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jesuistrestriste · 3 months

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♡ Cooking & Cleaning; Art Donaldson x Reader ♡

nsfw! (18+) cw: service sub!art donaldson, dom!reader, afab/fem reader, use of ma'am as an honorific, brief food play, oral sex (reader receiving), begging, handjob, brief edging, praise, degradation, multiple orgasms (character receiving), dry orgasm

wc: 6.3 k (whoops)

note: this was pulled from the most depraved parts of my brain. i refuse to be held accountable for the absolute filth this contains ! :)

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The very second that your key is in the apartment door and you're finally home, you find your legs nearly collapsing underneath you as you step inside and kick off your black kitten heels.

"God," you groan, shutting the door behind you before you move to peel your chic new blazer off of your shoulders. You toss it onto the coatrack nearby and bring a handful of your fingers up to your forehead to rub at it tensely, sighing deeply.

It had been a long day at the USTA (United States Tennis Association) office, and all you wanted to do was come home and see your husband.

After Art had lost several important and consecutive tennis matches, as well as his confidence on the court (despite his actual tennis skills still being phenomenal -- he just psyched himself out too much), he had decided to give up his life as a professional athlete.

At first, this devastated you. Not only did you love your partner and believe in him throughout his career, as well as believing in his very real ability to eventually win the US Open, but this decision of his also meant that your position as his coach would become obsolete..

You actually became quite anxious about you and Art's future at the time.. you had needed a purpose, and so did he. You both were just those kinds of people; you and him both wanted to feel that you were contributing to something bigger than just yourselves, and that you were being useful to someone or something.

Luckily, his many previous years of successful tennis playing had scored you and him a shit ton of wealth. Like, genuinely a lot. You were beyond grateful, but you still wanted a life of your own. You didn't dare to think about the idea of becoming a stay-at-home wife while he went out and did whatever he wanted. Yuck. It just wasn't for you.

Your fears and inner turmoil about this change in your lives were quickly eased once Art had sat you down about two weeks after he had left his tennis career behind. He had taken your hands in his, smiled softly like he always did, and told you that he wanted to stay at home and take care of everything in it while you went out and continued your career in the field of professional athletics.

Of course, you immediately and excitedly agreed with the idea of this new plan, and then that was that!

You two developed new lives and new roles as people over a short period of time, but it didn't take away from the love you two shared. That always stayed consistent and at the center of everything.

Eventually, after a month or so of coming home from your new job to Art doing things like vacuuming the wooden floors of your guys' expensive New York apartment, or making elaborate protein-packed smoothies for the gym sessions that you two still did together, you came to realize that the whole "house husband" persona was actually kinda hot.

He had realized it too. Quicker than you had, actually. In fact, he can distinctly remember the overwhelming feeling of heat that had pooled deep in his gut the first time he had ever served you a home-cooked meal after you came home from a long day at your new job. He had gently rubbed your sore feet that night while you ate, and then suddenly couldn't find a way to deny how this new practice of.. servicing you.. made him feel.

I mean, God, he loved doing that stuff for you.. cooking.. tidying.. pampering.. washing.. he would do it all. You knew that he worshipped the ground that you walked on—reminding yourself constantly of the time he had admitted to you during sex that he believed he would be "nowhere without you"—and you devoured the increased sense of power that came with it every. single. time. It eventually became very easy and comfortable for you to let him take care of you. You grew hungry for it.

And then this persona of his, over time, dissolved into something much more intimate..

After tossing your blazer on the rack and rubbing at your temples, you drag your pantyhose-covered feet across the floor and into the kitchen.

Your nose is instantly filled with the aroma of fluffy, vanilla sweetness and a bit of nutmeg. you sigh happily as you turn the corner and see Art standing over a mess of what appears to be flour and sugar in a large bowl on the kitchen counter. He looks over his shoulder briefly with a smile as he mixes the dry ingredients together with a whisk.

“Hey, hon,” he grins, before turning back to look down at his current baking project.

you shuffle up behind him and hug him, your cheek pressing against his warm upper back as your arms reach to wrap gently around his abdomen. You sigh deeply.

“Hey, babe.. ‘m so tired. It was such a long day.”

He laughs softly, which shakes you a bit as you hold him.

“What’d your colleagues do now?”

You shake your head against him, groaning dramatically.

“I don’t want to talk about it.. what are you baking? It smells good in here.”

“Nothing crazy, it’s just some holiday cookies. I found the recipe online this morning after you left.”

“How many are you planning to make? There’s already some in the oven.” you ask, peeking around his frame from behind to see him set the bowl aside and wipe his hands on the apron he’s wearing. (It was white with small pink hearts by the pockets. You got it for him when he started cooking for you everyday, and he used to feel weird about it. He said it made him feel “slightly emasculated”, but he quickly grew to absolutely adore it. It was just another way for you to claim him as your personal chef. One night before you got home, he jerked off while wearing it, but he would never tell you that.)

“I don’t really know,” he shrugs and chuckles sheepishly, “there are twelve baking right now, but I thought that maybe I could make some for our neighbors.”

You chuckle softly, your hands disconnecting from their place on his stomach to reach down and give his ass a small squeeze. He jumps a little at the feeling, embarrassed laughter bubbling up in his chest.

“Where’d all this holiday cheer come from?” you smirk, pulling back from your position against his back to lean your hip against the counter. You just wanted to look at his pretty face. Your eyes quickly fixate on the fact that he’s got a bit of flour on his flushed cheek.. It’s only a small puff and smear of the white substance near his jaw, but for some reason it starts a flame in your lower stomach. There was just something about the way he got a little messy when he cooked or baked for you.

His cheeks plump up in shape ever-so-slightly as he grins at you.

“I don’t know.. I had time before you got home- I mean, well, before i thought you’d get home, and so i thought I’d just-”

You take a step forward, nodding at his words while your body is now only inches from his. You look up into his glassy blue eyes.

“You thought you’d just.. what?” you purr, your hand coming up to caress his lower back.

He swallows thickly, briefly looking down at the mess on the counter before he looks back to you. His body temperature is steadily rising as he feels your fingertips caress him over his loose t-shirt.

“I just thought I’d make some more,” he whispers.

You lean in, reaching your other hand up to gingerly hold the side of his neck while you press a kiss to it.

“You’re such a sweetheart, aren’t you?”

He nods, slowly, his eyelids fluttering slightly at the feeling of your mouth on him.

“I..I mean, yeah, I guess.”

You lean in a bit more, sucking softly at his neck. His head lolls a bit forward, and you nip at him when the sound of his shaky breathing reaches your ears.

You pull back, a small smirk covering your face as you look up at him.

His focus darts from your eyes to your lips as he reaches both of his hands out for your waist, but he’s rudely interrupted when the timer for the oven goes off— cookies are done.

You both nearly jump out of your skin at the sound; the incessant beeping pulling you both out of the thick fog of tension between your bodies and minds.

“Shit,” he mumbles, flushing pink from his cheeks to the tips of his ears as he turns off the timer at the top of the oven and moves to hastily grab an oven mitt from the lower drawer.

He pulls open the oven door, and you step back to watch him pull the tray out and set it on top of the stove area.

He sighs, pulling off the mitt and setting it aside as he leans over the cookies. His eyes are inspecting each one, and he has a very focused expression plastered on his face. He was as much of a perfectionist in the kitchen as he used to be on the court, that was for sure.

Your body moves in to stand beside him, also peering down at the tray of gorgeous golden-brown cookies. You place a hand on his upper back, rubbing it encouragingly.

“These look incredible,” you say, smiling at him.

He nods, still inspecting them, “They look better than I thought they would.. I actually messed up earlier and accidentally added three-fourths of a cup of sugar instead of two-thirds..”

“They look perfect, don’t stress.”

He looks to you, his gaze meeting yours and then suddenly everything was back to how it was before the timer went off. His hands reach for your waist, squeezing at your hips as he looks lovingly down at you.

“Be proud of yourself, Art.. you did a good job,” you laugh softly, your hands reaching up to cup his face. He pulls you closer.

“I am.”

“Are you?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.”

You suddenly get a very filthy idea.

“Can.. can you tell me what the recipe called for?”

His brows furrow slightly as he seems taken aback by your request, his cock already starting to stir to life in his sweatpants just from holding your body. He didn’t want to talk about the damn cookies anymore.

“What?”

You roll your eyes, one of your hands dropping from his face to reach around the fabric of the front of his apron and grope him over his sweats. Your other hand moves down too, but just to gently hold the side of his torso. His whole body jolts forward and his lips part instantly.

“You’ll like where this is headed, trust me. Just talk to me.. tell me what you did to make the cookies look so perfect..”

He breathes unsteadily, his fingers digging into your waist as he feels your hand start to work his cock up to a full-blown, hot, twitchy erection.

“I.. uhm.. I just..” he breathes out, his eyes growing lidded as he absentmindedly bucks up against your touch, still trying to maintain eye contact as pleasure starts to flood his senses, “one cup of b-butter.. ngh-!.. two cups.. two cups of flour… and then- ugh!- two.. two-thir-r-ds.. of..”

His voice trails off, shaky and low and broken as he hangs his head a bit, leaking incessantly into his boxers. It was that easy for you to work him up.

You frown, “Uh oh.. come on, baby, don’t go nonverbal on me that quick.. we’ve just barely gotten started…”

A small whimper leaves his chest as he tries to finish his words, “Two-thirds, I m-mean- three-f-fourths of a c-cup of.. s-su.. sugar… one teasp’of vanilla.. and.. o-one.. teaspoon of nutm-eg.”

You smile, stroking his cock over the fabric of his pants, “Good boy.. God, you’re so pretty when you’re slurring for me..”

He moans obscenely, melting at the praise while he feels his length grow suddenly intensely hot. A certain kind of numbness starts to creep over his crotch before his hands are flying from your hips to your wrist.

“Wait! W-Wait!” he gasps, his eyes squeezing shut as he blows a concentrated shaky breath from his lips, his fingertips digging into your arm.

Your eyebrow lifts and you smile as you take in the way his body shakes and shudders as he holds it in for you. He knows how to behave.. what would make you happy.. what would make you disappointed.. After all, he’s been trained by you in more than just tennis.

“Close?” you whisper.

His body starts to slowly relax again as he regains some of his composure. He blinks his eyes back open slowly, looking into yours.

“Very,” he groans.

You pull your hands from his body, and he whines softly.

“Take off the apron. Put it on the floor.”

You’re sure you’ve never seen him move so fast— his hands reaching behind his back and undoing the tied string. Then, he pulls the apron off over his head, tossing it off to the side. He watches you study him with parted lips, and he bites onto his own.

“Now take your sweats off for me.”

He does as he’s told; his shaky fingers reaching down to slip his pants down to his lower thighs, and then down to his knees and ankles, and then he steps out of them. He kicks them gently next to where the apron was thrown, now making a mess of grey and white fabric where both items pooled on the kitchen floor.

