#Is Practicing Against The Wall Good For Your Tennis? -…

[sapphire-writes]

the winner takes it all

Art x Reader x Tashi

summary: winners deserve rewards, and Tashi is more than happy to spoil her star athlete with the help of her ever-dutiful husband.

word count: 2.7k

rating: mature/explicit/18+

warnings: porn no plot (deep breath) m/f/f dynamic, threesome, dom!Tashi, switch!Art, sub!Reader, p in v, creampie, overstim, hair pulling, titty play, use of toys, praise, teasing, spanking, orgasm denial, oral (fem receiving), oral (reader giving fem), face sitting

note: hope you enjoy! my first non-HOTD related fic!

link to other stories from me!

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Your match had taken place several hours ago. You’d been anxious the entire time, but ended up winning, much to you and your coach’s pleasure. The ride back to the hotel was torturous, as well as the following mandatory ice bath, sauna, shower, and footage review. It was the routine you’d followed ever since Tashi began coaching you.

She was nothing if not thorough.

After tying up several loose ends, including Tashi grilling you for every point you missed, every fault she could see when she paused the footage, you now found yourself in a more pleasurable position. 

Art held your legs open as he continued his even thrusts, cock sliding against the walls of your pussy at a torturous pace. Tashi sat beside you, clad only in a silk robe and lace panties, brushing some hair from your face that was sticking to your forehead with perspiration.

You had the suite to yourself for the night. Tashi and Art’s little girl was safely tucked away with her grandmother in another elegant suite on the other side of the hotel. Another part of the routine. 

“Tash….”

“You did well out there today,” she interrupts, reaching beside her to the end table drawer and pulling out her Hitachi wand. It buzzes to life as she turns it on and a strangled whine leaves your throat as she presses it to your clit,  “See what happens when you put in the extra time? That backhand of yours is a lethal weapon now.”

“Fuck!” is the only response you’re able to give as Art moans at the vibrations as he continues to pound into you. 

She likes you best like this, fucked dumb on Art’s cock, mindlessly agreeing to her plans for future matches, eyes rolling back in your head. Different moves she’ll have you practice. How hard she plans to work you on the court the following morning. 

“Come on, come for me,” Tashi insists, hand trailing over your breasts, “What’s my girl need to come, hm? Need these pretty tits attended to?” She pinches your nipple for emphasis and your jaw slacks, a pleasurable current in your gut winding tighter and tighter with the continuous stimulation.

Art slings your left leg over his shoulder, pressing a tender kiss to your calf as he does so. 

The new angle sends him deeper inside of you and you clench, mouth falling open with an uncontrollable moan.

“That’s it,” Tashi murmurs, eyes never leaving your face, “Feels so good doesn’t it? Art knows how to treat his girl, huh? Don’t you baby?”

“Yes,” he hissed between clenched teeth, beads of sweat forming on his brow, “Fucking perfect pussy, god—”

Tashi removes her hand from your breast, taking hold of your chin.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes water with pleasurable tears but you do as she asks, always keen to follow her instructions. The tennis court, the bedroom, it was all the same playing field in the end.

“Come on baby,” she murmurs, leaning down and pressing a kiss against your lips, “Come for me, you’ve been such a good girl, you deserve it.”

“Fuck!” Art courses as your pussy tightens around him, “Oh uhhh—”

“I’m cumming,” you helplessly whimper, the words nearly a sob, “Tashi…..fuck….Art fuck feels so—-“ your abdominal muscles tense as your reach your peak, white-hot ecstasy flooding your body as a shudder rolls through you. 

Tashi smiles as you come, fingers dancing down your neck. Art fucks you through it, leaning forward to pound into you at a harder rhythm, chasing his imminent release. It’s only then Tashi glances at him, her smile dropping slightly.

“Don’t cum.”

Art’s hips stutter as your walls continue to flutter around his thick length, his jaw slacks, eyes watering as he looks at his wife.

“Tash—”

“I said no,” she insists, shutting off the vibrator and throwing it to the side. Leaning forward, she captures your lips in a kiss. She sits up, a smile on her face as she kisses Art as well. He whimpers against her lips, hard and pulsating inside you still. But Tashi never changes her mind.

“You want to come, you should try winning.” 

“Tash please,” Art’s voice was strained, Adam’s apple bobbing, his expression pained, “please let me come.”

“Yeah?” She taunts moving up to kiss him. She brings her lips close to his, his eyes fluttering shut as she barely brushes the soft pout of her mouth against his. His lips part, head tilting to chase her. 

You watch from below them, still trying to slow your breathing. You like watching them dance, this push and pull they have. It’s hypnotizing, the effect she has on him. On you. Tashi pushes his chest and his eyes flutter open.

“Sit.” 

Tashi nods to the chair in the corner of the room. Art hesitates and she raises a brow when he doesn’t move quickly enough. Teeth clenched, Art unsheathes his aching cock from your warmth, hissing as he pulls completely out. Your breath hitches at the loss of him, and you gaze up at Tashi waiting for her next instruction. 

Fully naked, Art walks to the chair, cock hard and swinging between his legs as though he’s nothing more than a scolded pup. 

Tashi stands walking over to him, and Art tilts his chin to meet her eyes. Slowly, she lets the silk robe fall from her shoulders, and she takes her time removing it and placing it on his lap. You can see his erection through the soft purple fabric. 

“Hold that for me, would you?” she asks, turning back to face you.

You can’t help it as your gaze falls to her breasts; supple and mouth-watering, dark nipples taunting you. The dip of flesh between her abdominal muscles, a spot you’ve run your tongue along countless times now. Tashi rejoins you on the bed, lying next to you, looping her thumbs in the waistband of her lace panties. 

“You want a taste, baby?” she asks, smiling slightly at you.

You nod eagerly as she beckons you with a tilt of her chin. Scrambling into a kneeling position you slot yourself between Tashi’s toned legs, replacing her fingers and gently pulling off her lace panties, tossing them to the side and revealing her glistening sex.

Two things turn Tashi on. Telling you and Art what to do, and tennis.

Tashi brings her hand down her front tracing down her toned stomach until she reaches the soft curls that frame her pussy. She takes two fingers and spreads herself before you. 

“Come on, baby,” she murmurs, her voice low and seductive, “Eat up.”

She’s an enchantress, you swear, using some sort of siren song to pull you in. Even here between her legs, she’s in charge; it’s you who’s helpless. You lower your face toward her pussy, already drunk on the scent of her even before your tongue reaches her warm slit. 

You couldn’t hold in your moan of pleasured relief even if you tried as your tongue dipped lower, parting her lips and dipping inside her right entrance. There’s something about her, how she feels, how she tastes. You’ll never get enough of it. You nuzzle closer to her, nose bumping against her clit and she rewards you with a breathy sigh. 

“Art,” she calls as you eagerly continue lavishing her pussy with attention, “How’s the view?”

“Fucking breathtaking,” he answered, his voice strangled, “Tashi please….”

“She’s so good,” Tashi praises, nails taking against your scalp sending pleasurable tingles down your spine, “Put that pretty mouth of yours where it counts. Show me how badly you want it.” 

Your tummy flutters with excitement and you suction your lips around Tashi’s clit, sucking the sensitive button as you hear Art stand up. 

“Put that ass up,” Tashi instructs you, her voice airy, nearly breathless. You arch your back, leaning forward into her as Art’s hands cup the front of your thighs. 

You wiggle as he kneels behind you, his breath on your pussy before his lips meet your pussy. You moan against Tashi’s cunt as Art trails his hands up your thighs, spreading your cheeks wider as he feasts on you, tongue dipping inside of you and then up to circle your clit. 

“I’ll make you a deal baby,” Tashi purrs, back arching off the bed slightly as your tongue circles her pearl, “If you make her finish before I do, I’ll let you come.”

Art groans against you, finishing with a frustrated whine as Tashi chuckles. You glance up at her, drinking in the blissed-out expression on her face, that sly smirk that reaches her eyes. 

“Deal?”

Art doesn’t hesitate, he simply redoubles his efforts, tongue entering you with desperate precision. Your lips falter, the pleasure messing with your coordination as Art ups the ante. You feel him pull away from you, and hear the wet pop of his fingers entering his mouth and leaving just as quickly. Then he’s breaching you, fingers slipping inside you with ease from the continued attention following your first orgasm.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as Art fingers you. He sets a rough pace, placing his opposite hand on your asscheek and squeezing the soft flesh. 

The two fingers he has plunged inside you to the knuckle curl perfectly against your spongy walls, hitting that sweet spot inside you every time he curls his fingers. 

“Come on,” Art murmurs, slapping your ass, “I know you want to come again.”

“Yes she does,” Tashi agrees, unable to help herself. 

“Greedy girl, never satisfied with just one, huh?” Art teases and Tashi chuckles at his efforts. Art never speaks to her like that, only you. Tashi prefers the more dominant role over both you and her husband.

Still eager to please her you sloppily continue eating her out, lost in the sensation of Art's fingers in your pussy, Tashi’s fingers in your hair—

“Come on baby,” Art encourages, though there’s a hint of desperation in his tone. He wants to come just as badly as you do.

“Such a messy girl,” Tashi coos, propping herself on her elbows, “Oh but so so good. I’m getting close…”

Art slaps your ass again, curling his fingers against your g-spot, and it’s no use. Your jaw slacks and your head lolls against the softness of Tashi’s inner thigh as your walls clench around Art’s fingers, your release barreling through you like a freight train. It knocks the air from your lungs, a desperate cry leaving you as Art makes a noise of triumph. 

“So you are capable of winning,” Tashi snaps, a little too cold to be simply a bedroom taunt. Art stares at her, before she sits up, “I haven’t come yet.”

“Let me,” you murmur, looking up at her, still lying on her thigh. She smiles down at you, stroking your cheek.

“You’re a sweet girl,” she praises, “But Art won. I think he deserves to finish in that sweet little pussy of yours. Would you like that?”

“Tash…I can’t,” you whimper, still sensitive and tingly from your previous orgasms, “I can’t come again.”

Her smile fades back to that familiar smirk. She glances at Art, nodding at the bed. Cock still standing at attention Art joins you both, lying on his back. Tashi’s hand winds its way in your hair, tugging you not so gently from your resting place. You follow her lead like a puppet on a string. 

“Don’t be ungrateful,” she accuses, pushing you towards Art’s lap, “This is a reward. You deserve this.”

Art’s cock pokes at the soft plush of your inner thighs as you straddle him. His hands move automatically towards your hips, rough thumbs brushing against you leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

He looks at you with wide, watery eyes, blonde hair a tousled mess.

“One more?” he asks, and you know at that moment if you tapped out, he’d respect it. Art was never one to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape, or form. 

He rubs your hips again, a soothing motion, and you lean into his touch. Something deep inside you tightens with want. You need him. You need her. You inhale a shaky breath and lift your hips, lining the swollen head of his cock with your entrance. Sinking onto him slowly like this is something else. The way he stretches your insides as you come to rest against him is a feeling you’ll never get used to. 

“Good girl.”

Art’s head falls back against the pillows and then Tashi pulls them from underneath him. Her husband knows immediately what she’s after and tilts his head back as she climbs onto his face. 

Tashi sits on her husband’s face as though it’s her throne. As though he was made for her and no one else. 

She pulls you closer as you lazily begin to ride Art. Lips crashing against yours she kisses you passionately, rolling her hips at the pace you began. Soon you find your rhythm, moving in sync together as Art moans beneath you, happy to pleasure both his girls at once. Tashi’s hand finds your hair again and she tugs your head back, latching her lips against your neck.

She’s fond of leaving marks. Art is hers through their marriage, but she likes to remind you that you belong to her as well. 

Art bucks his hips up into you, the head of his cock nudging perfectly against your sweet spot, just as his fingers had moments before. A whine leaves your lips and Tashi laughs against your neck. 

“He’s good at that, yeah?” she murmurs, placing soft kisses up your neck and returning to your lips, “Good with his cock, good with his…his tongue.” Her eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy as Art does something you can only imagine.

He moans again, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise as he decides the pace you’ve set simply isn’t enough. Art’s hands dip below the curve of your ass right where it meets your thighs, lifting you with ease up and down on his cock. He meets you halfway, thrusting up into you as he slams you up and down. 

Your whines increase in volume, turning into elongated moans swallowed by Tashi’s kiss. You can feel her nipples pressing against your own and you reach out to caress them. Tashi gyrates her hips on Art’s face and his pace becomes more frantic as he plants both feet on the mattress fucking up into you harder, faster, deeper.

“I—” 

Words are lost to you as your mind goes fuzzy; that familiar pressure in your gut builds, a wave of pleasure cresting deep within you. Tashi’s mouth captures yours once more as she snakes a hand down your front, nimble fingers circling your clit giving you just what you need to reach your end. Again.

With that the rubber band in your belly snaps and you come with a startled cry, pleasured tears leaking from the corner of your eyes as you clench around Art’s thick cock. His hips falter only for a moment as he chases his own release, and soon you feel his cock twitch within your warm walls, his spend blooming inside of you.

Tashi smiles proudly as you and Art ride out your highs, the pair of you moaning, limbs jerking from the exertion. Everything’s a game to her. And she always wins. 

“Just like that,” she murmurs, hips still swirling around Art’s face, “Oh god I’m—” 

You watch as her thighs tense, her head dips and her eyes squeeze shut as her orgasm crashes over her at last. 

Carefully you ease Art’s softening cock from within you and lay between the both of them. Tashi on your left, Art on your right. You’re facing Tashi, watching as she comes down from her high, feeling Art’s chest press against your back.

It’s quiet for a moment, the soft sound of a kiss being pressed to your shoulder the only noise in the room. Art snakes a hand around your waist, fingers brushing the soft skin of your tummy. You giggle slightly at the ticklish sensation which causes him to bite down gently on your shoulder. Tashi simply watches, wetting her lips. 

“On the courts at five tomorrow,” she says, before standing, “I’ll run us a bath.”

Art sighs and you can’t help but agree with his subtle frustration. Back to business.

“Whatever you say, coach.”

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected 🩵

[sceletaflores]

where there’s sparks, there’s fire!

pairing: patrick zweig x fem!reader

summary: you can’t tell if patrick hates you as much as you hate him. every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. but he’s only doing all that to piss you off. you think back to tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. you don’t see it. patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special.

—or: patrick zweig is a slut. you can't stand him.

word count: 4.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y’all!), public sex (doing it in a coat closet lmao), more hate sex, swearing, fighting as foreplay, light choking, light hair pulling, degradation, even more hints of mean!reader cause i really do live for that shit, tashi and reader are cute besties always, porn with a little plot, no use of y/n.

author’s note: i originally wanted to post a tashi fic next but i realized i don't have any like actual full on plot filled patrick works lmao i felt bad neglecting him and my patrick girlies so yeah. once again had literally so much fun writing this, like i hardcore love this niche!!! i ride so hard for it!!! the tashi fic i'm working on also falls into this category lols and yes this is fourth of july themed and it's late shut up i cannot write fast for the life of me...anyway! to the anons who requested something like this, hope you love it! okay bye mwah xoxo.

Patrick Zweig is a huge slut.

Everyone knows that. He doesn't even go to Stanford but he's still somehow managed to sleep with a third of the girls on campus, maybe even more than a few guys too if the rumors going around are true.

You hate him. Hate isn't even a strong enough word. You loathe him. You despise him. You detest him. Pick any other fancy synonym, the point still stands. You just really fucking hate him.

It blows your mind that someone as sweet and angelic as Art would be best friends with someone like him. Someone who's so obnoxious, so arrogant, so crass. Art’s the guy that goes out of his way to protect you from the gross frat bros at parties, only to bring his very own as a plus one.

