Your cheeks hurt with how hard you’ve been smiling, your heart still fluttering giddily, but you feel like your lungs stop breathing as Gaz’s hand wraps around your knee and drags you back to the edge of the bed.

“They been takin’ care of you properly, doll? Givin’ you everything you deserve?” He coos, his hand sliding up your leg. You nod, push yourself up onto your elbows to watch Gaz watching you. He tips his head, brows twitching together like he’s trying to feign concern. His smile feels hungry as his eyes drag over you, “Got no reason to play with me then, right?”

“I mean,” Your eyes dart to his belt, “I’ve got some time.”

“You sure?” He leans to kiss your knee, dragging his lips over the inside edge and up the sensitive skin of your thigh. “Haven’t seen anything as pretty as you in months, might not wanna let you go afterwards.” His tongue darts out, presses against the inside of your thigh and licks a broad stroke that makes you shiver.

It makes you feel like a virgin the way he looks at you, talks to you, touches you, like he could eat you alive. What do they say about pretty faces? Christ you can’t remember when his hands are so eagerly tugging down the zipper on your skirt. His brows draw together as you lift your hips to help with shucking your underwear. Gaz’s hands grab under your thighs as soon as your clothes hit the floor, pushing your legs up towards your chest, forcing your hips up so he can get a good look at you.

His hands are softer when they drag down your thighs, still marked with callouses, but you’d bet he’s better about wearing gloves. You grab your knees to try and hold yourself in position for him. If you’d thought he was going to inspect your cunt you’re surprised to feel his hands grip your ass, and spread you apart. Gaz tips his head, kneading the soft flesh as he breathes out a groan.

“Look’it that,” He coos, and you feel his thumb brush over your asshole, “knew they wouldn’t touch it.”

Your cheeks blaze with heat. Christ, you’re a slut but this man is doing something to you. It’s not like you’ve never had anyone play around back there, but the slow appreciative way he just touches you, runs his thumb over the tight hole so you can feel the drag of his skin, makes you shiver. The way Gaz talks to you too, like this was a sure thing, a known thing, like Johnny and Ghost were saving part of you for him. You may as well be a toy they’re passing around, stress relief between deployments. The thought lights a fire in your chest, makes your skin prickle and your pussy wet. You can get into that.

“You ever had anyone back here, doll?” Gaz asks, his eyes raising to yours. His hands don’t move. You give a short nod, trying not to give the impression of innocence that he seems to drape over you.

“Fingers, and mmph-” You sink your teeth into your lip, holding Gaz’s gaze as he bends down, his tongue held out to roll ever so slowly over your ass. He makes sure you’re watching him, makes sure you can see the way his tongue licks you, the tip of it flicking over you in teasing strokes before his eyes drop and he spits on the hole. You swallow, feel his hands slide over the curve of your ass to help you hold your thighs.

You can safely say you haven’t had anyone eat your ass before, and it’s making your chest feel a little fluttery. You’ve had folks dip down there when they were giving you head, but never with this sort of singularly focused effort. Not with the sort of eager breath that Gaz lets out, the drawn brows and open mouth. He licks the flat of his tongue over your ass again and again, the unfamiliar feeling making you squirm until he presses the tip of it against you. Gentle, testing, pressure that makes you whimper. Not because of the way it feels but the implication of it, the taboo.

Just the knowledge that you’re doing something new makes heat wash over you. His tongue burns a stripe over your hole, stopping just short of your cunt. Gaz hums, teases the edge of your pussy with the tip of his tongue before dipping back down. It sends a flash of warmth over you, your clit tingling with need as your cunt throbs. You’re sure you must be soaked, you can feel the wetness starting to drip down over your ass, a hot shameful roll of slick that makes Gaz smile.

“Dirty thing,” He tells you, the honey in his voice seems to coat gravel, a rough need deepening his words. Your cheeks may as well catch fire, your voice lodged in your throat as you try not to pout at his teasing. Your stomach tightens in quick bursts, both of your holes clenching around empty air.

You always figured anal was better left to the people you spend more than one night with, maybe you should rethink that. Although you highly doubt the men that had begged for it would have had half the enjoyment Gaz seems to be getting. He pulls back to spit on your asshole again, watching the roll of spit over you, He drags his hand from your thigh to your pussy and you tense. Gaz lets out a huff of laughter.

“Soap’s spanking you raw, huh?” He guesses far too accurately. You wonder how often they do this, bring girls back to play bunny until they’re off on deployment again. You suppose it must get boring on base with nothing to do but prep for the next mission. “Don’t worry,” He drags the wetness that coats your cunt down to rub over your ass, “I won’t touch her again.”

You don’t recognize the threat, just nod and try to breathe through the shame that tries to burn through your body. God you are not a virgin on their first one night stand, you shouldn’t be so flustered over this. It’s not a big deal, you coach yourself, you’ve wanted to try this, and it’s not like he isn’t going to fuck you afterwards. Foreplay is just… a little awkward sometimes, that’s it.

He tastes you, not properly, but finally. Gaz groans at the way your slick coats his tongue, lets him push it against your ass. The slick lubricates you enough for him to wiggle the muscle into your tight hole. It makes your eyes flutter a little, the feeling so alien, so different from the exploring fingers that usually made their way back there. You try to hold still, try not to feel like you’re doing something wrong letting him wiggle his tongue into your ass. It doesn’t work and you find yourself reaching to grab a fistful of short hair.

“Gaz,” You whine, unsure if you’re asking for more or less. It doesn’t matter. Gaz pulls his mouth from you and leans back, smacking your ass to watch the way you clench at the sharp sting of pain.

“On your knees, puppet,” Gaz orders, “edge of the bed.” You’re quick to turn over, stretching your arms out in front of you as you settle on your knees and arch your back. You hear the cap pop on a bottle of lube --you assume it’s lube-- and then Gaz’s thumb is rubbing slick against your ass. He presses, presses, presses. It feels like it takes ages, but it must only be a few seconds. The feeling makes your breath catch in your throat, makes warmth burn up your spine and down your legs. You feel Gaz’s other hand pet up your back, pulling your hips back for a better angle as he rubs back down.

“There you go,” He tugs at your rim, his fingers squeezing one of your cheeks, “fuck look at that.” He sounds almost breathless, completely enraptured by whatever he’s seeing. You can feel, fuck- you whine against the bed, feel him press his thumb in a little deeper. You’ve had guys do this while they fuck you, but never alone. Somehow it feels more intense like this, more focused. One finger is never enough to make you whine, let alone make your eyes roll back, but when he pulls his thumb out you moan against the bed. You can feel your pussy clench, can feel the heat dripping from you as you whimper into the mattress.

He’s teasing you, you know that, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t work. Gaz replaces his thumb with a thick finger and your eyes roll back. That sinful pressure and heat are starting to melt your brain a little bit, and when he pumps his finger in and out of your tight hole, mumbles about needing more lube, you can’t help the way you shiver. It courses through you like a twitch of your hips and settles in the way your fingers clench at the sheets. Every little motion feels so much bigger, so much tighter, than when your pussy is played with. You’re eased into the deep end of the pool, but that doesn’t mean you float.

Quite the opposite, you sink hard. You push back into the feeling, push back until you feel Gaz’s knuckles and hear him chuckle, “Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” You prickle with heat, goosebumps raising over your skin unbidden. Gaz draws his finger back and you feel the cool dribble of lube over your hole. It slides around his finger, only to be scooped up by a second finger pushing into you.

You whine at the stretch, push your face into the mattress until you can’t breathe, until your stomach is clenched tight and your hips are trying to rock back into the feeling of being stretched. You feel so full, and yet so maddeningly empty. Your pussy is awash with heat, your clit tingles, you want so badly to feel his hands on either of them, to be filled properly in the right hole. Gaz takes his time working you open, admiring the way your ass yields to his fingers’ tugging and scissoring, growing softer under his ministrations.

The slight discomfort of it fades all too quickly into something mind numbing and you find yourself on the edge of orgasm. Your untouched cunt wound too tight to do anything but clench and dribble as your ass is fucked open on deft fingers. Your thighs shake, your muscles wound too tight to do anything but shiver. You just need a little more, just a little something extra. Gaz, mercifully, drags his unoccupied hand over your cunt. You whine when he circles your clit, and scream when he pinches it hard. The pain jolts through you, electric. You’d wanted more and you got it, the stimulation just enough to send you over the edge. You come on nothing, clenching desperately around Gaz’s fingers. He hums, the hint of a smile at the edge of his voice. He pinches you a little harder, twists his fingers and you keen.

He thrusts his fingers in and out of your ass, working you through your orgasm. If you thought Johnny’s spanks were bad they didn’t prepare you for the sharp sustained pain that Gaz put you through. It hurt so good, almost distracting from the building pressure of Gaz’s fingers pumping into your ass. You sob when he releases the bundle of nerves and soothes his thumb over it.

Your cheek is smushed in a puddle of your own drool by the time he adds a third finger.

“How’re you feeling, puppet?” You can hardly think to answer, just let your eyes roll back and slur out a, “good” that makes him chuckle. “Good,” He reaffirms, “have you begging in no time.”

You don’t know how he could expect you to beg in these conditions. Your face is pressed to the mattress and you barely have the space to breathe when you feel like you’re about to break on just his fingers. You mumble something, but it isn’t words, just sounds that dribble out of you with each languid thrust of Gaz’s fingers. You don’t have the energy to do more than take it, which doesn’t seem to be the point. No, you know that’s not the point when you feel Gaz’s fingers leave you.

You feel so terribly empty. Stretched out and ready to go without the actual- You hear a click, and then buzzing. You move to push yourself up onto your hands to see what Gaz is doing and he’s quick to push your shoulders back down. You whine under his heavy hold, then you feel the cool unyielding plastic of an egg vibrator being shoved into your aching cunt. You clench around it, pull it deeper into your pussy as Gaz pushes it inside and nestles it right where he wants it. Another two clicks and the vibrations kick into a higher gear, tingling up your spine and making you moan. When Gaz’s fingers ease back into your ass, once again dripping with lube, you feel the fullness from both sides and press your hips back into the feeling. Gaz’s fingers push down against you, feeling for the vibrator and giving an annoyed hum. You don’t count the number of times he clicks the vibrator’s button, only know that suddenly your vision is going white and you’re shaking apart on the toy.

So much stimulation without a care to your poor cunt, your body is too greedy and you’re paying the price for it. If you were just a little less desperate, a little less edged by the fingers inside of you, maybe your orgasm wouldn’t rip through you like it does. Your back bowing as you bite the bedding and rock with the movement of Gaz’s fingers, clenching and unclenching desperately around the vibrator. You wonder if you could convince him to play with your clit. Maybe he’d be nicer this time if you did beg.

“Please,” You murmur, “please, please, please.” You don’t even know what you want him to do. Fuck you, you suppose. He swats your ass, the sharp smack of it filling the room and making your hips jerk. You fading orgasm makes the pain melt all the quicker into pleasure, tempting you to wiggle your hips and earn a second.

“Please what doll?” He asks, his voice is almost cruelly teasing, “good toys know how to use their words don’t they?”

“Please fuck me,” You may as well scream it for how badly you want him. All this build up, all the prep, you’re aching to feel his cock, aching to be filled. He’s not fucking your cunt, you probably don’t have to worry about being oversensitive. Right?

Gaz’s fingers leave you, and there’s a brief shuffle of fabric, the tear of a condom wrapper, and the familiar press of a cock nudging against your hole. You can feel the slip of lube over the synthetic barrier, the liquid pouring over your hole and his cock. You’re sure he’s upending the bottle, hoping to make this a little easier on the both of you. His fingers squeeze your ass, cool and wet with something, as he holds the heavy length and eases his blunt tip into your stretched hole.

You have never been this loud in your life on just the insertion. Hot pressure drags every thought out of your brain. Your hands claw at the bed spread, Gaz’s fingers tightening as he holds you in place and inches his cock into you. You feel tight, feel heat spreading through your core from that singular point, your pussy drips like a faucet onto the bed. Poor thing still drooling and clenching around the vibrator, even with a cock filling your ass. You’re too worked up to care, too drunk on the feeling of a cock pushing into you to do more than moan. There’s the slightest shift, just a centimeter of pullout as Gaz works you open, and you sob. Your hand shoots back to grab his wrist, something to hold onto when you feel like you’re losing your mind.

You’ve never been like this before, never felt like your legs were going to melt, like you’d be a puddle on the bed if Gaz weren’t holding you up. You have to clench your jaw just to swallow the spit filling your mouth, just to stop the stream of soft whimpering moans that leave you. You release his wrist just to fist the sheets, trying to hold onto some semblance of your sanity before it all leaves you.

