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zweiginator · 3 months

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thinking about Stanford era art begging you for pussy <3 you insist that you don’t fuck athletes anymore, but he has his sights set on you and he just needs you so so bad :((( he’s willing to get on his knees and prove how badly he wants it :( just down soooo bad for you <3

wait how have i not seen this until now.....im sorry i got so carried away with this and its so long

art feels like he sees you everywhere. you work at his favorite coffee shop; it's the little cafe right off campus that he walks by on his way to the tennis courts every day before class. he sees you at the library and at the grocery store. he sees you at little gatherings: tiny house parties and bonfires and everywhere.

he asks people what your name is, who you are, if they know you at all. and people just shrug. say they've seen you around but they don't know you particularly well.

and he asks these questions to these random peers of his because he thinks he's in love with you. his obsession has festered since you wrote his name on his coffee cup back in august. it was the third day of the semester and there you were in low rise jeans and a simple white t-shirt, your hair pulled back. your lips were the color of bitten cherries and you smiled at him. said 'cold brew for art!' in the most saccharine, syrupy voice he had ever heard.

he already thought he loved you then. and then he kept seeing you. and seeing you. and then seeing you again. you definitely didn't remember him. thousands of customers a day near a vast college campus made art's face fade into a sea of other students with cold brew orders and milk substitutions and impatient sighs.

his thoughts were pure, for the most part. he really yearned of buying you roses. the look you'd have on your face when he handed you the full dozen. giddy as you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. and there your cherry cola lipstick would stain. a mark of your territory. he wanted to fucking be yours.

his thoughts were pure until it was early september and it was still hot outside. oppressive, hellish heat made practice unbearable. art remembered seeing signage indicating that stanford had a pool open for students to swim for free. so he followed them and there he was in his socks and sandals with a towel slung over his arm as he searched for a chair.

and when he peered over his sunglasses, there you were in a gingham bikini, baby pink. reading a book. the oils in your sunscreen melded with your sweat and made your legs glisten, a blinding beacon that almost reflected light like a mirror. looking at your legs only guided him to ogling your torso, the expanse of your neck, that too glistening with perspiration. and then he saw your tits and the curve of your ass and every thought he had about dates and dinner and roses was pushed aside.

'fuck' art almost whimpered it. he turned around because swimming at a public pool with his peers sporting a boner would be social torment. so he left.

and for months, art continued with his rituals. seeing you around, he would smile or nod, but he would never formally introduce himself. would never say hello.

even wearing sweaters and loose jeans art found you fucking irresistible. he imagined how your tits were bouncing as you walked to class. how they would look with you on top of him. it all spiraled until he inevitably ended up fucking his fist, his jaw tensed as his mouth fell open and he went to moan your name--just to realize he didn't know it.

now it's halloween, and art shows up to the tennis team's costume party. he doesn't want to be there. in fact, he's dressed up as himself--a lonely stanford tennis player. racket and everything.

art sits on the couch and twirls his racket on the floor, watching it spin. and then, he hears your voice. a trickle of laughter that makes him stand up to find you. and when he does his knees almost buckle.

you're a black cat, with ears glued to a headband and a tight black tank top. a tiny, tiny black skirt and fishnets and heels to match. your nose is painted pink, cheeks adorned with faux whiskers from your liquid eyeliner.

art interrupts your friends completely.

"i'm art." he holds his hand out, awkwardly as he stands in front of you. he's tall and obscures your view of your friend group.

you grab his hand quizzically and introduce yourself and art is beaming. he has your name.

and then you say five words that send an electric shock through his arm, right to his heart.

"sorry, i have a boyfriend." you nod your head to the boy behind art, who looks like he wants to tear his head off with his teeth. he's a football player, it's obvious by his build. he looks huge next to art, although art is taller.

art says meekly, "well it was great to meet you." smiles at you and walks away. he doesn't know what to do with himself. he leaves, dejected.

___

and if art thought he saw you a lot before that party, then the world is pulling pranks on him because now he can't escape you. and the boyfriend he had never seen before seems to always make a guest appearance.

but you notice art a little more too. he's polite and charming, a tad awkward in an endearing way. his arms look strong when he comes into the coffee shop, tennis bag on his back.

when he comes up to the counter, you look at him through your lashes.

"cold brew, art?"

he nods. flushes a shade of scarlet you've never seen before. you've never had this power over a man.

"can i have your number?" art asks, pointing to his cup. you're still holding the sharpie you wrote his name with. you tug your lip between your teeth.

"i told you not even a week ago i have a boyfriend." you lean forward and art looks at your tits unabashedly. he's a little more confident now as he leans forward too.