Sigma Nu throws a rager every year on the fourth, extending invites to those who are still in Stanford for the summer. The women’s tennis team is always invited, and Tashi always ends up convincing you to go. Well, she’s less convincing than she is more forcing you, but it’s basically the same thing to her anyway. She did your makeup and wrestled you into a Hollister dress, vowing to get you laid as she straightened your hair.

Tashi’s almost more invested in your sex life than you are, constantly hand-picking guys on campus for your consideration. She actually offered up Patrick once when you told her you wouldn’t fuck any of the guys on campus at all. The two of you were practicing, she suggested it as casual as ever while returning your serve. You were so shocked you stopped in your tracks, letting the ball fly right past you. She assured you she wouldn’t mind if you did, that what the two of them had was quote “Nothing serious, he’s just a really good fuck.” and that you should “Totally do it. He definitely wants to fuck you, I can tell.” 

You just brushed her off, ignored the way she smirked knowingly at you over the net. Your cheeks burned as you served again, you wrote it off as annoyance. As if you would ever let Patrick Zweig fuck you.

You lost Tashi when she took off to the bathroom, texting you that she’d be a while thanks to a long line outside the door. You were leaning against a wall nursing a half-empty cup of jungle juice when he came up to you. You can’t remember his name, you think it starts with a B. Something like Brandon? Or maybe Brian? One or the other.

He’s Sigma Nu’s secretary, you sit three seats down from him in your economics lecture. Tashi says he has a crush on you, and he’s nice for a frat guy but he’s definitely not your type. He’s been droning on about his upcoming trip to his family's summer house in Cabo for almost ten minutes. You try your best to seem interested, humming and nodding every couple seconds. You’re in the middle of tuning him out when a loud, familiar voice calls out your name. 

“There you are!” Patrick Zweig shouts from a few feet away, ugly American flag patterned flip flops smacking against the ground as he makes his way over to you. He’s wearing a bright red button down and white cargo shorts you scrunch your nose up at. He’s tanner than the last time you saw him, legs long and even more toned. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that pretty face.” He coos sweetly, his hand that isn't holding a bottle of Bud Light comes up to pinch your cheek.

You scoff, smacking his hand off your face. “You found me, so you can go bother someone else now,” you say, rubbing your cheek lightly. “Bye.” You press, waving your hand dismissively when he makes no move to walk away.

Patrick grins, unfazed by your reaction, he steps in even closer. “Yeah, I missed you too,” he says breezily, his breath smells like cheap beer and camel blues. He’s just as tall as you remember. He has tacky blue shutter shades resting on the top of his head. His eyes rake over your body shamelessly, lingering on the low dip of your neckline. “Cute dress.” 

You ignore him, rolling your eyes before turning your attention back towards Brandon/Brian. He’s silent now, eyes flicking between you and Patrick skeptically. “Are you like, together, or something?” 

You laugh loudly, quickly shaking your head ‘No’. Patrick beats you to speaking though, “God no, man.” he says through a laugh, dark curls bouncing as he shakes his head. “I came over here to warn you.” He continues, voice and expression going overly serious like he’s not talking out of his ass.

Brandon/Brian’s brows furrow, clearly confused. “Warn me?” he asks, head tilting to the left slightly. His puka shell necklace makes a small clicking sound as he moves. 

Patrick nods his head gravely, clapping his free hand down on Brandon/Brian's shoulder a little too roughly to be considered friendly, shaking him back and forth like a rag doll. “Yeah, best of luck trying to get inside that snatch, man.” he says earnestly, jerking his head in your direction. “Cause’ she’s really fucking picky–”

You whip your head in his direction to cut him off, grimacing in disgust. “You would say snatch, you sick fuck.” you snap, red solo cup crunching quietly in your hand. Patrick just laughs, dropping his hand from Brandon/Brian’s shoulder. Anger stews inside you the longer he looks at you with that stupid shit-eating smirk on his face. 

You can’t tell if Patrick hates you as much as you hate him. Every time you see him he’s constantly talking to you, touching you, trailing behind you. But he’s only doing all that to piss you off. You think back to Tashi telling you it’s obvious that he wants to fuck you. You don’t see it.

Patrick wants to fuck everyone, you’re not special. Sure, he may feel the constant need to be a horn-dog when he’s around you. That doesn’t mean anything. Patrick’s just gross, constantly making crude comments or lame innuendos. What Tashi fails to see is him making sex jokes around you is just another way he can piss you off. It’s not an open invitation into those god-awful shorts. 

Patrick takes a small step back, big hands raising in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Put the claws away,” You try to ignore the way him saying your name in that goddamn infuriating condescending tone makes your cheeks start heating up. Patrick leans his shoulder on the wall next to you, looking down at you with a small grin on his face. “I actually wanted to congratulate you on cracking the top twenty.” He takes a long sip of his beer, head lolling to the side lazily as he swallows. “Lucky number 14.”

You’re not too proud to admit that Patrick is kind of hot, especially in this lighting. He’s objectively a hot guy, and he knows it. All tall and firm looking even in his horrendous outfit. But he’s kind of cute too, in an ass-holey way. His hair's a mess of soft-looking black curls and his ears stick out from his head sort of endearingly. He’s close enough that you can see he’s got a little brown in his eyes, and long lashes. There’s a handful of freckles sprinkled over the bridge of his nose. 

His big, strong nose that looks like it could work wonders between your legs. Or at least that’s what you’ve heard from Jen in your chem lab. Maybe this jungle juice is stronger than you thought.

Patrick's smirk widens, wolfish and dirty like he can see what you’re thinking. “That’s pretty impressive.” he continues, his tone a mix of genuine admiration and teasing. "Especially for someone who's always so...busy." He lets the last word hang in the air, a clear innuendo that makes your blood boil all over again.

"Busy training," you snap back, not willing to let him get under your skin any more than he already has. "Some of us have actual work ethic, Patrick. We put in the hours on the court instead of fucking anything that breathes, you know? So we don’t look like idiots that get their ass handed to them on tour by nobody scrubs."

You can feel the heat start to simmer in your stomach, anger and frustration bubbling beneath the surface as Patrick's presence continues to grate on your nerves. The tension between you is thick, amplified by the chaotic energy of the party swirling around you. You see Brandon/Brian take a long, awkward sip of his beer as he steps away, turning on his heel to quickly disappear into the sea of bodies crowding the living room. You roll your eyes internally, pussy.

Patrick grins, not deterred in the slightest. “You’ve been keeping up with my matches?” His voice is low and pleased sounding, shiny green eyes slowly getting swallowed by the black of his pupils. 

You pause, owlishly blinking up at him in silence. You’ve been caught. Shit.

You can feel the immediate warmth of embarrassment burning hot on your cheeks as you cast your gaze to the floor. “Only when I need to cheer myself up, a losing streak that high is actually laughable.” You mutter to the floor, lightly swirling your drink in your cup. 

Patrick laughs loudly, throwing his head back in amusement. “Still thinking about me though.” he says matter-of-factly, a lazy grin taking over his face.

His audacity sends another wave of anger and embarrassment through you, your grip tightens around your cup. "Only because you make such a spectacle of yourself," you retort sharply. "It's hard not to notice when you're crashing and burning so publicly."

Patrick's grin doesn't falter. If anything, it widens. "I'll take what I can get from you," he says, his tone a blend of amusement and something else that you can't place. "But seriously, congratulations. You deserve it."

His unexpected sincerity throws you off, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. It's rare to see Patrick in a light that isn’t coated in sarcasm or sleaze. You catch a glimpse of something genuine in his expression, something that almost resembles respect, and it confuses you.

It confuses you, and it makes something warm start to burn in your stomach. You can’t afford to feel any warm, fuzzy feelings around a guy like Patrick, not if you don’t want to get majorly fucked over the second he gets bored of you. 

You don’t know how to react so you do what makes sense, you lash out.

“God, will you just fuck off and leave me alone Patrick,” you say, tone over-dramatic and long-suffering as you tip your head up to the ceiling in annoyance. “I’m trying to have fun.” A lie. The party kind of sucked compared to last years. You were planning on talking Tashi into leaving when she came back, but he didn’t need to know that.

Patrick’s cool exterior finally cracks, letting out a quiet huff of disbelief as a frown starts tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Jesus Christ, what the hell is your fucking problem? I’m being sincere.” The playful light in his eyes is gone, replaced by something darker.

You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head in amusement. “Maybe I’d believe that if you weren’t such an ass. I know you too well, Patrick.” You say, tone mean and condescending. You know he’s right, on some level, but that doesn’t stop you. 

Patrick is silent for a beat, eyes boring into yours with an intensity that makes you want to start squirming. He lets out a quiet, bitter laugh, bringing his beer up to his lips to take a long sip. You watch the way his throat moves as he swallows, the way his lips look wrapped around the neck of the bottle. You feel a familiar heat start to pool between your legs, thighs clenching involuntarily as your mind envisions something else his slick, pink lips would look good wrapped around. 

He drops the bottle to his side, finally breaking the silence. “You know, now I do believe you.” he says casually, swiping his tongue over his lips lazily. “You must really not be getting any dick acting like this much of an uptight bitch.”

You reel back in shock, his words hitting you like a punch in the gut. The wave of fury that sweeps through you is almost tangible, your vision narrowing to a tunnel that begins and ends with Patrick’s infuriatingly smug face. “What did you just say?” you ask completely taken aback, voice low and rough. Your hand twitches at your side with the need to throw your drink in his face, anger and embarrassment lapping white hot flames in your stomach. 

Patrick just scoffs, heated gaze not breaking from your own. “You heard me.” He says, jaw set stubbornly. “You need like, emergency dick, or something to chill the fuck out for once.” 

You feel your heart rate spike, your free hand clenching into a tight wrist by your side. “You’re a fucking pig.” your voice shakes with anger, you feel sweaty and hot all over. The heat swirling between your legs is persistent.

Patrick laughs, a loud and infuriating sound. “Come on, we both know you’re fucking begging for someone to give you what you need.” He says like it’s obvious, you clench your fist a little tighter. He takes a step closer, voice dropping down to a whisper meant just for you. “I can help you with that. I can fuck all that bratty shit right out of yo–”

You’re reacting before you can stop yourself, hand flying up to slap him hard across the face. The loud crack pierces through the room, loud enough that a few eyes turn in your direction. Patrick's head snaps to the side, the shades resting on the top of his head fly off. 

Your heart stops, hands shaking with the realization of what you just did. You expect Patrick to flip out, start shouting and threatening to sue you or whatever else it is that rich people do. Time seems to slow down as he turns his head, and when he looks back at you, there's no trace of anger in his eyes. Instead, they're dark with something else entirely— something that makes your stomach flip.

He licks his lips, a slow, deliberate motion, and then he laughs, a low, throaty sound that sends shivers down your spine. A clear hand print grows steadily, red and angry on his cheek. "Fuck." he breathes, his hazy eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat. 

You’re stuck staring at each other for what feels like hours, the music and chatter from the party reduced down to a low hum as you’re caught under Patrick’s heavy gaze.

He drops his beer bottle on the floor carelessly, hand shooting out to grab your wrist tightly and drag you away from the living room. Your cup falls from your grip, splashing down onto the hardwood in a red sticky mess. You fall into step behind him, letting him guide you into the hallway outside the living room before he lurches to a stop in front of a closed door, ripping it open and shoving you inside. Patrick follows quickly, closing the door behind him and bathing the coat closet in darkness. 

It’s a tiny closet, you’re pressed up against too many coats fighting for space on the tiny rack, kicking loose shoes around as you try to find your footing. “Patrick, I–” You start, but you're cut off by a strong hand gripping your forearm and whipping you around. Your back hits the door with a dull thud, you don’t have any time to react before his lips are on yours.

The kiss is the opposite of gentle, Patrick’s lips are almost violent as they move with yours. Your hands tangle in his soft hair, kissing back just as roughly. He hisses into your mouth as you twist the strands in your grip meanly, pressing you into the door harder. His tongue forces its way past your parted lips, claiming your mouth fiercely. He tastes like beer, his fingertips are rough and calloused on your skin, pulling you closer as if he wants to meld into you.

“If you don’t want this, say the word and I’ll stop right now.” He says against your lips, breathless and rumbly. His hands squeeze your hips reassuringly, his own version of sincerity softening the moment.

Yeah fucking right.

“Zweig,” you say slowly, yanking his hair roughly. “If you don’t shut up and fuck me in the next ten seconds, I’ll kill you.”

Patrick grins wildly, surging forward to connect your lips again. Your hands find the buttons of his shirt as the two of you kiss, working them open one by one until you get too frustrated and rip the two half-open sides apart. Buttons clatter onto the floor of the closet, Patrick groans into your mouth, breaking the kiss with a huff. “I liked that shirt, dick. You owe me twenty bucks.”

You’re not listening, eyes trained on the bare skin of his chest as everything seems to slow down for a second. Of course, you’ve seen Patrick shirtless before, when he’s on the court and it’s above ninety or when he’s taking up space in Art’s dorm. This feels different, a completely new situation where it’s actually okay for you to stare at the expanse of his torso. 

You can’t help reaching out to touch him again— running your greedy hands down his chest, his abs, the sharp ‘v’ cut of his hips that makes its way into the waistband of his shorts. Your manicured nails scratch through the dark hair of his happy trail, you can see the muscles in his stomach jump.

“Fuck,” you whisper breathlessly and immediately regret it. He was already insufferable— all you fucking needed was for him to know how you felt right now. How the sight of his barely undressed body is making your pussy soak through your panties.

Patrick doesn’t even gloat, just uses his tight grip on your hips to flip you so you’re pressing onto the door harshly. He impatiently yanks the skirt of your dress up, wasting no time in hooking a finger on the lace of your panties and moving the fabric to the side for easier access.

You hear him pop the button of his shorts open, his zipper following close behind. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.” He says, sliding the thick tip of his cock through your slick lips, brushing himself against your entrance teasingly. “I’m gonna make you think twice about bitching me out ever again.” He seals his promise by grabbing your hair and yanking, causing a surprised whine to fall from your lips. His voice is so patronizing, but you aren’t getting mad like you should be. You’re just getting wetter, getting desperate with the need for him to get inside you right fucking now.

You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. “I hate you.” You hiss, grinding back against his hard cock. You gasp raggedly as he starts to sink himself inside you, not stopping until his hips are flush against your ass. “Shit!” Your hands grip the door so hard you’re scared one of your nails will break. The stretch of him burns in the best way possible. You’d never say it out loud, not wanting to inflate his ego anymore than you probably already have, but he’s definitely the biggest cock you’ve taken. Almost porn-star big.

“I know.” He replies easily, hiking your thigh up with his hand as his hips start to pound mercilessly into the meat of your ass, not even giving you time to get used to the thick stretch of him. The loud smack of skin on skin fills the tiny closet easily, you hope to God the amount of clothes shoved in here somehow muffles the sound. The rough denim of his shorts scratches against your raw skin, adding to the sting of his hips.

Patrick was pounding into you in a way that makes you feel every inch of him. His cock felt impossibly big, filling you up like he was carving a place for himself inside of you. The sting in your pussy at the stretch of him is mind-numbing, you think you’d collapse from how hard your thighs were shaking if he wasn’t practically holding you up.

His big hand grips the sensitive skin of your inner thigh hard enough that it’ll probably be bruised by tomorrow. You distantly hope he’s high up enough that your tennis skirt will cover it, because if not it’ll be a hard thing to talk your way out of.

You throw your head back, a strained moan erupting from your lips. Your nails scratch at the paint on the door's edges, raking small lines down the wall. The loud squelch of your pussy’s overflowing wetness every time he sinks back inside you would be embarrassing if you had the mental capacity to care.

“Fuck yeah, keep making those slutty sounds, baby. Want the whole fucking party to hear how good I’m making you feel on this cock,” he mutters, hiking your leg up higher so he can pound into you deeper.