Gaz pushes his fingers into your hair and grabs tight at your scalp. It’s a dull sort of tug that pulls you up, forces you back onto his cock. “Stick your tongue out puppet,” Gaz tells you, and you’re happy to oblige. You open your mouth, tongue out and your back arched from his grip. “What a sweet little slag you are,” Gaz hums, “glad I caught you before the captain did.”

Even if you knew what he meant, had the brain power to register the advice, you don’t have the words to agree. Gaz’s hips meet your ass and he stills, circling his hips to let you feel the reach of him. He’s deep, thicker than his fingers, and maddeningly deep. You don’t stop the drool that drips off your tongue and onto your chest. Gaz leans over you and pulls out, again you feel like your brain might be melting out of your ears. Every inch of his cock burns against your rim, fights against the tightness of your body, the unyielding muscle. He pushes back in and you have to adjust to the feeling a second time. It’s almost enough. You’re sure he’s just giving you time to get used to it.

Another slow pull out, and then his hips snap to yours. It feels like all the air is being knocked out of you, a shudder rolling up your spine at the motion. You barely get the time to take a breath before he’s doing it again and again. Tears start to prick in your eyes at the overwhelming feeling of it. The vibrator still buzzing away in your cunt, paired with the sharp pace Gaz sets push you to the edge faster than you thought possible. Your muscles tense, your spine arches, and Gaz murmurs in your ear.

“Such a pretty doll for me, aren’t you?” He coos, “Arching your back so nice, bet you wanna fuck yourself on my cock, don’t you puppet?” You nod against his hold, your hips already starting to move. “Good girl,” Gaz’s smile curves against your ear and for the first time in months you get the strangest feeling. Your heart clenches and you-

You wish it was Ghost saying those words to you.

The thought is quickly wiped away on Gaz’s next thrust, your mind as full of him as your body is and unwilling to compromise that with something as petty as a tiny little ache in your heart. You moan Gaz’s name for him, and enjoy the way he pants in your ear as he drives his hard cock into you. He releases your hair to hold your throat, his fingers gentle in direct contrast to the harsh slap of his hips. You feel the murmured praises more than hear them.

“Pretty thing, gorgeous doll, taking it so well,” Gaz’s breath huffs out, his lips dropping to your shoulder before he’s up again. “Tell me how much you love it,” He orders.

“Love it,” you slur, moving to grab his wrist again, you press it tighter against your throat, missing the thick unyielding grip Ghost always seems to have, “feels so good.”

“Can’t believe no one’s fucked this tight arse before, Soap said you were a proper slag.” You don’t have an answer for that, only push yourself back on his cock like a proper slut should. It makes him groan, the sound musical next to your ear. He holds his hips still and you do it again, pushing yourself down his length before pulling back. Gaz lets you drop back onto the bed, his fingers greedily spreading your ass apart to watch your hole swallow him with each stroke. “There you go,” He hums, “proper slag was right, takin’ every inch.”

You nod against the bed, fingers clenched tight in the sheets to help you rock back. It’s too much, and your hips stutter, earning a smack before you pick up your pace again. It’s not your fault though. He hits something inside of you, brushes against the vibrator, and you find your hips trying to run away from the feeling. Heat and pleasure dance behind your eyes when you squeeze them shut, your body isn’t used to this sort of treatment. Gaz takes over when your hips start to wiggle away from him, his hands clamping onto your hips and pulling you back until you’re sobbing.

Gaz’s fingers find your clit again, rubbing light circles between mean pinches. Everything feels wet, your cunt throbbing with heat and need that’s barely supplemented by the way he pinches you. You don’t care about coming a third time, it’s too much, and not enough at the same time. You feel insatiable even as your orgasm starts to tighten in your stomach. The tension in your body draws up and up, snakes its way up your spine to grip the base of your skull. You turn your head to push your forehead against the spit soaked sheets, just trying to ride out the hungry waves of pleasure.

“Wanna make you come,” You choke out, and Gaz let’s out a breath.

“You want me to come?” He questions, sounding almost confused before his smile eats through the fog, “Am I bein’ too mean to you puppet? Don’t mean to break my toys,” He sighs, leaning against your back as he picks up the pace, his hips snapping against yours with a wet smack, “but it is more fun when I do.”

His teeth dig into your neck and you feel his pinching turn into a hard, fast, rub. You clit finally being given the kindness you were craving and sending you screaming over the edge. Your voice is choked off by the way Gaz weighs you down, the way he drives his thick cock into you like he really is aiming to break you. There are tears flowing down your cheeks when you feel his hips still and head him growl out a groan.

Gaz rests his forehead against your shoulder, his breath panting against your sweat soaked shirt. He gives you a moment to catch your breath before pulling out. You whimper at the burn, your muscles still wound tight and needy. Your arms shake when you push yourself up. You don’t think you’ve felt so worn out in ages. Gaz presses you back down, kinder this time, and you feel a wet wipe moving over your abused hole. You take the invitation to stay mostly horizontal, gathering your thoughts back from wherever he’d fucked them out of you. Something felt tipped presses to your low back, makes a few quick strokes, and then Gaz is offering a hand to help you up.

Another clean cloth wipes over your cheeks cleaning up tear stains as Gaz murmurs how good you were for him. He helps you to get your skirt back on, and signs his name in sharpie on your underwear. “A souvenir,” He winks, “wouldn’t want to forget your first time.”

“Don’t think that’s gonna happen,” You tell him, still feeling a little out of it.

“You’re with Ghost right?” You hum, and give a sluggish nod of your head. Gaz laughs, lacing your fingers together and leading you to the door, “Alright, come on, I’ll take you home.”

“Kay,” You agree, letting your mind wander as he pulls you down the hallway towards you familiar, if a little spartan, room.

(Divider by @cafekitsune)

#x reader #cod x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz x you #gaz modern warfare #gaz cod #gaz call of duty #gaz garrick #gaz mw2 #gaz x reader #gas garrick x reader #f!reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #sin summer #MDNI

207 notes · View notes

elaci · 8 hours

Text

You need a subject for a photography submission, 'the face of sport'. Art offers one up- him. He doesn't know, however, the long-lasting effects one photo can have.

cw; consensual voyeurism, piv sex, f-receiving oral, masturbation, tennis...

Art Donaldson x fem!reader | The Rule of Thirds masterlist | talk to me!

An old tennis racket, two trophies, a signed ball, three pairs of worn shoes he couldn't bear to part with. Art Donaldson sifts through piles of memories with a smile on his face. Tashi would call it junk and insist Art gave up on what he does not use anymore if she knew it was here, hidden in boxes labelled ‘LINEN’ in the basement where the dust collects dust.

His old pair of lucky socks, an empty bottle of sunscreen, a drive-in ticket to Fast and The Furious, another old tennis racket, his last ever report card from school. Art has to take a moment to stretch his back out, being hunched over a box of old things doesn't work for long periods of time when your posture is everything. He isn't so sure what he's looking for under the dim light of a bulb that needs to be changed: a piece of himself, if he were ever that pensive.

A box of condoms with only one left inside, a toy race car he found on the side of the road after losing a match, three different lighters. The blond has a match the next day and a sore shoulder to boot- with a grimace, he pushes his hair out of his eyes. The basement feels cold and stale and Art doesn't quite know why he prefers being down here than lounging in the wide expanse of his multi-million dollar home. Tashi will be back soon and aching to go and train— maybe it's just a moment alone that Art is after.

Art throws an old neck pillow on the ground beside him and coughs at the dust it kicks up. He knows he should go back upstairs and forget about a life gone by, but when Art peers into what he thinks is a now-empty box, his eyes widen. A camera bag sits abandoned at the bottom of the box, a ribbon that was once tied around the handle lays discarded next to the bag, frayed at the edges.

Art Donaldson feels like an infidel, an apostate, as he reaches in and picks up the bag. It's smooth against his fingertips, the zip cold from its neglect, though the bag is in good condition in spite of a half decade's worth of dust and the constant use of it beforehand. It smells like something old and sweet, and Art feels perverted for even remembering a time of such struggle when his life now is so easy. The feeling makes his breath catch, and he holds the bag to his chest like it'll give him strength- the idolater that he is.

He's seen many cameras in his life, but the one inside is what he remembers most fondly, it's an old Canon with a scratched lens. Though Art is no religious man, this is an occasion that warrants a little extra faith and he thanks whoever listened for blessing his hands with the volition to dig into his past. Also in the bag is a set of printed polaroids held together with a worn elastic hair tie, though Art discards them for the moment in fear of recalling too much.

He takes the camera in both hands and turns it on, half expecting a dead battery symbol to greet his piqued attention, but instead, the screen lights up and he's looking at his spacious basement through a camera that's seen more than it should. He aims the camera into the box mislabelled 'LINEN' and snaps a photo of the white ribbon lying at the bottom. He smiles, presses a button on the camera, and waits as it loads the picture onto the display.

"Not too shabby," he hums to himself, though falls silent again when his finger hovers over the PREVIOUS button, and Art Donaldson falls victim to the sin of nostalgia.

He presses the button and is immediately assaulted with a flash into the past that burns a hole right through his stomach. There he stands, spry and grinning like an idiot with a lollipop stick between his teeth, his arms draped around Patrick Zweig, who is sticking up bunny ears on top of his head. They look happier than ever, bound by a friendship they had thought to be unbreakable. Art can't bear the sight, he presses the button again and feels nauseous.

It's the same scene, the same lollipop stick between his teeth, the same eye-slanting grin across his face. But rather than Patrick Zweig by his side, someone else hangs off his arm...

The door upstairs slams- Tashi's home. The basement ceiling shakes with the rattle of the door, and Art jumps when his wife, his wife, calls into the house for him.

"Art?"

He drops the camera, and the damned thing breaks as it hits the concrete flooring. His heart pounds in his chest as he scrambles for the shattered pieces, eyes glued on the now-dull display screen.

"Art, come on." Tashi's voice is loud enough for Art to catch as she walks through their first floor. "I want to get an hour in before we leave."

Art looks from the camera to the stairs, and then to the set of polaroids he had left unlooked at. And like a dog biting his own tail despite the pain of his own teeth, Art shoves the polaroids into his back pocket and straightens up.

“Coming, babe!”

SIX YEARS EARLIER

“If you hit my camera with that ball, I’ll never forgive you.”

Art grins, “What, you don’t trust my aim?”

You stand to the side of the court, eyes squinted in opposition to the sun as you watch Art Donaldson take a tennis racket from his bag and stretch out his shoulders. You don’t know him, not really, but you’ll vouch on any given day that the man has nice hands.

You manage yourself as he pulls a tennis ball from his pocket and hits it against the floor a few times before catching it and looking up at you, hands on hips.

“So, I just hit the ball a few times?”

You nod, “and look good doing it.”

Art snorts out a peal of sweet laughter that has you grinning in response, though when you take your camera from its bag, you’re struck with an issue.

“Hey, can I put my camera bag with your things? I really don’t want to lose it.”

Art looks from you to the bag you hold, a black camera bag with a white ribbon tied dutifully around the handle, he nods and gestures over to his belongings that sit to the side of the court, but can't help his curiosity. "What's the ribbon for?"

"So I know it's mine, everyone in my photography class opted for the same bag," you shrug. "Plus, it's pretty."

Art lets out a hearty laugh and readies himself with a few more stretches as you situation yourself, checking settings and exposure and the such. He doesn't want to distract you, but the silence between you is heavy and awkward. He wishes desperately to fill it, but words of much grandiosity fail to find their way out of his mouth.

"So, you like photography?"

You giggle at his attempt and squint up at him. "You could say that. It's a bit of an entry-level requirement for being a photographer, you know... liking it."

He laughs again, leaning back on his heels to admire the care you take with the camera, fiddling with the settings. He doesn't know you, not really, but he'll vouch on any given day that you have nice hands.

Art's tennis coach is in the midst of a hot work-fling with a professor who happens to head the photography club. She had a student lost on a subject for the 'faces of sport' submission, and Art's coach put his name forward. And here you are, now one of many who have watched him through a camera lens. He had seen you around campus on occasion, taken note of you talking to a friend of a friend- he'd have introduced himself if Patrick wasn't always dragging him away for a drink or four.

Now though, sober and grounded in his element: the court, Art can't help but let his eyes train on you a moment too long. He wonders what you see through the camera lens- a tennis player or a peer?

"Ready?" You're looking up at him with an encouraging smile and he feels his cheeks burn under your gaze as you snap a picture of him as he stands unassumingly.

"I did not say I was ready," Art points an accusing finger at you, but replaces his butthurt tone with a smile and readies himself to hit a few balls. "But I am. Now, at least."