You step close to his body, cupping his face before running a hand through his messy strawberry-blonde locks. But it doesn’t take long for your eyes to travel solely down to the bulge prominently pressing against the inside of his navy boxer briefs. You run a fingertip up and over the outline of his dick, relishing in the way it makes him shake. He was now just in his tee shirt, boxers, and white socks, while you stayed fully clothed. But not for too much longer.

"My pretty husband.." you coo to him, making his lips part to let out a few uneven breaths. You glance around his frame and notice a bowl off to the side that had remnants of the soft cookie dough from the first batch of the cookies. You smirk.

You lean forward and swipe your thumb along the inside of the bowl, gathering some of the sugary, buttery mixture on your digit. His gaze remains lidded and locked onto your face, not finding any importance in your hand's movements at the kitchen counter. You bring your thumb back in, showing him what you did.

He spares your thumb a quick glance, but then his eyes are back on yours, and then your lips, and then the way that your breasts are peeking out from the low-cut collar of your work top. You bring your thumb up to his mouth.

"Open," you whisper.

He does as he's told, parting his lips further and leaning in to encourage your finger to slip past them.

You push your cookie dough-covered thumb into his mouth, feeling him immediately begin to suckle on it; his tongue swirled over it, and his eyes fluttered shut right after they began to roll back. His brows furrow, and a couple of faint whines bubble up out of him as the taste of his homemade sweetness melts seamlessly on his palate.

While your thumb is in his mouth, you push it down softly on his tongue.

"Knees, baby," you say breathlessly.

Art knew this command like the back of his hand.

Effortlessly and steadily, he dropped down to his knees one after the other, keeping your digit in his mouth the entire time. He didn't dare let it go. He moved to sit on his calves.

"Good job.. good boy..."

He whimpered, the vibrations of his pathetic sounds causing your hand to buzz slightly.

"I want your mouth on my cunt.. can you do that for me, darling?" you purr, running your hand through his hair for a moment. He nods around you.

"Y'sh, m'm.." he mumbled, trying his best to speak while still relishing your touch with enough attention.

You pull your thumb from the heat of his wet mouth, and smirk as you watch his lips chase after it.

"What was that?"

You already had a good idea about what he had murmured, but it was just.. best to be sure.

"Yes, ma'am," he gasps out softly, his eyes glazed over.

He reaches up and pulls at your skirt, shimmying it down and over your ass and thighs, letting it fall to your ankles. You kick it aside, and lean your back against the countertop. Art positions himself on his knees so that he's on the floor in front of you, looking up at you. His hands shakily reach up to the sides of your pantyhose, his tongue licking out over his bottom lip. He digs his fingers into the taut fabric and looks up at you once more, beginning to pull them down.

Immediately you grab his wrists, halting his movements. His eyes look up into yours, worried that he had made a wrong move, but you shake your head with a soft smile.

"You can rip them."

He doesn't even mean to, but he moans when you give him permission to be a little desperate right now.

In an instant, his strong hands are pulling needily at your tights, causing them to rip from your crotch to your lower thighs. He hooks one of his index fingers into the inside of your panties, his thighs tensing up at the feeling of your wetness, and then he's pushing them to the side. His tongue rests out over his bottom lip as he leans in, holding the back of your leg with his free hand as his eyes flutter shut and he engulfs your heat with his mouth.

"Oh, fuck-!" you yelp, reaching down to tangle your hands in his soft curls, "fuck, fuck, that feels good, Art, don't stop.."

He moans, his eyes squeezed shut as he lathes his tongue up and down and over your wet hole. He lewdly sucks and swallows your slick that's quickly spilling over his tongue, trying to focus harder on your pleasure (and less on the feeling of his cock throbbing rapidly in his boxers.. he can feel himself leaking).

You remove your hands from his hair and move to unsteadily grip the countertop, your back pressing hard against it. Art hums around you in his mouth, moving his tongue up to lick sloppily at your clit. He opens his eyes, his brows furrowed, and looks up at you.

"God, you're so good at this.. you're doing so well.. i'm getting.. close.." you breathe out, studying the upper half of his face while the lower half remains buried in your pussy.

He doubles his efforts, smushing his face deeper against you, his lips pursing to suckle against your sensitive nub as his grip on your leg tightens. Art has half a mind at that moment to just scoot forward a bit and slot your ankle between his thighs, but he won't. You came first, in his mind. Literally, and figuratively.

You sling the leg that he's holding over his shoulder, giving him more access, and then you begin to feel an overwhelming, hot numbness creep over your lower half..

"ANGH!" you moan loudly, squeezing your eyes shut as your body begins to shake. Your fingers grip the kitchen counter so hard that you're afraid you'll break a nail.

"I'm going to cum, Art..!"

"Mm! Mm-mm!"

"I'm.. oh my god.... I'm... I'm-! Cumming-!" you whine, feeling your orgasm crash over you.

"MM-!" he laps at your pulsing cunt, squeezing his eyes shut before forcing them open so that he can watch the way your beautiful face moves to contort in ecstasy.

You groan and whine as your orgasm's aftershocks are uncomfortably prolonged by Art's relentless tongue, and your hands release the marble countertop to reach down and grab two soft fistfuls of his hair. You try to tug his head back from your cunt, but he just closes his eyes and presses his nose and mouth further against your core. The repetitive movements of his tongue over your folds cause lewd, wet noises to fill the kitchen.

"Art... A-Art..! Enough!" you slur out as the pleasure from before starts to melt into a prickly sting of oversensitivity.

His eyes flutter open and you shoot him a warning glance as he peers up at you.

"I said enough, yeah? " you snap, "stand up."

He immediately pulls his mouth away from your sticky body and stands up on shaky legs. His eyes look downward, guiltily avoiding your gaze, as he wipes at the clear slick covering his chin with the back of his hand.

You try to catch your breath for a moment, studying his chest as it heaves up and down -- him trying to catch his breath all the same. You reach out and take his lower jaw softly in one hand, forcing him to look at you properly.

"You got a little fucking greedy there for a minute.. didn't you?"

He bites his bottom lip for a second, nervously chewing on the inside of it as he debates what answer he could give that would result in the least amount of punishment from you.

"Did you hear what I said?" you whisper coldly, taking a step closer to him as your hand grazes against the erection standing proudly in his underwear.

His body automatically jolts forward, and he lets out a shaky breath as his brow twitches. "Yeah.. I did.." he huffs out.

You smirk, wrapping your hand around him over the dark blue fabric, "And what do you think, hm? Were you being greedy?"

He looks deep into your eyes, his lips parting as he feels you start to stroke him. He tries to stop it, but his hips start to shallowly buck against your grasp, and now he can't get any words out. He wants to, but he just.. he really can't.

You roll your eyes.

"You know what I want you to say, honey. Use that big brain of yours."

He moans softly, his hands coming up to hold the sides of your upper arms as his eyes grow lidded.

"I'm.. I was being greedy.. I'm greedy," he moans lowly, thrusting into your hand a bit quicker and with a tad bit more abandon.

"Yeah, yeah you are. You're a greedy little whore for this, aren't you?"

He nods slowly but repeatedly as his brows pinch together and his breathing picks up.

"Yesss," he says brokenly, his voice straining a little as his moans start to become whimpers and whines, "I'm.. s' greedy for you.. jus' for you.. mm..!"

You nod and smirk up at him as his face becomes pinker and pinker, "That's it, pretty boy.. good job. You like when I stroke your pretty cock?"

He lets out an obscenely loud moan as his abdomen curls in over itself a bit, his hands gripping the sleeves of your work top and pulling helplessly at the fabric as he feels a spurt of precome burst into the inside of his boxers.

You chuckle a little as you watch him visibly get closer to his climax, but then he suddenly releases the hold on one of your sleeves and urgently grabs the hand that's moving over his clothed length.

You look down to where his hand holds yours, and he lets out a filthy whimper as he pulls your touch off of him and then urgently pushes your hand past his waistband and down into the front of his boxers. You gasp at his seemingly impulsive actions, feeling your fingers finally come into contact with his slicked-up cockhead. Your fingertips just barely brush over his hot, leaking slit.. sliding over a thick glob of pre.. and then he's being sent over the edge. To the average person, the touch would be essentially imperceptible, but not to him.. not to Art. He was just far too sensitive.

Your husband lets out a startled cry as he doubles over your frame in front of him and frantically moans, his whole body trembling and tensing as his balls draw up, "I'm cumming!"

You don't even have time to really process what's happening until you feel your hand being covered in warm fluid, the substance dripping down your fingertips as Art basically comes untouched. You look up at him, dumbfounded, before you feel your abdomen grow warm and tingly. That was kinda.. hot?

"Jesus, baby," you whisper breathlessly as his hips jolt a few more times before stilling as he gulps air down into his lungs, "didn't realize you were that worked up.. that was a little quick, no?"

He moans softly, still feeling your fingers graze him inside of his boxers.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.." he says, his breathing hitching in his throat as he tries to get the words out in spite of the pleasure still thrumming through his veins. He was still rock hard.

You smile, quickly using your clean, opposite hand to pull his boxers down to his lower thighs. His length slaps up lightly against his stomach before bobbing out in front of him, a tiny pearl-like bead of cum still leaking from his tip. He sighs shakily as he looks down at himself, and then up at you. You wrap your cum-covered hand around the base of his shaft, causing Art to jerk forward from sensitivity. He pulls a sharp breath in, his face scrunching up a little as he tries to control his body.

"I'll let you cum again," you start, watching his eyes light up, "but! you need to give me a warning this next time, okay? I want a clear warning, love."

He nods at your words, a more serious expression plastering over his face, "I will, I promise.. I.. I can give you a proper warning, ma'am.." he whispers.

And with that, you slide your hand from his base to his tip in one smooth motion, your thumb gliding over the head.

"GAH-!" he shudders forward, hissing in pain for a moment before he starts to moan again.

"You okay? Can you handle this?" you ask, your tone soft but seductive as you try to tease him but also legitimately check in. You two were always good at looking out for the other's wellbeing during your sessions together; the exchange of love and tender-care came easily to you both-- it was never something either of you had to question.

He nods, "Yeah, yes-ss, I can t-take it.." he slurs a little, watching your hand move up and down over his throbbing length.

"Look up into my eyes, darling," you purr, your hand starting to pick up speed, "does it feel good?"

He meets your eyes, his blue ones swimming with lust and desperation as he felt the beginnings of his second orgasm start to creep in, "Yes, fuck-! Yes! It feels so fucking good--!" he whines.

"Remember what we just talked about?"

He nods fervently, sucking his plump bottom lip in between his teeth as his focus darts from one of your eyes to the other. You speed up your hand, squeezing his shaft a little more to give him some pressure that you assume he needs.

He keens instantly, a loud moan rumbling from his chest as his thighs start to shake and his eyes squeeze shut.

"Art," you murmur in a seductive but warning tone.

He shakes all over, nodding his head, before his back stiffens up and he becomes incredibly tense. You keep your hand moving at the same fast pace, hoping his memory today is as good as his stamina.