He drops your thigh, sliding his hand up your body and around your throat. You whine loudly, pushing back into his thrusts harder. Guys have tried the choking thing in the past, but Patrick’s hand is the only one that’s felt right. His long fingers curling around your throat like they belong there.

“Shit, fuck- don’t stop.” you mewl, lips parted in ecstasy. His hand squeezes a little tighter, not enough to cut off your breathing, just enough to get your eyes rolling back into your head as your pussy weeps around the thick length of his cock.

“That’s it, taking my fucking cock like you were made for it,” Patrick grates through a groan, gripping your hips and pulling out from your tight hole to spit on where his cock bumps up against your entrance before plunging back in.  You jolt at the extra wetness, whining at how dirty it is. “So fucking tight— does it hurt, baby?” he asks in a barely breathless voice, laughter edging his tone. “Is my fat cock hurting your tight little pussy?”

“God– shit, yes!” you sob loudly, cheek rubbing against the wood of the door as you nod your head frantically. “Hurts so fucking good.” You stop caring about inflating his ego, letting moans fall freely from your lips as you get closer to the edge.

“Fuck yeah, I’m gonna come,” he grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense. He wraps your hair in his other hand, pulling hard enough to make your neck crane back awkwardly. He leans forward, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I can feel you, fucking clenching up on me so tight,” he whispers, still pounding into you roughly. “I know you’re close. Do it. Come all over my cock like a slut.”

Patrick's hand tightens around your throat as he talks, cutting off your air for just a second. “Patrick!” Your voice sounds weak and strained, your hand coming up to wrap around his wrist desperately.

He pulls out abruptly, dropping your hair from his fist to frantically jerk his cock, burying his face in your neck. You can hear the lewd shlick shlick shlick of your wetness help his hand glide over the skin of his cock quickly. Patrick lets out a loud growl before you feel the sharp bite of his teeth sinking in where your shoulder meets your neck, muffling a loud groan of your name as he sprays hot come over the skin of your lower back and the swell of your ass. 

The feeling of Patrick’s hand wrapped around your throat as his come paints your skin has you catapulting over the edge. Eyes rolling back in your head as your convulsing pussy gushes wet over his spent cock. 

You drag in greedy lungfuls of air, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. “You came first.” You say breathlessly, voice scratchy and hushed. Patrick chuckles against your skin, swatting the tender flesh of your ass lightly. 

“Shut the fuck up.” He mutters half-heartedly, nuzzling his nose in your neck in a way that seems far too intimate for what the two of you just did. You don’t say anything.

Patrick eventually peels himself off your back, but the warmth of his body stays wrapped around you as he starts to gently wipe your skin clean. You’re ready to scold him for using some poor guy's coat as a come-rag, but when you turn your head to glare at him he’s using the inside of his own shirt. You wrinkle your nose, but a tiny smile fights its way onto your lips. So gross, you think with a sort of reluctant fondness.

He leans over to fix your panties back over your puffy, abused pussy. Your thighs continue to shake weakly as you try to stand on your own, still unsteady without Patrick holding you up. He gives you a sweet kiss on the back of your shoulder, smacking his lips loudly. You huff out a tiny laugh, pushing away from the door to face him.

You watch him as he languidly gets re-dressed. He looks well-fucked, his hair and clothes are mess, his face is flushed and sweaty. Your eyes trail down to where he’s buttoning up his atrocious shorts. 

The fabric around the crotch is darkened with your release, wetness soaking the denim around the zipper and front pockets. You gawk at it, a mix of terror and excitement swirling through your stomach. “You can’t go back out like that.” you say to his shorts, shame burning your cheeks. 

Patrick follows your gaze down to his crotch. A pleased smirk plays on his lips when he looks back at you. “I’ll text you later.” Is all he says, zipping his fly and turning towards the door. 

“You don’t have my number.” You say, tugging the skirt of your dress down over your hips. You can slowly feel the horny fog leave your brain, leaving you clear-minded and a little panicked.

He cracks the door open, but before walking out of the closet he looks back at you over his shoulder. “Art’ll give me your number. “ He says casually with a small shrug of his shoulder. You suddenly feel sick, wondering how many other people have heard that line before getting completely ghosted. 

Patrick must see the negative thoughts running through your mind play out on your face. He gives you an actual smile, one that has his eyes crinkling up the tiniest bit at the corners. “Promise.” He says with a reassuring nod, it’s the most sincere you’ve ever seen him. You bite your lip to stop from smiling at the hope blooming in your stomach, nodding back at him slowly. He throws you one last toothy grin before he’s walking out and closing the door behind him.

You sigh contently, staring at the closed door for a few beats before your phone buzzes to life from where it's laying on the floor. You bend over to search for it, blindly rooting around until you see the tiny display light. The ringing stops before you can answer, when you flip the screen up to check your inbox you have seven missed texts and two missed calls.

Four texts and two calls from Art, and just three texts from Tashi.

arty where are you? i’ve been looking for you are you okay? hello???

tash you know you're not invisible right? everyone saw your little show have fun <3

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini a/n: yes i did change the title leave me lmao love you!

[artdcnaldson]

okay but PLEASE elaborate on Olympics!Art AU

TeeHee

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v), feral obsessive behavior, infidelity

A/N: And you would do it too, that’s all I’m saying. Also IMPORTANT note: I love Tashi, she is a mother to many. However this fic has a very obsessive reader who just wants to fuck a married man, at Tashi’s expense

Maybe you were a bad person.

You’d met Art and Tashi Donaldson before— a year back at an event held for Tennis’ rising stars. That was you, some other guys who had done well in the Juniors, a girl from an Ivy League, and more people that fell into the blind spots of your interest..

You must’ve looked so sweet in your formalwear, approaching the couple with shaking hands so you could say just how big of a fan you were. You had no ill intent then, not when you were face to face with two people you’d idolized since you were twelve and watching the Junior US Open. That night you’d taken a deep breath as you stared at the ceiling of your home, feeling like you’d made it.

Sure, Art was handsome, and you’d lived the past decade harboring a massive celebrity crush on him, but he was married, he was untouchable. Art Donaldson oozed that sweet, devoted husband shtick. Anniversary posts, birthday posts, Valentine’s Day posts, Mother’s Day posts. He had a daughter, he posted about how much he loved being a dad.

You were fine accepting that your fantasies of fucking Art Donaldson were strictly fantasies. But that was before you qualified and had to see him every fucking day.

Art Donaldson, who held open doors for you, who talked to you casually, like he might an old friend. Art, who stood in the long line in the food court with you, ate something he probably shouldn’t have, and asked that you don’t tell Tashi.

And you’d smile conspiratorially, and assure him his secret was safe with you. The implication being that you’d keep that secret, and more. As many as he’d ask you to, really.

You’d see him on a practice court, running drills with his wife, and feel the heat of jealousy in the pit of your stomach. You’d turn away, focus on your own game, practice until your hands were aching and sore.

“Where’s Mrs. Donaldson?” You asked one night after you’d been sexiled and had to sit out in the hallway waiting for your roommate to finish up. Art leaned against the wall, standing tall above you, so you had to crane your neck. You liked that point of view, on your knees looking up at him, you wondered if he liked it too.

“Oh, she’s staying in a very nice, very expensive hotel room with our daughter right now,” he said with a grin. “As soon as my events are done, that’s where I’ll be too.”

“Oh,” you said, bringing an easy smile to your lips. “Well, we’re all glad you’re here now.”

“We?” He questioned.

You gave a coy smile, batting your lashes so sweetly. “Maybe just me.”

There was a strange expression on his face for just a moment. Then he laughed like it was nothing. He wished you a goodnight and good luck in your matches the next morning, and disappeared into his own room.

You medaled in women’s doubles. They published photos of you and your partner biting the silver between your teeth. That same day, Art Donaldson took home gold. You were there to see the very end of his last match— every single collision of racket against ball, every step, every grunt of exertion. Your thighs clenched as you watched, fists balled up in the fabric of your skirt.

You wanted him in a needy, desperate sort of way. Like a groupie for a rock band, or a virgin being sacrificed on a mountaintop. You watched him celebrate with a kiss from Tashi and felt that same need like an open wound. Jealousy was festering in you like a rot.

The dive bar wasn’t what you’d expected. Something Art had found with a quick google search and a few minutes with a translation app. He’d knocked on your door to invite you, wearing the beaming smile of someone on top of the world.

“So you’ll come?” He asked after he told you all about it.

“Mhmm,” you said, heart hammering against your ribs. “I’ll come.”

And there you were— in a dress that hardly qualified as such— standing so close to him that you could smell his expensive cologne. His arm would brush yours, he’d glance over and apologize with a warm hand to your arm. You’d clench your thighs together and peer at him through your lashes. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.

A few of the other players disappeared to play darts, or watch the late night coverage of the other sports still competing. You stuck by Art’s side, happily allowing his attention to fall on you completely.

“I saw parts of your doubles final,” he said finally. He was drinking a brand of beer you’d never seen before— something local, you supposed. “You looked beautiful out there.” Your eyes lit up, and then he added. “The way you were playing, I mean— it was phenomenal.”

“Well, I’m no gold medalist,” you said. You let your hand rest on his arm, and looked up at him. The fingers on your other hand toyed with the edge of the medal, warm from where it had been flush against his chest.

He swallowed. You felt his muscles flex beneath your touch, but he didn’t discourage it. Not one fucking bit.

It wasn’t lost on you that Tashi wasn’t there. Not that it was really her type of venue, from what you had gathered. It wasn’t lost on you that Art Donaldson was at a dive bar, drinking random Brazilian beers, instead of celebrating with his wife, with his daughter. Fuck all those posts on his instagram— if he really was a good husband, a faithful one… that’s the only place he’d want to be.

“I saw your match too. I ran right over after my ceremony to watch,” you confessed. It was hard to concentrate on anything else— you were standing so close to him that you were nearly pressed completely into his body.

His lips twitched in interest. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Mhmm. It was incredible. You were so dominant out there, just taking what was rightfully yours.”

He swallowed again, gravitating closer. Your tits were practically spilling out of your dress— he probably got the perfect eyeful when he eased you closer with a firm hand on your lower back, when he looked down at you through blown pupils.

“You looked so fucking hot out there, Art,” you said, lips brushing against his jawline. “You can’t even imagine how it felt sitting there, watching you win. How turned on I got… how wet.”

Art exhaled a shuddery breath. “Jesus Christ.”

It must’ve been a while since he had someone want him this bad, you thought. Clearly he needed it— needed a pretty, sweet thing to tell him just how much they wanted him. You could be that. You could do that.

“I’m not wearing panties,” you whispered in his ear. His grip on you tightened and you had to suppress a giddy smile. “You can feel if you want. I won’t tell.”

He swore under his breath and glanced around. Everyone was too occupied or drunk to give a shit about what the two of you were up to.

He grabbed your hand, pulled you away into the bathroom. You looked pretty even then, in the flickering lights, sat up on the edge of the sink eagerly awaiting his attention.

When he wrenched your thighs apart, he was greeted by the pretty sight of your glistening cunt— sticky with arousal and need. His hand fit there perfectly, right where you needed it.

“Fuck,” you gasped. His fingers rubbed through your slit— wet and hot and aching for him. Your head fell back, knocking against the dirty mirror. “Want you to use me— whatever you want, just take it.”

And you meant it too. This was your teenage idol— a man you’d touched yourself to the thought of countless times. He owned your body, your sexuality, as much as you did. It was only fair he took from it whatever he pleased.

You watched with hungry eyes as he fumbled with the button of his pants, then shoved them down just enough to free his dick.

Your mouth fucking watered with the need to feel it on your tongue, nudging against the back of your throat. You weren’t opposed to begging— you nearly started before you got it into your hand.

Warm, thick, pulsing. Precum beaded at his tip, so you smeared it around the sensitive head of his cock with your thumb. He groaned, bucked into your fist once, twice before he moved your hand.

“Spread your legs wider for me,” he said, slapping the inside of your thighs. You obeyed wordlessly, spreading yourself out invitingly. He pressed closer, so you felt him rutting his dick against your pussy, coating it in your arousal. “God, you’re so fucking wet.”

The words came out with equal parts disgust and awe. He probably thought you were a slut with the way you were throwing yourself at him. You wished he’d just call you that, spit it in your face.

Your cunt pulsed with need, aching to be filled up finally. The culmination of years of fantasizing. Art pressed himself against your entrance, sinking himself into you with the slow reverence of a man who liked making love.

He buried himself inside of you and had to stop moving to keep from cumming then and there. He was a perfect image of restraint— the way his fingers dimpled the flesh of your hips in a bruising grip.

Art wanted to be a gentleman— to give you time to adjust to the size of him, to ease you into it and let the pleasure be a slow, soft burn. He pulled out nice and easy, slid himself into your wet, throbbing cunt. That was all fine and good, but you knew it was just pretense. You were laid out and wanting, begging for him to use you as his own personal toy.

“I’m not your wife, Art.” You met his gaze, locked your ankles around his waist. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

The first thrust, the first real one, knocked the air from your lungs. That silence didn’t last long— because you got what you wanted— he was really fucking you, bullying his cock into your pussy with the same need and desperation that you felt.

“Jesus Christ, you’ve— fuck— you’ve got no fucking self respect, huh?” He pounded into you, leveraging his grip to pull you against him, really impale you on his dick.

The moan that escaped you was pornographic. If he kept talking to you like that, if he kept fucking you like that, you’d cum.

“You don’t even care, do you? This fucking pussy’s squeezing me so tight— you fucking love this,” His voice was strained, interrupted by groans and pants.

You moaned, eyes rolling back. “Love this,” you echoed. When you looked down, at the sight of him splitting you open, of the ring of creamy arousal circling the base of his dick, you felt dizzy. Like you were standing on top of a tall building and looking down. Sort of out of body, tethered in the present by brutal thrusts into your pussy and the wet, slapping sounds of your bodies joining.

Your fingers moved between your thighs, rubbing needy and insistent at your clit. So close to finishing that you wanted to cry and just ask to start over again, that you’d savor it more a second time.

“Gonna cum,” he groaned suddenly. You felt him start to pull out, to leave. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck— not yet, you didn’t want it to end like that. “I have an IUD,” you lied through your teeth. You used your legs, pulled him closer, deeper. “Just keep going, don’t stop. I’m right there.”

He moaned against your throat— holding you tight, fucking into you with animal need. Your fingers moved against your clit with an insistent need. It didn’t take much to push you over the edge. Your moans so loud that Art had to put his medal between your lips to shut you up.

And you were so pliant— letting him drill into your aching, used cunt, your mouth tasting like metal. You felt his rhythm falter— one, two harsh thrusts that knocked muffled moans from you until he came, painting your insides thick, creamy white.

He stayed buried inside of you for a while— panting, doing his best to catch his breath. You spat out the medal and it fell back against his chest, spit slick and shining. You reached up, ran your fingers along his face, reverently, sweetly. A lock of hair fell into his eyes and you tucked it away with delicate fingers.

When he pulled out, you felt that sinking feeling of loss and jealousy in your chest. He redressed in silence, turned away like he couldn’t stand to look at you, or the mirror. Shame rolled off of him in waves that you wanted to brush away.

It wasn’t bad, you’d assure him. You’re a tennis star, you’re the greatest in the world. You should have whatever you want, whenever you want it.

But you didn’t say that. You just tidied yourself up as best as you could and slipped back out into the bar. If anyone noticed, they said nothing.