You laugh, and Art finds himself wanting to hear it every day for the rest of his natural life. He smiles at the sound, a toothy grin he'd usually only flash when drunk or ecstatic.

You take another picture, and one more when he frowns at your antics. "You said you were ready," you shrug.

Art serves a few times, getting into his element as you photograph him. The click of your camera becomes background noise as Art works with his mind's eye and body's memory, making precise adjustments and hitting perfectly every single time. He gets into a sweet rhythm, serve after serve as he hits the balls to an empty other half of the court. You watch his form through the camera, taking each shot as they present themselves to you. All he does is play tennis, yet you find yourself eyeing something breathtaking. He's beautiful, like a piece of art with skill unmatched, but it's not his form that piques your interest: it's the look in his eyes. Focused, intent— in love. He adores what he does, the narcotic feeling it gives him, and you find you adore watching it flood his system.

Though your perfect shot, your submission picture, comes as an idea.

"Okay," your voice breaks Art's reverie, and he stops mid-serve to look at you. "I have what I need."

Art's brows furrow, "that's all?"

His arms fall to his sides, tennis ball dropping by his feet as his racket hangs loosely from his grip. He's sweaty, hair damp and sticking to his forehead. Though he hasn't done much, you blame the sun and thank it in the same regard: he looks good.

"Just one more thing," you hum, raising your camera one last time. "Smile like you did before."

"What?"

"Just do it, Art."

He likes the sound of his name on your lips and obliges without further question. There he stands like a boy on his first day of school, arms by his side, racket hanging from his grip, sweaty and squinting under the bleating sun with a wide grin plastered on his face.

And you take the photo, him to the left of the shot as an empty court fills the rest of the frame. Remnants of that elated look still shine in his eyes, you've caught the afterglow.

"That's the one," you practically jump up and down at the picture staring back at you on the display.

Art makes a face. "What? I wasn't even playing."

You have to look from camera-Art to real-life-Art to catch his frown. You smile in response and walk pointedly over to the blond so you can practically shove your camera in his face.

"Look," you offer, feeling the extra heat of his body against you when he looks over your shoulder to gaze at the camera screen. You click through photos of him playing, all basic pictures he's seen a hundred times with a hundred different players. "That's the game, hitting a ball with a racket. You look good, you're focused, in touch with yourself, that's great. But this..." you click forward until you find your latest image, the one of him smiling, "...this is the afterglow, the dopamine rush, the actual game, the face of sport."

Art is quiet. He stares at himself, his own smile. A moment passes, and then another, and you're beginning to think he doesn't see the vision when he finally breaks the silence.

"Have you ever played tennis?" His voice is barely there, loud enough for you to hear as he leans down a little, right next to your ear.

You shake your head, you know he can see it, his breath is hot on your neck.

Art stands upright. "You should let me teach you. It's a good skill to have."

You turn and look up at him, "anyone can hit a ball with a racket."

He's quick to frown, a dramatic faux hurt etched across his face, "anyone can press a button on a camera."

You're about to defend your sport, ramble about the editing process and exposure settings and moving subjects and the rule of thirds when Art's sour expression loses to his breaking grin, and you catch the hypocrisy as it's about to drip from your tongue.

Before you can reply, however, he cuts you off. "I'll let you use that photo of me... if you let me teach you the basics."

The basics aren’t so basic when you spend most of your time photographing the ball, not trying to hit it. Art is patient, laughing ceremoniously whenever you flinch at the ball as it comes towards you, clapping when you do hit, and offering you pointers when you don’t. Half of the guys at Stanford for sports would have left fifteen minutes ago when you called tennis ‘a game straight from Satan's hole’. Art just laughed.

You wonder if you weren’t in need of a subject for your submission, whether you and Art would have ever crossed paths naturally. You wonder who his friends are, what he does when he’s not playing tennis, if he has other hopes and dreams.

“Your grip is wrong,” Art calls from the other side of the net. “You can hurt your wrist like that.”

You look down at your grip on Art’s racket and sigh—there’s a proper way of doing everything in tennis, you presume. You’re about to try and correct it yourself when Art quite literally jumps over the net to your side, he’s right in front of you in only a second.

“Hi,” he huffs.

“Hi.”

Art gestures something with his hands that you don’t quite get, then takes another step closer to you before freezing. “Oh, can I touch you? To fix your stance, I mean.”

“I thought it was my grip that was wrong.”

“That too.”

You have to laugh at your fuck-ups if you want to avoid looking like an egg. You nod to Art, who moves behind you and gently places his hands on your hips. He guides your body, slender fingers splayed over your waist, into a position that feels unnatural yet somewhat powerful. With a gentle nudge of his foot between your legs, he parts them and pushes one slightly forward.

“That’s good,” his voice hits your ears in waves, and you feel the tingle of goosebumps creep up along your arm. “Now your grip."

Art Donaldson slides his hands down your arms, taking each of your wrists in each of his hands and readjusts your grip on the handle of the racket, one hand above the other.

You stare at the ground, and he clears his throat quietly. “Like this.”

He brings both of his hands down to cup around yours and pulls your arms up as he swings your arms back and forth, the movement fluid. in demonstration of the godforsaken 'proper technique'. Your back is pressed right against his front, his chest flush against your back and the ridges of his stomach brushing against the line of your spine. Your heart races, and though you're sure he hears it, it's drowned out by the pounding of blood throughout your head as you focus on each movement of his hands, on his words, and on his voice.

"There we go," he nods, his mess of blond hair brushing against your neck as he dips his head down, presumably to check your footing. Your body shudders as he whispers, "Good job," and his mouth tickles the shell of your ear before he releases you. The world seems to tilt, no longer relying on Art for balance. You're surprised the racket doesn't fall from your grasp when he steps back, though with the loss of contact, your knees feel weak enough to collapse. As it stands, though, you're still standing, and Art is beaming down at you like he's just taught a puppy a new trick.

"So, what'd you think?" he asks.

You tilt your head in question.

Art smiles wider, "is it easier than pressing a button on a camera?"

"Oh, so you're an asshole," a bemused smile crawls across your lips.

He snorts, "Maybe."

Your laughter dies away as a strange sort of melancholy seeps in. You're suddenly aware of how far apart you two are, the space between your bodies, the lack of physical contact. Art notices, and gives a soft laugh of his own, a lighthearted chuckle that breaks the eerie need to replace the warmth of the sun with the warmth of each other.

"So," Art crosses his arms. "Now you just have to learn how to hit the ball."

"Ha ha ha," you verbalise, straight-lipped and eyebrows furrowed. "Maybe next time, hot shot."

"Next time?" Art's reply is quick. "So you'll let me keep teaching you?"

You smile at him, "No, I was lying to be polite."

It's Art's turn to act unimpressed, but you see him bite back a grin. He lets out a stressed-short laugh that turns into a huff at the end. "You're so funny."

"I know."

"Will you show me the photo once it's printed?"

It takes you a moment to realise he's being serious.

"Huh?" you ask, looking up.

Art's eyes are wide, and he raises an eyebrow. "Can I have your phone number?" he clarifies.

You open your mouth to object, to tell him no- you don't give your number to random boys you've just met, but instead, the corners of your mouth twitch upward and you're suddenly typing your number into Art's phone and saving your name with a smiley face next to it. Art smiles at the gesture and pockets his phone. There's a moment of silence shared between you, an unassuming silence that's more comfortable than it is awkward, but a silence nonetheless.

A silence broken by the loud echoing voice of another boy calling out from the far side of the courts- a brunette with curls that are more defined than Arts, that's the most you can make of him as he calls to the blond by your side, waving his arms above his head and then gesturing to his wrist like he's tapping a watch.

"Oh, shit," Art pulls his phone back out to check the time. "Fuck, sorry, I have to go."

You shrug, smiling. "It's fine, thanks for giving up some of your time."

Art smiles back, thanking you in turn for putting up with his tennis brain, then hurries to grab his things and race away in the direction of his friend. For a few seconds, all you can do is stand there dumbly watching his retreating form until he reaches his friend, who nudges Art and looks over his shoulder at you before the pair of them disappear around the corner leading back towards campus.

It's not until they're out of eyeshot that you turn to grab your camera bag, just to be greeted by an empty space where you had left it. Your heart drops for a moment, the thought of losing your camera a soul-crushing one. You remember, though, tucking it away with Art's stuff for safekeeping. He must have grabbed it in his rush to leave.

You exhale, running a hand over your forehead. Well fuck.

Art Donaldsons dorm room number plays on a loop in your head that night. He had texted you as promised, with a simple ‘I HAVE YOUR CAMERA!’ along with an easy ‘COME TO MY DORM I HAVE BEER’

It had taken him another ten minutes to realise you’d have no clue where his dorm was, and send through his dorm number. You had debated sending him a text back, telling him to meet you tomorrow on campus to hand over the camera, but your submission deadline is the next night and you need time to edit, decide you hate your prospective career as a photographer, and then fall in love with the process all over again.

You roam the halls of the boys' dorms for a few minutes, eyeing door numbers until you find his. Some doors are left ajar, some wide open and sporting odours so bad you curse God for giving you a sense of smell. You finally find Art’s door, and double check the number twice before knocking, despite a tennis ball sticker just above the door handle.

There's a little rustling inside when you knock, but his voice calls out clearly. "Come in!"

When you open the door, you're greeted not by Art Donaldson, but by the blinding flash of your own camera. You blink away the stun to find Art grinning at the display, admiring his handiwork as an amateur photographer. He turns your camera in his hands to show you to yourself, startled and wide-eyed in a half-blurred photo: Art's finger covers a corner of the frame too, it must have been over the lens.

"I think I'm a natural," he bites his tongue cheekily as he hands you your camera back. You check it over, out of habit more than mistrust of Art, and he pushes his door wide open to reveal the dorm room in all its college-student glory. It's not large by any means, but it has everything you could ever possibly want and then some, plus an impressive collection of sports memorabilia from past years and awards displayed in frames on the walls. Your camera bag is sitting on his bed, and Art gestures you towards it with a smile.

"Sorry," he spins around and opens a little cooler sitting on his floor, pulling out two beer cans from inside and offering you one. "I didn't realise I had picked it up. Were you okay without it?"

You take the beer with a 'thanks' and pat the small shoulder bag you wear. You lift the flap open to reveal a little Polaroid camera, an old one you barely use anymore. "Had to pull this off the shelf," you say. "But yeah, it should be good now."

"That's good," Art nods as you pop the top of your beer.

You sit on the edge of his bed while he takes a sip of his beer, staring at you. You notice a slight flush to his cheeks and wonder if he's a few drinks ahead of you. You can't help but laugh, leaning forward as you rest your elbows on your thighs. "Why am I here, Art?"

He frowns, looking down at you from where he stands, leaning against his countertop. "To pick up your camera?"

"You could have met me with it tomorrow. It's..." you glance at the alarm clock beside his bed, "nearly midnight."

He blinks and laughs sheepishly at you, scratching behind his neck. "Yeah, about that... I guess I just wanted to see you again?"

"Oh," you lean back and purse your lips in surprise, glancing from Art and the beautiful nervous look on his face to the beer he holds in a tight grip.

Art laughs softly, "Are you freaked out?"

"No," you shake your head quickly, "I'm not freaked out, Art."

Art chuckles lightly at that, his smile widening as his blush deepens. "Okay," he breathes out before he takes another sip of his beer and moves to sit beside you on the bed. It dips under his weight, almost pulling you closer into him, though he leaves enough space to remain respectable. His eyes seem darker now, more focused, even though his expression remains soft and pleasant. His gaze lingers on your face for a while before he opens his mouth to speak. "You said earlier, on the court, that the photo you took was the real face of sport. You're good, huh?"

"I'd like to think so," you smile fondly, gaze flitting from his lips to his eyes.

"Are you in love with it?"

You hum, "with photography?"

Art's eyes flick up to your eyes. His gaze is intense, not in a scary way, but something more playful and inviting. He nods.

"I love it, sure," you nod, situating yourself to sit more comfortably on Art’s bed. "Are you in love with tennis?"

Art nods, taking a longer drink from his beer. "Yes."

Your brow furrows and you raise an eyebrow. "I didn't know. You seemed pretty nonchalant about the whole 'look at me, I'm a tennis player' thing, actually."

His face splits in a toothy grin. "I'm humble."

You giggle quietly at that, and stare at him for a couple of seconds, studying his face, taking in every little detail. His hair, his eyes, the faintest hint of stubble on his jawline and chin, his smile, and the dimples on each cheek that said smile brings out. There are traces of dark circles underneath his eyes, you realise, and they're highlighted when his pupils expand slightly at your laughter.