"I'm going to cum," he whispers quickly, bringing his hands up to hold onto your shoulders as he pulls you closer.

You smile in approval, leaning in close to his ear and breathing warmly against his skin as you speak softly, "thank you for telling me, angel. do you want to cum for me?"

He nods, whining out a hasty "mhm". He lets out a breathy moan as he feels your hot words against his upper neck.

You press a chaste kiss there, and then you slide your hand up to gently grip his shaft while your thumb moves to rapidly swipe over his frenulum.

"Come."

And he does just that.

Art's back arches as soon as your one commanding word reaches his ears, cumming uncontrollably with an abrupt cry of pleasure. At first, his body is incredibly rigid as he lets go, his brows pinched up together as he feels the first, pulsing waves of his orgasm hit him, but then the full sensation of his release hits him and his whole body shudders deeply. He lets out little breathy moans and gasps as he relishes in the bursts of pleasure rolling over his cock. You slow your thumb down a bit as you watch him spurt rope after rope over your hand and onto the kitchen floor as he comes undone for you a second time.

"Fucking hell," you moan, now going back to stroking him fully instead of just rubbing a digit against his tip.

He grits his teeth in an instant, being pulled from his afterglow by the feeling of your hand forcing him back into a feeling of overstimulation. "Ah-! Ah!.. T-Too much, too much," he whimpers, his hands instinctively reaching down from your shoulders to push at your hand that's currently working him towards a third, uncomfortable orgasm that he's not even sure he wants anymore.

You use the hand that's not stroking him to move his hands away from your occupied one, giving him a small shake of your head.

"Hands behind your back, please. We're not done yet, okay?" you coo.

He quickly follows orders, moving both of his hands behind his back and away from his aching length, although not without letting out a sniffly whine of protest first.

"Please, ma'am.. I'm.. I can't do it I can't do it-- I'm-- AH!"

You cut off his soft moans of agony with a brief squeeze to the base of his dick, looking intently up into his eyes through your lashes.

"If you really want to stop, baby," you tilt your head teasingly, "you can always use the safeword, yeah?"

He bites his lip before he lets out a warped cry, his head lolling backwards in the same instant. You stop moving your hand.

"Art, darling," you whisper to him comfortingly.

He brings his head back upright to look down into your eyes, his face blank with pleasure; he almost looked drunk. His eyes were glazed over, his cheeks were pink, his hair was a mess, and his lips were parted to let out harsh little breaths of air as he tried to regain some semblance of being grounded in his own, ruined body.

You reach your free hand up to cup his jaw, brushing your thumb over the side of his face.

"Does it really hurt that bad? You know that you can be honest," you whisper, now a little concerned that maybe you pushed him too far.

He thinks for a moment before shaking his head slowly and swallowing a bit of drool that he realized has been collecting in his mouth for the past minute or so, "N-Just a little.." he breathes out.

You nod, giving him one soft stroke of his come-covered cock. He gasps and his torso jolts at the sensation, faint tears springing to his eyes.

"Sorry, sorry," you hum, "should we stop here then? I think maybe that would be best for you.. you've already done so well for me.."

The latter half of your sentence, that subtle bit of praise, gives him all the motivation he needs to want to unravel again.

He looks down at his still-hard cock, and then back up at you, and shakes his head. His tongue pokes out over his bottom lip and wets it as he tries to collect his thoughts.

"No.. no, I can do- I can go again, ma'am.. I pro-promise.." he slurs out, thrusting up into your hand.

You raise a skeptical brow at him and his movements, keeping your hand still.

"Are you sure? You know that I won't be upset with you if you want to stop, Art."

He shakes his head again, his lip trembling, "Please."

You smile softly and start to move your hand up and down over his cock again. Despite his previous indications that it was painful, the feeling has now seemed to morph back into unfiltered pleasure as he lets out a high-pitched moan of your name. He babbles endlessly, a mixture of pleas for more, letting out repetitive mumblings of "feels good", and "yes", and an assortment of stuttered expletives.

It doesn't take long for Art to get close again.

"I think 'm gonna come again," he mumbles, letting his eyes fall shut as his head slumps forward against your shoulder. You stroke him quicker, focusing on his hypersensitive tip as you feel a drip of precome come out.

"Oh? You want to come again?" you tease coyly.

You could be cruel sometimes. He had known that this part was coming eventually.

He shakes his head against the crook of your neck with a whine, "don't do this, please.."

You stop your hand at the base of his cock, halting his orgasm just as his load started to rise up his length. Art bites back an obscenely loud moan of protest that is dying to be let out..

"No, no no noo," he squirms against you, repetitively shaking his head as his face remains buried in your neck.

"You know what you need to do, darling."

"Please," he moans, "let me come.."

"You want to come?"

"Yes."

"You do?"

"YES..!"

"How should I make you come?"

"Can y- keep stroking my- I want my cock to be- I-" he mumbles incoherently.

You place your free hand on the back of his head, pushing your fingers pleasurably into his hair as he trembles against you.

"You want me to keep jerking you off? Hm?"

"Y-Yes-ss!" he moans out brokenly, using every bit of restraint within himself to resist the urge to move his hands from behind his back and relieve his aching parts.

He would never do that, though.. no matter how much he wanted to. He would always follow your wants and needs first. Those were most important to him.

"Ask me for what you need again. Nicely; just the way I like it."

"Please, can I come?"

"Again."

He whines, his hips involuntarily bucking up against your stilled hand wrapped around him.

"Please," he sobs, "can I please come for you?"

"Yes, honey, you can come."

You start to stroke his cock once again, and within just a few pumps Art is releasing again. Even though you can't see them because his face is still in your shoulder, his eyes roll all the way to the back of his head as he lets out a couple pitiful squirts of white, sticky liquid over your hand. "Ooh, that's it.. good boy.. are you my pretty little slut?"

When Art hears this, he isn't exactly sure what happens, but it's like the orgasm that's already halfway finished just completely starts over.

"Ohh my fucking- oh my god-dd-! Ugh! HNGH-!"

It's like every single nerve ending in his body is lighting up at once, and he can't do a damn thing about it.. he can't stop it...

His legs nearly go limp underneath him, and he has to lean further into you to prevent himself from collapsing.

Art then releases the most pornographic moans you've ever heard and tenses up in your hold all over again. You're not really sure what's happening until he--

"I'm cumming again! I'm cumm-m-ing-! Again! Ohmyfucking--! GOD!"

He whines and sobs against your body, his arms still held behind his back as you feel his cock jump and pulse in your hand again. This time, nothing comes out. It's odd because it's clear that he's cumming for a fourth time, but there's nothing to show for it.

You slow your hand but continue to stroke his length which is now covered in the creamy-white filth of his previous loads. His cock softens a little, but you're unsure when his orgasm ends because, again, nothing is coming out.

Art's frame suddenly begins to jerk around every time your hand brushes over his tip, and he lets out a hiss of discomfort through his gritted teeth and a sniffle afterwards. As soon as you hear that, you know he's done and you quickly remove your hand. Any extra stimulation and he'd genuinely start to cry. You could save that for another time.. if he wanted you to.

You move your other hand from his hair to his clothed upper back and rub small, comforting circles over it.

"I've got you," you whisper, "you did such a good job, baby. You just came dry for me."

He nods, sniffling wetly and exhaustedly.

You continue to rub his back for a minute or so in silence as he comes back down to earth; the pleasurable waves of his release's aftershocks allowing him to bask in the ebb and flow of it all as he tries to calm his ragged breathing.

"I feel weak," he groans softly.

You nod, "I'm right here, you're okay.. take some deep breaths for me, honey."

He nuzzles deeper against your neck and sighs contentedly, the fuzziness in his head starting to dissipate with your caring words and gentle touch.

"You're my good boy," you whisper, pressing your cheek against the side of his head.

"Mhmm," he hums, "always for you."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆.

notes; WOAH. ok. so this has been like months in the making by now i think..? but i finally finished it :D thank u so much to everyone who has been patiently/loyally waiting for this one after i teased it for over a month on this blog 😭 + thank u to anyone who gave me some kind words of encouragement when i had to put this aside for a while. i luv u guys !! <3

reblogs are always allowed + appreciated!

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pearlzier · 2 months

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the sheer lack of art donaldson fics ( mike faist + characters fics in generall ) is malicious what is this.

#art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #challengers #mike faist #mike faist x reader #mike faist smut #riff lorton smut #riff lorton x reader #west side story #connor murphy smut #connor murphy x reader #dear evan hansen #dodge mason #dodge mason smut #connor murphy

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mike--faist · 2 months

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Boyfriend!Riff Headcanon: Part I

In the meantime, while I work on the first chapter to Love Will Tear us Apart, I wanted to put together a little headcanon list, and quite frankly I got carried away. Enjoy! (I can always do a part II if you like.)

Riff is protective.

Even around his boys. He knows they aren’t dumb enough to try something on their leader’s girl, but that doesn’t stop him from showing them that you are his.

Like the time he fucked you in front of them when they were partying at an abandoned warehouse.

You two were in a dimly lit corner, and the boys pretended that they didn’t notice, but they didn’t stop talking about it for a couple weeks.

Riff is also affectionate.

He doesn’t care who is around, or what anyone will say. He loves the attention.

He loves to grab you from behind and kiss your cheek, wrap his arms around your waste and squeeze you until you’re playfully slapping him away.

He also loves to be doted on in private.

Most nights you’ll be little spoon, but it’s after a rumble that you’ll find yourself brushing your fingers through his hair, holding him, kissing his battered knuckles.

Sometimes he’ll rest his head on your chest because your breathing and heartbeat put him to sleep fastest.

He is what we call “baby boy”.

He always walks you home at night, and if he’s stuck up somewhere, he’ll have one of the boys meet you.

But one day there was a mix up, nobody was there to meet you, but your apartment is only a few blocks away, and you weren’t bothered. The boys had been dealing with increasing conflict with a rival gang, and someone must’ve slipped up.

But it’s that night that someone from this rival gang messes with you – they see you’re finally alone -- and you don’t get home on time, and you aren’t at your bedroom window when Riff arrives.

Riff is protective.

What comes after that changes the footing of the Jets. The rules are changed.

Riff would die for you.

The rumble that follows is the worst yet, and as he prepares, he gives you his bracelet. A promise that he’ll come back.

And he does, every time.

He loves to make love to you, but he also loves to fuck you.

It’s after a rumble that he is so needy, driving on such an adrenaline high, that no amount of touch is good enough.

He could have every inch of you and it still wouldn’t be enough.

His favorite place in the world is wherever you are.

#mike faist #riff west side story #riff x reader #mike faist imagine #west side story 2021

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lovingmusicalmen · 1 year

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Riff + "I don't really know how to dance..." || "It's never too late to learn" ?? x

I rewatched WSS today and ngl it feels good to return to writing Riff

Still accepting blurb requests! - Open to new characters!!

Fluff 5 - " I don't really know how to dance..." || "It's never too late to learn"

"You know, normally people actually... you know dance at a dance, girly girl."