"can we not be friends?"

you cap the sharpie. "we both know that's not what you want." a pause. "he and i broke up after the party."

art's ears almost visibly perk up. a hope is sparked. was it for him?

"but trust me." you point to art's tennis bag, the words on his t-shirt. "after that douche, i'm never fucking an athlete again."

art bites the inside of his cheek. he nods and grabs a straw from the counter.

"well i'll let you get back to work. it was nice seeing you again." art flashes you a smile. it's contrived and laced with the pang of rejection, but he smiles.

always so cordial.

art takes everything as a challenge. tennis has always been his outlet; it's the one thing that fuels his fire. but now he has you and there's not even anyone in particular to fight against but he wants you. he needs you and he has to make you change your mind.

he sees you around less frequently now; he figures it's due to the changing weather. he asks you for your number a few more times when he sees you at the cafe; his order has changed from cold brew to cappuccino and you always draw a smiley face on his cup. but the last time it was a heart and art is going crazy for you.

maybe it's because he hasn't had sex since summer because he doesn't even want to if it's not you. maybe it's because tennis has slowed down and it's cold outside. but he's losing hope because you've rejected him five times now and it's just getting pathetic.

and then, at a christmas party, he sees you again. in red tights and knee high boots with thigh high socks and a sweater dress. he sees you talking to a boy with mousy brown hair and art wants to fucking strangle him. he walks up to you.

"cute outfit." art says, pointing at you with his beer bottle.

he's wearing jeans and a cream colored sweater. his hair is messy, lips pink from the bitter wind outside. you admit he's cute. you've never denied that. but it's fun to watch him vie for you.

"thank you. yours isn't so bad yourself."

the boy walks away. so he isn't your new boyfriend. art counts that as a win. and he follows you around like a puppy all night. he asks if you need a drink. it feels like before you get a word out, there he is with a new one and he never opens it because he wouldn't want you to ever be uncomfortable.

and usually you would be uncomfortable getting undying attention like this. art's being a little pathetic, but as your friend told you at the halloween party after he walked off:

"fuck, he's hot."

and hours later, art is still there. it's getting late and people trickle out but there he is on the couch. and maybe you're bored. so you sit right next to him. the smoothness of your tights rubs against art's leg as you settle into the couch. his eyes widen.

"why won't you leave me alone?" you ask. it sounds harsher than you mean it.

"i-i'm sorry. i can leave you alone if you want." art has this little frown on his face. but he knows you would've told him to fuck off months ago if that's how you really felt.

you turn towards him and furrow your brows, taking a swig of your beer. "i never said that, artie. i'm just asking why."

you swear art whimpers at the nickname you give him.

"because you're gorgeous." he says, plain and simple. the sky is blue, water is wet, and you're gorgeous.

it makes you melt a little. you don't show it.

"so you don't want to fuck me?"

art chokes on his own beer a little. he notices how everyone is down the hallway, chatting in the kitchen. their voices sound shallow and far away.

art thinks for a minute. he was raised to be a gentleman. to be sweet and kind and patient. but he thinks he's tried that already. so he goes for a more blunt approach.

art sets his beer down and leans in close to you. closer than he has ever been.

"if i'm being completely honest," he swallows. "i'd do anything for your pussy."

his vulgarity almost makes you jump. gives you butterflies too.

your voice is shaky and you are hyperaware of the feeling of his leg against yours. you never noticed his eyes are different colors.

"i told you, i don't fuck athletes anymore."

art draws in a breath. "who said you have to fuck me?"

his eyes are boring into you. pupils blown, a battle line of sweat has appeared over his brows. his jaw is square and tense and he rolls the sleeves of his sweater up.

"i'll do anything for your pussy, i said." he licks his lips. you swear you see him salivating and your legs seem to open without you even realizing it.

art can see your panties. white with a bow on top and he looks away because he was raised better than this. his eyes flit down again and there it is, the jackpot. the fucking powerball. a wet spot. he can even see it through your tights.

"anything? that could be anything." you say. you look around and nobody is there but the room is open concept, new laughter erupts every few seconds. the front door is unlocked.

"exactly." art gets on his knees in front of the couch. he pushes the coffee table further away and it looks like he's about to kiss the floor. he kisses your ankle instead. "i think i've been a good boy."

you want to push him around you want to pull his hair and call him names, god he's making it so easy.