You feel warm, and not from the alcohol that sits inside your stomach. The both of you place down your beers, and Art Donaldson, who may well have a girlfriend and dirtied intentions, takes in a deep breath before asking you lowly, "Can I kiss you?"

The word 'please' escapes your lips before you can stop it and the red tint in Art's ears deepens. You bite the insides of your cheeks nervously, waiting for Art to speak again, but he doesn't, and suddenly his hand is at the nape of your neck, tugging you forwards and pressing his lips to yours in a hungry, desperate manner.

As he starts moving slowly, his tongue darts out and traces the curve of your bottom lip as he pulls you further into him, the taste of his beer lingering on his lips making the gesture feel all the more enticing. A hand cups your jaw, slender fingers trailing down your neck in sensual exploration of your exposed body before his other hand rests on the small of your back and he draws you even closer until the heat radiating off himself feels almost unbearable on your skin.

There's no hesitation, no awkward pauses, or second-guessing, you find yourself melting against his body instinctively. A narcotic, he is, the way he smells and tastes and sounds and touches, and there's only so much you can handle before it overwhelms your senses completely. The kiss itself isn't that hot, it's chaste and messy and your teeth click against his in the desperation of it all, but it fills you with something unfamiliar, makes you feel lightheaded and dizzy and yearning wholeheartedly for more. You don't care how little you know him, you don't mind the lack of foreplay; you just feel overwhelmed and need more, you need more than just his lips on yours.

He practically whimpers when you pull back, his hands sliding down to hold onto your hips possessively. Sad eyes meet yours at the loss of your taste, but you brush off his worry easily, running your thumb across his cheekbone as he leans into your touch, breathing in and out heavily through his nose as if you are his only source of breath, and the sight causes a knot to form in your stomach.

"You are single, right?" your kiss-swollen lips whisper against his and you feel him exhale.

"Yes," he speaks against your mouth, a husky sound that makes your heart ache.

"Good."

You kiss him again, more fervently, letting your tongue tangle with his as his arm wraps around you tightly. Before you know it, Art has your back against his mattress and is hovering over you, hands gliding swiftly under your shirt. You aid him in getting it over your head and watch as he follows suit, pulling off his own shirt and tossing it to the floor in dismissal. He slides down his shorts and leaves himself in a pair of blue boxers that you already notice are tenting.

You take a moment, you have to, to appreciate the sculpt of Art’s body—the muscled planes of his chest, the breadth of his shoulders. His face is flushed, hair mussed and unkempt, lips swollen and kissed pink. You want to commit every last inch of this man to memory, keep him locked in the back of your mind in fear of never experiencing this again.

Is this a one-time thing? You lift your hips as Art pulls down your shorts and panties in one go, and you can't help but wonder if this is the first and only time you'll feel his fingertips against the skin of your thighs. When morning comes, and your lust is expelled and tired, will Art turn his shoulder from you? Is this something? Hell, you don't know the guy, not really.

But he presses a gentle kiss to your lower abdomen and you feel safe and comfortable; your heart rate slows as the tension eases and your body sinks further into the mattress, letting Art's hand slip between your legs to part them. "Art…"

A low moan passes your lips as he brushes his fingertips over your clit, they're still cold from holding his beer, and the stark contrast in temperature is enough to make you gasp. Art slides his thumb over the sensitive nub and you arch your back in response. Your hands come to grasp at the sheet beneath you, knuckles whitening from the amount of pressure you're exerting on them. You want more, but you realise quickly that Art is a man for taking his time. Slow, languid circles over your clit, not daring to even push a finger inside of you just yet. You whine and buck your hips against his hand, needing his touch to be deeper.

He presses a kiss to your chest, and then trails his mouth down your stomach, pausing briefly to look up at you before he dips to place a kiss directly to your pulsing clit.

You freeze, and a wave of insecurity washes over you. "You don't have to..."

"I'm dying here," Art's eyes meet yours: he looks starved. "Please let me."

All you can do is nod your head and close your eyes as he delves between your thighs for a taste of your lust. His free hand digs into the flesh of your thigh, grip tight as if he’s dead set on leaving his mark, staking his claim. He’s showering in the way you writhe, his tongue rolling over your clit as he slips two fingers inside of you. He’s high off your taste alone, latching his lips around your clit in an assault fueled by insatiable need.

You can feel him shuffle a little, moving his free hand from your thigh to reach under his own waistband and stroke himself in tandem with the thrust of his fingers inside of you. His pace quickens, though he still manages to savour your pleasure. Your hand snakes down to thread your fingers through his mess of blond hair, pushing your hips up in an attempt for more.

As Art pumps his cock with his hand, he groans against your heated flesh, sending vibrations from your sex to your spine: you arch your back in pleasure, the tightness of an impending orgasm beginning to roll over you. You try to vocalise it, tell Art you’re close, but you’re already a mess of incoherent moans and pleads for more— but he doesn’t need words to know, not when he can feel you clenching around his fingers, your every muscle tensing. His scalp must burn from the stress of your pulling, but he doesn’t seem to mind so much, smiling against your pussy as he finger-fucks you to climax.

With a sharp inhale and a choked sob of a moan from your throat, you come undone under Art’s ministrations, your vision blurred and stomach in knots of ecstasy. It's only once your breath finds you again that Art pulls his fingers out of you and climbs over you once more to press a messy kiss to your lips, he shares with you a taste of yourself, lips glistening with your release. He grins into the kiss, as pussydrunk as can be, and moves to press a sloppy mixture of kisses and bites to your exposed neck.

"You taste so good," he speaks against your skin, nipping at your pulse.

"I want more of you," you exhale, dizzy with lust.

Your legs tighten around his back as he meets your eyes once again, a sultry smile creeping across his face. You snake a hand down to the waistband of his boxers, noting the thin layer of sweat that already glosses Art's torso, and dip a finger under the elastic. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah, please," he murmurs, ducking down to press another kiss to your shoulder. You tuck your hand into his boxers, feeling past his trimmed-short hair and wrapping your fingers around his cock, rock hard and pulsing in your hand. He groans and presses himself further into your hand, his teeth dragging along the expanse of your shoulder as you pump his shaft. His hips rise of their own accord as you bring your hand higher, rubbing along his length until you have him completely desperate for the now-familiar warmth of your pussy.

"I need to be inside of you," he lays his intentions out, head tilting up to watch you for a sign of protest.

You nod, eager and willing to accommodate him, and release his cock, raising yourself onto your elbows to get a better look at the beautiful mess of a man moving to stand. He (ungracefully) reaches over to grab a condom from his bedside drawer and sheds his boxers. Inhaling slowly through his nose, he takes his time as he slides the condom onto his dick, stroking his cock gently once it's on. He watches you closely, a fond look on his face as he rubs the head of his cock up and down your pussy a few times, collecting the remnants of your lust and his spit before he enters you. It's slow, and careful, and deliberate, and your body trembles in anticipation, eyes flickering closed when he finally gives into your silent plea. The shared gasp between you is uniform, a symphony of pleasure and endurance. Him, overwhelmed by just how tight you are. You, overwhelmed by the stretch of just how big he is.

Art bottoms out in one movement, to get the harshest part out of the way for you; you hiss at the searing heat of the stretch, but calm as Art stills inside of you. You both take a moment, a shared breath, to appreciate being one, and the pleasure that comes with such entwining.

Once you’re ready, you squeeze his bicep, giving him the green-light to move. And he does, painstakingly slow, he pulls out of you, just to snap his hips forward to plunge himself back inside. The hand that isn't holding him up is pressed down on your stomach, feeling himself through you as he pushes in deep, then withdraws. Each thrust of his cock brings forth a loud gasp from your lips, which only serves to guide him further into a state of mindless bliss. He keeps himself in check as best he can, though his breathing has quickened considerably as he continues to fuck you. You feel like you're going to lose your mind, unable to breathe or speak or think straight as you're pulled closer and closer to your end. Though as you've learnt, Art Donaldson is a man to take his time, and he switches from the fast snapping thrusts to a slow roll of his hips once he feels he's a little too close to the edge.

You notice, too: you see the tension building in his muscles, how he pants and groans with each movement he makes. He stares at you adoringly, heavy lids weighing his sights down to your chest, your arched torso, your sweet design. He leans down to press another kiss to you, lips parting so he can slide his tongue into your mouth as his rhythm quickens even more. The kiss feels more intimate than even the act of his cock splitting you open, it's a sweet one, a honeymoon-style kiss where after his forehead meets yours and his eyes bore into your eyes in a mixture of something hazy.

You notice the glossy look in his eyes immediately, it's the same one you had seen on the tennis court earlier. The awestruck, total blissful look in his eyes that had spurred your inspiration. The face of sport. Even through your fucked-dumb haze of lust and a hedonistic desire to finish like this, with Art on top of you, the opportunist in yourself can't help but move. You place a firm hand on Art's shoulder, and his thrusts roll to a stop.

"You okay?" he pants, a sudden worry in his eyes, he looks you over for any signs of discomfort.

"Fine," you shake your head, trying to clear it, blinking away the foggy sensation clouding your mind. "Just, uh... do you trust me?"

Art's eyebrows shoot up, taken aback by the question: "Why?"

Your voice is barely there, a heat spreading across your face as you ask; "will you let me on top?"

Art chuckles low and deep, eyes never breaking contact with yours. A gentle touch to the curve of your ass cheek tells you that he'll miss the view, but he nods nonetheless, and you smile in turn. You expect Art to pull out and lay back on the bed, but instead, he wraps one arm under your back and pushes up with his other, flipping the both of you in one fluid motion. As soon as he's flipped over you straddle his waist, resting your hands on his chest for support, and laugh at the sheer adrenaline rush of it all.

This new position, with you sitting on Art's cock, makes you feel twice as full. You can tell that neither of your orgasms are far off, and you take the opportunity to test the waters. You roll your hips, grinding down on Art's cock, enjoying the way his eyes flutter shut. When he lets out a low noise of approval that sends shivers down your spine, you lower your body closer, pressing a wet kiss to Art's jaw as he grips your waist with a strength you don't doubt will bruise come morning.

His hips raise underneath you, fucking up into you as you continue your ministrations. The sound of skin hitting skin fills the air, and you'd close your eyes in ecstasy if you weren't so hypnotised by the sheen in Art's eyes. With each thrust Art manages to drive into you, you find your nails biting into the skin of his chest. He gets louder, groans and whines that you'd play on repeat if you could,, he's close, and he says as such.

"Let me take a picture," you say before you can stop yourself; his jaw slacks open at your words, staring up at you with incredulity written across his face. You defend your proposal- "With the Polaroid. I'll let you keep it, no copies."

A bad idea, probably, what with his face being one he hopes to see plastered across buildings one day. He doesn't know why he nods, why he smiles when you reach across the bed for your Polaroid. Maybe it's the mindless state of lust he's in, maybe it's the danger, or maybe he'll find the photo in ten years' time and remember this night with a smile or a frown depending on the grand outcome.

You ready the camera, roll your hips against his a few more times, and look down at pretty Art Donaldson.

"You're fucking gorgeous," you let slip, praise falling from your lips straight to his reddened ears. You feel him twitch inside of you, you squeeze around him in coaxing. "Look at you."

He fucks up into you with a pace unrelenting. Your second orgasm of the night is only seconds away, and you cope through the haze of pleasure and lust to focus on Art's face, memorising every detail of that look in his eyes as he starts to falter.

"Fuck," you groan, pressing down onto him to a new depth. He's tense for a moment, a sweet moment of shared rapture as you both fall over the edge of your climaxes.

"Shit, shit," his sounds mirror yours, veins pulsing in his neck as he cums. One hand digs into your hips, the other grips the sheets.

His eyes meet yours, and you see it. The look, the face of pleasure, of need, of sin.

You take the shot.

SIX YEARS LATER

The night is quiet, save for the sound of rustling trees outside and the occasional passing car. Art Donaldson has to bite his tongue to stop himself from making a noise.

He stands in the shower, water falling over his back, though cleanliness is an afterthought despite being sweat-ridden after hours of training with Tashi.

With one hand, Art pumps his cock in vigorous strokes, leaning against the cold tile wall as he jerks himself off. His eyes are locked onto what he holds in his other hand- the photo you took all those years ago. He's careful not to get it wet, but it's hard to focus on the state of it when his pooling orgasm nearly blinds him.

His eyes burn into the image, a display of himself at his most vulnerable. You had taken it looking down at him as your orgasms synced, and now he looks down at the same sight you had seen at your peak. He cums ropes onto the shower floor, biting so hard on his tongue to stifle his moans that he's surprised he can't taste blood in his mouth.