[gladiatorcunt]

Art seems like such a sub, like he’d be so down pathetic when he sits between your legs, back to your chest while you give him an hj. He whimpers while you whisper dirty things in his ear and shakes more with each pump OOH I NEED HOLY WATER 😭

he gives switch vibes with a sub lean for suuuuuuure 😮‍💨

cw: 18+ mdni, handjob, sub!art, set more in the college era, reader’s a switch too btw but art makes them feral, very loving tho, taking care of him after a tough practice, afab reader

“That’s it, just lie back on me. You must be feeling so sore.” You coo, caressing his biceps and getting into position on his bed.

You recline against the wall and open your legs. Art can’t hide the way his eyes light up as he eases onto the bed and swiftly turns around, resting his back against your chest with a soft sigh. You pick up on the groan he attempts to stifle in his palm, knowing how his muscles be absolutely aching right now.

It’s a big deal for you to show that you support him by showing up to his games and practices, so that’s what you doing earlier. You’ve always admired his determination when it comes to tennis, so you don’t mention that losing a college game isn’t the end of the world. Still, you won’t deprive yourself of the eye candy that comes in the form of your boyfriend sweating and grunting as he practices his drills.

Once it was over, he bounded over to you with a tired grin and jokingly pushed your face away when you tried to kiss him. “Angel, i’m all gross now.” He’d laugh, and you’d shut him up by licking some of the sweat of his cheek.

“Did I do good today?” He asks and looks up at you with his big eyes.

You’ll never not be grateful that he seeks out your approval like a dog with a bone, because you’ve never been so proud of someone in your entire life.

“You always do the best, babe.”

Art blushes and tilts his head back onto your shoulder. And for a cliché moment time stand still, the sunset outside casts an orange glow over the room and the two of you. Your boyfriend looks beautiful like this, eyes shut in exhaustion and nestled in your arms.

But you have other plans for the evening than just admiring your boyfriend, there will be plenty of that later during pillow talk.

Art cracks his eyes to see your hands trail down his arms to end up at his crotch. He’s so relaxed that he doesn’t squirm as much as he usually does, but he turns his head to nuzzle your shoulder.

You soothingly murmur to him, “My boy worked so hard today, i think he deserves a reward, don’t you?”

“I want whatever you have to give me.” He genuinely smiles into your skin, shifting his hips to push up against you palming his bulge.

And it’s true, he’d throw his head back like a whore and moan unabashedly no matter if you were edging him with a vibrator of if you were gently grinding your fat ass against his dripping cock.

You teasingly squeeze his clothed bulge and then dip your fingers under the waistband of his white boxer briefs. Thank god for the fact that Art likes to strip down as he soon as he gets back to his room after practice.

“Lift your hips for me, baby boy.” You tell him with a nip to his earlobe.

He sighs again as he gives you the suitable free space to push his underwear down enough to free his cock. It’s so long and pretty, such a good size too. Flushed blush pink at the tip and veiny, your mouth waters but giving your boyfriend head is a reward for a different day.

Art whines when you get your hands on his bare cock, “You know ‘m sensitive, feels so good already.”

“But your tears are so pretty when you’re overstimulated.” You peck his temple and lean your head on top of his, curling your hand around the base of his dick and steadily beginning to pump him. “You should be happy to cum as much as you want, sweets.”

He whimpers and spreads his legs over yours. You hook your feet around his and keep them there.

Pearls of precum bead to the tip of his cock, making the slide easier. You grip him tighter and move your wrist in quick circles as you speed up your thrusting.

“Oh- F-fuck!” He keens, latching onto your hips and arching his back against you.

“Shh, if you can’t handle this how are you supposed to handle my pussy? It’s so much tighter than my hand, baby, you’ve felt how warm and wet it is.”

He cums embarraingly quick when he gets like this, all doped up on how you make him melt. It’s adorable and a huge ego boost, but he can only cum inside you so much before he’s out like a light.

Art gasps at the mention of his treat, and awkwardly twists his torso around to face you, “I can handle it, can i have it now? Please please please please.”

“I don’t know…” You hum, pretending to consider his begging.

You clasp your fingers around his leaking dick and thumb the tip, spreading the precum. You fuck his length with your fist and you’re going so fast, you’re making a ‘thwop! thwop! thwop!’ sound.

“I think I want you to cum just like this, love.”

Art keens as you furiously jack him off. You rile him up by whispering in his ear.

“Got me so hot watching you today. Seeing the sweat on your body when you pulled up your shirt to wipe your face, i wanted to ride you into the ground.”

Art gapes, trying to kick his legs out on reflex but your ankles over his keep him right where you want him. He screws his eyes shut tightly and moans in between his babbling.

“Unh- unh- ‘s so good, gonna cum, can i cum? Please say i can cum, ‘m gonna burst- FUCK!”

You don’t know who’s crying more, Art or his cock. He’s leaking so much that you had to concentrate or you’ll lose your grip.

You don’t let up until he’s heaving a strangled cry and shooting his hips up, spilling on and over your hand like a fountain. He gets so sloppy with it, fucking himself with your fist through the aftershocks.

“That’s it, such a big load for me. I bet you were aching holding all that in, baby.”

And he’s so gorgeous, mouth open wide and tugging on his hair in random intervals. You grab his face with your free head and rub your thumb over his cheek. You let him come down at his own pace, and when he focuses his pretty eyes back on you, you bring your sticky hand to his mouth.

Art cleans his own mess, maintaining eye contact with you. The fierce tomato red blush he’s sporting deepens. You wink at him and slurp up an equal amount of his cum, like a couple sharing a milkshake in an old fashion diner.

[miley1442111]

(part 1) before his choice- a.donaldson

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a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

this is like the prelude to the other stuff but i get that it's confusing that it's coming out later- i didn't think i'd turn this into a series so i didn't exactly have a plan, sorry :)

this is 18+, mdni plssss

summary: how it was before art ruined your relationship

pairing: art donaldson x reader

warnings: smuttttt, 18+, piv using protection (don't be silly, wrap it), oral (f receiving), cute couple moments

(i think that's it but pls tell me if i forgot anything:)

Part 1 of 12

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“There goes Stanford’s favourite couple!” Megan rolled her eyes playfully. Art had his arms draped around your shoulders as you walked around campus as the sun set. Art chuckled and flipped her off, smirking as you laughed. Megan had been your roommate in your first year and you’d been best friends ever since.

You and Art were Stanford’s favourite couple. You were tennis prodigies, both extremely talented and both of you were friends with basically everyone. Everyone was always rooting for the two of you, apparently there was a fan page dedicated to your relationship. 

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“How was practice with Tash?” He asked, his arms circling your waist as you leant against the wall, waiting in line in the canteen. 

“Fine, she’s getting better,” You shrugged. Tashi had never been able to beat you, but she was getting better.

“She’s not going to beat you,” He smirked, pressing kisses against your cheeks.

“She’s really good!” You giggled, feeling his hands squeeze your waist harder. “I wouldn’t mind, maybe then she wouldn’t hate me.”

“Tashi doesn’t hate you,” he shook his head. He knew it was a semi-lie, Tashi didn't like loosing. You were the only person capable of making her loose.

“She doesn’t like me Art, it’s fine, I don’t mind,” you sighed. “Anyway, enough tennis, what are we doing tonight?”

Art smirked. “We have that party-”

You groaned. Art always wanted to go out, then leave early. In your opinion, why not just cut out the middleman and go straight to your dorm? “Art, what is the point?”

“You look hot in dresses,” He shrugged and chuckled as you playfully hit him on the arm. “Come on, it’ll be fun! We can dance and hang out with our friends.”

You rolled your eyes at the way he’s pretending it’s a choice. “It’s not like I have a choice, I picked date night last time.” 

“Exactly, so we’re going,” he grinned and you cupped his cheek, kissing him heavily. He was so beautiful, what else were you supposed to do? You pulled away quickly and moved up in the line, beginning to order both your lunches. You drove Art insane sometimes. Your pretty tennis skirts, your sweet lips on his, you. 

He did recognise that his brain was still stuck in the gutter like a teenage boy when it came to sex. He didn’t seem to mind much though. 

He placed his hand on your ass as you ordered for the both of you and he saw how you gulped.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one who’s head was in the gutter. 

You collected your food and sat at a table together, enjoying the canteen food.

“You’ll wear the red dress, right?” He asked. It was his favourite colour, and the colour of the college that the two of you would be representing. 

“No, Nike sent over something for me to wear, I think it’s purple,” you shrugged. Your partnership with Nike meant at every event you went to, you were representing them. That meant they were often sending you new things. 

“Purple?” He questioned.

“Yeah, like plum-y purple,” you shrugged. 

“Can’t wait,” he winked at you and you kicked him under the table. 

Tonight was going to be a long night. 

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

You finished styling your hair as Art walked into your dorm, baby blue shirt and some black formal trousers on, his blonde curls looking particularly beautiful. The dress Nike had sent over was beautiful, Art’s jaw dropped when he saw you. 

You were gorgeous. 

“Hey baby,” You smiled at him, pressing a kiss to his stunned cheek. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He stated. You chuckled at him as his hands gripped your waist, making you look at him. “You’re so, so beautiful.”

“You look handsome,” You smiled, smoothing out his collar. “Ready to go?”

“We’re not going anywhere,” he decided, lust-filled eyes staring into yours before he pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss. 

You kissed back immediately, your hands running through his curls. You probably had a ‘thing’ for his hair. His hands smoothed up the expanse of your back, pulling you impossibly closer. This is what he was, passionate, loving, and a little bit possessive. He radiated heat, his chest against your as he pushed you against the wall, his lips never leaving yours. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your lips as your hands dipped lower, going directly for his trousers zipper. 

“So are you,” you smiled, kissing him again. His hands found the zipper at the back of your dress, letting it fall to the floor at your feet. You unzipped him then started working on his shirt buttons, both of you forgetting about the party. 

His hands quickly pulled at your bra and underwear, leaving you bare as he stripped himself, thanking his past self for keeping a stock of condoms in your bedside table. He leaned over, quickly grabbing one and opening it with his teeth, sheathing his hard cock as you looked at him under you. He met your glazed eyes, lustfully looking at him, a soft smile on your face. 

You were so beautiful. 

You sank down on him, never quite used to the stretch he provided. “Fuck,” you moaned out. 

His eyes rolled back as you buried him inside of you. His hands gripped your waist, the faint remnants of bruises left from earlier in the week, when he was in this exact position. He pulled your face down to his as you started moving and started kissing up and down your neck between moans. He changed the position slightly, thrusting up into you to reach the gummy spot inside of you that made you scream out for him.

“God,” he groaned. “Fuck… f-fuck.”

You felt so good around him, it was one of his favourite feelings, the absolute euphoria of having your wrapped around him, using him to get yourself off.  

“You’re so good,” you whined breathlessly. “So good.”

Your voice and moans spurred him on, he loved your voice. He loved everything about you. 

“You gonna cum?” He whined, thrusting up into you. You nodded, bouncing on him harder as you began reaching your climax. He felt you tighten around him and he gasped, trying to not cum so quickly. 

“I’m c-cumming,” You groaned in his ear and he was a goner. He cupped your cheek, hap-harzardly kissing you to swallow the scream that was bound to leave his lips. You gripped his hips to still his uncoordinated and subscious thrusts as you both came down from your highs. 

Art still wasn’t done, he needed to taste you. “Let me taste it, please?” He begged, pulling himself out of you. “Please?”

“Art, we’re already late,” you reminded him through your sex-fueled haze. 

“Please, just let me kiss it,” he begged, kissing down your body, his fingers finding your sopping core. You moaned at the contact and nodded, a meek ‘please’ leaving your lips. 

That was all the confirmation Art needed. He latched his lips onto your clit, drawing out moan after moan. His fingers pumped in and out of you slowly, paying special attention to your g-spot. His tongue sucked over your over-sensitive clit and brought you to another two orgasms, not being able to stop himself from humping the bed in his enchanted state. He loved how you tasted, he couldn’t get enough of it, he never wanted to. If he could spend his days between your legs he would. 

After you came for the third time that night, he connected your lips again and smiled at you. “Thank you.”

Your fucked-out face was truly a sight to behold, and he had the pleasure of seeing it whenever he pleased. 

“Come on, we have a party to go to,” He smirked and you whined as he cleaned you up by running three fingers through your soaking core and licking them clean. 

He appreciated the new marks on your neck that he had created as you slowly got up. You dressed yourself in the beautiful dress once again, fixing your hair and makeup, then spraying yourself with some more perfume, attempting to cover the smell of sex. 

As you sat in the passenger seat of his car, he thought about how perfect you were, his hand in yours as he drove you to the party. 

Little did he know that this party would lead to the beginning of the end of your relationship.

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

art donaldson masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)

[veryberryjelly]

i would stay forever

art donaldson x gn!reader

prompt ; 'wait, don't go, please'

[ please excuse the fact that i know nothing about tennis XD. also, my first attempt at any kind of smut !! ]

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

you could feel arts frustration from your place in the crowd.

this had been the match he had been most anxious about. and as much as you had assured him he could kick cole friedman's ass on the court, it didnt take away from the fact that the guy was good.

and that much was proved by the score of today's match.

c. friedman - 4

a. donaldson - 2

you watched as your boyfriend stalked off the court, heading through the doors and back into the building.

manoeuvring out of the rows of chairs was difficult when everyone was taking advantage of the break between matches to get drinks and go to the bathroom.

in other circumstances you would've been with your boyfriend a lot quicker. you knew how in his head he got after he lost a match and you wanted to be there before he could get himself into too deep a spiral.

you managed to push your way through the crowd to get to the changing rooms where you swiftly pushed the door open, immediately met with groans of protest from the few other players that you completely ignored.

you spotted a familiar mop of strawberry blonde hair and your legs carried you towards it.

the closer you got, the more details of your boyfriend revealed themselves to you, and the more your heart broke for him.

he was bent over on the bench, his head in his hands, his shirt discarded beside him showing off the bruises he often got from practicing.

" oh, pretty boy " you muttered quietly, moving to kneel infront of him and get his focus on you and get him out of his head.

your hands rested on his knees and the contact seemed to be the thing to grab his attention and bring it to you.

a weak smile twitched at his lips and his arms dropped to rest his hands ontop of yours.

your hands turned to grasp his in yours and you pressed a kiss to the back of his hand.

" you did so good, baby. 'm so proud of you " your voice was quiet enough to keep this conversation between the two of you, but you made sure art could hear your voice.

you needed him to hear you over the voices in his head.

a soft nod of his head and a squeeze of your hand was enough for you.

" c'mon, i'll take you back to my place " you stood from the floor, your hands remaining clutched in art's grip.

when he tilted his head up to meet your gaze you could feel your heart breaking for the boy infront of you.

after a quick kiss pressed onto his forehead, you walked out of the changing room, giving him a couple of minutes to collect his things and change if he wanted to.

you leant against the wall just outside, ignoring the few glances you got from the guys walking out of the changing room who had seen you waltz straight in.

but you didnt care about them, you cared about the boy who came out and his arm went straight around your shoulders.

it was almost a reflex for your arms to wind around his torso, and the looks from the guys coming out of the changing room didnt cease.