"if you'd do anything, then come here." you pull him by the collar of his sweater and your mouths are millimeters apart. art doesn't know what you mean, what you're about to do.

you slap him across the face. it leaves a mark and the chatter in the other room stops for a second. or two.

a part of you, in the interim, expects art to get up and walk away. to call you crazy. but he smiles, big and toothy. his bottom lip brushes against yours and he mewls,

"do it again, please."

you slam your lips into his and he holds himself up with one arm. his free hand cradles your face and you grab it and slap his own hand across his cheek. art moans into your mouth. ruts against you. it's involuntary, but you feel his cock, hard and heavy through his jeans. but you said you wouldn't fuck him.

the desperation in his kisses makes you almost feel bad. like he's afraid you'll run away. but the way his lips latch onto yours and his tongue licks into your mouth makes you want him too. you pull his hair and wrap your hand around his throat and he pushes your fingers further in. he wants you to make it hurt so he can fucking remember it and see the proof. so you do and he chokes for air, his mouth falling open. you spit in it. he'll take anything you'll give him. he wasn't kidding.

he runs his hands down your body. takes his time with you and you watch to make sure nobody is coming. art doesn't care. he plays with your tits and hikes your dress up but you won't moan for him. he'll make you.

he tears your tights. throws your legs over his shoulders and presses a chaste kiss to your clothed cunt. your hips buck and he holds them down, throwing his forearm over your stomach.

"what if--" you worry.

he looks up at you through his lashes. you can barely see his irises; his cheeks have your handprint tatooed on them.

"i don't care." he pushes your panties to the side.

"fuck."

his dream has come true.

he runs his fingers through your folds and you're soaked for him, sticky and messy and it coats his fingers as he rubs your clit in slow circles.

you hold your moans back, still.

"prettiest pussy i've ever seen." his eyes are almost crossed, the way he's looking at your little cunt, fluttering for him. his mouth is hung open and his lips are so close to your hole, but he just plays with you. spreads you open and admires your swollen little clit as he pushes it around with his thumb.

his fingers are long and you watch him push his middle one into you, all the way to the last knuckle. you grip onto the couch and gasp and he pushes his ring finger in too. he fucks them into you and your eyes are closed and you swear you hear people about to come in--but you moan for him.

"art--artie, please. oh fuck please--"

you're loud. that was too loud, but art nods, knelt before you like you're his fucking princess. you are.

"want me to eat your pussy right here?" he asks it almost sweetly. his fingers fuck into you faster, curling as he works your clit too.

"god--yes, i'll do anything please artie--"

he spits on your pussy. it's probably mixed with your spit too. licks a thick stripe over your lips and spreads you open to flick the strong tip of his tongue over your clit. he moans more than you are; the vibrations send shockwaves of pleasure up your spine and you're yanking on his hair so hard you think it might come out. he kisses your pussy like it's your mouth. it's an extension of it, to him. fucks his tongue into your pretty little hole and he feels it flutter around him. drool drips down his chin. his stubble is rubbing the backs of your thighs raw and he pushes them back. holds the backs of your legs so your ankles dangle and he can spread your pussy himself with his tongue. he can see how you convulse for him. you moan art's name over and over and he never liked his name all that much but right now he loves it because it's tumbling out of your mouth in gasps and whimpers and your legs are shaking under his grasp.

you watch the veins in his hands and arms tremble as he spits on your clit again. the second he makes eye contact with you, he smiles. you hear people coming, and then you're cumming and art isn't letting off even though the hallway isn't that long.

but he pulls your dress down at the last second and purposely spills his beer off the wooden coffee table.

"everything alright out here?" someone asks from the group.

art feigns surprise. "yeah, fuck. spilled my beer. he turns around and it's all over his pants. he wipes your arousal from his face with the sleeve of his sweater.

you stifle a giggle, because there isn't beer on his pants.

#ask #challengers #challengers smut #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader smut

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munivrse · 3 months

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cw: perv!sunghoon. sunghoon does your laundry so: panty sniffing.. and licking, possessiveness, exhibitionism, praise, overstim, hands free orgasm again (?), dry humping but solo (???), sunghoon creams his pants twice lmfaoooo what a loser.

a/n: nastiest thing i've ever written so if it isn't for you, i get it 😭

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

sunghoon knows its wrong. he knows its gross, a little fucked up but he can't help it. especially not when you ask him to wash your laundry with his to save on some money.

he couldnt help but dig through your pile, searching desperately for it and- oh! he's found it.

a worn pair of your panties. they're different than he imagined. he's spent hours thinking about it before. he thought they'd be plain, no lace, no pattern. multiple pairs but not alot of difference in color. mainly ones that match your skin tone. you wear alot of light clothing and he sees nothing when his eyes scan your body, spending more time on your ass than anything else. he knows that you dont wear low rise anything so they must be high cut? maybe hipsters? he's sure its nothing out of vanilla for you.

so why would you own a pair of white, bikini shaped, lace trim panties? this soils the picture he had of you in his head. all of his research- all of this knowledge he had of you.