He’s left breathless, eyes still locked on the polaroid he had found in the basement earlier in the day. There's a handful more of them, but Art had no time to go through them, not after pulling this one out first and being hit with a wave of memories he’s not sure he should have.

He has to satiate his guilt by telling himself it’s not wrong to jerk off, especially not when it’s only a photo of himself… or, that could make it worse. Art exhales deeply, emptying his lungs so he can take a breath of new air.

Art steps backward into the fall of water, letting it run down his face in a rejuvenating cleanse of his sins and unholy ways of thinking. He sighs, wonders what level of hell he’s going to, and then flips the polaroid around.

Written in your handwriting on the strip of white down the bottom in permanent marker,

THE ART OF MAKING LOVE.

series taglist: @lotties-ashwagandha @daughterhouse @kiiwizz @doll-0f-flesh @jackierose902109 @lonnie2390147 @hedonisticwomen @ysuftmikey @viena-vie @whitewashedghanianlol @kolsmikaelson @nikirikii @dumbass-sappho-stan @seriousaliysa @majathepapaya

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #challengers smut #challengers 2024 #art donaldson #art x reader #art smut #art donaldson x you #art donaldson imagine

207 notes · View notes

bueckersstrap · 15 hours

Text

THROW AWAY

paige b. x reader

masterlist + playlist here !

warnings : language, cheating

wc : 850-900

tags : @mayghosts

a/n : ok so idk this was really short so imma make it like a prologue if ya catch my drift 😉 hope yall enjoy, chapters will be longer ofc. lmk what yall do and don’t like 💘💘💘 xoxo - cel

0. told her i would call her back, i forgot to text her / PROLOGUE

paige : dude it’s literally not what it looks like chill tf out 😂 11:56 PM

you : chill out ..? ur out cheating and im supposed to chill out ? alr . go have fun w ur lil home wrecking ass friend. 11:58 PM

paige : i’m out tryna enjoy my time w my friends nd ur stressing me ? imma call u after tho , ight? 11:59 PM

paige : i didnt mean it like that ur not stressing me 12:00 AM

deadass i didnt ???

read at 12:02 AM

seriously y/n 12:09 AM

bro y ru acting like that

nah fuck u

wait

wait yes

fuck you

read at 12:10AM

‘paige’ has been blocked by ‘y/n’

—

the loud knock that erupted on the apartment door must’ve rung throughout the empty hallways of paige’s complex.

nervously shifting her weight between her feet, holding the cardboard box — that was filled to the brim with all of paige’s stuff — was heavy of a weight enough and the extra anxiety wasn’t helping.

y/n felt like she must have been waiting at paige’s door for hours when it really was only a minute or so.

paige’s expression turned blank, not expecting to ever see y/n again after the incident.

“your stuff. i didn’t need it taking up space in my apartment anymore.” you said, shallow and shoving the box into her chest.

“I- uh. thank you?”

it seemed as if paige swallowed her pride and was going to say something but before she could you flashed her a tight lipped expression and begged yourself not to give in to her antics if she tried anything.

you two had been in this situation countless times, it always ended up in sex. but you didn’t want that this time. not yet, atleast.

it was the awkward silence that confirmed the end of you two was catching up to the years that lacked apologies and proper communication. there was nothing you could’ve done to stop it, what was done was done and paige’s actions couldn’t be controlled. that’s just how she is.

paige looked scared, almost. her expression was unexplainable and as hard as you tried to study the way her lips curled or the way her eyes scanned your own face; you couldn’t figure it out.

without saying anything more, you gave her once last look and walked away, completely shattered.

—

‘the incident’ that was referenced was the moments leading up to when you were sitting in your apartment, innocently and mindlessly scrolling on tiktok when you came across your girlfriends’ friend — ice brady’s — live.

you clicked to see them all out at a bar. this wasn’t unexpected as paige had already told you what her plans for the night were. you watched contently for a little bit, admiring the night your friends were having, that you weren’t invited to. it was weird to not be invited to a group hangout and not be asked to go with, not even by your girlfriend. it had already made you uneasy but it didn’t matter and you brushed your feelings under the rug.

ice shifted the camera to her left and for a split second the world stopped. you immediately recognized the blonde. the grown out roots with the slender hands that wrapped around presumably — from the back — her teammate, azzi fudd.

it wasn’t just a hug as you might’ve thought, her hands were on azzi’s waist and azzi’s hands were around paige’s neck. the distance between them was non-existent and very clear to everybody on live.

ice uncomfortably shifted the camera back to her, exchanging looks with her friend caroline. both the women’s expressions turned into ones of pure shock and slight panic as her and caroline tried to play it off as normal. nothing was normal about this, though.

“what the fuck?” you mumbled, furrowing your brows to try and capture the moment in your brain. it didn’t last as long as it felt though.

for a couple minutes you set your phone down, pacing around your apartment. too many thoughts you had to calculate came at lighting speed in your pounding head. at first, you tried to justify her actions, thinking, maybe it wasn’t what it looked like. but then you started thinking more rationally. you knew what you saw and there was no defending her actions no matter how much you tried. you attempted reading between the lines, trying to catch a loophole in which azzi and paige weren’t kissing within an inch of life between them but the hand placement was a dead give away. the realization made your blood run cold and gave you the confidence needed to say something, not wanting to silence you or your feelings anymore.

that’s how the whole text situation ended up happening because the pure shock turned into pure anger. you concluded that azzi fudd was a home wrecker, and paige bueckers was a lying slut cheater.

was it fair to label azzi that, just by seeing the live? probably not. but the heat that rose to your cheeks in your anxiety driven body made it hard for you to think straight. but this wasn’t about azzi, this was about paige and her extremely ignorant tendencies. especially her intoxicated ones.

it hurt but you knew it was a long time coming, anyway. the toxic relationship you two shared had been ongoing since your junior year when you hooked up at a halloween party and were on and off since.

you couldn’t tell whether knowing that the cycle between you and paige would continue until one of you broke— which wasn’t going to happen— brought you comfort or sadness. it was very unfortunate that you wasted this much time on paige, but considering your past and the very foreseeable future, it was hard not to. as fast as you tried to run away you knew you’d probably end up being caught up to sooner or later. until the pattern repeated itself, you’d try and heal like normal and be destroyed when she came back and ruined your life.

it was the circle of paige.

#Spotify #bueckersstrap #throw away #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #smut #azzi fudd #ice brady #caroline ducharme #writers on tumblr #wlw #lesbian

220 notes · View notes

elliesmainhoe · 2 days

Note

Hey there vivi, I think your work is cool <33 Wanted to ask what you thought of Ellie and girlfriend having IVF with both their genetics/eggs so they both have a biological child together. Know it’s not possible yet but im thinking about a Ellie with biological kid. Tmi but im ovulating so this is what im thinking ab rn. Not asking you to do a little blurb if you don’t want to, but wanted to know if you like the idea of Ellie and her kidd, ngl i think is interesting and adorable. Much love!

omg I fucking love this idea!!!! she would be so silly , I wrote some headcanons for this so hope you like it!!!!

ELLIE WILLIAMS HEADCANONS: YOU HAVE A BABY WITH HER (biologically)

okay let's say- distant future, lesbians can now have biological babies (yay technology!)

when you tell her that your pregnant girlie is gobsmacked, even though you two were actively trying. (aka raw dogging every night)

goes through a crisis, buys baby books, pregnancy books, looks into a ton of birth and labour options

shes prepared for everything, goes to Joel to find advice about taking care of a pregnant woman and what to do with a newborn

GRANDPA JOEL????

stop that would be the most adorable shit ever, him sitting on his porch, yours and Ellie's babe on his chest, giving you two a break

stopppp 😭😭😭😭

anyways getting off topic-

she's literally so much more a doting loser than she usually is (which is a feat in itself)

gets you all your cravings, chocolate? done. pickles? done. chocolate AND pickles together? fuck it she'll try some too.

loves decorating the nursery in your house

PAINTS A DINOSAUR AND/OR SPACE MURAL IN THE ROOM???

the nerd indoctrination is already happening.

her and Joel make loads of custom furniture, adjustable crib, rocking/nursing chair, changing station.

the nursery ends up looking so cute, with loads of earthy tones and greens but also an array of rainbow toys.

OMG THEY MAKE YOUR BABY A ROCKING HORSE??

shed be so supportive during labour

whatever birth method you choose shes so supportive, makes you a little emergency bag just in case you go into labour

loves skin to skin

after the birth, you're exhausted of course, so you're sleeping and she's alone with a newborn baby???

honestly thinks that the baby looks a little funky

when babies come out they're squished, red and all silly looking

they're cute of course!!! but Ellie is still hoping your babe grows out of the squished tomato, potato phase?

skin to skin is her favorite thing

having the baby laid on her chest is genuinely the sweetest thing ever

she 100% cries when your baby grows out of their first onesie

she's so sentimental, keeps everything your kid does or has

old dummies (pacifiers if you're American), baby toys that the kid doesn't play with anymore, the umbilical cord? it's in a ziplock bag somewhere.

wears the baby in those baby back pack things (I can't remember the name LMAO)

when the baby starts teething she's always making jokes about how you've given birth to a feral baby.

jokingly scolds the baby when they start biting when you breastfeed them

dresses the kid up in the funnies outfits

the baby's dresser is basically a fancy dress box by now. dinosaur costumes, teddy bear costumes, pirate costume?

literally everything

---------------

I now have baby fever. kms.

not proofread

she's the best mum especially with a newborn

321 notes · View notes

deep-space-lines · 23 hours

Text

ADHD is like

it is 9:00am.

I need to finish this stupid Task that I don't want to do, so to motivate myself to do it and some other things I need to do, I buy myself some Little Treats to eat over the course of the week. If I finish this Task I get to eat a Little Treat, and I should have enough time leftover to start another Task.

But the problem is that I know I can just eat the Little Treat now. Nothing is stopping me. In fact I can have as many Little Treats as I want. So I lock the Little Treat in a box.

But then I could just.. unlock the box and eat the Little Treat within. It is entirely within my power. In fact it would be less effort than doing the Task.

So I bury the box in my backyard, get a ladder to put the shovel on the roof, and build a second box to house the key that is programmed with an artificial intelligence that will only release the key to me after I have proven to it that I have completed the Task, all in order to make it sufficiently inconvenient for me to simply eat the treat.

it is 8:00pm.

I have spent more effort arranging the Little Treat Reward Mechanism than just doing the Task would have ever required. I give up and break open the key box and retrieve the Little Treat and just tell myself I will at least eat it a small piece at a time to keep up motivation while doing The Task.

5 minutes later it is 1:00 am.

I lost track of what I was doing and ate all the Little Treats without realizing. At some point I did the dishes, built a functional rendition of the Prague Astronomical Clock in Minecraft, decided I will learn to play the bongos, rearranged my bookshelves by genre and author, began a painting I will never finish, wrote to my state representative, fixed the motor in my sewing machine, signed myself up for an online course in R programming, and got back in touch with my estranged aunt. The Task is 10% finished. I won't get anything done tomorrow if I don't get any sleep, so I give up and go to bed.

It is 9:00 am.

I need to finish two stupid Tasks and I am out of Little Treats.

#i am in spain without the s #this post was originally gonna be much shorter and then guess what . it turned into a way to not do The Task #genuinely do not think im like . fundamentally capable of ever holding a 9 to 5 lmao i was not built to function in society #adhd

149 notes · View notes

soldiersareyourprotectors · 2 days

Text

Evan adjusted his tie in the mirror, feeling the slight tremor of nerves in his fingertips.

Tonight marked one year with Daniel, a year filled with laughter, support, and a love stronger than he had ever imagined possible. He still marveled at how fate had brought them together in the most unexpected of circumstances.

Evan, a successful businessman, had moved to the city to escape a harrowing past. His ex-boyfriend, Liam, had become increasingly aggressive and abusive, culminating in a terrifying night when Liam broke into Evan's apartment, demanding they leave together. The ordeal had ended with Liam's arrest and a restraining order. Seeking a fresh start, Evan changed his name and moved, hoping to leave the fear and chaos behind.

It was a few months later when he met Daniel. Tall, with an athletic build and a smile that made Evan's heart race, Daniel was everything he had never thought he needed.

Daniel was a police officer, dedicated to his job and fiercely protective of those he loved. They had met when Daniel was off duty, at a charity event organized by Evan's company. A spilled drink, an apology, and a shared laugh had turned into a first date, and now, one year later, Evan could hardly believe how much his life had changed for the better.

The doorbell rang, pulling Evan from his thoughts. He hurried to answer, opening the door to find Daniel standing there, looking effortlessly handsome in his uniform.

Daniel's eyes lit up when he saw Evan.