" ugh, get a room " you heard from one of the players which usually would elicit a soft laugh from you, but today you just unwound one of your arms from your boyfriend and began leading him towards your building.

the walk was short but by the time you both arrived outside your door you could practically feel the exhaustion radiating off the boy beside you.

once the for was open you moved swiftly inside and art fell down ontop of your bed with a soft *thud*

you walked straight into your bathroom and knelt down to turn on the tub.

you could only imagine the amount of pain art was in right now, both physically and mentally. to your knowledge he hadn't slept in over two days and every spare minute had been spent on the courts, practising.

you knew he needed to relax, now more than ever.

after adding a soak to the water along with some salts you made your way back to your room to coax art into the bathroom.

at the sight of him already curled up on your bed ready to sleep you almost caved and let him stay there, but you knew he would thank you for making him get up.

you could let him lay there for a few minutes while the bath filled up.

and you spent those few minutes perched on the edge of your bed with your fingers running through the small knots in his hair enjoying the way his muscles seemed to relax at your touch.

getting him into the bathroom took a little bit of convincing, namely including bribery in the form of little spoon cuddles with a movie.

you pulled him through the bathroom door and reached down to pull his shirt up over his head.

this routine was both usual and unusual. after a loss art was usually a bit down, and he's both end up in the bath or shower at one of your places before just relaxing with you the rest of the afternoon.

but with the loss, ontop of how exhausted he was, you didnt mind doing that little bit extra.

you turned to drop his clothes into your laundry hamper while he climbed into the bath and when you turned back to face him he was coming up from the water after wetting his hair.

you couldnt resist leaving a kiss onto his forehead.

" i'm gonna go and get us some food, i'll be back in a little bit " you said quietly, moving to stand before you were stopped by a hand on your wrist.

" wait, don't go...please " his voice was quiet, but the raw edge on his voice pained you.

you didnt need to be asked twice as you knelt down beside the tub again.

" ok, i won't go " there wasn't a question about it. if he wanted you to stay, you would stay.

his head rested back against the wall behind the tub and his gaze was locked on you.

" will you get in here " it wasnt a question so much as a request.

but you recognised the look in his eyes. a tired need that often appeared in the dark of night along with a quiet whisper of ' just need to be close to you '

who were you to deny his gorgeous baby blue's.

you released his hand to strip yourself of your clothes and drop them onto the laundry hamper across the bathroom.

art offered his hand out to you to help you into the water and you sank down onto your knees, your arms looping to wrap around his neck.

you hovered slightly in the water while art lined himself up at your entrance.

once you felt the head of his cock pushing you open, you sank down onto his lap, shivering slightly at the whimper that escaped his lips.

his hands moved to rest on your hips as you both got used to the feeling of him being inside you.

you could tell when he was settled because his head dropped back against the wall and his arms tightened slightly around you, pulling your chest against his.

his nose nudges at the side of your neck and you tilted your head to the side to press a kiss onto his damp skin.

" 'm so proud of you, sweetheart. y' did so well. " a soft mewl interrupted you when you felt him twitch inside you.

" keep talking t'me, baby " he rasped in your ear, his fingers digging into your hips a little.

a soft smirk twitched at your lips. you knew his intentions had been pure, but your words seemed to have tripped something in his head.

" i know you're so tired, handsome. haven't slept in days. i just want to take care of you "

as you continued, you felt yourself slowly rising and falling on his length at a pace that caused the water around you to create small waves up the side of the porcelain.

his whimpers spurred you on.

" y'gonna let me take care of you, baby? want to shut your pretty brain off for a little while ? "

his answer was almost instant

" yes, please sugar " his voice was rough against your skin and you could feel the movement of his lips against your shoulder.

" ok, pretty boy. just relax f'me " you hummed in his ear, your lips moving to pepper kisses from his shoulder up to the spot behind his ear that you knew drove him crazy, all the while never ceasing the movement in your hips.

you could feel yourself getting worked up alongside the boy beneath you, but you tried to focus your mind elsewhere.

this was about art.

you recognised the slight tensing in his shoulders and the stiffening of his neck and your last few movements against his hips were a little more vigorous, to the point where a bit of water splashed over the edge of the tub.

but it was worth it to hear the groan that rumbled in your boyfriends chest and erupted from his mouth as he finished, a recognisable warmth spreading in your stomach.

your hips slowed to an eventual stop and you remained entwined in each others limbs for a few minutes.

eventually you pulled your head back to look at the boy in your arms.

his eyes were half closed, his hair sticking to his skin. he was truly a vision.

with a soft kiss to his lips, you made that reluctant move to ease yourself off of art and out of the tub all together. you wrapped yourself in your robe and pulled the spare one off of the back of your door that exclusively belonged to art.

somehow the boy climbing out of the tub now seemed to be even more exhausted than the one you had found in the changing room, and yet he looked better.

he looked...calmer. less plagued by worry as he took the robe from you and slid it onto his arms.

his arms wrapped around your waist and held you close to his chest.

" thanks, gorgeous " he whispered before pressing a kiss to your neck.

" y'don't have to thank me. go put some clothes on, there's some of yours in my top drawer " you turned in his grip, practically ushering him out of the room so he could change and you could pee and give your hair a quick brush.

when you emerged from the bathroom you found your boyfriend in a pair of boxers and one of your t-shirts. not one you'd taken from him, one of yours.

this must be how he felt to see you in his clothes. if it was you were never going to stop wearing his shirts.

he had pulled your laptop from your bag and opened it up to netflix, ready to argue with you for the next five minutes about a movie and then cave and let you watch whatever you had suggested first. after changing into one of his t-shirts and some underwear, you deposited the robes back in the bathroom and crawled into bed beside him, laying your head down on his chest when he guided you into his side.

" so, what're we watching ?"

———————-

y’all, let me know what you think. should i start writing more smut or cut my losses at this XD

[saintzweig]

boyfriend art donaldson because i miss him

– making a patrick version of this too

art who sneaks out of tennis practice to wait for you outside your last class and walk you back to your dorm. art who carries your bag for you every time you're together. art who switches sides with you whenever you would cross the road. art who always finds a way to touch you especially when you're outside, his hands intertwined with yours, holding your waist or on your back, sometimes around your shoulders. art who loves to call you pretty girl, my love and baby.

art who keeps photos of you taped on the wall above his bed. art who reads every book you recommend him. art who keeps a journal and writes about you. art who takes your make up off for you when you're too tired. art who refills your water bottle even without you asking. art who keeps snacks in his bag for you. art who talks about you a lot to his grandma. art who makes sure to clear a day off his schedule for you.

art who insists he drive you everywhere you go. art who gives you his credit card so you can buy whatever you need. art who loves to show you off during galas. art who always matches his outfit with yours. art who asks for your permission or opinion before getting a haircut. art who brings you everywhere he goes and finds a photobooth so he can glue more photos in his journal. art who takes care of you when you're drunk or high, "it's okay, darling. i got you, i'm right here."

art who loves to sit on his knees and eat you out, maintaining eye contact and watching you throw your head back in pleasure. art who strokes your head and kisses your forehead when your mouth is around him. art who loves to do missionary position so he can look at how pretty you are under him. art who loves to nuzzle against your neck, groaning about how good you feel around him. art who keeps saying he's going to get you pregnant (you're not sure if that's threat or a promise). art who prioritizes your pleasure over his, always making sure you come first before him. art who loves watching his fluid ooze out of your hole.

art who always takes care of you after having sex, cleaning you up and encouraging you to go pee before falling asleep. art who keeps a bottle of water on your bedside table for you. art who loves having you lay on his chest and having your legs tangled under the covers. art who loves to trace his name on your bare skin.

[tinytennisskirt]

Rumours

Art x Fem!Reader

Summary: You hate hookup culture, so your roommate Tashi sets you up with her boyfriend’s best friend. A nasty rumour interferes with the date and confusion ensues, but there’s still time to fix things so the night isn’t a complete waste. It can still be cute and romantic.

Warnings: written in my notes app and unedited- miscommunication trope, mentions of sex and certain foreplay, one kiss.

So you’d managed to find yourself scheduled for a date with Art Donaldson, college tennis player. It was of course, the work of your best friend and roommate Tashi Duncan. She’d set it all up- all it took was one night of margaritas and sitting upside down on your bed, feet up against the wall, saying, “I’m kind of tired of being alone. I want to do things, I want to go on dates and I want to fall in love and out of it without the pressure for make out and hookup culture. It’s so tiring to sit here night after night.”

And Tashi was immediately on it. She whipped out her phone and was texting someone and you didn’t hear about it until the next day, sober. She’d set you up for a date with one of her friends. You weren’t involved in her passion for tennis and you were relatively new to this place, so you hadn’t met Art before. But he sounded nice enough. Tashi described him as a bit taller than her, but she stood at 5’10, so that meant he had to be around 6ft. Blonde, curly-ish waves and big ears. You’d chuckled a little at that.

Tashi didn’t warn you about anything, she was excited and set the date up for 7pm. Art would swing by your dorm and come get you and you’d go for dinner, practically a blind date. Or a vision-impaired date.

You carried out your class of the day, excited. Tashi said she’d lay out your perfect outfit while you were in classes after she got back from tennis with Patrick. You’d met Patrick, of course, he was over quite a bit. He was best friends with Art, you knew that much. It was funny he was never around.

When your partner for an assignment, Mary, who was one of your class friends- asked why you looked so eager to get out of class, you apologized. She laughed, “It’s okay, we are already ahead on the project, you’re allowed to slack a little.” You apologized again.

“I promise I’m invested,” you chuckled. “I have a date tonight is all. I haven’t been on a date in… forever.”

Mary tilted her head with intrigue, “Oooh, where to?”

“Some restaurant called The Bistro?” You answered. “Apparently it’s not much of a Bistro and just a nice place to eat and get a drink.”

“I love it there! They have great garlic bread but I don’t recommend for a first date,” she laughed and shut the book you two were annotating. You smiled. “Who with? Is it the cute barista guy from the campus coffee shop who was totally eyeing you yesterday? Please say it is.”

You shook your head, “You know my roommate Tashi? She set me up with one of her tennis friends- Art Donaldson?” You noticed Mary’s smile fall. No. What? “What is it?” You pressed immediately.

Mary shook her head, “I’m sure it’s fine. I just know you- that’s all.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just that I know you hate hookup culture with a passion. I know you. And I also know things about Art… he has a reputation.” She cringed away like you were going to explode. You weren’t. You found the anticipation in your stomach was fading slowly.

“Oh…”

“But it’s just a rumour… I’ve heard from a few girls he’s only good for sex.” She waved her hands around like mad. “It could be totally a lie but I’ve heard it from… quite a few girls. Too many. Just be aware.”

You clicked your tongue. It figured. “Thank you. I had no idea.”

Mary apologized to you and gave you the rest of her energy drink because she felt so bad about breaking it to you- which you both laughed about. It was a bit funny, but the idea of going out with someone sex-oriented was something that you weren’t interested in. You weren’t about that- After being used in that way before you promised you wouldn’t put yourself in that position again. But rumours were rumours.

Despite everything, a date was a date. You’d get free dinner out of it, hopefully. Maybe. And you could always call Tashi to come get you. You went back to the dorm and Tashi had laid out something velvety and pretty for you with a small sweater and some black heels. She’d done well. You did your hair and makeup nicely and the clock continued to tick as you thought this over. Did you really want this?

The knock on the door snapped you out of you staring yourself down in the mirror. The time to contemplate was up and it was too late. You could just… not answer the door? Maybe he’d go away after a bit. But you were hungry and ramen compared to restaurant food did not seem so appealing. You hated what you were doing with every fibre of your being, but you opened the door with a smile.

He stood there in a sweater and nice pants, hair blonder than you’d imagined, and a toothy grin on his face. He looked sweet. That was your first impression. You didn’t notice the way his jaw went slack a little the moment you opened the door because as pretty as Art imagined you’d be, you were prettier.

“Hi,” you said.

“Hey,” he replied, extending his hand. “I’m Art. You must be y/n.” It wasn’t often anyone asked to shake your hand like this. You shook it gently. “Tashi told me a lot about you but I didn’t know you’d be so…” he stopped himself and smiled at his feet. “I am too forward already.”

“You’re doing fine,” I smiled. I tried to put my prejudice aside. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you as well.”

He smiled a crooked smile. Almost like a smirk, but I hoped it wasn’t a smirk. You could like a crooked smile a whole lot better. The two of you made introductions and began to walk through the dorm and outside. “I’ve been having car trouble lately. The back seats are a bit of a mess, it’s where my put the parts I’m working on.” He said before opening the passenger side door for you. He was nice. Sweet even. You didn’t mind the backseat was a mess.

“Thank you,” you said, slipping into the car. The car smelled like a mix of cinnamon and apples and a bit like a car, but good enough. The conversation on the way there consisted of talking about music. He liked the same stuff you did, apparent by the amount of cds he had in his glovebox. He was funny, too. You liked that. He was cracking jokes effortlessly and looked at you a bit much for someone who was driving but eventually you got there and sat down and ordered.

“So what’s tennis like?” You asked, folding your hands on the table. “A question from an outsider.”

“Competitive,” he replied. “But I’ve been at it since I was a kid, me and Patrick- you’ve met Patrick, which now I come to think he has mentioned you as well- me and Patrick went to the same tennis academy.”

You nodded, “So it’s been your life.”

He smiled, taking a sip of his drink, “Yeah. I’d say I’m pretty good but I would like an outsiders perspective, you know.” He smiled even wider and it only got more crooked. You smiled back. He was inviting you to watch him play. “What’s your thing? Your life?” He asked.

You grinned, “Maybe writing. Or reading? It’s boring, but-“

“It’s not boring,” Art interrupted. “I like reading in my downtime. I just finished The Turn of The Screw.”

“For fun?”

“For fun,” he laughed. He had a nice laugh and a smooth voice. Mary’s voice echoed around your head, repeating the ghosts of his past. He was almost too good to be true. He read for fun? A sports-oriented man who read for fun? You leaned on your fist. He looked you in the eyes, trying to read you, almost angling his head as if it would help him see into your mind. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is fine,” you nodded, smiling a little bit embarrassedly. But you straightened your posture out. “You read for fun as a boy in college, it’s rare. I like it.”

He looked down at his plate, almost sheepishly. You didn’t know he was hiding the flush in his cheeks that went from ear to ear. The conversation carried on and he was still sweet. The food arrived and you talked about school and life before it and you were really beginning to see past the rumours.

Near the end of dinner you used the washroom quickly. You fixed up your blush and powder. He was nice. He was really nice and really sweet and he was full of compliments in subtle ways, about the small things. But you couldn’t stop thinking about what Mary had said. Who was to say that-

Your thoughts met an abrupt end as a girl in the bathroom of the restaurant tapped your arm. She was tall, thin, with hair like red velvet. You nstantly recognized her from my first class of the day, she was a girl who raised her hand often. “Hey!” She greeted me, wrapping slender arms around your neck in a hug you weren’t expecting. She smelled strongly of whiskey. Oh…

“Hi…” you said warily, patting her on the back as she pulled away. “How are you?”

She smiled a drunken smile. “I’m good! But I have to tell you something- I saw who you’re out with and I just wanted to come and warn you- he’s a player and I heard he’s only in the game for a fuck.” She giggled but shushed herself immediately after and leaned against the wall.

The pit feeling in your stomach made it churn. Things were really going well with Art, you were fractions away from letting it all go. He read for fun, for fucks sake. You bit your lip- “How do you know?” You asked. It wasn’t as if a drunk girl would give a great answer but maybe enough of one.

She pointed at you, “A friend of a friend went out with him… steak I think. And he was all nice-“ she hiccuped. You braced yourself. Art was still out there… maybe. Why couldn’t things just be easy? You felt the fight or flight kick in. “But after he expected his dick sucked or whatever-“

Your stomach dropped again. Fuck! Why couldn’t men be nicer? Easier? More full of love and not lust. You stood in this bathroom believing in a drunk redhead and you hated it. You pulled out your phone and wanted to call Tashi. But this was Tashi’s friend so suspicions that he was a boy who used women and it just felt wrong. You sighed a deep, long sigh. “He expected it?”

“Yeah! He was all pushy.” She said. “Anyways I gotta go, just had to tell you.”

“Wait-“

She stumbled away. You inhaled again, so deep you ran out of capacity. You were not the kind of girl who valued men like that or kept them around. Was it so hard to just be loved and cherished? For fucks sake, fucks sake! You were gripping the edge of the sink so hard, your knuckles were white. He was so cute, he really was. Blonde curls, crooked smile, the way he spoke and he was so charming.