Y/N smiled shyly at her friend. Riff had come over to where she had huddled herself into the corner of the gym, hoping to let the eyes of her peers pass over her. She should've known Riff wouldn't be able to do that, considering it was he who had spent the better part of the last few weeks trying to convince her to take a night off of work to attend the dance.

"I'm just having a drink," Y/N lifted the cup of punch to emphasise her point. Something fluttered in her chest at the slight eye roll it garnered from Riff, who folded his arms and leaned against the wall beside her.

"Well I'm sure by now you're nice and hydrated and ready to take the dance floor by storm, right doll?" He teased, eyebrows raising.

Y/N chuckled, forcing herself to look away from his eyes, determined not to get caught out staring. It was just... it was rare to see Riff in a state of such - for lack of a better term - cleanliness. Y/N was used to seeing her friend covered in paint or dust from his scuffles with both his fellow Jets and the Sharks.

And the jacket he was wearing this evening didn't have a single hole ripped into it. A shocking feat, if you were to ask Y/N.

Basically, what she was trying to say was that Riff cleaned up well. And Y/N wasn't really sure how to respond to that.

"I don't have a partner," Y/N denied, pretending to find something particularly interesting about the wood patterning of the gym floor, tracing the lines with the toe of her shoe. Anything to avoid the disbelieving look Riff was directing towards her.

"That's a load of horseshit," Riff finally burst out with a scoff. Y/N risked a glance at his blue eyes just in time to watch him roll them yet again. "I'm right here, girly girl. Aren't I?"

And... yes. Y/N supposed Riff was right there. For almost a month now she and her childhood friend had been skirting the borders between friendship and... something more. Stemming from a night of too much stolen beer, where they had ended up stealing away from the Jets - not overly secretively, if their whoops and hollers were anything to go by at the time - and Riff had pressed her up against a wall in an alleyway and-

Well... Y/N could feel the heat crawling up her neck at the memory and she suppressed a shiver.

Since then, things had changed between them. Riff would walk her home from work more often, he'd pull her onto his lap when they were talking, he'd wind an arm around her waist if he thought she was getting a little too comfortable with any of the other Jets.

A couple more stolen kisses here and there, too. But Riff hadn't said anything. Hadn't done anything to indicate that he actually wanted something more than... the casual-more-than-friendship thing that they had going on.

At least, that had been true up until he had started harassing her about coming to the dance. And if the intense look he was giving her was anything to go by, Y/N was getting the feeling that had been Riff trying to make it.. something official.

Though, Y/N had apparently taken too long to formulate a response to Riff's blatant invite. Because the leader was clearing his throat, pushing himself more upright and it was he avoiding her eyes now. Y/N could have sworn she saw a dusting of pink across his cheeks.

"Or - I mean I'm sure any of the Jets would dance with you if you asked. No need to have one partner."

Riff went as though to move away, but Y/N reached out to catch her fingers in his sleeve before he could get too far.

"I didn't mean it like that," she whispered. Riff cocked his head to the side, questioning. "I do want to dance with you, Jet Boy. I promise. It's just... I don't really know how to dance?" She offered, forcing herself to meet Riff's eyes.

A slow smirk made its way across his face, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he showed his amusement. And then Riff plucked the cup out of her hand, placing it on a nearby table and presenting Y/N with his hand in a dramatic flourish that had Y/N grinning.

"It's never too late to learn, girly girl."

#riff west side story #wss riff #riff #riff imagine #riff x reader #riff fanfiction #west side story movie #west side story #mike faist #mike faist imagine #mike faist x reader #mike faist fanfiction

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buubsii · 3 months

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Doin my service to the mike faist community, Here yall go, this is a mike faist wallpaper/collage

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multifandomworldsposts · 6 months

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Day 27 of Kinktober: Sneaking Around With Riff

pairing: Michael ‘Riff’ Tamblyn x fem!reader

warning: dirty talk, eating out, getting caught, unprotected sex, violence

Y/N’s POV

Riff and I have been sneaking around for quite sometime but the Jets have been getting suspicious lately of Riff coming to their meetings late or him not showing up when Riff is needed when the Sharks are around the Jets.

I invited Riff to come to a spot that no one knows except for him and I but I want to do something different. When Riff found me, I was sitting on a crate naked with my legs spread out, I can tell he wanted me so bad but he just stood there staring.

“What’s the matter Riff, I don’t bite.” I said in a sweet voice he’s heard before.

“I wish we were married so I can this all the time.” He says approaching me.

“You know that my dad thinks you’re dangerous.” I said wrapping my legs around Riff’s waist.

“And the Jets don’t know about us.” He whispers in my ear.

“But that’s the fun part of it.” I whisper. “You can have me whatever you want, and you can always come to me when you’re having a rough day because I love it when you get rough.” I whisper again while trailing my finger on his body.

“Why’s that doll?” He said making us do nose to nose.

“The way you fuck me, you just go in and out, making me beg but you want to keep going and making me scream and moan until I cum, and then you take control on eating me out. But the way you fuck me, it’s different than you normally do, harder and rougher than usual.” I whisper in his ear.

“Where do you want to go hide and maybe, I can be rough with you.” He smirks.

“Wherever you want to hide.” I say.

Riff looks around and takes us to a different spot then where we not normally go to.

“This is different.” I say when Riff sets me down on a bench in a fort.

“Just want to make my baby feel good.” Riff says going down where my pussy is at.

I feel his tongue inside me, I gasp for a second, I tug on his hair which made him grab my legs so I couldn’t move them.

“I’m about to cum.” I moan.

He moans into me which made me moan again, fuck I need him inside me.

“Riff.” I make him look at me by tugging his head up to look at me. “Just fuck me.” I say.

He smirks and takes his pants off including his boxers off, he so huge. I lean towards him to make him be on top of me so we can make out. He positions himself so can fuck me. He goes in and out of me and I scream and starts to scratch his back, I can tell the Jets are going to make fun of him.

He keeps on fucking me until we hear the cat whistle. Riff and I look where the whistle came from and it’s the Jets, fuck! They found us.

“Well, well, well boys, look what we have here, our leader with a whore.” Joyboy says.

Riff covers me and himself up, but he tries to keep me behind him.

“So this is where you’ve been going to Riff isn’t?” Tiger says approaching us.

“Yeah, what about it?” Riff says.

I get scared so I hold on to Riff’s arm.

“Look boys, the whore is scared.” Joyboy says. The Jets chuckle.

“If you get near her I swear to god I’ll kill you.” Riff says.

“You’re defending the whore but you couldn’t be at the fights with the Sharks.” Mouthface confronts Riff.

“Stop calling me that.” I said.

“The whore speaks, did you blow hi-“ Riff slaps Tiger’s face.

“You son of a-“ Tiger and Riff begins to fight.

I try to hide but one of the Jets tries to grab me but Riff notices so he protects me from them. I find a knife so I hold it to in front of Balkan, Riff takes the knife out of my hand, Balkan looks smug and looks at the rest of the Jets and Riff ends the fight by punching Balkan in the face.

When the Jets leaves, Riff checks my body if there are any scars on my body. I check on his wounds, I help him sit down.

“Thank you for protecting me.” I smile.

“Anything for my girl, can you patch me up? I’ll try to patch you up as well.” Riff says.

I giggle, I try to find something to cover his wounds, I found an old t-shirt and I rip it apart so I can wrap the fabric around Riff’s wounds.

“You’re not a whore, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He says holding still for me.

“And you’re the best thing that ever happened to me too.” I say wrapping some fabric around one of his wounds.

I give a look, I lean in to kiss him and he kisses me back. Sneaking around with Riff has been really fun but terrifying because of the Jets finding out about us but Riff protected me through all of this mess, and Riff knows what he’s doing when he’s in control.

#fanfic #fanfiction #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #riff west side story #riff wss #west side story #mike faist #wss jets #riff x reader #mike faist smut #wss 2021 #tony wss #west side story smut #michael riff tamblyn #wss rp

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luwritesomething · 1 year

Note

if requests r still open i would love to request some jealous riff from west side story headcanons! Just some simple stuff of riff meeting genderneutral!readers ex lol. ty for reading <33

Riff Heacanons: Jealousy.

Warnings: Swearing lol

Edited?: Like always, no.

Reader's pronouns: Not stated, gender neautral.

Summary: Just some headcanons with our little boy Riff.

Author's note: again, sorry sorry sorry for taking so long to answer :( i've been busy and unmotivated. i feel like this is very short, sorry again, but i hope you like it!! criticism is appreciated, and request are still open.

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riff is a jealous dude.

it's not that he doesn't trust you --- he does, especially if he's daying you for real ---, it's more like he doesn't trust other people around you because, for him, you're everything good in this world, the hope he had lost.

but he still trusts you to tell them to fuck off if they try to make a move.

he's very physical, not only when he's jealous, but when he is you can bet he's gonna have an arm around your waist or directly eat your face out in front of whoever you are.

he's the kind that watches from a corner that interaction he thinks it's shady, narrowing his eyes and with his jaw tightly clenched.

barging into your conversations like that has always get him in trouble with you because you love him but you like your bondaries and the trust, but he swears it's because he loves you.

poor baby is so scared you'll find someone better than him (in his opinion, this is incredibly easy) and leave him.

reassuring is something you had never imagined you would have to do with him, but it's very common for him to end up going mute as you try to tell him there's no one that could steal your attention like he still does everyday.

anyways, going to the point,,,

let's say that your ex isn't part of the jets (not of the sharks, either), and neither are you because that would include a whole shit ass explanation of why you ended up with riff --- you just did, alright? :D

okay so let's say you're going on about your day in the jet part of the neighborhood, running some errands, knowing that riff is watching you from the corner of the street where he's at with his boys.

you've grown very fond of his attention, little gestures like those --- he watches over you from the place he's at, so he doesn't overwhelm you contantly with his bubbly persona but showing he still cares.

and uh-oh, now you're facing your ex.

things didn't end up great between you two, although it wasn't too bad either. still, you would've liked to run away from that situation, but before you can turn around and act like you haven't seen them before they lay eyes on you, they wave their hand at you and you're doomed to make some small talk with them.

your ex has always been a very charismatic and friendly person, which leads into you two talking probably more than what you've expected.

and riff noticed this from his place in the street.

he's able to wait for ten solid minutes before he pats diesel in the shoulder and he starts walking towards you two, unbothered face but a strong glimmer in his eyes.

you know it's him as soon as he rests his calloused hand on your waist, squeezing lightly --- the kind of squeeze he gives when he gets jealous.

the signs of him being jealous are easy to pick on, but you still look up to him when he reaches you, watching amusedly how serious yet cool he looks --- he tries too hard, you'd notice even with a blindfold.