"Happy anniversary, babe," Daniel said, stepping inside and pulling Evan into a warm embrace.

"Happy anniversary," Evan replied, his voice muffled against Daniel's shoulder. He felt the familiar surge of comfort and safety that Daniel always brought with him.

They had planned a quiet evening at Evan's apartment, a place that had become their shared sanctuary. Daniel had insisted on bringing dinner, and Evan could smell the delicious aroma of Italian food as Daniel set down the takeout bags on the kitchen counter.

"How was work?" Evan asked, leaning against the counter and watching Daniel unpack the food.

"Busy, but nothing too crazy," Daniel replied with a grin. "Just the usual stuff. I'm all yours now."

Evan's heart swelled with affection. He knew Daniel's job was demanding and often stressful, but Daniel always made time for him, never letting work get in the way of their relationship.

They settled on the couch, plates balanced on their knees as they shared stories about their day. Evan couldn't help but feel a pang of gratitude for the peaceful normalcy they had built together. It was a stark contrast to the chaos and fear he had known before, a testament to the healing power of love and stability.

After dinner, Daniel surprised Evan with a small, wrapped box. Evan's eyes widened as he opened it to reveal a delicate silver bracelet, engraved with their initials and the date they had first met.

"It's beautiful," Evan whispered, touched by the thoughtful gift. "Thank you, Daniel."

Daniel took Evan's hand, his expression serious. "Evan, I know this past year hasn't always been easy. You've been through so much, and yet you've opened your heart to me. I promise I'll always be here for you, to protect you and to love you. You're my everything."

Tears welled in Evan's eyes as he leaned in to kiss Daniel, pouring all his gratitude and love into that one tender moment. "I love you, Daniel. You've given me a life I never thought I'd have. Thank you for being my rock."

They spent the rest of the evening wrapped in each other's arms, until Evan's eyes widened with shock as a sharp pain suddenly stabbed through his abdomen. He dropped the bracelet, clutching his stomach as he doubled over, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Evan? What's wrong?" Daniel's voice was filled with concern as he rushed to Evan's side, his strong hands steadying him. But Evan couldn't respond; the pain was too intense, and his vision started to blur.

"Hang on, I'm going to get you to the bedroom," Daniel said, his voice calm but urgent. He scooped Evan into his arms with ease, heading down the hallway.

Just as they reached the bedroom door, a figure emerged from the shadows, and before Daniel could react, a heavy metal pole came crashing down on his head. The impact was swift and brutal, and Daniel crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

Evan, barely holding on to consciousness, looked up through a haze of pain to see the one face he had hoped to never see again. Liam stood over them, a malicious sneer twisting his features.

"Well, well, well," Liam drawled, tossing the pole aside with a clatter. "Is this what you replaced me with, Evan? Some pathetic cop?"

Evan's mind raced, panic flooding his system despite the pain. How had Liam found him? He had taken every precaution, every measure to stay hidden. Yet here he was, the nightmare of his past come to life once more.

Liam crouched down next to Daniel's unconscious body, roughly lifting his upper torso and invading his mouth with a forceful, possessive kiss. "Look at him," Liam sneered, breaking away and letting Daniel's head drop back to the floor with a thud. "This is who you thought could protect you?"

Then, with a sickening sense of delight, Liam pushed his hand inside Daniel's pants, groping his unconscious body. "Look at you, helpless," he whispered, his breath hot and rancid against Daniel's neck. "Do you really think this man can protect you, Evan?" His words sounding like a threat.

Evan's stomach churned, and not just from the pain. Seeing Daniel violated in such a way, even unconscious, filled him with a desperate fury. He tried to move, to do something, but his body wouldn't respond.

Liam's eyes gleamed with a twisted satisfaction as he began to strip Daniel of his uniform, piece by piece. His sneer faltered slightly as he revealed Daniel's naked, athletic, muscular body, his eyes widening with a mix of surprise and jealousy. "Well, isn't this a surprise," Liam muttered, his voice tinged with begrudging admiration. "Guess the cop isn't so pathetic after all."

"Please, Liam," Evan managed to gasp out. "Just let us go. We can talk about this."

Liam's voice raised painfully, his eyes flashing with anger. "Talk? You want to talk now? After everything you put me through?" He laughed bitterly. "No, Evan. I'm done talking."

Liam then proceeded to strip himself, his movements deliberate and menacing. Piece by piece, he removed his clothing, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he watched Evan's pained expression. When he was finally naked, he positioned himself over Daniel, who lay completely exposed and vulnerable on the floor.

Evan's vision began to darken further, the pain and fear overwhelming him. He had to stay awake, had to fight for both their lives. But as Liam's voice faded into the background, Evan's world went black, the last thing he saw being Liam sitting down onto the fully stripped Daniel.

Evan's eyes fluttered open, and he found himself strapped onto a gurney in front of their house. The cool night air brushed against his skin, and he shivered slightly. The flashing lights of police cars and ambulances cast an eerie glow over the scene.

"Evan," a familiar voice called out, filled with a mix of relief and determination. He turned his head as much as he could and saw Daniel standing beside him, his police uniform back in place. A few scratches marred Daniel's face, a silent testament to the possible struggle that had ensued after Evan had fallen unconscious.

"Daniel," Evan croaked, his voice hoarse and weak.

Daniel's eyes softened, and he reached out to gently touch Evan's hand. "You're safe now, Evan. It's over. No maniac like Liam could ever bring us apart."

Evan felt a wave of relief wash over him. Despite the lingering fear and the pain, Daniel's presence and his words filled him with a sense of security. He squeezed Daniel's hand as tightly as he could, drawing strength from the contact.

Just then, two police officers emerged from the house, dragging a visibly dazed Liam between them. His clothes were disheveled, and his eyes darted around wildly.

As they approached the police car, Liam started shouting, his voice frantic and desperate.

"No, you don't understand!" Liam cried out. "I'm Daniel! He stole my body! That maniac stole my body! I'm Daniel, not him!"

One of the officers shook his head, his expression a mix of irritation and pity. "Yeah, sure you are," he muttered. "Another crazy story from a madman."

Liam struggled against their grip, his pleas growing more incoherent and desperate.

"You have to believe me! Please, I'm telling the truth!"

The officers ignored his protests, preparing to push him into the back of the police car. As they moved closer, Daniel's lips curled into an evil smile, a stark contrast to the tender expression he had shown Evan just moments ago. His eyes locked onto Liam's, and a silent message passed between them—a promise of vengeance and torment.

Meanwhile, Liam continued to plead desperately at Evan, his voice filled with desperation and urgency. "You have to realize, Evan! It's me, Daniel! Liam somehow swapped our bodies! You have to believe me!"

But Evan's mind was clouded with confusion and exhaustion, unable to comprehend the gravity of Liam's words.

The officers continued to ignore his protests, pushing him into the back of the police car and slamming the door shut. The muffled sound of Liam's continued shouting faded as the car drove away, leaving Evan and Daniel in the relative quiet of the aftermath.

Daniel leaned closer to Evan, his expression softening even more. "It's really over now, Evan. Liam's gone, and he won't hurt us anymore."

Evan nodded, tears of relief welling in his eyes. "I was so scared, Daniel."

"I know," Daniel whispered, brushing a tear from Evan's cheek. "But we made it through. Together."

"Daniel," Evan murmured, relief flooding through him at the familiar embrace. He buried his face in Daniel's chest, seeking solace in the warmth of his embrace.

But as Evan nestled closer, he failed to notice the subtle shift in Daniel's demeanor.

Hidden from view, Daniel's face twisted into an evil grin, a chilling contrast to the tender moment they shared. In that moment, Daniel's eyes gleamed with a sinister satisfaction, knowing that the real Daniel, now trapped in Liam's body, wouldn't be able to bother them again. With Evan safely in his arms, Liam's plan of becoming Daniel to be with Evan forever had worked. He relished in the feeling of his new, more muscular body, the uniform hugging it snugly, and having Evan all for himself.

#body swap #male body swap #male transformation #muscular men #stolen body #stolen clothes #stolen life #stolen uniform

149 notes · View notes

pattypanini · 3 days

Text

Danny Wagner x Reader

Last Encore

^my photo btw 🤭^

Summary: A special someone catches a glimpse of your sign at his concert. Little did you know how the night would end.

Word Count: 6.7k

Taglist for Oneshots

A/N: Hi everyone! Here is @mar-rein12 and I's second Danny oneshot. After seeing Danny in concert I've been losing my shit. It's hard to see in the photo but the man made eye contact with me not only here BUT LIKE TWO OTHER TIMES. I have not recovered and yes I'm making a oneshot because I'm delusional! Enjoy our second Danny oneshot, Last Encore.

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, penetrative sex, oral (f + m receiving), praise, LOTSSSS of dirty talk, slight submissive/dom, flirting, choking, slapping, spitting, let me know if i missed any!

Y/N’s POV

You finally got barricade. After so many years of attempts, you always happened to end up a couple rows back in the pit, but not this time.

You are right in the middle, front row, able to get a perfect view of your beloved Danny. He was your favorite. You first started listening to the band in 2020 when you had seen an edit of Sammy. You looked up their band, listened to their music, and discovered their sexy drummer, Danny.

All of them were attractive, of course, but something about Danny drew you in more than you thought possible. Maybe it was the curls, or the prominent nose, or his sculpted body. Maybe it was all of those things, but his talent is what stuck out to you the most.

After buying the tickets you had planned what you were going to wear and a sign you could bring that would get Danny’s attention.

You knew that Danny would be sporting his silver chain top and black pants so you wanted to match. You chose a silver sparkly tube top that pulled you together in all the right places, paired with a black leather mini skirt and matching leather boots.

You had also been thinking about what your sign would say for months. You made the words nice and clear so he would be able to see it from all the way where he was on stage.

Greta Van Fleet Pit ☑️

Barricade ☑️

Bang the hot drummer? ⬜

You knew it would get attention and that nothing would come from it but you have to shoot your shot.

So there you stand, dead center as they are in the middle of playing Highway Tune. You’re holding your sign out in front of you in hopes that Danny would see it, singing along and dancing to the music. You’re smiling like an absolute idiot, just taking in the beauty of all of them and the amazing music they are producing.

Your eyes flick over to Danny, which has happened a lot since the start of the show. He makes eye contact with you very briefly, quickly looking away to focus on his playing. You feel the nerves bubble up in your stomach. He looked at you.

Fuck. That’s all you needed tonight to be satisfied. A few songs go by and they make it back up to the main stage after the acoustic set, you’re still holding your sign out hoping he’ll read it. He sits back down at his drums as Fate of the Faithful begins to float through the arena. Your eyes scan all the men and your eyes land on Danny yet again.

You’re focused in on where his gaze is landing as he scans the barricade. His eyes land on you and the way his eyes are moving you can tell he is reading your sign. A huge smile spreads across your face. He looks away and shakes his head playfully, smiling to himself. The show continues on, you watch Danny catch a glimpse of you every now and then.

You mentally thank yourself for wearing such a low cut shirt. No doubt if you ever had the chance to check off that third box you’d take it in a heartbeat. As the show goes on, your staring contest with Danny was becoming more prevalent to you that it wasn’t a mistake. A fan with a ‘shot for a drumstick?’ sign finally got Danny’s attention and the light in that girl's eyes when he started walking towards her made you so happy. He walked past you, went to the girl and took their shot together.

When you think he is going to continue up the row of people to get back to the stage he turns around and walks back in your direction. Instinctively you shoot your hand out much like all the other people. You nearly crumble into tiny little pieces when his hand collides with yours. His touch lingers a little longer than it should have and he shoots you a flirty wink.

You clutch onto the bar in front of you to stop your legs from giving out. All this just when you thought it couldn't get any better.

The show wraps up, they all bow and walk off stage. You can’t control the happiness you were feeling. You stand there in utter disbelief with the amount of attention you got from Danny tonight. You decide you should probably head out considering you had to get up for work the next morning and lived a couple hours away from the arena.

As you begin to exit the pit a security guard taps you on the shoulder. “Maam I’m going to need you to follow me.” As the large man starts walking towards the back of the stage a million thoughts go through your brain.

Were you going to get in trouble about the sign? Or did you do something wrong?

You were so worried that you thought you should ask the guard what you had done.

“Excuse me, but if you don’t mind me asking what did I do? Am I in some sort of trouble?” You say trying to keep yourself on your feet from falling.

“You were requested by one of the members to come backstage.”

You keep your mouth shut, nervousness beginning to take over your body. You can feel your hands start to anxiously shake, shaking the poster along with them. He leads you over to a dressing room, and leaves you standing alone in front of the door. You swiftly knock on the door and try to stuff the nerves away. Before he opens it you make sure you look okay and scoop your tits up a little more than you’d like to admit. You fluff your hair out to give it a little more volume when you hear the doorknob start to rattle.