You walked out of the bathroom and back to the table, Art smiled as you sat back down. “Hey, you okay?” He asked. “I was thinking of getting dessert… do you want to share or… I’m happy to get you one for yourself.”

You pressed your tongue to your cheek, “Art… I think I’m going to cut our night short.” You started, looking down, away from him. It was a bit too late, you’d seen his face fall, his smile slip away into softly opened lips.

“Oh,” he nodded, pulling out his wallet. You stopped him too quickly, nearly putting a hand on his and immediately yanking your hand back.

“No-“ you said. “I’ll pay, I’m sorry I wasted your time.” Anything to get away from someone whose rumours had followed you to the restaurant. There was a time

He shook his head, “It’s okay, really. I-uh…”He shook his head again. You hated the feeling in your stomach as it rose and fell again and again. “I’m sorry.” He said.

You wondered why. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.” The rumours were too much. He raised his hand for the bill. “I’m just… I…” you found yourself unable to lie and say you felt sick. He looked at you, eyes meeting eyes with nothing else to look at but how blue they were, with a bit of brown on the left eye. But he wasn’t company you wanted to keep. “I’m sorry.” And you paid with your card when the waiter came. He looked away from you and you messaged Tashi to come get you.

He stood with you outside, the wind tousled your hair. You looked over at him looking out over the parking lot bathed in purple light from the restaurant sign. You looked away. He looked over at you, but you didn’t see it until he took a deep breath. “Was it something I said?” He asked. You looked at him, not turning your body, but your head. “I’m sorry for asking, I know how it sounds, but part of me isn’t going to let this go unless I know if it was my fault.”

You looked at your feet in your pretty shoes. “It wasn’t anything you said,” you replied. The silence amongst the nearby whoosh of traffic was unbearable. Your eyes met. You hated being terrified of being used- girls like Tashi embraced it for the experience but you were tired. And maybe if you were more naive or not so set on a high standard then you wouldn’t be leaving before dessert. You wished you weren’t terrified of it. And you wished you were tired. Art nodded. More silence.

What an awkward first date. You wished you hadn’t left the dorm in the first place. The wind moved his hair around. His hands stayed in his pockets. “Should have let me pay,” he chuckled quietly. “I have to go back to my dorm to tell Patrick not only did I fuck up a date with a pretty girl but she paid too. You know you’d be saving me from him if you stayed? You know him…”

His little attempts at bringing levity made you smile and you hated it. “I’m sorry,” was all you said. It felt like all you could say. He smiled a bit back at you. Tashi pulled up in her jeep and you waved at him. He waved back. A silent goodbye.

The door wasn’t even closed and Tashi was speaking, “Why? What did he do?”

You didn’t know she’d be unhappy. “I heard things about him? A girl pulled me aside in the bathroom to warn me- I was told a few things about him today and it threw me off, I can’t-“

“Art is the sweetest guy I know, you couldn’t even finish your meal? I get that you know what you want but I went out of my way to try and get you what you wanted and… I’m so sorry but that’s not right. What you did. You could have stuck it out.” She spoke a mile a minute.

“I heard he’s only in it for sex!” You said, defending yourself. You and Tashi didn’t fight, you had to voice it or else she wouldn’t understand.

“What?”

“Mary told me- and then the redhead girl from my morning class at the restaurant told me-“

“Mary Sinclair?” Tashi said. “Call her right now.”

“Hm?” Her words were whizzing out of her mouth and they were sharp. She was genuinely never like this with you. She was only like this when she knew she was in the right.

“Call Mary Sinclair,” she repeated. She started driving away. “I’m sorry I’m yelling- please.” You listened because Tashi was so firm.

“Hey,” Mary started when she picked up. “How was your date?”

Tashi grabbed the phone from you- “Hey Mary, this is Tashi. Just calling to ask- You said something about Art Donaldson?”

She stuttered on the other line. You narrowed your eyebrows. This was fast. This was very strange and out of character for how you and Tashi treated each other. Tashi looked over at you, driving with one hand. “Yeah, I mean. I know he sleeps with girls on the first date. And I know he’s a player of sorts- I was only warning- I heard from a friend of a friend.”

“Which Art Donaldson?” Tashi followed up, her tone still strong. Straight to the point. You were honestly afraid she’d crash putting all her effort into the power of her voice.

Mary clicked her tongue, “Tennis player? Tall, wears a lot of sweaters. Brown hair, big nose, kinda long-“ and you perked up. “He’s roommates or… friends with that blonde guy.”

Oh fuck. What did that mean? You had a feeling but you hated what it truly meant. You looked at Tashi, who arched her eyebrow at you. “Who spread those rumours?” She followed up. “I mean- who told you that?”

“I heard them from Tessi,” she replied. You immediately knew who that was. That was bathroom redhead girl. Oh my god. “Why? What’s going on?”

Tashi spoke through her teeth, “Who did she hear them from?”

“Some girl he went out with three months ago. I forget, she’s a friend of Tessi’s I think and her name is… Val?”

“Fuck!” Tashi said aloud. You were caught up in how fast this was unfolding and the moving car and Art. Who was Art? “Thanks Mary!” She hung up and put my phone back in my lap. “I’m sorry, y/n, this is not fair to you or to Art.”

“I’m- what the fuck?”

“They’re talking about Patrick. Someone is confused, they’re talking about Patrick, Val is his ex… before me. She hates his guts, she thinks he played her. He didn’t, he just… wanted me. Someone along the line mistook him for Art, got their names mixed up- you’re right for trusting your gut.”

You just blinked. Tashi veered a little harshly. “Patrick? They think Art is Patrick? Somehow? That’s so- how? They’re so different.”

“I don’t know either- I’m sorry I’m yelling- Patrick is the so-called player, not Art.” And your stomach dropped lower than it had before. And your heart instantly gushed. He was not a dick, he wasn’t a player, he was just everything you hated to like- he was charming, kind, he read for fun, he was complimentative and funny and you had just fucked him over after what was a good date, inner thoughts aside. And he even asked you stay, god he thought he did something wrong. You felt ache in your fingertips.

“Tashi, can we beat Art back?”

Tashi pressed her hand to her forehead, “Boys dorms?”

“Please,” you said. Suddenly it was urgent. The whirlwind picked you up again. Tashi who was already driving a little recklessly turned her jeep onto campus grounds as fast as she could. You feared a little for your life. You had just done something awful to what was the perfect guy and it was all under false notions, your prejudice, your fear of someone being two-faced or fake and not being genuine.

“You can’t get in without a keycard, you have to catch him before he gets in and that’s his car parked right there in the lot,” she veered over to the entrance and saw Art walking down the side of the building. He was sweet and quite perfect and you ruined everything. She could have called Patrick who she knew was hanging out there, she could have helped but there wasn’t another thought in your mind. You ditched your bag in her car and got out of the jeep just to have your ankle immediately bend when your high-heeled feet hit the ground. What a misunderstanding, it burned in your chest and fingertips like an ache. The pain in your ankle was momentary only because you needed to move. You kicked the shoes away and ran, barefoot on the grass, across it to the sidewalk, feet hitting the rough hard ground. You had never felt faster. You didn’t call his name, you didn’t want to make him turn.

You ran and you ran and he was at the door, reaching for his key card. This was a great mistake- this was a crazy mistake. You almost ran into him, you stopped just before and he turned his head, eyes widening a bit. Your curled hair had grown in volume from the wind, your nose was pink, your breaths were heavy and harsh and you were barefoot.

“I’m so sorry,” you said. He met your eyes. You couldn’t catch your breath, your lungs burned and your heart beat a mile a minute. “Art, I’m so sorry.” You pressed your hand to your stomach. “Something happened, some misunderstanding and I- I let it determine how I felt about you and truth is you were lovely but the false information I’d been given overshadowed it and I-“ you huffed. “God, I’m saying I fucked up. Aside from that you were perfect and I really liked talking to you.”

He folded his arms. You immediately felt small. Stupid. “Art, I’m sorry. Someone told me you were a player and I am not- I’m not about that. I don’t like people like that, not for myself. I let someone tell me that was who you were but they were confused and they were talking about Patrick! Tashi told me his ex… spreads rumours.” You breathed out heavily. “I’m so sorry, I really should have asked you about it or something. Or even asked the girls who told me. They were confused and they didn’t even know it. I was scared that you were some dick like the others but you’re not. And I’m sorry. And you’re letting me ramble and honestly it’s fine because I could just talk about how sorry I am forever.”

“She does spread rumours like that but Patrick… he couldn’t be me,” Art said. He said it with a straight face, but what he said was a little funny. I smiled. And I wanted him to smile too. “I liked talking to you too. I thought it was going really well, honestly.”

“I was just scared, I promise. I believed it. I believed it to keep myself safe and I’m baring my insecurities in the open right now with little to no filter- just- I didn’t get the feeling you were like that whatsoever, but I was told…”

He nodded, “I know. I’m sorry someone told you that, but it’s definitely not me.” He kept his arms folded. The ache manifested into your whole chest. You’d been such a dick. You hurt someone kind because of a rumour. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Your face flushed hot. Scalding. You must have turned entirely pink. “I really- I just wanted to tell you I was sorry and why and what happened before you went inside. I am really sorry, Art. It was really a lovely night things aside. I am frankly mortified and upset I acted the way I did and I just… I wanted you to know how sorry I am.” You expressed, your hands gesturing all the important parts. He kept his lips straight. You felt judged. I guess that’s how he felt. “Look, I’m going to go. I really didn’t mean to make you feel like you did something wrong. It wasn’t you at all. I’m sorry I completely misjudged you. I’m going to go now, back to my… um… dorm.” Your flush burned your skin. “Thank you for listening.”

“You know you’d be saving me from Patrick if you stayed?” He said. His arms unfolded and his small smile was back. Very small. But there. You clutched your stomach and swallowed hard. Your heart still beat a mile a minute.

“Art-“

“It’s okay. People get mixed up between me and Patrick all the time. And although I didn’t like the no-reason-pay-and-leave, I still like you. I think you’re really sweet and pretty and you just ran across the residence lawn barefoot just to apologize with a million words because you felt that bad. I think that makes up for the judgment. Plus… it makes sense. I heard what Tashi told Patrick about what you’re looking for in a guy, it makes sense that you’d ditch.”

You breathed out hard. “She said she wouldn’t tell…”

“You’re sweet. And you were protecting your peace.” He said. He looked at his feet. “And I get it and I like you.”

“I like you too.” You huffed. “Can we-“

“Start from scratch?”

“Yeah,” you grinned. He smiled a crooked smile and the weight was partially lifted. You still felt awful, but less so. He understood.

He stuck his hand out to you and you shook it. His crooked smile was in full bloom. You blushed. “Art. Not Patrick.” He said.

“Y/n,” you replied. “Do you want to get out of here? This is me asking you out. Again.” You clarified. He laughed a little.

“Yeah I’d be honoured, but I pick the spot… again.” He agreed. You nodded. And nobody spoke for a moment, you just smiled. And his blue eyes weren’t so down-looking. “Do you need shoes?”

“Depends on where we’re going…” you said. “Thank you though. For understanding.”

“You’re too pretty for me to care about what some other girl said about someone else,” he said. “You don’t need shoes, come on.”

And you walked off together, starting up some new unrelated conversation. He took you to play tennis, he kicked your ass but you were also barefoot and in a dress. You ended up laughing hysterically and he was everything you wanted and more. And the events of a few hours ago faded out like nothing. It became a thing of the past and all you both knew now was badly swung tennis rackets and bare feet on the court, laughter, harmony. And it was nearly 2am when he walked you back to your dorm. He carried your shoes that you found by the sidewalk.

“That was fun,” you said outside your door. “Thank you again for forgiving me.”

“Thank you for running across residence to apologize,” he replied. You smiled. So did he. “Don’t let anyone mix me up again? I’m going to talk to someone about that…”

You laughed, “I’ll fix it for sure.”

“Thank you.” He put his hands in his pocket then immediately took them out. “I want to see you again.”

“I’d like that,” you answered. Your eyes met properly. “Very much.”

“Me too,” he said. “And you looked beautiful tonight. Even with your hair all messed up.” You’d been whining about it on the court. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Or I guess today.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said. His eyes fell downward. You could tell he stared at your lips. Despite all you stood for, tonight was enough to warrant it. You grinned in the silence and he matched it with his smirk-like smile. And it was mutual, the kiss. Both of you leaned in, meeting in the middle. Soft. Easy. Simple. And quick. Just his hand on your cheek, pushing your hair behind your ear before pulling away. “Goodnight.” You said. Your body felt warm.

He grinned, a little bit of a twinkle in his eye. “Goodnight.”

Rumours were just that- rumours. And they’d gone to die, at least for you and Art. You took off your makeup, got into your Panama’s, completely debriefing with Tashi as you did. She had been trying to get to the bottom of it since she got back, it turned out. There was going to be nothing in the way anymore, all pre-conceived notions thrown out the window.

You smiled as you fell asleep with the promise of being called tomorrow. Nothing else mattered.

[maya-caffrey]

Human 101: Sneaking Around

pairing: rk800 connor x reader

words: 1.5k

warnings: language, heavy making out, lack of proofreading, fic from reader's pov

summary: This week, we risk unemployment by getting *cough cough* busy at work (comedy, fluff)

additional context: reader is a detective with Detroit PD, reader and Connor are now dating (yay). Sequel to Human 101: Dancing

a/n: wrote some risque stuff this time and i am terrified hello :)

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

I take my job very seriously. I love being a detective, and I believe rules are essential for keeping everybody in line. But hey, things happen. If you had told me say, a couple weeks ago that I'd lie to my superiors, break a whole lot of rules, and risk getting fired, all for some guy, I'd have laughed in your face and called you things I probably shouldn't say out loud.

But, like I said, things happen. Against all odds, there I was, stumbling backward into the evidence room, one hand fumbling for the doorknob while the other was tangled in my new boyfriend’s hair, his lips on mine like he was afraid to let go. I managed to get the door open and we practically fell inside, the door clicking shut behind us.

Connor took the split-second gap to slam me against the wall, staring into my eyes with a mischievous look he knew drove me crazy. I pulled him down by his tie, his lips crashing into mine with a fervor that left me breathless. He deepened the kiss, which I didn't even know was possible because 3 seconds in I was already giddy.

His lips left mine and trailed down to my jawline, sending shivers down my spine. The sharp edge of the cold metal shelving dug into my back, but I didn’t care. His hands were already tracing down my sides, pulling me impossibly closer.

“Connor,” I whispered, my voice shaky but still laced with desire. “We are so gonna get caught.”

"In that case, we'll be quick."

“You’re insufferable,” I managed to gasp, though my words lacked any real bite as his lips trailed down further, at a maddeningly slow pace. God, this was killing me.

“Am I?” he murmured against my skin, his tone low and teasing, the faintest smirk in his voice.

“Yes,” I shot back, tugging at the collar of his jacket to pull him closer. “You- God, you drive me insane.”

“Good,” he said simply, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below my ear, making my breath hitch.

I was just about to tell him something- probably completely incoherent- when the door creaked open.

“What the hell-”

Connor froze mid-movement, his lips still pressed to my neck. I turned my head, heart dropping into my stomach, and there stood Hank. Hank. His face went through what could only be described as the five stages of grief in three seconds flat.

For a moment, nobody moved. The only sound was the hum of the fluorescent lights and the faint echo of music from down the hall. My face felt like it was on fire, but I couldn’t say a word. I prayed to every god I knew to make me disappear that very instant. It did not work.

Hank finally broke the silence. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“I- uh- this isn’t- ” I stammered, trying to pull myself together, but words were failing me. Somebody shoot me, please.

