I Can’t Stop Thinking About Forced Feminization With Art. He’s So Pretty I Can’t Take It. Like….

sub!art taking strap and begging the reader to cum in him

summary: art begging for that strap.

pairing: ftm!art donaldson x afab!girlfriend.

cw: +18. mdni. 1.3k words. submissive art. praising. begging. strap in v (art receiving). fake fluids. disgusting dirty-talking. drooling. oral sex (art receing).

taglist .ᐟ @blastzachilles @lvve-talks @jordiemeow @strfallz @222col @soulxinxthexsky @diyasgarden @jinxedbambi @lexiiscorect @religionlost @bluestrd @jclolz22 @magicalmiserybore @destinedtobegigi @fwaist @idyllicdaydreams @sohighitscool

The sound of rain against the window filled the room, soft and rhythmic, blurring the city outside into streaks of gold and grey. You were curled up on the couch, a throw blanket tucked over your lap, a half-finished movie playing low on the TV. Art sat beside you, long legs tucked under himself, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, like he wasn’t sure how much space he was allowed to take up—even here. Even with you.

He always got like this after a match—withdrawn, tightly wound. His body ached, and not from the training. From the pressure. From everything unspoken.

You nudged him gently with your knee. “You good, baby?”

Art turned his head toward you, the softest smile tugging at his lips. His eyes lingered on your face for a moment too long, and then drifted down—neck, chest, lap—before he caught himself and looked away, ears turning pink.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just… tired.”

But the way he said it wasn’t really tired. It was restless.

You reached over and combed your fingers through the dark strands falling over his forehead. “Want me to help you wind down?”

His breath hitched just a little. He nodded, once.

The first twenty minutes were nothing more than touch. You moved to straddle his lap, lips brushing his jaw, your hands roaming under his hoodie—slow, reverent. You kissed the column of his throat until he sighed into you, until his hips shifted beneath yours, until his fingers bunched in the hem of your shirt like he needed to anchor himself somewhere.

“Fuck,” Art whispered, head tilting back. “You always touch me like you’re afraid I’ll break.”

“I just like taking my time with you,” you murmured against his skin. “You’re worth it.”

That made him shiver.

By the time you peeled his hoodie off, he was already flushed. You worked him out of his sweatpants next, mouthing along his stomach as you slid them down. He let you, pliant and quiet and trembling just a little. His briefs were dark with arousal, a wet spot already blooming through the front.

“God, look at you,” you said, brushing your fingers over it. “You’re dripping.”

He whined. Actually whined.

You tugged his briefs down slow, inch by inch, revealing the slick shine between his thighs, the soft curve of his hips. His cunt was swollen, flushed, begging for attention. And when you kissed the inside of his knee and looked up at him, his mouth was parted, a thread of saliva already gathering at the corner.

“Baby,” you breathed, settling between his legs. “You need it, don’t you?”

Art nodded fast, biting his lip. “I need your mouth,” he mumbled. “Please. Just—don’t make me wait.”

You didn’t.

Your tongue dragged through his folds, slow and flat, savoring the taste of him. He gasped and curled inward, one arm over his mouth, trying to muffle the broken sounds that spilled from him. His hips bucked when you sucked his clit into your mouth, and when you kept going—lapping him open, tongue fucking him until his thighs shook—he moaned so loud you could feel it echo in your core.

“Don’t hide from me,” you whispered, pulling back just long enough to say it. “Let me hear how much you love this.”

Art whined again, hand curling in your hair. “Feels so good,” he choked out. “Your mouth—fuck, I can’t—” You gave him one more deep lick, then pulled away. His whole body trembled when the air hit him.

“Don’t worry,” you said, rising to your knees. “You’re gonna get more than my mouth tonight.”

His eyes fluttered open, and when he saw what you were doing—reaching into your drawer for the harness, lube, and the soft pink silicone cock he liked best—the special one, his pupils blew wide.

You strapped it on slow, letting him watch, letting him see the way it jutted from you, slick with lube before you even got close. Art reached between his legs and touched himself, fingers dipping back into his slit, gathering the slick you’d left behind.

“I want it,” he said, voice raw. “Want you.”

You grabbed a pillow and slid it under his hips, guiding him to lie back against the couch. His legs spread willingly, shamelessly, cunt glistening and twitching as you moved between them.

“You sure?” you asked, rubbing the tip of the strap through his folds, coating it in his slick. “I want you begging for it.”

“I am begging,” he groaned, arching. “Please—just fuck me. Fill me up. I want you to cum in me.”

That made your stomach flip.

You pushed in slowly, the head of the strap breaching him with a thick, wet sound. Art gasped, hands clutching the couch cushions, every muscle going tight as the fake cock stretched him open.

“That’s it,” you murmured. “Take it, baby. You look so good like this.”

Art whined through his teeth, breath ragged. “So full already—fuck—feels so fucking good.”