When the door is open you are met with 6 feet of pure sexiness. Without saying a word his eyes lead you into his dressing room. You take a step in and he grabs a towel off his vanity and drags it through his sweaty hair.

“You don��t just have to stand there gorgeous, take a seat. Make yourself comfortable” Oh my god his voice was like velvet. He was talking to you. YOU. No one else. You accepted the seat in order to not pass out on the floor.�� You sit there in total silence, unable to form any words.

“For such a vulgar sign, you're not saying as much as I thought.” He continues running the towel through his hair, before draping over the back of his chair.

“I just don’t know what else to say, I mean I really don’t understand how this is happening right now. Why did you ask for me? If you were offended by the sign I’m really sorry I didn’t mean to…” You fiddle with the rings that adorned your fingers.

“Calm down. I didn’t bring you back because of the sign, well it was but not because it offended me. You’re a gorgeous girl and I wanted to talk to you.” He takes a seat beside you on the couch, his knee grazing yours. “What’s your name, beautiful?” He looks at you awaiting an answer.

“Y/n.” You say, in your small, shaky voice.

“Pretty name for such a pretty girl, but she’s just so shy.” He reaches a hand to your face and tucks your hair behind your ear. “Tell me more about yourself so I can hear that beautiful voice of yours. Where are you from?”

“I’m from Philly. But I have family out here so I came up to see them and go to the concert, which was amazing by the way.”

“I’m so happy you enjoyed the show, this was the best one so far on this leg of the tour.” He gives you a warm smile and you just simply smile back at him. A couple moments of silence pass before Danny speaks again. “Y/n, what do I have to do to help you loosen up? Let your guard down for me babydoll.” He runs his finger lightly over your cheek. He leans over to whisper in your ear, “I’ll make sure you are calm and ready for later, you want a few drinks?”

A shiver travels down your spine as you gulp, “Um what do you mean later?”

“Oh gorgeous, you can’t just be as sexy as you are with a sign like that and not expect me to see it. Don’t play dumb, you know exactly what I mean. Unless that sign was a joke, was it a joke darling?”

“Um… no.” Your gaze travels down to your hands resting in your lap, shaking your head. “It was not a joke.”

“Look me in the eyes when you talk to me.” He grabs a hold of your face and turns your head to look at him right in his beautiful brown eyes. “Say it again.”

“I-I wasn't joking.”

“And what weren’t you joking about?” He looks at you expectantly, and you are loving this little game he is playing with you.

“My sign..” You whisper.

“Your sign that says what?” He just wants to hear the filthy words come out of your innocent mouth.

“Wanting to bang the hot drummer.”

“And who’s that hot drummer baby? Look me in the eye when you tell me.”

“You, Danny. You’re the fucking hot drummer.” You look him dead in the eye and just know he wants his ego stroked just like he wants his cock.

“Yeahhh, it sounds so good to hear it come out of that pretty mouth of yours.” You see his eyes travel down your face and to your lips. “Bet you want to say so much filthy stuff but you’re too scared to, yeah?”

“Danny…” Sure you’ve pictured him saying all these types of things to you, but when he’s right in front of you… actually saying them. You squeeze your thighs together to help relieve yourself even if in the tiniest way possible.

“What darling, tell me what you think about. All your dirty little thoughts. You have me right here in front of you, I won’t judge, just make them come to life.”

“You really want to know?” You tease him back with a raise of your eyebrow.

“Fuck, yeah I want to know.” Danny lets go of his grip on your jaw, and you give him a mischievous smile. You figure there is no point in hiding anymore, you want to give him what you know he wants.

You lean your head down to whisper softly in his ear, “I want you to fuck me like the little slut I am for you.”

“For me?” His jaw hangs slack as he pretends to be scandalized, a hand dramatically clutched over his chest. “Wanna make that happen darling?” He whispers to you.

No way this is happening, it must be a joke. Your eyes widen at his words, waiting for him to tell you he was just trying to get a rise out of you, but he never did. His eyes only grew darker, filled with lust and a need for something. And that something was you.

“If you’re just trying to fuck with me I’ll leave now.” You start to make your way off the couch, when you feel his hand pull you by your arm back down.

“Why would I be trying to mess with you dear, you see anyone else back here?” He asks sincerely, rubbing your hand softly.

“Then why me, there were 15,000 other girls out there. You're telling me you chose me for a reason and not just to bring me back here, get me flustered and tell me to leave.”

“I mean normally if I bring a girl back it’s a chat maybe a blow job and they leave. But come on darling you're gorgeous, and a gorgeous girl with a sign like that is just begging to be brought back here. If I’m wrong you can leave, but I think after what you told me you’d rather be back here.”

Your breathing starts to calm down. You still don’t understand how and why you're back here.

“You want me to be honest y/n.” You look up to him, not knowing what he could possibly say. “I’ve seen you before. At the philly show a few months ago, and a concert from last year. I’ve seen you many times and was too scared to bring you back. But after tonight seeing your sign it made something go off in my head and I needed to talk to you.”

There’s no way he’s confessing this to you. This is something straight out of a dream you’ve probably had before. You’re trying to wrap your head around it but you can’t. “Danny I don’t get it though.”

“What is there not to get. You're a perfect girl who loves my band. Why wouldn’t I notice you? I would be fucking insane if I didn’t take the opportunity that was presented to me. I know you want it too, darling.”

“So what’s gonna happen now?” You stupidly ask him, not knowing how to continue the conversation.

“I’m gonna take you back to my hotel room and fuck the shit out of you.”

“I- okay um do you want me to wait for you to be done and leave with you or..”

“Darling, as much as I’d like for that to happen, if anyone sees me leaving with some random girl from the concert tonight it would be everywhere. What you're gonna do is wait outside and in 10 minutes a car will pick you up. They’ll bring you to my hotel room and give you a room card. Can you do that for me babydoll?”

You nod your head frantically and Danny reciprocates that with a mischievous smirk. He knows the effect he has on you, but you don’t care. You’re about to fuck Daniel Wagner, nothing could stop you now. You stand up grabbing your poster and bag and make your way to the door. Right as you go to grab the door you're twirled around to face him.

“I’ll see you soon y/n.” Placing a kiss onto your cheek.

“See you Danny.” You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You turn back towards the door and open it to walk through.

Excitement and thrill was pulsing through your veins as you walked outside the arena, and waited for the car just as Danny had said.

After about 13 minutes, not that you were counting, a black SUV pulls up right in front of you. You weren’t one to get into random cars, but with the circumstances at play you were going to do anything.

“Y/n?” The driver asks through the open window.

“That is me!” You smile at him, waiting for him to grant you permission to hop inside.

“Hop on in, I’ve got the room key for you.” He holds it up in front of him.

You grasp onto the car handle of the passenger's seat, opening it and sliding in. You try your absolute best to wait the 7 minutes it takes to get to the hotel.

—

Once you arrive, you thank the mystery driver and make your way up the elevator. You assume that he is there waiting for you already. You swipe the card on the door and twist the handle, walking inside.

It's a nice hotel. A very nice hotel, might you add. Definitely not what you were used to that's for sure. As you step across the marble flooring you spot a little note on top of the wooden dresser.

Hey darling,

I am back. I just needed to run to Sam’s room to grab something. Hop in the shower awhile, I’ll be there to join you in a minute.

Nothing sounds more appealing than a shower right now. You stare at the note, deciding you should obey him.

You drop your purse and sign on the table and make your way to the bathroom. When walking in you take a moment to admire the large shower with a rain shower faucet. You slip off your shoes and concert outfit and turn on the shower. The hot water rains down onto you and you lean your head back, letting the water soak you and your hair. You use some of the hotel shampoo and wash your hair liberally after the hot atmosphere you were in.

You take a look around for body wash and can only find a bottle that was not provided by the hotel. A large bottle of body wash scented in musky vanilla. It must be Danny’s. You had no other choice but to use it since there was nothing else available. In the midst of your washing you hear the hotel door open and shut quickly.

After a few moments, you hear the bathroom door creak open.

You can’t see him yet, but you can hear his voice. “Hi beautiful.” When the glass door opens you see that he is only in his blue gingham boxers. You must have stared for a moment too long because your attention is brought back to reality when he starts to pull them down to the floor.

He steps inside of the shower, completely bare. You don’t realize your jaw is hanging open in awe until Danny says, “Pick that jaw up darling, there's so much more you have yet to see.”

He stops in his tracks right in front of you staring up and down your body, taking you all in. He gives you a questioning look, silently asking if he was allowed to touch.

“God, Danny. Please, just fucking touch me already.” You practically beg, and maybe you sound desperate but you didn’t have a single fuck to give.

“So hungry for me baby, just you wait till after.” He grabs the bottle of body wash and squeezes some onto a new wash cloth. “Can I wash you darling?” He asks, leaning down towards you to kiss your neck. “Even though I can tell you already did, I don’t mind. You smell delicious, it makes me wanna take you right here.”

“Then do it, take me right here.”

“So goddamn desperate baby. Wait a little, we will get there, I promise.” Danny drags the washcloth over your collar bones and arms. He turns you to face the shower wall. You hear the wash cloth be thrown out the door and two hands are replaced on your body. His hands drag over your hips and around to the front of your stomach. The anticipation was killing you. His large hands are brought up to your chest as he cups your tits giving them a light squeeze. He pulls you back and presses you against his stomach.

“Fuck Danny.” You feel his dick press against your ass as he grows harder.

“I know darling, tell me about it. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours.” He whispers into your ear, squeezing your tits harder making you wince.

“I’m thinking about how bad I want you to fucking touch me!” You snap at him.

“Little Miss shy girl isn’t so shy now, is she? She's getting very mouthy with me.” His voice is low and pierces right through you and your core.

“Danny…” you whine out, aching for more.

“I am touching you babydoll. No need to whine like a pathetic little baby.” He chastises you, still with a firm grip on your chest.

“You know exactly what I want Daniel, and you’re not fucking giving it to me. Just give it to me, God.” You push your ass back onto him harder, forcing a groan out of him.

You take his moment of weakness to turn around and plant a feverish kiss to his soft, pink lips. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in so your fronts are pressed together. His hands rest on your hips, slowly slithering them around to rest them on your ass.

He pulls away from the kiss making his way to turn the water off, very quickly. He guides your hips as you step out of the shower together. You reach for a towel when suddenly you’re scooped up draping over his shoulder. He walks out of the bathroom over to the king sized bed.

He throws down onto the bed, as you're still dripping wet.

“Danny, I’m still we-”

“I thought you wanted me to touch you so bad?”

“I do…” You say as your confidence is faltering.

“And I’m about to grant you your wish darling, just relax for me yeah?” Immediately after he is done speaking his fingers are gliding through your slick folds, teasing around your entrance.

You let out a gasp when you feel him make contact with your cunt. He moves his fingers up to your clit making quick, tight circles on it.

“Is this what you do to all the girls you bring back Danny? Tell them to get in the shower, sprawl them out on the bed and fuck them, then tell them to leave. You made me feel special Danny, or am I just like every other groupie?” You say in a testing tone, staring up to him.

“Oh babydoll, you’re just like them. Same driver, same card left out, same routine. But you yourself you're special. You drove me crazy seeing you in the crowd. Show me why you should be treated differently y/n. What makes you so special?” Swiftly inserting a digit into your soaked pussy.

“You say that to make me feel like I’m the same, but I know damn well if I was just some other girl you wouldn’t have made it as secretive. Because those girls are disposable to you, you fuck them and go not caring who knows about the girls. So why am I being kept a secret? What makes me so different Danny, tell me.” You reach down to his stomach, feeling his happy trail on the way down. You firmly grasp his cock and slowly stroke it.

“Fuck.” His head falls forward and his free hand that wasn’t inside of you, reaches out to roll your nipple between his knuckles.

“You like that?” You taunt him, trying you best to gain your dominance back.

“I do. But you know what would be so much better?”

You peel your eyes open awaiting his response.

“Have my cock in that smart ass mouth of yours. Finally put it to use other than just being mouthy.” With that Danny grabs your hair and motions you to the ground. “So show me y/n, show me what makes you as special as you think you are.”

You immediately accept his challenge, guiding his dick into your mouth. You wrap your plump, kiss-swollen lips around his length and begin to bob your head up and down. You stroke what you can’t fit in your mouth with your hand, your other hand reaching around to grab at his ass pulling him closer to you. You hear an animalistic groan release from the depths of his throat.

