doofsevilinc

[doofsevilinc]

😚😚

Pls save us mike faist if you can hear this pls save us

Let Me?

Art Donaldson x reader

Notes: suggestive, fwb-ish, non-tennis AU, university AU, polisci mentioned 😬 first ever work, comments/feedback appreciated 🗣️

Word count: 1k

A/N: sorry for blueballing mike faist call me

Summary: Political science can be a hard major. Everyone needs a distraction sometimes.

Now playing: Play Date - Melanie Martinez

“I’m walkin’ to your house, nobody’s home,

just me and you and you and me alone.”

——————————————————————

Art was so polite. When you first met through your polisci study group friends, he was the perfect gentleman. When you all would go out together, he’d hold the door for you, always pull out your chair when you came back to the table with drinks. You figured he was like that with every girl, your typical midwestern sweetheart.

You couldn’t have caught how his eyes lingered on you when you’d walk past him through the door, or how his eyes drifted downward while you chatted and passed out drinks. No one could. No one suspected it of him. He was too slick about it.

So when the rest of the group wasn’t available and he asked you to help him study for an upcoming test, you thought nothing of it. His roommate would be right next door anyway.

And it really was nice. It was enough to make learning about congressional oversight over the bureaucracy less excruciating. You two laughed a lot (he did at all of your jokes) and he’d smile so sweetly at you that it sort of gave you butterflies. Of course you wouldn’t object when he started only asking for you to study with. You figured it was because you were good at the subject anyway. It’s not like you weren’t getting something out of it too. You had to admit that you liked how he acted like your puppy. He’d do anything you asked, get you whatever snacks you wanted, ever the knight in shining armor. He really was a cutie, especially when got that embarrassed blush on his face hearing his roommate outside the door with the girls he brought back, or the constant EDM blasting from his room.

Midterms were coming up, and you were stressed. You were a high achiever, but studying for 5 classes was a lot to juggle. So of course you took up Art’s offer of a study/chill sesh at his dorm. You knocked, and he opened, wearing his red cap backward, another thing you thought was cute on him. You looked a little past him, noticing the silence. His roommate wasn’t there. Your eyes felt back on him and you noticed that this time he looked more… pensive. His eyes looked tired, his lips looked bitten on. You chalked it up to the time of year. You probably looked out of sorts too. As he held the door and you brushed past him, though, you could feel his eyes on you, stalking you like prey.

You were sat on his bed, and the lack of technobeats in the background made the air feel heavy. Things were more quiet this time as you two once again went through the motions of flipping through flashcards detailing factors affecting political efficacy. It almost felt tense. You weren’t so sure his roommate’s absence was entirely at fault. At some point you put them down and sighed, slumping against the wall.

“I can’t do this anymore. I just wish midterms were over. I feel like I haven’t relaxed in weeks.”

He was still upright, looking at you keenly.

“Yeah. Me neither.”

He put his cards down without taking his eyes off of you.

“I need a distraction. Just for a little. I just wanna stop thinking.”

He huffed in agreement, then paused. Now he looked down. Started biting his lips again. He swallowed.

“I could…help you with that.”

Maybe you were reading too far into the tension in the room, but your mind quickly darted to something…uncivil. Your stomach jumped before you regained your composure. …He was cute. It’s not like in your horny hellscape of a university you hadn’t thought about it before. You had no time for a relationship that could relieve your frustrations, something your major was known for, and which you and your single friends complained about often. It was starting to take a toll. Still, you took the thought out of your head. You just had a dirty mind. That’s not what he meant. He was gonna pull playing cards out of his pocket or something. You laughed a little, lightly, cautiously.

“What do you mean?”

He looked back up, eyes shining, piercing. His face grave, like when you’d came in. It made you feel almost too seen…almost naked. Almost like your minds had gone to the same place.

His eyes went down again, landing on his fingertips, which you hadn’t noticed had reached the edge of your thigh. In fact, you couldn’t focus on much outside of your heart beating in your ears.

“I just…I’ve been really stressed too. Really busy. I mean, the way we all are. Too busy to…you know…” He trailed off a little, his eyes crinkling in an embarrassed huff, softening his features. “And…you know what a good stress reliever is?”

He was hesitant, but the question was rhetorical. The way he said it was enough to give the answer. Your peers talked about their sexual frustrations enough that you knew it was on their minds too.

It was so still that you feared he could hear your heart beating out of your chest. You both being on the same page had caught you off guard.

His lack of silence caused him to backtrack, trying to read your face. “I mean, we always talk about not having time for dating and wanting hookups and stuff… I just figured since we know each other we could…I don’t know…lend each other a hand.”

You could feel your face getting hot, giddiness rising inside you. Seeing the small smile on your face, and how you watched his fingertips on their trail up your thigh, he seemed to relax.

You felt cheeky. He was into you. “So you wanna help me out?”

“…please?” His eyes turned pleading. “No one’s here.” He said softly, suggestively.

Your face turned even hotter. He was right. You were alone. No one would hear him putting you through the mattress like you’d tried not to imagine before. God, you were getting ahead of yourself. You nodded. He pulled away from you, and the vacant space he left on your thigh felt cold. You weren’t sure what he was doing until he got off the bed, kneeling, and settled between your legs.

He gazed up at you, looking more puppy-like than ever, his wide, desirous eyes a question — a desperate plea.