he inspects the garment in his hand. this can't be yours right? sunghoon brings the thin, thin piece of clothing to his nose. it's definitely yours. he can smell the faint scent of your body wash on them.

now he's upset; nearly distraught. why would you own a pair of panties like this? who would you need to impress-

were you fucking other men? were you- sunghoons stomach drops- were you letting them taint you? a different, even more devastating thought springs forward and sunghoon is nauseous. are you not a virgin?

the sadness fades and is replaced by wild, unadulterated anger. his fist closes around the flimsy cloth. god hes upset, frustrated nearly to tears but never at you. never at you. you could never do wrong, his perfect angel. his pretty princess would never do wrong. he knows this, but he's got to take action. do something to solve this issue, make you clean again.

sunghoon brings the panties up to his nose and lets out a whimper at the scent, its tangy but theres a hint of sweetness. fuck, he's hard now. he palms the outline of his cock through his sweats; you smell so good. he knew it, knew that you'd smell good. he tracks what you eat, when you eat it, how you eat it. he makes sure to prepare good, balanced meals for you. he buys you all of your multi-vitamins, tracks the amount of water you drink to make sure you're never dehydrated. he knew you'd smell good, he made it that way.

he feels his cock leak into his underwear. he knows its wrong, knows its fucked up and dirty, but he does it anyway. his tongue pokes out to lick the center of your panties- oh. oh. his eyes roll to the back of his head. it tastes- no, no. you taste good. he feels precum dribble out of his cock and now he feels his underwear get a little damp.

he presses his palm harder against his crotch and takes another, more confident lick at the spot where your pretty pussy would've laid and now he's whining and humping into his hand like a fucking dog. he stumbles at the sensation and catches himself on a washer and he's reminded that this is a public laundromat on campus. a more secluded one, but public nonetheless. the thought of someone catching him makes his head spin.

everyone knew you were roommates. you were so, so popular amongst your peers. so sweet and kind, a smile that lights up a room, an infectious, contagious giggle. and sunghoon, who was so, so handsome but as much as he was handsome, he was shy. didn't talk much to anyone. except for you. he'd stroll with you as you bounced next to him, talking about your day as you both walked back to your dorm.

what better way to claim you than for someone to walk in and see him fucking himself and holding your panties up to his face. the thought turns him on so much that he squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a strangled moan.

god he needs it. he needs to fuck you in front of the whole campus. all of those men that violated your princess parts- he needs them to watch as he stuffs his girthy length into your pussy. he wants them to watch as he stretches you out. he's sure you'd struggle against him as what he had in girth he also had in length, but he knows you'd like it. he knows you'd love being filled up by him. by him.

he's so fucking mad. how could they? he slams the fist holding your panties on the washer as he continues to fuck and grind into his hand.

fuck those men that defiled you. fuck them for touching you that way, putting their filthy hands on your precious body. he'd fix that. cleanse you. cum all over your pretty frame, cover you in it. your face, your tits, cum on and in your tight little cunt. he prays you'd let him fuck your ass too so he could fill that up as well- shit.

he feels it coming. he feels the onslaught of pleasure start to pour into his body. he wants to hold off- wants to hold his cum until he can spill it inside of you but he cant. he's gonna cream his pants like hes a teenager again.

he laps at your panties again and he cant wait to taste your pussy. he can't wait until he can eat you out for hours, have you cum on his tongue over and over and- oh-

his eyes squeeze shut again and he bites his lip to try and conceal his moans. he can't tell if its working though, his ears are ringing and the only thing he can think of is roughly humping his hand to get off.

he whines and whines and whines as he feels himself let go, ropes of cum seeping through his underwear. its spurt after spurt and now his hand is wet and its starting to stain his sweats but he cant stop. his cock has a mind of its own, twitching and jumping and fuck- he's so sensitive.

he stops cumming, stops shooting his load into his underwear. he whimpers and removes his hand from his pants but his hips are still stuttering against nothing.

god he wants to feel it. he wants to know how it'll feel when he slides his cock into your warm, tight, wet cunt. he wants to feel his balls slap against your ass from how hard he's fucking you. he wants to feel your pussy gush around him, cover his cock and balls in your juices. he hopes he can make you squirt so you can drench him in you and- no. no no no-

sunghoons knees knock together as he feels himself cum in his pants again and he might actually pass out this time. its dry, nothings coming out but he feels euphoric. his hips fuck into the air and its so fucking gross, he feels so gross and so dirty but its only for you. only for his pretty princess.

#enhypen #enhypen smut #sunghoon enha #sunghoon enhypen #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon #sunghoon x reader

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