You release his length from your mouth and let it slap against his stomach. You cup his balls with your hands and slowly lick them and trail back up the shaft, pressing a kiss into the tip. You go directly back to sucking him, taking as much of him as you can, and you can feel his body start to shake above.

“Darling, slow down. I- I won’t last if you keep going like that. Fuck.” His hands grasp onto your wet hair, throwing his own head back in pleasure.

You take him out of your mouth and pump him with your hands. “Is this how you react to all the other girls, can you not last long with anyone Danny? You just fuck them until you’ve had your fill and leave them hanging?”

“No, not at all angel. I always make sure my girls are satisfied. But you are getting so much more than that, you know why?” He looks down to you with his perfect brown eyes.

“Why?” Kissing his dick while waiting for a response.

“Because you're different. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t want to. Usually I take the girls that throw themselves at me. I noticed you, I wanted you. Now I finally have you, so I’m going to show you why I brought you here tonight.”

He pulls you up by your hair again, placing his large hand between the valley of your breasts, pushing you back down onto the bed. He leans back, taking a look at your soaking core. “So wet baby, I barely did anything. You like me telling you you’re special?” He swiftly slaps your wet pussy, on instinct your body tenses up and you bring your legs back together. “Yeah, my special babydoll likes that, don't you? You like being praised. Spread those perfect thighs for me again.” He gently pries open your thighs, once again revealing your wet cunt to the chilly hotel air.

He reaches to the drawer next to the bed and pulls out a familiar square foil.

“Danny you don’t need to use it, I’m on birth control. If I’m fucking you I wanna feel all of you.” He grins and throws the foil back into the drawer.

“What a slutty girl. You want me filling you up with my cum? Or are you lying and not on the pill, you trying to have my babies, darling? You probably love the idea of that don’t you?”

“I’m not a crazy chick Danny, although having your babies has crossed my mind before.” You give him a playful wink before pulling him into a kiss. Your moment of bliss was soon interrupted by his cock being shoved deep into your pussy.

“Oh fuck Danny. You’re so fucking big.” Your back aches away from the white sheets beneath you and hands clawing onto his back.

“God you’re so wet for me baby. Did sucking me off get you soaked? You did such a good job, almost made me cum before you started to smart mouth me.” His right hand grabs your jaw and opens your mouth. Having any time to react he spits straight into your mouth, closing it right after and sealing it with a kiss. “Now keep that mouth shout, unless it’s those pretty little moans coming out.”

His hands return to the sides of your head as he begins to slowly work up the pace of his thrusts. He was hitting all the spots perfectly. He was made for you.

“Danny oh my god, don’t stop please. You feel so good.” You moan out before biting onto his shoulder.

“Oh fuck y/n. You’re gonna be the end of me. You feel so fucking good around my cock darling.” His thrust became hard and more precise. He is quickly learning what little spots on your body make you lose it. He grabs onto your tits for leverage as his cock pistons in and out of you. “Tightest little pussy I’ve ever fucked, babydoll.”

“You have the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen darling. I saw you in that little slutty top of yours tonight. You were probably hoping I would see them pouring out, huh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Danny.” You try your best to keep your voice steady. But you knew exactly what he was talking about. You kept checking throughout the show making sure your tits were scooped up enough, hoping he would see.

He saw right through your lie. A sudden slap was struck across your cheek. “Tell me the truth y/n.”

“Why were you even looking? For all you knew I could have been 17 or something.” He looks at you with a knowing look. “Or did you know how old I was Danny?” He looks away with a guilty look on his face. “Did you find my insta?”

“Why would I look at your insta, I didn’t even know your name.”

“That’s what you say. You wanna start telling the truth Danny? You made it very clear earlier that you had seen me before. So start spilling.”

“No thanks, but I’ll spill my cum into your pretty pussy y/n if you shut up and let me fuck you.” He begins to sink back into you but you quickly stop him needing to know the truth.

“No, tell me now. I want to know Danny.”

After a moment of staring each other down waiting for the other to speak Danny breaks the silence. “Yeah I found your insta so what. Doesn’t change the fact that you had your tits out for me tonight does it?” “It doesn’t. I’m sure you didn’t mind though, did you?” You let your fingers travel into his hair, feeling all his wet curls.

“I didn’t mind one bit. But I wanna see them better, babydoll.” He quickly wraps a hand around your back and flips you on top of him, now straddling his cock. “Get to riding baby, unless you don’t wanna get filled up.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” You sink down onto his dick, starting to slowly move up and down on his length. Your tits start to bounce right in his face, before he leans forward and connects his mouth to your hardened nipple. He lays back down and grabs your hips, and begins to bounce you harder and fast down onto his cock.

Being filled was an understatement. You felt like he was overflowing your cunt. You always assumed he would be big but this was something else. The noises escaping your mouth was something you wouldn’t wish anyone to ever hear, but based on Danny’s facials he was loving every minute of it.

“God damn y/n, you sound so fucking pretty for me.” His hands grip tightly on your hips, beginning to thrust his own hips up to meet yours. “You want it harder babydoll, I think you can take it.”

“Yes harder Danny please I need more.” You whine to him, grabbing onto his shoulders for leverage.

“Fuck, look at you. You’re such a whore begging for my cock. You do that for all the other guys you're with or is mine just too much to handle?”

“Just-” He gives a particular powerful thrust knocking the air from your lungs, “-you. Just you, Danny. So big…” Your head falls back in pure ecstasy.

“Aw I know baby, tell me about it.” He says in a whiny voice that makes you feel some sort of way. “Your taking my cock so well, such a good fucking girl.” As the hard thrust continues your hands make their way from his shoulders to his throat.

His eyes widen at your movements and quickly shut after your fingers tighten around his neck.

“Fuck y/n. Such a kinky girl. If I would have known you would be tied down to this bed right now.” His eyes are so dark now they almost look black.

“Not too late for that Danny.” You say squeezing his throat with your hand a little tighter while simultaneously clenching around his cock.

“Mmmm, tighter.” He whines out. You have no choice but to give him what he wants as you tighten your grip even more. You really take a moment to take in the situation at hand and soon enough…

“Danny, I’m so close.” You speed up your movements on his dick, searching for your release.

“Me too, darling, me too. Just keep going so I can fill you up with my cum. I wanna see it leaking out of you.”

That was enough to push you over the edge. With a few more bounces you were reaching your climax, screaming Danny’s name for the whole hotel to hear. A few short moments later, his climax follows. Curses and pornographic moans are flying freely, if anyone walks by the door they would know exactly what was taking place.

He leans you back onto the bed, once again hovering on top of you. His hands trail down your body, all the way to your pussy. Two fingers quickly shove into you with no warning.

“I told you I was gonna fill you up, but it looks like this tiny little pussy of yours can’t handle it all. I’ll help it back in for you, does that sound good?” He curls his index finger up into your g-spot, giving him the response he wanted.

With a few more pumps he retracts his fingers from your soaked pussy and brings it up to your mouth. “Open.” Opening your mouth for him he pushes his finger deep into your throat. You close your mouth around the finger, letting him pull it out with a pop

“You taste so good Danny, makes me want more.” You reach your own hand down to your core, swiping a digit in between your folds, and licking up whatever cum you collected.

“Fucking hell y/n. You’ve gotta be the hottest girl I've ever met.” You’re both still trying to catch your breath, your chests both heaving.

Danny rolls over and collapses by your side, he turns his head to look over at you. “ I have a fun little idea, if you’re down of course.”

Your eyebrow quirks up at him, interest piqued. “What did you have in mind?”

“There's a sauna downstairs, I’d love for you to join me.” He gives you a soft smile.

“Are you just trying to be nice or do you actually want me to join you?”

“I wouldn’t be asking you if I was just trying to be nice. I would have just sent you home with an uber.” He reaches an arm around your waist pulling you into him. “Plus I really have liked our night so far darling. I don’t want it to end just yet.”

“Well in that case, I’d love to join you.” You smile back at him.

He takes a moment, studying your features. “You’re so beautiful Y/n, even have the most gorgeous smile. I could see it from all the way where I was sitting on stage.” He sits up off the bed and lends you a hand to get up.

“I don’t know what to wear though, I don’t have a bathing suit.” You accept his hand, allowing him to pull you up.

“Just put your bra and panties back on and walk down in a towel.” He reaches into the bathroom and puts a towel on the bed. You put on your strapless bra back on and slip into your thong. You watch as he covers his lower half with the fluffy, white towel.

You reach for yours on the bed wrapping it tightly around your torso. You both quietly walk together to the sauna.

Once you arrive, you walk into the humid and steam-filled room. Thankfully the sauna was empty, you didn’t want anyone seeing you in just your tiny thong.

You sit down on the wooden benches, Danny sitting right beside you. You let your muscles relax and let your eyes close on their own accord. As you lean against the wall behind you, you feel a large hand grab onto your thigh.

“You look so fucking sexy. You should take another layer off darling, the door is locked.” Danny reaches a hand behind you, swiftly unclasping your bra off your chest. You can’t help but let your jaw drop with how fast he was able to undress you. “Better pick that jaw off the floor darling, or else I’m gonna have to use it for something else.”

Your legs squeeze together hoping to get some type of friction. Your core was already soaking your panties that you only had on momentarily. Danny stares you down, waiting to see what your next move would be, but you couldn’t be the one to break.

“Fuck it.” Danny grabs your neck and pushes you down onto the wooden bench. He doesn’t even bother to pull your panties off of you. Instead he pulls them to the side giving him a view of your already wet pussy. He drops his towel and leaves no time to line himself up with your cunt. He slides into you, making you moan in satisfaction.

“Shit Danny, that's right, fill me up. You’re so big.” A devious smirk washes over his face, before grabbing your ankles and placing them on his shoulders. The new angle allows him to get even deeper than you thought possible. You feel his tip brush against your cervix.

“Oh, God. Right.”He thrusts into you. “Fucking.” Another thrust. “There.” You were quickly crumpling beneath him.

“Who’s making you feel good baby, tell me.”

“You.” You whimper under your breath.

“Say my name fuckdoll, who’s making you feel good?” He slaps his hand on your outer thigh.

“Fuck Danny you, you make me feel so fucking good. You fill me up so good oh fuck-” Your words were feeding him, and his pace was becoming sloppy. You knew he was nearing his end. “Yeah, cum in me Danny, fill me up with your cum. Need to feel it again” Your pussy clenches around him, making his hands clutch around your ankles harder.

After a few more thrusts, loud sinful moans fill the hot room. Your waves of pleasure shortly followed Danny after he unloaded in your pussy.

Once you come back down from your highs, you just simply look at each other without even saying a word, both rendered speechless.

“God y/n. How am I gonna move on from this night?” He says through heavy breaths, taking your ankles off his shoulders.

“How are you going to move on? I’m the one that should be asking that.”

“Like I said before, I’ve had my eyes on you y/n.” Danny grabs your towel and bra, placing them back around you. “Let’s go back up to the room.” He lends you a hand off the bench and leads you quickly back to the room in hopes no one would see your barely clothed bodies.

After returning to the room you begin to grab your outfit from the concert and cloth yourself, preparing to get an uber and leave.

“Why would you wear that to bed?” He says to you as he begins putting on sweatpants.

“Well I’ll change when I get home.” Danny gives you a confused look, which makes you realize what he is implying. “Oh- did you want me to stay? I assumed you just brought me back up to get my shit and leave. I was gonna get an uber.”

“I’d like for you to stay y/n. Unless you have somewhere else you need to be.” He says beginning to walk over to you.

“I mean I was supposed to be home tomorrow but home can wait.” You place your bag back onto the table and stand in front of him.

“And don’t think you’re going to be leaving without me getting your number first.” He scolds you with a pointed finger and raises his eyebrows. “Come join me in bed now, babydoll. I’ll get you something to wear, but first…” Danny walks over to his bag, grabbing a sharpie and uncapping it.

He brings the sharpie to your poster, checking off the last unmarked box. “Now all of your list is complete.” He walks over to one of the drawers and reaches out a GVF shirt and boxers. “You can wear these if you want, and keep them.” Danny crawls into bed, and you quickly follow him after changing into the large shirt and boxers.

You crawl into bed, not understanding how this was all real.

“Hey Danny.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for tonight, I would argue it was better than the concert.”

“I would say that too babydoll.” He wraps his large arms around you pulling you in tight. “Good night, angel.”

“Good night, Danny.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Comment to be added to the taglist or use this link!

Taglist: @peaceloveunitygvf @jordie-gvf @terry-66 @mar-rein12 @jennabobenasblog

#greta van fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van smut #gvf #gvf fic #gvf smut #danny wagner smut #danny gvf #danny wagner gvf #danny wagner #daniel wagner #greta van fleet #groupie #classic rock

100 notes · View notes