“Let me?”

[doofsevilinc]

Let Me?

Art Donaldson x reader

Notes: suggestive, fwb-ish, non-tennis AU, university AU, polisci mentioned 😬 first ever work, comments/feedback appreciated 🗣️

Word count: 1k

A/N: sorry for blueballing mike faist call me

Summary: Political science can be a hard major. Everyone needs a distraction sometimes.

Now playing: Play Date - Melanie Martinez

“I’m walkin’ to your house, nobody’s home,

just me and you and you and me alone.”

——————————————————————

Art was so polite. When you first met through your polisci study group friends, he was the perfect gentleman. When you all would go out together, he’d hold the door for you, always pull out your chair when you came back to the table with drinks. You figured he was like that with every girl, your typical midwestern sweetheart.

You couldn’t have caught how his eyes lingered on you when you’d walk past him through the door, or how they drifted downward while you chatted and passed out drinks. No one could. No one suspected it of him. He was too slick about it.

So when the rest of the group wasn’t available and he asked you to help him study for an upcoming test, you thought nothing of it. His roommate would be right next door anyway.

And it really was nice. It was enough to make learning about congressional oversight over the bureaucracy less excruciating. You two laughed a lot (he did at all of your jokes) and he’d smile so sweetly at you that it sort of gave you butterflies. Of course you wouldn’t object when he started only asking for you to study with. You figured it was because you were good at the subject anyway. It’s not like you weren’t getting something out of it too. You had to admit that you liked how he acted like your puppy. He’d do anything you asked, get you whatever snacks you wanted, ever the knight in shining armor. He really was a cutie, especially when got that embarrassed blush on his face hearing his roommate outside the door with the girls he brought back, or the constant EDM blasting from his room.

Midterms were coming up, and you were stressed. You were a high achiever, but studying for 5 classes was a lot to juggle. So of course you took up Art’s offer of a study/chill sesh at his dorm. You knocked, and he opened, wearing his red cap backward, another thing you thought was cute on him. You looked a little past him, noticing the silence. His roommate wasn’t there. Your eyes fell back on him and you noticed that this time he looked more… pensive. He looked tired, his lips looked bitten on. You chalked it up to the time of year. You probably looked out of sorts too. As he held the door and you brushed past him, though, you could feel his eyes on you, stalking you like prey.

You were sat on his bed, and the lack of technobeats in the background made the air feel heavy. Things were more quiet this time as you two once again went through the motions of flipping through flashcards detailing factors affecting political efficacy. It almost felt tense. You weren’t so sure his roommate’s absence was entirely at fault. At some point you put them down and sighed, slumping against the wall.

“I can’t do this anymore. I just wish midterms were over. I feel like I haven’t relaxed in weeks.”

He was still upright, looking at you keenly.

“Yeah. Me neither.”

He put his cards down without taking his eyes off of you.

“I need a distraction. Just for a little. I just wanna stop thinking.”

He huffed in agreement, then paused. Now he looked down. Started biting his lips again. He swallowed.

“I could…help you with that.”

Maybe you were reading too far into the tension in the room, but your mind quickly darted to something…uncivil. Your stomach jumped before you regained your composure. …He was cute. It’s not like in your horny hellscape of a university you hadn’t thought about it before. You had no time for a relationship that could relieve your frustrations, something your major was known for, and which you and your single friends complained about often. It was starting to take a toll. Still, you took the thought out of your head. You just had a dirty mind. That’s not what he meant. He was gonna pull playing cards out of his pocket or something. You laughed a little, lightly, cautiously.

“What do you mean?”

He looked back up, eyes shining, piercing. His face grave, like when you’d came in. It made you feel almost too seen…almost naked. Almost like your minds had gone to the same place.

His eyes went down again, landing on his fingertips, which you hadn’t noticed had reached the edge of your thigh. In fact, you couldn’t focus on much outside of your heart beating in your ears.

“I just…I’ve been really stressed too. Really busy. I mean, the way we all are. Too busy to…you know…” He trailed off a little, his eyes crinkling in an embarrassed huff, softening his features. “And…you know what a good stress reliever is?”

He was hesitant, but the question was rhetorical. The way he said it was enough to give the answer. Your peers talked about their sexual frustrations enough that you knew it was on their minds too.

It was so still that you feared he could hear your heart beating out of your chest. You both being on the same page had caught you off guard.

Your silence caused him to backtrack, trying to read your face. “I mean, we always talk about not having time for dating and wanting hookups and stuff… I just figured since we know each other we could…I don’t know…lend each other a hand.”

You could feel your face getting hot, giddiness rising inside you. Seeing the small smile on your face, and how you watched his fingertips on their trail up your thigh, he seemed to relax.

You felt cheeky. He was into you. “So you wanna help me out?”

“…please?” His eyes turned pleading. “No one’s here.” He said softly, suggestively.

Your face turned even hotter. He was right. You were alone. No one would hear him putting you through the mattress like you’d tried not to imagine before. God, you were getting ahead of yourself. You nodded. He pulled away from you, and the vacant space he left on your thigh felt cold. You weren’t sure what he was doing until he got off the bed, kneeling, and settled between your legs.

He gazed up at you, looking more puppy-like than ever, his wide, desirous eyes a question — a desperate plea.

“Let me?”