"hey, buddy boy."

that's the cue for you to put your hand on top of his, to keep him grounded from saying something too harsh.

it makes him relax every time, that touch of security that let's him know he still has that special connection with you he can't describe.

your ex is a nice person and them doesn't notice that riff is jealous, and you're smart enough to instantly introduce riff as your boyfriend.

the thing ends happily, like it usually does.

sometimes, though, riff would go a bit out of leash when the person talking to you is shamelessly flirty to you with him still there.

he has never throw hands because he knows you don't like violence, especially not when it's about you.

but sometimes his snarky remarks annoy you a bit.

you always forgive him, though, because he ends up apologizing sooner or later and you'll always work things out <3

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sinofwriting · 1 year

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The Sun Rises - Riff

Words: 376 Summary: Riff refuses to let her out of bed.

Get Added To My Taglist | Masterlist

She groaned as the sun hit her eyes, her body after years of waking up as the sun did had never failed her before, but she did wish it would wake her before the sun was up so high or so bright that blinded her when she first opened her eyes. With a sigh, she reaches across the mattress, resting her hand on Riff’s shoulder, before giving it a shake. “Wake up, Riff. It’s time to get up.” He mumbles into his pillow and she gives him another shake. “C’mon we both got work today.” He lifts his head from the pillow, “no.” the word is drawn out. “Yes.” She laughs. He grumbles, but turns onto his back.

Figuring that’s it, she throws the blanket off of herself, ready to get up for the day only for a body to roll on top of her.

“Nope.” Riff says, sounding a little more awake than before. “Riff.” She warns, trying to wriggle out from underneath his body. “We have work, I have work.” She corrects, knowing that Riff could give a crap about going to his construction job on time or at all today. It was Sunday, which meant it wasn’t mandatory for any of the boys to go. “Skip.” He mumbles, brushing his lips across the skin of her neck. “Jenkins will kill me.” “Jenkins, thinks the sun shines out of your ass, doll. I think he could forgive you for missing a measly Sunday.” She sighs, knowing that he did have a point. Jenkins was more sweet on her than any of the others. Reminded him of his granddaughter, she was pretty sure it was she got the job in the first place. “Fine. But, I’m not missing another day for the next three months, Riff.” She tells him, voice stern. “What you say now.” “Riff!” “I’m joking, I’m joking.” He laughs, rolling off of her but intertwining their fingers to keep some contact between them. “Now rest your eyes for a bit more. I’ll make you breakfast when the birds stop singing.” “The birds never stop singing.” “At nine then, when people should actually be up.” She lets out a mumble, but closes her eyes, relaxing further into the bed and into sleeps’ clutches.

#riff west side story x reader #riff west side story imagine #riff imagine #riff x reader #west side story imagine #west side story x reader

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auspicious-manner · 2 years

Note

Hi! You’re such a fantastic writer!! I was wondering if you could maybe write a story where Riff survives the rumble, but needs medical attention and the reader is there to comfort him. (If it’s not too much to ask) Thank you!

thank you! i appreciate it so much ❤️ i love writing for my boy riff

fem reader x riff

warnings: injury, talk of wanting to die/death, weapons

Death Wish

•

“happy rumble day, Y/N,” riff said excitedly as he came out of Y/N’s small bedroom and into the kitchen where Y/N was preparing breakfast in the middle of the afternoon.

“you know i’m not a fan of this, riff.”

she kept her back to him, and he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around the tops of her shoulders.

Y/N was the complete opposite of riff. she wasn’t even sure how she fell in love with him in the first place. they had opposing views, as she was constantly promoting peace between the two gangs in the city. but, they did have something in common. Y/N was outspoken, and brave, and stood up for herself. she was a good girl who liked bad guys, because bad guys brought out a fiery personality in her. and riff fit that definition perfectly.

riff squeezed Y/N’s body a little tighter. “come on girly, you know me. i’m going to be safe. those sharks can’t lay a finger on me,” he said quietly, kissing the back of her head before stepping away.

“i know you, you can hold your own. that’s not what i’m against. i don’t like the idea of this rumble in general,” she stated.

riff’s calm demeanor was growing into an impatient one. “it’s necessary. this is our turf, and no one gets to come into this city and steal what we worked so hard to build.”

Y/N noticed a complete switch in his tone. he went from being sweet to being sharp all in a matter of seconds. she turned around to find riff’s cold eyes fixated on her own.

she walked closer to him, and he looked down at her. “the sharks can’t steal land that was already previously stolen.”

riff frowned, his accent getting thicker with every word. “we were here first.”

“were you?” Y/N replied sassily.

riff’s playful side smile came back once more. “why are we arguing? i love you, and you love me, and you’re making me breakfast,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist. Y/N couldn’t help but fall into his trance. “we can agree to disagree.”

she rolled her eyes. “fine. that’s not going to stop me from trying to prevent this though.”

“i know it won’t.”

Y/N went back to her spot at the stove and continued to cook the meal. she finished it up, and split it into two for both her and riff. they sat down together at the small table, awkward silence thick between them.

“what time do you have to go tonight?” she asked, breaking the silence.

“it starts at midnight in the salt shed,” he replied.

“are you worried?” Y/N questioned quietly.

riff shook his head. “no. the sharks can’t do anything to me and my boys. we have the upper hand.”

she knew it was better to stay quiet than fight riff again, so she silently nodded her head and continued to eat. eventually, they finished eating and they cleaned up their messes.

“i’m going to go out, gotta see my boys before the big night,” riff said, smiling to himself. he stepped closer to her. “i’ll see you tonight, right?”

Y/N nodded. “yeah, i’ll meet you before you go to the shed,” she said back, her voice almost monotone.

riff rested his hands on her hips. “good,” he replied before placing a loving kiss on her lips. “see you later.”

he excitedly ran out the door, and Y/N watched as her one love walked out of her apartment to go make the most stupid decision he’s made yet. which, considering the amount of dumb decisions he’s made, truly says something.

she didn’t have the greatest feeling about tonight. maybe that was just because she was prone to excessive worrying. regardless, something didn’t feel right about what riff was doing. she tried her hardest to ignore the gut feeling that was making it’s presence known.

Y/N tried to keep herself occupied for the rest of the afternoon. her anxious thoughts kept her from going anywhere, so she decided to release her crowded thoughts into deep cleaning the entire apartment. it was long overdue, and she figured keeping busy would help calm her racing mind. by the time she had completed her task, it was nearing six o’clock. she decided to go out and meet riff at his jets group spot in the city.

she took a walk in the cool summer air as the sun began to fall behind the skyline. she arrived at the spot, and her quiet footsteps alerted baby john.

“riff, you’ve got a visitor,” he stated, causing the rest of the jets to flick their eyes to whoever it may be.

riff rounded a corner, and Y/N took notice of his appearance. he looked like he was ready for war in his vest covering his cream colored shirt, and his icy eyes widened when he saw her. she wondered why riff was so surprised, until she glanced down and saw a gun in his hand. he quickly slid his hand behind his back to hide it.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” he asked almost frantically, stepping closer to her. every few steps he made, she would take a step back.

“riff, why the hell do you have a gun?” she asked, her voice cracking. “what do you think you’re going to do with it?”

“it’s just a precaution, darling,” he reassured, trying to calm her down. she shook her head. “the sharks are bringing heat, so i gotta bring heat.”

“oh yeah? and what happens if you get hurt? you and your boys are going to shoot them? what if they take your gun and shoot you?”

“that’s not going to happen, Y/N, i know what i’m doing,” riff said back, dropping the gun and finally approaching Y/N. he held her shoulders tightly.

“please riff, don’t do this,” she said in response, her eyes brimming with tears.

riff sighed. he considered it, but eventually removed his hands. “i’m going to bring it, but i won’t use it. okay?”

Y/N wasn’t happy with that either, but she nodded nonetheless. she felt a little bit better knowing riff wouldn’t be using it.

riff kissed her forehead. “the boys and i are goin’ out soon. i’ll see you when the rumble is over, yeah?”

“yeah. i love you,” she said quietly, resting her head on riff’s chest. his calm heartbeat immediately relaxed her. he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“i love you too, girly. it’ll be over before we know it.”

Y/N left, not sure what to do with herself in the meantime. she decided that since she wanted to be awake when riff came home, she would take a short nap back at her apartment. she walked home without a sound, and immediately went to her bedroom and went to sleep.

before she knew it, her body shot up out of bed and she checked the clock on the wall, which read 11:30. she paced around the room a little bit, and came to the conclusion that she couldn’t wait at the apartment for riff to come home; she had to see him.

Y/N threw on a sweater and hurriedly walked out the door, running down the streets to the salt shed. she kept a close eye on her watch, knowing that the rumble would start at midnight.

as she approached the shed, she heard the familiar sounds of footsteps down the pavement, and she spun around a building to hide from the jets. she held her breath as she watched the boys prepare for war and wait outside the shed. riff didn’t look like the sweet boy she knew and loved, he seemed almost animalistic.

then, right as her watch showed her that it was midnight, the boys walked in, and she knew the sharks had arrived. Y/N made her way closer to the shed when she knew the coast was clear, but on her way, a figure ran past her vision.

she tilted her head, and ran closer. that’s when she saw anybodys trying to get into the shed.

“anybodys!” she whisper yelled, catching their attention.

“Y/N, what are you doin’ here?” anybodys asked, catching the closing shed door.

Y/N ran up to the door. “i’m here for riff.”

Y/N always liked anybodys. she knew riff and the rest of the jets wouldn’t let anybodys in the gang, and quite frankly, they treated him like garbage. if Y/N caught this behavior, she would try her best to put a stop to it. anybodys was a great friend to her.

“it ain’t safe for you here!” anybodys whisper yelled back.

“i gotta be here, i wouldn’t be able to live with myself if i wasn’t.”

anybodys finally gave in, and together they slid under the door and gently closed it, hiding together behind a pile of salt. not long later, the door began to make noises from the outside, as if someone was trying to get in.

Y/N and anybodys sunk further down, until tony and chino slid their way under the door as well. she knew tony didn’t want the rumble to happen just as much as she did.

her eyes then stayed fixated on riff. Y/N could see from a mile away the reckless abandonment that was ever present in riff’s demeanor. he was prepared for anything.

“why are they talking so much?” Y/N asked to herself quietly. then, she watched as riff slid tony his gun. at least he was keeping his word.

they all talked more and more, and tony shared some words with bernardo. she couldn’t make out what was being said.

then, bernardo sent a punch to tony. Y/N gasped, and covered her mouth. tony didn’t fight back. bernardo flung his fists repeatedly at tony as the sharks and jets simultaneously yelled.

tony quietly said something to bernardo, and a full out brawl started between the boys.

“i can’t watch,” Y/N whispered, not being able to pry her eyes off the sight in front of her.

tony pinned bernardo and sent punches as the boys roared. then, as bernardo was nearing a blackout, he stopped. Y/N knew tony didn’t want to fight. he stood up and saw the outcome of what he was doing.

Y/N looked away for a split second, and when she turned around, bernardo and riff had knives in their hands and were eyeing each other.