“Save it,” Hank interrupted, holding up a hand. His eyes flicked between the two of us, landing on Connor. “You. Romeo. What the hell are you doing in here?”

He slowly straightened, his LED flickering yellow as he turned to face Hank. His hair was disheveled and his shirt was practically undone, the tie only barely hanging on for formality. His head tilted slightly as his gaze darted to me, then back to Hank, then back to me.

“...What is the appropriate protocol in this situation?” he asked, his voice as calm as ever but tinged with just the faintest trace of curiosity. I just stared at him incredulously. How the fuck would I know the appropriate protocol for getting caught by your boss playing tonsil tennis at work.

“‘Protocol,’ my ass,” Hank grumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re supposed to be out there chasing perps, not- whatever this is.”

I could feel my soul trying to leave my body. “Hank, it’s not-”

“Oh, it’s exactly what it looks like,” Hank cut me off, leveling me with a glare. “You think I don’t know? I’ve seen rom-coms, kid. You think I don’t recognize the ol’ ‘hide in the evidence room for some slap and tickle’ move?”

“I assure you, Lieutenant,” Connor said, deadpan as always, “there was no slapping involved.”

I groaned audibly. “Connor, honey, stop helping.”

“Yeah, please do,” Hank grunted. He gestured between us. “Listen, I don’t care what you two do on your own time, but if I find out you’re doing it on my watch again, you’re both benched. Permanently.”

"Wait, so, you won't be reporting us to Fowler?"

"Report what? I didn't see nothing. Understood?"

“Yes, Lieutenant,” Connor and I said in unison, though Connor’s tone was far too composed for someone who’d just been caught with his partner’s tongue down his throat.

Hank sighed as he shook his head, muttering something about ‘damn androids and their hormones’ as he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

The second Hank stormed out of the room, I dropped my head back against the cold metal shelf with a groan. I was this close to just melting into the floor.

Connor, of course, was already straightening his tie, like it was no big deal. “That could’ve gone worse.”

I shot him a look, my hands still trembling from the adrenaline. “Really? You think? Because I’m pretty sure Hank just walked in on us doing... that.”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Well, Hank didn’t report us. So, I’d say we came out on top.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, even though my face was still redder than a lobster. “Yeah, sure, no big deal. Just your boss catching you- us- in the middle of... whatever the hell that was.”

He shrugged casually, like it was just another Tuesday. “He didn’t seem too upset. Besides, I’m sure he’s seen worse.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, crossing my arms. “I don’t even want to know what he’s seen.”

Connor shot me a knowing look, that signature smirk of his never leaving. “What can I say? The guy’s been around.”

I had half a mind to throw something at him, but honestly, I didn’t have the energy to care anymore. I was still processing the fact that Hank had basically given us the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ treatment.

"You know we’re gonna get an earful from him later, right?" I muttered, feeling my face go a little hotter. "He's gonna be all, ‘You kids are lucky I’m a softie.’"

Connor laughed, the sound so carefree I almost wanted to smack him. “Hey, at least we got out of it.”

I turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “You think we got out of it? He just let us off the hook because he’s... what, distracted by whatever his new favorite bar’s got on tap?”

“Hey, whatever works,” Connor said with a grin, completely unbothered.

I gave him a look, walking toward the door. “Yeah, well, next time, let’s not make the whole department part of our ‘special moments,’ okay?”

He followed me out, casually fixing his jacket. “You know I can’t promise that.”

I shot him a sideways glance, feeling the heat still simmering beneath my skin. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Connor’s smirk only deepened as he sidled up beside me, his breath warm against my ear. “You love it,” he whispered, voice low and velvety.

A shiver ran down my spine before I could even process it, and I could feel my pulse pick up. Fuck him. I turned my head just enough to catch the glint in his eyes, but not quite enough to meet his gaze directly.

“Stop,” I muttered, voice coming out weaker than I’d like.

He didn’t, in fact, stop. In fact, he leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing my ear as he added, “I can’t, if you keep looking at me like that.”

“I’m serious, Connor,” I warned, but the slight quiver in my voice betrayed me.

I tried to stay annoyed, but I could feel it slipping, like trying to hold onto water with a sieve. But the second he leaned in closer, that same teasing smirk still tugging at his lips, it hit me. He was messing with me.

I blinked, suddenly realizing he’d been toying with me this whole time. Damn android.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I asked, the realization making my cheeks heat up.

“Absolutely,” he replied without missing a beat, his voice a low hum in my ear.

I couldn’t help but laugh (at myself, mostly), shaking my head in disbelief. “You’re so mean.”

"Yeah, you love it."

"Well, just, try not to get us caught next time."

"Now, where's the fun in that?"

[idciminlove]

Take a Slice

Part One - Miracle

f!reader x Tashi Duncan x Art Donaldson x Patrick Zweig

Cinnamonacid on AO3

warnings- age gap, inaccurate tennis stuff, etc.

You love tennis. You devoted your life to it, watching, practicing, and playing it every single day. You never thought it could love you back. You never thought they could love you back. Not until you caught Tashi's eye.

𝙽𝙲𝙰𝙰 𝚆𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗'𝚜 𝚃𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚜 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚂𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚜

𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚍, 𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚊 

𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝟸𝟷𝚜𝚝, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟸

𝟿 𝙰𝙼

 Anxious chatter resonated inside the bus, echoing off the walls. You did your best to ignore it, resting your head against the window, watching the buildings blur by and listening to music instead. Unfortunately, you were unable to ignore how your stomach was twisting with nerves. You felt sick. You tried to focus on the song playing, shutting your eyes.

 You imagined yourself with the racket in your hands, hitting the ball as hard as you could. Getting aces, scoring points, and winning. Positive imagery, like your coach would say. Visualizing the best possible outcome. What you’re good at. What you can do. What you’ve worked so hard to do. 

 Someone grabbed your shoulder, shaking you and making you jump. You opened your eyes and pulled out an earbud, gazing up at the culprit. Your teammate. 

 “You know I heard that Tashi Duncan and Art Donaldson are going to be at the matches today, and Patrick Zweig, too.” 

 “It’s not surprising. We’re going to their alma mater.” You shrugged, playing it cool, as if what she told you didn’t make you ten times more nervous, as if you hadn’t been obsessed with them ever since your early teenage years. Especially Tashi, who you idolize completely and may or may not have contributed to your bisexual awakening. 

 “Well, aren’t you nervous? I mean, if they see me mess up-”

 “Don’t worry. They didn’t go to our school, they’re not rooting for us, so they don't care. They won’t be watching us, It’ll be fine.” 

 Out of the corner of your eye, you caught someone smiling at you. Your hitting partner,  doubles partner, and best friend, Annaliese.

 “Maybe you can get Tashi’s autograph after you win.” She chimed in, reaching across the aisle and nudging your foot playfully with hers.

 You couldn’t help but smile back. “Maybe.” 

–

 Patrick groaned as he leaned back in his seat. The past few matches had been a shitshow. All three girls from the same college had lost badly and another girl from that same school was coming on, ready to be thrown to the wolves. 

 “Ugh, I can’t watch anymore. This is just depressing. It’s a miracle they even qualified. Let’s take a break and wait for some other schools to play, grab some lunch or something. I’m starving.” He remarked. 

 Tashi sighed in annoyance, but she knew he was right. So, she began to collect her things. She grabbed her purse and right as she stood up to get out of her seat, the players for the next match were introduced. She glanced over at the court, gazing over at the girls briefly, before she paused. 

 There was something familiar about the player for the losing school, but she couldn’t place it. Tashi watched as she strided onto the court, beaming as the announcers introduced her. She waved and blew kisses to the crowd, smiling from ear to ear, as if she hadn’t just witnessed her friends get destroyed in their previous matches. She was different. She was confident. Or at least, she was pretending to be, putting up a front and hiding her fear. Unlike her peers, who were practically shaking in their boots whenever the ball came near them.

 “Tash, c’mon let’s go. I don’t want to sit around and watch another blood bath.” Patrick called out to her, but she didn’t move, focused on the girl on the court. 

 She turned away from the crowd as she unzipped her bag, pulling out her racket. Tashi watched as she stretched, studying her and her figure. There was a tattoo on her upper back, between her shoulder blades of a smiling sun. 

 And then it clicked. 

  Sunshine.  

  Growing impatient, Patrick began to take off. Tashi grabbed his arm, stopping him before he could walk away. “Wait, I know her.” 

 “What?” He stopped, dumbfounded. 

 “I know her. She won the Junior’s US Open in 2020. Sunshine. That’s what they called her.” 

 The last time Tashi watched her, she liked what she saw. She even thought about recruiting her, but she was far too busy juggling careers, helping Art finish out his last season, training Patrick for his next, while also navigating her marriage after what went down at the Challengers at New Rochelle. She followed her through articles and posted statistics, until she heard about her knee injury a few months later. It was devastating, a tragic end to her career before it even started.

 But there she stood on the court, as good as new, like it had never happened. 

 Intrigued, Patrick sat back down beside her, watching the match unfold. She had grown since Tashi had seen her. She was even more beautiful, more strong and more explosive, her thighs bulging as she ran to return the serves. Her technique had improved as well, her movements much more methodical and precise. She was perfect. 

 The match went by quickly, with her winning every set. Once it finished, Tashi gazed over at Patrick, who seemed completely awestruck by the match that just occurred. 

 She smirked at him. “Looks like we found their miracle.” 

–

 Tashi stood in front of her mirror, rubbing cream over her legs. She ran her fingers over the scar on her knee, before pulling away. 

 “Hey.” Art greeted, entering their bedroom.

 Tashi glanced over her shoulder at him. “Hey. Patrick ran to the store, so he won’t be here for a while. Is Lily down?” 

 “She’s knocked out cold. All that splashing around in the pool must’ve gotten to her.” He remarked with a small smile. 

 She hummed in response, screwing the jar close, and shutting the bathroom light off. Art gazed at her warily, trying to get a read on her. “So, how was your day? How were the semifinals?” 

 “It was good. Stanford made it to the finals.” She took a seat on the bed, next to him. 

 “That’s good.” He curled his arms around her and kissed down her neck. 

 “Yeah, but there’s this girl from the opposing college that I’ve got my eye on. She won the Junior open back in 2020. She’s pretty good. I think we’ll have fun watching her tomorrow.” 

 She leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. Art didn’t miss that look in her eyes. He didn’t miss that hunger. That fire. He hadn’t seen it in a long time. He thought finally, after all the awards he and Patrick had won, she would be satisfied. Ready to settle down once and for all. But it seemed like this girl really did a number on her. 

 He hopes that nothing more will come from this girl after the match tomorrow. That she’ll watch, get her fill, and let it go. That she’ll stay happy with her life as it is now, working with the foundation and continuing to coach young girls there, and putting her family before tennis. Art trusts her. He knows she’ll do the right thing.

 So why can’t he fight the dread gnawing at his chest?  

[joocomics]

Dinna, I'm here presenting to you preppy!jiseok, who's very cocky and has a corruption kink🤭 He absolutely loves it when you wear a short tennis skirt and a tight top, he looks at your ass when you walk by him after practice or something. You give him a look, and he knows what you want. All his friends want you, and they all want to take your virginity; they even made bets with each other. Jiseok took part in the bet too, but no one knew you were already dating him and you told him to take the bet so you both can rob his rich, posh friends from their money🤭 I say you'll fuck at his family beach house or something like that😌

money on my mind

pairing: preppy!jiseok x preppy fem!reader

genre: smut wc: 3.3k

contains: sub!reader, established (secret) relationship, enemies to lovers trope, forbidden romance trope? (nothing serious), light corruption kink, mentions of virginity, semi? public sex, pet names, (+ slut used once), fingering, oral sex (m!rec), multiple orgasms, overstimulation (f!rec), creampie, squirting, dirty talk, filming, jungsu cameo

a/n: you didn’t ask for this many words ok i’m sorry >< but no matter what i tried it just kept getting longer, because your idea IS SO GOOD. there’s no way i could just answer it with three sentences… no way. it’s jiseok, and the idea is genius. hope you enjoy it and sorry for the wait <3

[ xdinary heroes masterlist | general masterlist ]

Jiseok was your secret for a while.

He didn’t care about you being the daughter of the people his parents are rivals with, but you were hesitant about showing up in public as his girlfriend until wanting to be with him everywhere, all the time, clinging onto his arm, was the only thing you could think about.

And you found the perfect way to make it official in front of your friend group. None of them would’ve ever thought they’ll see the two of you together as something more than the two brats who always make faces of disgust when they are forced to sit next to each other.

“You should participate in the bet.”

“What—“

“The bet,” you repeat as your voice shakes. A moan slips from your tongue before you try continuing your thought with a distracted glance at Jiseok’s face. “Take it and win the money.”

He looks directly into your hazed eyes as his hips move against you slowly. The gentle gliding through your walls barely keep them open, and he sees the pretty fluttering of your curled lashes. Being in each other’s arms with bodies connected into one always makes the two of you look high; like you’re slowly losing grip on reality.

“Faster,” you plead in one quick breath before pressing your head back against the pillow.

“You’re cruel.” He grins before burying his mouth into your neck. “I like it… so hot, baby.” His speech turns more tense as you pulse with stronger vibrations around him. He doesn’t speed up though; he enjoys having you melt down underneath him. “I’m so fuckin’ in love with you, you know that, right?”

Your right hand gets lost in his blond hair, looking to tug on his dark roots so you don’t completely lose control over yourself.

“Make it worth it.”

Jiseok peers at you with a mischievous smirk that makes it clear he’s already looking forward to seeing his friends’ expressions after he claims his reward.

“Let’s pick up the pace, pretty girl,” he says, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head.

“When did you get so big?” You lay eyes on the exposed bicep. “Are you working out, Jungsu?”You feel the firm muscles against your palm as you squeeze it gently.

His arms have earned a nice golden tan from the summer sun and the white fitted shirt looks really good on him; complimenting his broad figure even more.

“Yeah,” he smiles flustered so quickly that you almost missed the reaction. “I’ve been going to the gym more often these days.”

You notice the way his cheeks instantly earn a pinkish color from the unexpected attention, causing him to avoid your stare. He’s definitely going to bet double after this. That’s what you want after all, and you’re going to put in the work.

“I’ve been thinking of going too, but I can’t seem to motivate myself enough to do it.” You sigh with a fake pout, running your hand along his broad shoulders before positioning yourself in front of him with the goal to show off your legs. “Maybe we can go together? Some company will be nice, I don’t wanna be just by myself there.”

You can feel Jiseok lifting his gaze up from the ground. He’s behind you, sitting on the chair across from Jungsu with his tenis racket in hands, but the intensity of his stare is warm on your skin like the sun. His eyes skim your figure up and down, stopping right where your short pleated skirt ends as he concentrates on your conversation.

He’s determined to not miss a word.

“I’d like that.” Jungsu blinks up at you with a genuine curl of his lips and eyes partly closed from the bright sunlight.

“Cool.” You smile back, tilting your head in a flirtatious manner. “Gym buddies?”

“Gym buddies.” Jungsu gives you a high five, and you’re just about to add something when you hear the deep voice coming from behind your shoulder.

“I thought you shouldn’t put pressure on your ankle for at least a month or two more,” Jiseok calls out.

“Oh, it’s fine.” You lie nonchalantly after turning around. He fixates his gaze on your chest, dressed in a tight cropped top with no straps, and you know it’s because if he looks into your eyes the real emotions may slip out from his face. However, he seems just as tense while staring at your boobs. “The doctor said I can start working out again, I just need to be careful not to overdo it.”

Jiseok responds with a crooked smile watching you take a seat on the table. As you take out the novel you’re reading for your english class, Jungsu stands up, stretching his arms for the next round.