You bottomed out and leaned over him, pressing kisses to his flushed face, his damp hairline. “You’re doing so well. Look at you—so pretty when you’re stuffed full.”

His hips jerked. He loved being called pretty. Loved hearing how good he was.

You started thrusting, slow at first, just enough to make him squirm. Every inch you pulled out left him gasping; every push back in had him drooling, lips parting in a wet, blissed-out moan.

“God, yes,” he babbled, head tossing back. “More, please—I can take it—”

You gave it to him. Deep and hard, until your hips smacked against his ass, until his thighs trembled and his cunt made obscene squelching sounds every time you drove into him. You leaned over him again, catching his mouth in a kiss, and were met with spit-slicked desperation. He kissed like he couldn’t breathe without it, mouth open and tongue needy, drool trailing down his chin.

“You’re drooling for it, baby,” you growled, fucking him harder. “You want me to cum in you that bad?”

Art let out a broken, shattered moan.

“Yes, fuck—please, please—I want it in me, I want you to fill me up, I need it—”

“Gonna pump you full,” you rasped, one hand gripping his hip, the other coming down to rub his clit in messy, frantic circles. “Gonna make a mess in you, baby.”

Art was gone. His eyes rolled back, hands clutching your wrist, hips slamming up to meet your thrusts. His whole body was trembling, slick gushing from him in waves as the toy plunged deep inside over and over again.

And then—you pressed deep, grinding your hips, moaning his name like a prayer. “Cum in me,” he begged again. “Please—please, just do it—I want to feel it, want to be full of you, I—”

You gasped as the fake cum released inside him, thick and warm, the fluid filling the toy's reservoir and spurting into him in slow pulses. Art cried out, back arching, body locking up as the sensation tipped him over the edge.

He came hard, cunt spasming around the strap, hips jerking helplessly as he sobbed your name into your mouth. His thighs were soaked. His chest heaved. And when you pulled out, slow and careful, the fake cum dripped from his stretched hole, glistening down his ass and thighs in sticky white rivulets.

You kissed his stomach. His chest. His open mouth.

“You did so good,” you whispered, wiping the drool from his chin with your thumb. “So perfect for me.”

Art blinked up at you, dazed and blissed out. “Love you,” he mumbled.

“I love you too.”

You curled up beside him on the couch, pulling the blanket over you both, and kissed his temple while the rain kept falling outside.

hello stranger in the void??

how do people make friends on here, i feel so isolated.. hi everyone! hello! talking into the void here

Just watched the Thunderbolts... and in Jesus's name I rebuk it.

Several red flags: ( spoiler below or whatever)

During her hearing, Valentina said that the situation with the Red Hulk was a proof that there was "No reliable heroes anymore "

When Bob asked about his hair being dyed blond she said "it's more traditional, speaks to all Americans "

The two previous points merge in what I can only describe as THE BIGGEST MICROAGGRESSION I've ever seen. Because they just called him unfit for the mental of Captain America, and something about how being white and having blond hair is what America needs.

The way they handled the subject of mental healness was not it. Just very surface level and VERY WHITE CENTRIC.

Lastly, Bucky Barnes and his uneven bob that became a sad blowout is not welcomed on my blog until Doomsday clarifies the situation because as of now your case looks bad. Really bad. Whatever Sam said you deserved it because not seeing how having a all white Avager team (Ava is very passing to me) that is SUPPORTED BY THE GOVERNMENT is armful to him. And literally ties to what Sam said at the end of BNW and to constantly having to prove that they (POC) are fit to do the job.

I've never rumbled so much on any platform before, but here we are.

can all five other mcu Joaquin Torres fans stand up, I want to get a headcount of us all

service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter service top james potter

missing van so much i think maybe i'll destroy the world or something

the juxtaposition of art and pat. fire and ice. pat taking what he wants, art being too timid. pat ruining things, art locking them down. art being full of guilt and shame for so much as eating a cookie, while pat could jerk off into art's girlfriend's panties and then use art's favourite boxers as a cumrag without feeling an ounce of shame.

pat jerking into art's gf's panties is soooo funny to me help. just picturing his gf freaking out and art has to take the blame while patrick just smiles to himself in the corner

but yeah i think that's why they were so tightknit growing up. patrick needing art to hold him back, art needing patrick to push him forward. very much balanced out each other, flaws and all. i know a lot of people think that their friendship wouldn't have lasted even if they had never met tashi bc of art's insecurity + whatnot but they're 4lifers to me :((

maybe i'm coping...

if i made moodboards for all the characters i make up and make pinterest boards of would the two followers i have eat that up or...

mlm Patrick and wlw Reader fake dating to make Art & Tashi jealous

🧁🍭🍫🍩🍰 *bribes you*

do we like?? do we want a part 2??😅😅😅

CODE GREEN!! RIFF JUST MENTIONED THE WORDS PWOOSAY ON THE BOT!! HERE YE, THE FILTERS ARE STARTING TO SLACK 🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