“oh dear god,” she whispered. her face went pale as she watched riff.

she could tell riff didn’t want to do this anymore. there was fear in his eyes that wasn’t there before. bernardo and riff were afraid of each other.

they swung around the knives like it was choreographed. tony caught riff, leaving his back open for attack from bernardo. Y/N felt like yelling to tony to let him go. riff struggled to get out of his grasp.

then, he freed himself and turned around right into bernardo’s knife, which impaled him in his upper leg.

Y/N screamed. she didn’t care if she was caught at this point. she heard anybodys exclaim her name, but her world went silent. she came out behind the salt pile when she saw riff fall to the ground. tony took the knife and in return stabbed bernardo.

Y/N gasped again and took a step back. the room froze, confused as to what had happened. in a matter of seconds, two rival gang leaders lay injured on the ground, one being sprawled out dead.

Y/N ran into the action, and her footsteps alerted the group. their shock didn’t last long, for red and blue lights began to shine in through the windows.

the boys scattered, and tony backed away slowly, realizing what he had done.

“Y/N! tony! we have to go, now!” anybodys yelled trying to stop Y/N.

she ran to riff’s side and bent down next to him. he was still alive, but losing a lot of blood.

“Y/N… w-why are you here?” riff asked quietly.

“don’t talk about me, i’m here to help you, okay? we’re going to get you out of here.” she rested her hand on his cheek, and riff gently held her wrist.

“i can’t walk. you can’t get me out of here yourself. besides…” he took a deep breath in. “you’ve got company coming. you need to go now, Y/N.”

she began to cry. “i’m not leaving you riff,” she looked up to see anybodys ushering tony out.

“anybodys, tony! help me get riff out of here!”

tony left, and anybodys hesitated before running to riff’s side to help Y/N.

“Y/N, don’t do this. you’ll be caught,” he said again.

“you’re an idiot if you think i’m going to leave you here to die,” she fired back. she took off her socks and quickly tied them into a makeshift tourniquet to wrap around his leg. the pair stood him up on his good leg and he wrapped his arms around Y/N and anybodys’ shoulders, and together they hobbled out of the shed just in the nick of time.

anybodys and Y/N guided him into an alley not far from the shed, but far enough to stay out of the eyes of the police. they laid him down against the wall as he faded in and out of consciousness. “stay with me riff, please!” Y/N said as anybodys sent her a look. “thank you anybodys, i owe you one. i can take it from here,” she said hurriedly. anybodys nodded before running off to find tony.

“i’m going to fix you up, okay?” she told him frantically. luckily, she brought her purse which contained gauze, alcohol, and tape.

“y-you’re not a nurse,” riff said quietly.

“i know i’m not, but i’m not going to leave you alone to die. i can’t.”

she used the tourniquet around his leg to dab up the blood after untying it, and then she took the alcohol out of her purse and poured it over the wound. riff grimaced and squeezed Y/N’s arm tight.

she finished it off by wrapping it in gauze tightly and taping it down. “this won’t last you long, you need stitches.”

“we gotta wait until the heat dies down, Y/N. they’ll know this is from the rumble,” he pleaded.

“riff, we can’t wait any longer. that gauze can only hold you off for so long. i know the people that work the emergency room, they know i don’t get involved with the rumbles. it wouldn’t make sense for me to even be at the rumble. trust me, i know what i’m doing. they won’t know a thing.”

riff rolled his eyes, complying with the plan. Y/N helped him stand, and they hobbled a few blocks away to the nearest emergency room.

they walked in, and immediately the nurses took action. they took riff back and got to work on fixing his wound. Y/N knew them, for her mom actually used to work with these ladies in the same emergency room.

“how did this happen?” one of them asked, writing on a clipboard. riff looked to Y/N for an answer.

“um…he was getting ready for the big rumble tonight. when him and one of his gang members were practicing, he accidentally jabbed him in the leg before the rumble even began,” Y/N said, hoping the excuse was good enough. “riff just now decided to tell me.”

“he wasn’t at the rumble?” the nurse asked. Y/N shook her head.

“looks like your buddy got you pretty deep there. Y/N did everything right though to take care of you,” one said to riff, peeling away the soaked gauze to unveil the wound.

“we’re going to go get the equipment we need to fix him up,” another said before all of them piled out of the room.

“i don’t want to get stitches,” riff said as Y/N pulled over a seat next to him.

“you would have died, riff. it’s kind of a miracle you’re still here. the stitches are going to save your life.”

“what if i didn’t want to be saved?” riff said loudly, causing Y/N to be taken aback.

“what?” she questioned.

riff avoided eye contact. “why do you think i wanted you to leave me there? my death wish was obvious to everyone but you, Y/N. i kept it from you because of this exact reason. i always knew the outcome of today, i was supposed to die.”

tears formed in Y/N’s eyes. “riff, i-”

“what do i have to live for? tony’s no longer a jet, i’m losin’ my territory, you deserve better than me, so what do i have?”

Y/N took riff’s hand. “you have me. i don’t need anything better.”

riff finally made eye contact with her. he squeezed her hand back, and tears formed in his eyes as well. “you’ve been there for me more than anyone else, and here i am treatin’ you like shit.”

“i don’t care, riff. i’ll always love you regardless of anything. i love you more than you’ll ever know. i couldn’t bear to lose you today.”

riff smiled and rested his hand on Y/N’s cheek. “i don’t deserve you.”

the nurses came back in and gave him pain medications while also numbing the area around and in his wound to prepare to stitch it up.

“i’m scared, Y/N,” he said quietly. she went to the free side of the bed and took his hand.

the nurses quickly stitched him up, and riff pressed his eyes closed the entire time. he held on to Y/N’s hand tightly.

“all done!” the nurse said, stepping away from the bed. “we’ll keep you here for a while longer to monitor you and make sure everything is okay, but you should be able to leave later tonight.”

they thanked the nurses and Y/N and riff were left alone again.

“thank you for not giving up on me,” riff said, admiration in his eyes.

“i would never.”

#mike faist #mike faist imagine #mike faist x reader #mike faist fanfiction #mike faist riff #west side story #riff fanfic #wss riff #riff lorton #riff x reader #riff imagine

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sl-newsie · 4 months

Text

Me: feels guilty for not spending time with family

Also me: shut the door leave me alone and let me write fanfics while watching TV

✍️

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jesuistrestriste · 9 months

Text

You’re Such a Loser pt. 2

nsfw fic ! 18+

part twoo (part one) !! i hope that those who liked pt. one will like this part just as much :) it’s a lil bit of a switch in dynamic (pun not intended)

content warnings: switch(dom)!art donaldson, switch(sub)!reader, reader guiding art through domming, begging, brief choking, slight hate fucking themes, orgasm denial, slight bit of tears/crying (he’s okay), oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, praise, degradation, creampie.

all that frustration from losing his matches has built up in him, and now Art is ready to let it all out. only because you’re letting him, of course.

word count - 2.9k

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

He’s diving back into your cunt without hesitation, lapping at the remnants of your orgasm that have spilled and sprayed down your inner thighs. His arms are hooking under your legs so that he can bury his tongue deeper and deeper into you.

You groan deeply, running your fingers through his hair before pulling the locks taut in your fist.

“Yes, baby, just like that.. your mouth always feels so damn good,” you breathe out, moaning at his expert tongue skills.

As you gaze down at him, you can see the way that his eyes are squeezing shut and his brows are turned up in arousal as he licks at your insides. He lets out a pathetic whimper at your words of praise, which shoots a mouthful of vibrations up through your form. Your knees tremble, clamping down on his flushed cheeks, and you use your grip on his hair to guide him gently up to your clit. He takes notice of your cue, and moves his mouth up to suck your sensitive bundle of nerves. You gasp brokenly and toss your head back, before looking down again to see his face.. and god, he is beautiful. His brows are still knitted up, but now his big aquamarine eyes are watery and looking up at you like a lost puppy. He was all yours. Just yours, and he knew it too -- in fact, he loved it.

“That’s it, sweetheart, doing so--mmf!--so well,” you moan out, using your hand to now stroke at the back of his head and give him a bit more physical stimulation. His eyes flutter closed at the feeling of your fingers brushing against his scalp, and out of habit he reaches up with one of his free hands and uses his middle and ring finger to brush against your dripping hole. Immediately, you wince at the contact, and he lets out a drawn out groan that you can tell is an incoherent plea for permission. You nod.

He wastes no time in turning his wrist so that his hand is palm-side up, and then his fingers are gliding into you without any resistance whatsoever. Your body is absolutely starved for him at this point, and you can’t do a thing to hide it. As he feels your insides wrap warmly around his digits, his eyes prick with tears while he continues to mouth at your clit.

He brings his head back, detaching his mouth from your body, and moves to look longingly at the way your fingers are sucking him in every time he pulls them back. Your slick is covering his chin and his lips, which are currently parted in arousal as he huffs and puffs from desperation. He continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, relishing in the way that he can feel you clench and twitch.

“You’re so hot,” he whispers, not breaking eye contact with the point of connection between your body and his. He then decides to bury his two fingers so deep inside of you that they actually completely disappear. Next thing you know, he’s curling his fingers repeatedly in the “come hither” motion while he’s still buried up to the hilt. About thirty seconds of this is all it takes for you to get there.

“SHIT-! Oh my god, Art, don’t fucking stop, don’t stop, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m g’na-”

You manage to moan out a quick warning before your hips are arching into his touch, going completely still for a few moments. Then, wave after wave of your orgasm washes over you, causing your pelvis to spasm rapidly as you babble incoherent phrases of praise to your partner.

Art’s mouth is now completely agape, his eyes lidded, as he takes in the show of your orgasm, not stopping the movements of his fingers. You couldn’t really tell over the sound of your own vocality, but he was letting out tiny whines and whimpers from the way that your body was making his cock leak pathetically in his already-soiled boxers. He could barely hold his second orgasm off.. it was so damn hard.

After you collapse fully on the bed in an attempt to recover in your afterglow, sticky with sweat and panting heavily, you are now able to fully hear Art’s pure and unfiltered anguish. He’s moaning lowly as he glances from your cunt down to his clothed cock, which is jumping over and over in his underwear -- begging for attention. He then moves to pull his wet fingers from inside of your pussy, which allows for a few drops of viscous wetness to spill from your hole. Without hesitation, he lurches forward with his pretty tongue sitting gently on top of his bottom lip so that he can gulp down the taste of your release. He sucks and licks greedily at your hole, letting his eyes flutter closed as he grips his own thighs. He doesn’t want to touch himself yet. After all, you never gave him permission.

“You’re such a good boy, baby.. so needy and hungry for me, aren’t you?”

He nods quickly but shakily, his nose brushing against your clit as his mouth continues to relentlessly engulf your heat.

“You want me to let you cum?” you ask, knowing from his track record that he’s probably already on the edge.

He pulls back, licking at his bottom lip to not waste any of your taste, before he removes his hands from gripping his legs and instead places them to your waist. He digs his fingers into your soft flesh as he looks up at you from his position on the floor.

“Please, please, I’m already there-- just tell me I can and I will! I promise,” he gasps out, drawing out the second half of ‘promise’ to emphasize his sheer closeness. His brows are still turned up as tears start to well in his eyes. He’d cry if you said no, you knew that. The real question was: did you want to keep punishing him tonight? Had he had enough?

“Tell me how bad you want it, love.”

You could stand to be cruel a little bit longer.

He whines, his fingers clenching around the skin of your hips, as his pelvis continues to buck involuntarily.

“I want it so badly- I wanna cum- I’m so close, please please please.. I don’t know if I can stop it,” he moans, the slight friction of his cock against his wet boxers pushing him closer and closer to the point of no return.

“What if I said no?”

“Nooo, god, please don’t.. I’ve already made you cum.. I could prob’ly cum just from you telling me that I can.. can I? Oh shit, please-”

“I’ll tell you what: I’ll let you cum if you can take control for once.”

He looks at you, confused, before trying to stave off his orgasm by biting down on your thigh as he lets out a broken whimper. You yelp, before stroking his hair, knowing that he was deep in an animalistic state of mind -- he didn’t mean to hurt you, he just was trying so hard to be good.

“Use your words, Art.”

He releases you from between his teeth, before tears are spilling down his cheeks.

“I,” he sobs, “I can try.. but you know that I’m not like that..”

“I know, baby, I know. I want to teach you. Would you like to try that?”

He nods. He’d do anything to cum at this point.

You use your hands to push yourself farther back onto the bed so that your head is now close to the headboard. Art watches your every move, but stays as still as he can. He still wanted to please you, and didn’t want to do anything without your say-so. This was going to have to change within the next ten minutes.

You pat the bed’s comforter, and he immediately crawls up onto the bed and hovers over your form. His breathing remains uneven as his cheeks continue to flush with the torment of his delayed release. The erection in his boxers is still as stiff as ever, and you eye the way that it visibly jumps with anticipation.

One of your hands reaches up to comfortingly caress his face, and he leans into your touch.

“Breathe, honey, breathe. You’ll get what you want soon.”

He sighs, which almost turns into a moan, but he cuts himself off as you start to give instruction.

“Okay, first I want you to take off my top and bra. Undress me, understand?”

“Yeah,” he responds breathlessly, moving to pull your shirt over your head and unclasp your bra in under a minute. You were now completely naked, and he allowed himself the pleasure of drinking in the sight of your uncovered body. You were so gorgeous, it made his dick twitch.

“Good. Now, take off your boxers and shirt. I wanna see you,” you couldn’t help staying in a dominant headspace for a few seconds more.. it was just so fun to boss him around. He was so quick to follow directions, too.

He unsurprisingly does as he’s told, swiftly removing his gray tee and pulling down his boxers. At the sight of his bare cock, you bite your lower lip and place a hand on the back of his neck to guide him down to meet your mouth. You kiss him deeply, letting your own tongue lick his as he reciprocates with equal ferocity. He’s mashing his lips with yours, moaning into your open mouth when you pull back to switch the angle of your head. You bite down on his bottom lip before sucking it, which causes him to groan deep in his chest. Your hands snake to his lower back and you pull him down in one swift motion so that his body is now pressed flushed to yours as you continue to make out. A few more moments of this go by before Art knows that he has to speak up..

“I th-think I’m gonna c-cum,” he stutters, rubbing his hard cock against your lower stomach, “I can’t hold it, I cannn’t-!”

You reach down quickly and grasp his dick, which makes his eyes roll back into his low lids, and then you’re sliding it inside of your tight hole without warning.

“Nnghh-! I’m--fuck!” he sobs out, immediately spilling a thick, warm load inside of you. You let him thrust shallowly into you as he pumps you full of cum.

“Ah hah hah haah-!” he cries as he overstimulates his cock by continuing to fuck himself through his long-awaited orgasm.

As you watch his face with a smile and feel his throbbing dick inside of you, Art suddenly pushes himself up onto his hands so that he’s looking down at you. He’s gasping for more air but his brows are sitting low on his face and he looks weirdly upset.

You reach a hand up to his face, but he grabs your wrist with one hand and shakes his head without breaking eye contact with you.

“Don’t,” he breathes out, before beginning to thrust his spent cock more forcefully inside of you. Was he pissed that you had initially denied him..?

“Wha-”

“Don’t say anything, please,” he cuts you off, “just let me fuck you some more..”

You close your mouth, feeling a new kind of heat swirl in your gut. There was something about his tone that was new for him.. there was a bit of authority in it. Art hangs his head as he groans, pulling his cock all the way out to the tip before slamming it back into you. The wind feels like it just got knocked completely out of your lungs, and you squirm on the sheets.

“You feel so good.. f-fuck, I’m already hard again,” he moans, a growl beginning to creep up his throat.

A moan escapes your lungs as you let your head fall back into the plush pillow, and then before you can fully comprehend what he’s doing, his hand is over your mouth. His elbow is resting by your neck as his palm covers the lower half of your face and muffles your sounds.

“I said to be quiet,” he says gruffly, now speeding up the movements of his hips. They snap back and forth with a renewed sense of fervor, filling you up with his heavy cock with every thrust inside of you. You moan, although muffled, and you can tell that your stifled sounds were driving him crazy.

“You did a lot of talking tonight, babe, now let me say something--”

You drool under his hand, your mouth open and panting, as you try to focus on his words,

“I don’t get why you called me a loser when you’re my coach.. my loss is your loss- shit!”

The tip of his cock hits your cervix as you clench around him, causing him to briefly lose his train of thought. He finds it quicker than you thought he would, though.

“So that means that you’re a loser too, aren’t you?” he spits out with gritted teeth, leaning down close to your face and looking deep into your eyes. You compulsively whimper and buck your hips up to meet his.

“Use your words, baby,” he mocks you from earlier, anger laced potently in his command.

He knows that you can’t talk coherently right now, and it’s not his hand that’s stopping you. He knows damn well that if he removed his hand from your mouth, you’d still be a slurring mess of moans and pleas for more beneath him. His cock was fucking you so well, and it was hitting all of the right places at all of the right times. You weren’t sure you were going to last much longer, and neither was he to be honest..

Before, he was in the mindset of a defeated, washed-up tennis champ, but now he was taking on the same persona that he did when he was in his prime. When he won back-to-back matches. He was a fucking beast.

“Mmmph-! Mm-!” your moans rolled around in your chest and were muffled by Art’s large palm as he continued to fuck mercilessly into you. You felt the cord in your gut being pulled taut.. ready to snap at any moment..

Suddenly, he pulls his hand from your mouth and groans, bringing it up to his mouth as he licks depravedly at your drool left behind on his skin. You whimper at the sight, and he follows it up with a similar vocalization before speaking down to you.

“You taste so good, baby, fuck fuck...” he pants, the movements of his hips becoming sloppier by the second.

he places his wet palm down across the center of your collarbones, and you groan lowly at the feeling, before you take his wrist and manually move his hand up to the base of your throat.

“please,” you whimpered.

and he readily obliged.

Art squeezes gently at the sides of your throat, stifling the blood flow to your brain and initiating the spread of a pleasant fuzziness throughout your body and head that made your impending orgasm feel that-much-more intense.

“you like that? you like when i choke you, baby..?” he moans, clearly enjoying the switch in dynamic as much as you were.

you nod immediately, trying to take in more oxygen as his fingers pressed deliberately against your pulse. then, he released you from his grasp like a lion drops a gazelle from its mouth before feasting upon it.

you take a huge, broken breath into your lungs before everything begins to feel like it’s getting too much .. everything feels too good right now..

“Honeyimgonna-mffphh!-imgonnacumpleaseohmygod” you couldn’t stop the slurry of nonsensical pleas and whines as you felt your orgasm getting ready to wash over you.

“I’m gonna give it to you so good.. i wanna fill you up.. you’d be nowhere without me, let’s face it.. if i didn’t win any matches we’d have no income.. so i’m not a goddamn loser.. i’m not.. i’m.. i..”

Art was becoming more and more incomprehensible the closer he got, and then he felt everything crash down around him once your orgasm started to rip through you and pulse around him.

“OH GOD! HOLY SH- OH FFFUCK! I’M CUMMING I’M CUMMING!” he shouts, unable to hold anything back as he fills you up again.

You feel the warmth and tingly pressure of his release spread throughout your cunt as you cum on his throbbing cock, your eyes rolling as your head tips back against the bed. You whimper and groan as you take in the feeling of your second orgasm of the night, and relish in the heat and aftermath of your partner’s third one.

After you both come down slightly from your highs, Art collapses in a sticky, sweaty mess on top of you as his chest heaves against yours. You close your eyes, smiling, as your hands move to rub lovingly at his lower back. As his head rests heavily in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent, he slowly pulls his hips back and you whimper as the feeling of emptiness starts to rush through you in the absence of his length.

You could feel his cum oozing down your pussy, and you laughed softly at the sudden realization of the reality of your situation.

“You know,” you huffed, still trying to catch your breath, “i think you just came inside of me.”

he laughs.

“i don’t think i could have stopped that from happening..” he smirks, rubbing his soft but sensitive cockhead against the inner part of your right thigh.

“right, right.. all i’m saying is that you better not get me pregnant. you’re already a handful as it is.”

“You love it,” he whispers, picking up his head slightly to bite at your neck.

“Whatever you say, loser.”

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

guys, this took so long to finally finish up and that’s on me lmaoo

writer’s block had me in a firm chokehold n i didn’t like it

i feel like i ended this fic a bit quickly, but i think that can mostly be chalked up to sleep deprivation.

anyways, hope this quenched ur mike faist thirst for the moment, but i have more ideas that i want to write about asap.. so there’s definitely some more hot stuff coming soon hehe

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pariahsparadise · 2 years

Text

green-eyed beauty | r. l.

nav. | m.list

requests: hi can you plz write a fic about riff being jealous bc he finds out reader had a tiny crush on tony before him?? thanks + Hiiii!! I loved your Riff x reader story and I was just wondering if you could write another one pleaseeeeee <3

word count: 0.5k

a/n: this took me forever to write and i am SO SORRY. it's also not as long as i'd like it to be, but thank you for the requests anyways! i combined them both, hopefully it's good enough?? i'm so sorry lol. also, you didn't specify the readers gender, so i made them gender neutral. hope that's fine!

pairings: riff lorton x gn!reader

warnings: kissing i guess, mostly fluff

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not, I swear!” You laughed, a little because you were tipsy, but mostly at the incredulous look on Riff’s face.

“Tony?” His eyebrows alternated between shooting high and furrowing, unable to process the fact that you, his partner, used to have a crush on his best mate. “What? Why? When?”

“Uh, I think it was when he used to work at Doc’s? I had popped in just to buy some medicine, but what can I say? Have you seen that man’s smile?” You rambled, oblivious to the deepening scowl on Riff’s face.

“And that hair, he could be starring in freaking shampoo commercials with those locks. Not to mention,” you went on, well past drunk now, “His face looks like it’s been sculpted by the gods.”

“Right,” Riff said sourly, causing your head to snap towards him at the change in his tone, but you were still unable to place the emotion on his face- was it anger? Jealousy? Deciding to find out, you put your drink down on a table to the side of the couch, scooting over closer to him and squinting your eyes to scrutinise his expression.

He simply scoffed, taking your actions as a way of making a move on him, and turned his head away, tilting his chin up to take a large swallow of his drink. Definitely jealous, you thought to yourself, noticing the way his jaw had tightened over the course of your conversation, the way his hand tightened on the cool glass bottle, God, you’re hot when you’re jealous. You realised too late that you had vocalised your last thought out loud.

Riff sputtered on his swallow, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, turning to look at you with wide eyes, “I’m not jealous!”

You just giggled at his blatant lie, leaning up slightly to place a series of gentle kisses on his tense jaw, loving the way he immediately relaxed to your touch, the goosebumps you could feel forming against your cheeks as you peppered fluttery kisses on his skin. “Sure you aren’t, Lorton,” you said, words muffled into his body.

“I’m not,” he said, but with a lot less conviction as he sighed, leaning in closer to you. You pulled away from your soft assault on his skin, your hands coming up to gently sweep across his exposed collarbone, finding their way to the hair on the nape of his neck, turning him so he could meet your eyes again.

“Well,” you said slowly, “In that case, wanna know what I thought Tony’s best feature was?”

His shoulders slumped visibly and his eyes looked defeated, but he nodded yes anyways. “Go on.”

He let out a sharp gasp as you suddenly swung one of your legs over his thighs, straddling him, your hands moving to grab the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer to you.

“His best friend,” you whispered, closing the distance between you.

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mike--faist · 2 months

Note

can we have more riff headcanons? maybe some spicy/smutty ones too?

I was worried this wasn't smutty enough for the smut club but I gave all that I could with an impending migraine but if you would like a part 2, let me know, or even a headcanon for for another character Part 1 | Part 2

The first time the two of you were ever intimate was after your third date.

You had told yourself that he was only going to walk you home, that he wasn’t coming inside, but somehow, someway, you found yourself entangled with him in your bed.

It must have had something to do with his lips sucking on our neck, and how you could feel his cock pressing into your leg through his jeans.

He just has this alluring semblance about him that you cannot resist.

And boy, did he find you just as compelling. From the moment the two of you met, you were the only thing he could find himself thinking about.

And he loved to think about you, especially when he was alone, with is hand wrapped around his cock—

When he cums, he has to be holding you. When he’s taking you from behind, he pulls you up so your back is flush with his. When he’s on top, he nearly collapses so he’s lying right against you, his face buried in your neck.

You’re obsessed with the sounds he makes.

Mostly soft moans, where he’s biting his lip to keep quiet. The only time he’s ever worried about the noises is if he knows some of the boys might be meandering around the apartment. Though a part of him enjoys the idea of them hearing how good he makes you feel.

Riff has a voyeurism kink.

Which explains why he seemed content with fucking you in front of the boys at that abandoned warehouse party.

There have been possible talks about a threesome with Ice, but Riff knows his jealousy will get in the way.

But he also can’t get the thought of you taking it from someone else while you suck his cock out of his pretty little head.

One night, you, Riff, Rhonda and Action went to the drive-in, and by the end of the night, all four of you found yourselves in the backseat, straddling your boyfriends, riding them into oblivion.

Riff’s favorite place is between your legs. It’s the perfect way to start the day if he’s being honest.

He loves to fuck you, but he also loves to be fucked.

The moment you take control, it’s all over for him. He will do whatever you say.

You once gave him a blowjob behind the bleachers at the dance.

The Jets have nicknamed you both “the rabbits”.

You fucked on your rooftop on multiple occasions.

Riff is a softy when he wants to be. On your one-year anniversary, he kicked all of the boys out of his apartment so he could have you over, and happily fuck you wherever you pleased.

But, that boy does love to make love to you. He swears he cums the hardest that way.

He loves to have you close, even when you’re riding him. He has to be touching you in some way.

#mike faist #riff west side story #riff x reader #mike faist imagine #riff smut #west side story 2021

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xriff-raffx · 2 years

Text

When We're Alone

A/N: 18+ Smut based on request

"Riff smut plz!!! (Maybe the reader being one of the Jets little sister)"

Masterlist

I arrived at my building and immediately recognized the sound of The Jets. As I climbed the stairs to my apartment, their hollering became louder and I groaned in frustration. Diesel told me he was working at the auto shop late tonight, why are they here? I open the door, slowly looking around, my eyes land on a small group of rowdy boys standing around my kitchen table. When I walk closer, silence fills the room as they turn to stare at me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask pointedly, looking from one to the other before looking at Riff, their leader. He’s sitting at the table, casually with his legs propped on the chair next to him and a tooth pick in his mouth.

“We’re waitin’ on yer brother, girly,” He leans back further into the chair.

“Well, you’ll be waitin’ a while,” I say walking past them to the fridge, pulling out a jug of lemonade and pouring myself a glass. “He’s workin’ late,” I turn back to face the group, “There’s really no point in you all hangin’ round.” I mumbled the last part, hoping not to anger them.

Mouthpiece lets out a loud groan, “Yer kiddin.” He turns his attention to Riff, “Can we go now?” he sounded like a whining child.

“Yeah,” A-Rab shouted, “She said he’ll be late.” The boys started to get worked up again, all shouting over each other. I attempted to get them to quiet down, but of course, they ignored me. Until Riff stood up, silencing them all.

“Alright,” he spoke slowly, taking the toothpick out of his mouth. I watched as he locked eyes with Ice briefly before giving a nod. “Roll out, boys.”

I watched as they began to file out the door, running down the stairs, the yells starting to become distant. All of them, except Riff. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw he had returned to his earlier position at the table. A lump grew in my throat, as I felt his stare.

“Mind if I wait here?” His voice was much softer than when I had heard him speak earlier. Not knowing what to say, I nodded back quickly returning to my lemonade. “Sorry about them,” he gestured towards the door.

“It’s fine,” I sigh out, “I’m kind of used to it by now.” I rolled my eyes and he smiled back. He had a beautiful smile that lit up his face, he looked like he wouldn’t hurt a fly when he smiled but I know better than that. I realised I was staring and quickly shook myself out of the trance. I watched his smile turn into his signature smirk, as he stood up from the table slowly.

“When did Diesel say he’d be home?”

“He didn’t,” I croaked out. My eyes went big at the sound of my voice, I had really hoped I wouldn’t sound nervous. I coughed, pretending to clear my throat. “Just that it’ll be late.” I stood up a little straighter, trying to recover from my little hiccup.

“I see,” Riff slowly began to walk towards me. “So it’s just you and me tonight,” he spoke lowly and I felt his hand lightly brush against my waist before resting on my hip. “Hows about we have a little fun?” He looked down at me, mischief reflecting in his eyes and I watched as he lowered his gaze on my body.

I was used to this side of Riff, whenever we were alone he couldn’t keep his hands off me. Not that I mind at all, he’s gorgeous. We always had to be careful though, Diesel would kill me if he knew I was foolin’ around with one of the Jets, not to mention the leader. I looked Riff up and down, returning his smirk before turning away and walking towards my bedroom. He quickly followed me, closing the bedroom door behind himself.

“I don’t know how long we have,” I said while slowly unbuttoning the shirt I had on. He nods at my words, but he’s too distracted by my body.

“Better get started then girly girl,” he replies smugly. I take off my top, revealing a red bra and Riff groans to himself before closing the space between us. “You sure you weren’t expectin’ someone? You’re lookin’ real sexy.”

“This is nothin’,” I say gesturing to my bra, doing my best not to blush. “Besides The Jets always come on Fridays and yo-,” I realize what I said and freeze, stopping mid-sentence.

“Oh really?” Riff wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me in even closer. He clearly caught what I said. “You mean to say, you get all dolled up for me?” His lips were on my neck in seconds, kissing and sucking lightly. I moaned quietly at the contact and I felt him smirk against my neck. “Jump,” he mumbled, as he moved his hands to my thighs. I did as he said and he caught me, wrapping my legs around his torso.

His lips now crashed onto my own in a wave of passion. I felt him walking me over to the bed before dropping me on it. His eyes, now dark and filled with lust, racked over my body. I felt his hands grip my skirt and rip it off in a matter of seconds, my panties were gone next. I propped myself up so I could see him better, his muscles glistened from sweat with each movement. I smirked to myself as I watched him frantically remove his clothes. His hands returned to my body, slowly making their way up my legs, I knew Riff was doing it on purpose.

“Riff,” I moaned, “stop teasing.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He asked, in a playful manner. I watched as he slowly lowered his face to my pussy, maintaining eye contact with me.

I gasped as I felt his mouth leave kisses around my folds. His tongue moved expertly on my clit, rubbing small circles and earning a moan from me. A shiver ran through my body, feeling him suddenly blow onto the sensitive area. My hands grabbed his hair and he let out a grunt, burrowing his face into my pussy deeper. My legs began to shake as I got closer to my climax, I couldn’t help but moan out in pleasure.

“I’m so close, Riff,” I moan out and I feel him stop abruptly, pulling himself up to a standing position. I sat up, watching his every movement, mesmerized by his beauty.

“Not yet,” he said sternly, yanking off his boxers. His cock was already hard and looking at it made my mouth water. I instinctively licked my lips, looking up at him, waiting for approval. His smirk reappeared, “ya wanna suck me doll?” I nodded back in response. “How about ya suck me and then I pound that pretty little pussy?”

“Yes please,” I moan back in response. I grab his member by the base and slowly insert him into my mouth. He lets out a quiet moan as I take in his length, putting his hands in my hair. I feel him start to push my head further into his cock, making me gag slightly, the feeling making me wet. I let out a moan on his dick and I feel his grip on me tighten.

“Just like that,” He moaned, “be a little slut for me.” I moaned again at his words and hollowed out my mouth, starting to deep throat him faster. I moved my hand to his balls, massaging him lightly, earning another moan from Riff.

“That’s enough,” he practically growled and pulled me off of him, pushing me back onto the bed. He lined his cock up with my opening, thrusting deep into my pussy. I moaned as he quickened his pace, digging my nails into his back. My moans turned into screams moments later and I did my best to match his movements.

I could feel my orgasm nearing, and I threw my head back in pleasure, Riff’s name spilling from my mouth. I wrapped my legs around him tighter, pulling him impossibly closer to me. He leaned in, connecting our lips again sloppily. I bucked my hips into him, and he moaned into my mouth before lightly biting my lip. I came hard on his cock, a small scream of pleasure escaping my mouth. Quickening his pace, Riff quickly filled me with his cum before pulling out.

We stayed in bed for a moment before the sound of the door made us both jolt up. I started to fix myself, making it look like I was sleeping. Riff scrambled to his feet, putting his clothes on in record time before heading over to the window. He looked at me then back and the window, pausing briefly. Within seconds he was right in front of me, placing one last kiss hungrily on my lips and then dashing right back over. He sent me one last glance, giving me a wink then slipped down the fire escape.

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