Jiseok grabs the tennis ball, and a sigh of relief calms his frustration, when he walks pass you and feels your fingers discreetly brushing his as he heads towards the tennis court of his parents house.

“Will this book ever get interesting?” Jiseok scoffs. “Jesus, I’m so bored…”

“Will you stop interrupting me only to complain?”

Not only are you doing him the favour of telling him all the important things he needs to know about the novel, and helping him out with the assignment, more than you should, but you also have to bare listening to him complain like he doesn’t have someone else doing his work for him.

“If you read to me naked, I will.”

You roll your eyes at the comment, but you don’t succeed at fighting back the urge to grin, as you bring back your attention on the open book in your hands. He’s blessed with the most enticing smile in the word, and it never fails to make your stomach swirl. It’s boyish, smug, but so attractive.

“If we weren’t dating…” Jiseok rests his head in his palm after turning on his side, “who else would have a real chance except me?”

“Jungsu is cute.” You reply calmly without looking away from the page.

“Cute?” Jiseok blinks confused. His face scrunches from your quick answer. “Since when do you like cute guys?”

“Why did you ask if you’re just gonna get jealous of my answer?”

“Is this why you’re gym buddies all of a sudden? Cause he’s cute?”

You close the book and put it aside with a deep sigh.

“It’s like you missed the whole point of this bet. I have to get their hopes up a little bit so they can bet more money, baby.”

“I know, I know…” Jiseok whines, turning on his back. His eyes gaze up at the tree which leaves move discreetly from the light breeze. “It’s just annoying having to listen to them talk about you… they really think they have a chance.”

You move closer to him, putting a hand over his chest.

“This means we’re winning.”

Jiseok takes your wrist and guides your hand to his lips, pressing them against your knuckles. A moment later, you sit on his lap and his palms go underneath your skirt; it’s like an automatic reaction and it makes you chuckle.

“I can be cute too.” He says.

“I don’t want that.” You reply quietly before leaning down. The minty scent of the gum he had in his mouth earlier invades your senses as you stare at his plump lips. “You didn’t win me over with a cute attitude.”

You both smile at each other, because it’s true. He’s always been a gentleman, but he never tried to impress you with cute compliments, princess treatment or anything like that… The way you challenged yourselves in class, the games of cat and mouse and the bickering in between pulled you closer till he couldn’t handle it anymore. After realising the hatred you feel towards each other, or more specifically the hatred you’re supposed to feel towards each other was actually lust, attraction, desperation to know each other in more ways than one, Jiseok came up to you and straight up told you he wants you. “Right here, right now,” he said. No pick up lines, nothing.

“But we hate each other,” you stated even though it didn’t sound believable, because it wasn’t true at all. You said it just because you couldn’t think of anything else that wouldn’t make you sound easy.

“I don’t believe it, do you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“I actually think you’re good for me, Y/N.”

He fingered you in the library that day. It felt so inappropriate, so… filthy; but most importantly - exciting. Jiseok saw something shifting in you that day, and it made him realise that he was right about you. You had a secret filthy side that’s hiding behind that pure obedient smile of yours, and it was waiting for him to discover it; to make it his.

Two days later he fingered you in the restrooms, that’s when you returned the favour although he said you didn’t need to.

He ate you out in the dressing rooms before his basketball game, and days later he asked to sit next to you for your English lecture so he can sneak his hand under your skirt. He likes doing that to this day - sitting next to you when you’re out with friends and touching you under the table. He enjoys it, because nobody has to know you’re in a relationship especially your parents. Another thing he likes about this is how you let him do it despite this well known fact.

He took your virginity at his house when his parents were out of the country and you got the chance to wake up next to him for the first time.

“What do you want then?” Jiseok keeps shifting his gaze from your eyes to your lips. His hands, hidden from your skirt, are gripping your ass cheeks beneath it. “Tell me, doll.”

He presses his lips against yours into a soft kiss. Once, twice… You remain silent while the contact from his mouth floods your body with adrenaline. The only sound around you is from the nature of the park where you found yourselves a nice secluded spot.

“Why are you suddenly shy, baby?” He smirks after you break the kiss. “I already know how filthy you can be for me.”

As he speaks Jiseok’s one hand moves your panties to the side while the other pushes a finger inside your welcoming arousal. You moan into his mouth as he glides it through your tight walls.

“It’s why you wear these little skirts and tops, right? You let me get what I want whenever I want to…” His finger speeds up, and you hide your face into the crook of his neck. “You don’t really care who sees. You never did.”

“I think it’s time to end the bet.” Jiseok tosses his phone on the table between you and glances in your direction. “It’s been over two weeks now.”

“Hmm..” You’re lounging on the sunbed enjoying the sight of the calm beach as the sun is almost about to set meanwhile Jiseok is sitting on his, hunched over with a certain tense expression.

“It’s perfect.” He exclaims. “Not too late, not too early either.”

“Wouldn’t it look like I’m easy?”

“No, baby.” He disagrees immediately as he walks up to you. “It would look like I’m just too damn good at flirting which I am.” He sits on the edge, stroking your bare leg up and down. “I’m too hard to resist.”

“You’re getting all cocky, Kwak Jiseok.” You tease him with your foot ghosting over his crotch. His hand catches your ankle gently. “Not cute.”

“What do you say?” His eyes fixate on your contemplative expression. What’s there to think about so much? As you stay silent, just maintaining the eye contact with him, Jiseok feels his heartbeat quickening.

“If you insist.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He blurts right away.

You cannot help but laugh while peeling your back off the lounge.

“I’m just messing with you! God, your cheeks got all red.”

You cup his face, smiling at his cute frustrations, but he grips your wrists, speaking out in an even more serious voice.

“I’m putting an end to this, you hear me?”

You pull back to drag down the straps of your light summer dress which is enough of an answer to his words. Jiseok watches you with half parted lips, finally laying eyes on the new pair of Victoria’s Secret lingerie you got.

You’ve talked about this - that you’re going to film just a few minutes as a proof, - but you’ve never discussed how, when, where or which minutes exactly - the beginning, the middle or the end. You completely let Jiseok guide you, but he seems too excited right now. He moves quickly, and kisses you roughly as if he hasn’t done it in weeks. You try to catch up with his speed, but all you can do is gasp and moan at every next touch.

“You can’t stop me, doll.” His tone comes out more intense and raspy. “I’m done listening to them thirsting over your ass, goddamn it. It’s driving me crazy.”

His fingers are already pumping against your g-spot, spreading your wetness and causing even more.

“J-Ji… Jiseok, fuck—“

Your legs dangle in the air as his arm flexes, moving steadily in order to make you cum as soon as possible.

“Slow down,” you whisper in a rush, squeezing your eyes, but Jiseok is too immersed into the fact you’re becoming even tighter than a moment ago.

“C’mon, baby, when have you liked it slow?” He smirks and a second later he feels you clench intensely around his fingers. “Yeah, there you go.”

Your jaw drops in a silent scream as Jiseok thrusts few more times till your climax fades down. Your chest drops heavily as you pant from the overwhelming feeling, it came so quickly and suddenly.

You’ve never cummed so fast before.

Jiseok pulls out his fingers slowly, all coated with your essence and drags them up to your clit. It causes your flushed face to scrunch up again which makes your boyfriend smile. He gives you a light smack.

“You needed this, huh?”

“I did,” you say already feeling relaxed and slightly lightheaded. Jiseok sneaks his fingers through your lips, doubling the pressure in his shorts by making you clean them up with your tongue. “Don’t you need something too?” You ask when you’re done sucking his digits.

Jiseok stands up, getting rid of his clothes. His tanned fit figure positions itself in front of you after you get comfortable with knees planted on the lounge. He looks stunning in this setting with the beautiful sea behind him.

“You can film me.” You say before you lick the side of his cock.

“Not yet.”

That’s all he says, as he stays with eyes shut due to the pleasant rush that's spreading wildly in his veins from your lips wrapped around his tip. You twirl your tongue around his oozing shape, but a moment later Jiseok gets impatient and slides himself all the way in, holding your head steady.

“Fuck, baby…” He groans with his deep voice. He commands his hips to move back and forth a few times, pushing as further as possible into your throat before emptying your mouth. “Give me your wet pussy now.” His soaked cock smacks your cheek lightly as a sign to turn around.

You feel him entering with ease. The pleasure is familiar, but it never feels exactly the same as other times. Every time your bodies connect you get dizzy with even more intense delight; with even stronger lust that only grows your addiction to Jiseok.

His fingertips dig into your hips, threatening to leave marks as the pace of his thrusts increases. He found your sweet spot and he doesn’t plan on slowing down until the knot in your tummy snaps.

“Fuck, b-baby—“ you call out with your weak voice; it keeps shaking from the immense pleasure and Jiseok’s rough pounding. “… gonna c-cum…”

Here at his parents' empty beach house, you can scream as loud as you want, so you don’t force yourself to be quiet nor discreet. You let out a deep wail of emotion that towards the end becomes just a shaky whimper as Jiseok fucks you through your second orgasm. He groans at the same time as you while doing his best to endure the pressure in his cock.

You collapse on your back, squeezing your trembling thighs together, but your boyfriend quickly separates them.

“I want to fuck you all night long,” he utters before his mouth sucks on your neck that’s sticky from sweat and the breeze around you. His body weight settles on top of your chest as his cock shoves into you again, making you whine beneath him. “You feel so fuckin’ good…”

The soothing sound of the waves clashing together blends with your moans as the rush starts doubling inside your core again. You feel how all the energy you had disappears from your body leaving only the overwhelming thrill from his cock turning you more and more sensitive.

“C’mon, my pretty girl, give me more.” Jiseok grunts. “I know you can.”

“Jiseok—“ you begin to say something, but he rises up, placing his thumb on your clit.

“I’m not gonna film shit until you start squirting, baby.”

He reaches for his phone, but the device stays locked in his free hand as the other stimulates your bundle of nerves causing you to squirm with each rub.

“You can do this, doll, look how needy you are.” Jiseok’s voice sounds lower than before as your clenching grows stronger.

His hips are not moving at all. He’s standing steady on his knees, feeling his cock being gripped tightly by your warm walls. He’s trying so hard not to keep his focus on this, but it’s impossible. His fingers speed up on your clit, and he pants heavily while you on the other hand cry out desperately with your silhouette convulsing in front of him. However, Jiseok doesn’t see a flinch of yours, because he cums inside you, and his eyes close shut.

Your clenching during your climax was enough to get him off.

“Shit,” he sighs, meeting your hazy gaze. You look completely washed off, but you still manage to smile after feeling how he spilled all that he had.

Jiseok unlocks his phone and guides the camera at your cunt so he can film the way he pulls out of you. His white cum starts seeping out in a slow thick trail and he makes sure to catch that too.

He keeps the video going as he pushes two fingers inside your hole tempted to fuck his essence back into you. His cock is still too sensitive, and he wants to get one more orgasm out of you.

“One more, pretty doll,” he whispers while pumping his digits, “this pussy is doing so well for me, keep it up.”

The camera memorises all the lewd squelching you do; all the messy juices emerging out of you as Jiseok’s fingers furiously bump against your deepest spot. Each and every whimper that slips from your lips in addition to your boyfriend’s praises.

“… can’t—“ you choke in the middle of your hitched breaths. “J-Jiseok, I can’t.. can’t…”

“Don’t say that, baby,” Jiseok fakes a disappointing look while keeping up the pace. “C’mon, you’ve been acting like a slut so many times for me, don’t get shy now. Show them what I thought you.”

You don’t realise when it happens; you feel too high to recognise anything else except your own crazy heartbeat and the burning in your core that makes you feel like you’re going to explode any second.

Jiseok’s phone gets sprayed when you succumb to the pressure and let go. You don’t even have the energy to let out a proper moan, you just gasp as the juices make Jiseok’s arm wet along with the lounge chair and the camera that catches everything.

Now, all that’s left to do is to send the video to the group chat, and get your money.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise in advance for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[vodika-vibes]

So Long As We're Together

Summary: It’s been several years since you’ve settled into a shared life on Pabu with Wrecker. Your enemies are different now, cancer rather than Imperials, but you know you can face anything with Wrecker by your side.

Pairing: TBB Wrecker x F!Reader

Word Count: 1405

Warnings: Cancer

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So, I will preface this by saying that only my cousin needed chemo when he had cancer. My mom only needed radiation, and my step-brother had immunotherapy. So I used google for the side-effects of chemo. Anyway, I needed to focus on something that's not AU related for a little bit, so here's this.

You wake to the scent of breakfast filling the home you share with Wrecker. And, as much as you would like to curl up into a ball and pretend that nothing exists outside your bed, you can hear Wrecker singing from the kitchen.

Your lips curl up into an amused smile as you roll from your side to your back and stretch out under the thin blankets with a groan.

For a moment, you consider pulling your pillow over your head and going back to sleep, but as you listen to Wrecker in the next room, your heart swells with affection and you decide you’d rather be with him over getting more sleep.

So you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed to get to your feet. You absently tug Wrecker’s shirt over your head, and press your hand over your mouth to cover your yawn, before heading out of the bedroom.

You’re still sore and exhausted from yesterday’s treatment, but you didn’t wake up nauseous so you take the win.

The home you share with Wrecker is tastefully decorated with things that both of you enjoy. There’s an entire wall filled with pictures of Wrecker’s brothers and their respective spouses as well as Omega at various sports and school events.

Your wedding picture sits in a place of honor in the middle of the wall of pictures, right over the shadow box that holds your bouquet and the unity candles that Wrecker wanted to save.

You straighten one of the pictures, a picture of you and Omega at the tennis court taken several weeks before your diagnosis. Omega had just won the juniors division and she was so excited that she nearly vibrated out of her skin.

Sure that the pictures aren’t crooked, you continue to the kitchen and lean against the door frame to watch Wrecker move around the open room with an ease that never fails to mesmerize you.

With as much as he loves cooking, you honestly thought that he would become a chef now that he no longer has to fight, but he surprised you. Instead, Wrecker became a private detective.

You weren’t sure what kind of work he would have on an island, but he’s surprisingly busy. Or, well, he was until he closed his practice while you’re going through treatment. 

You told him it wasn’t necessary, but Wrecker couldn’t be dissuaded. And neither could the rest of your extended family. 

Your village has become very large, of late, and you’ve never felt more loved.

“Good morning, Wrecker,” You greet lightly, a smile lifting your lips as he turns to look at you over his shoulder, and a blinding smile crosses his handsome face.

“Good morning, cyar’ika,” He sets the pan back on the stovetop and turns to face you, his arms spreading wide.

You immediately slide into his waiting embrace and press your nose against his chest inhaling the scent of Wrecker, allowing him to fill and surround you. His arms fold securely around you, and you’ve never felt safer.

He kisses the top of your head, “How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Exhausted. Sore. But other than that I’m okay.” You reply honestly.

“You feeling up to eating?” Wrecker asks as he rubs your back soothingly.

You consider his question seriously, a nasty side effect of the chemo is that you just don’t get hungry like you should. Between that and the nausea, you’ve lost a concerning amount of weight.

But today you actually feel pretty good.

That’ll probably change before the end of the day, but for now you’ll enjoy not feeling bad.

“Maybe something light? Some fruit?”

“Well now, you’re in luck. As it happens, I made some fruit salad for you,” Wrecker says cheerfully. He drops one more kiss to the top of your head, and then releases you to turn towards the fridge, “Do you think you can try some protein?”

You sink into one of the kitchen chairs, a plush thing that Hunter made for you after your diagnosis but before your first chemo session, and hum thoughtfully, “Let me try the fruit first, and then we can try something heavier in a bit?”

“Deal,” He makes a small bowl for you and sets it on the table, before setting a mug of tea in front of you as well. “Have you taken your pain meds yet?” Wrecker asks as he leans on the table.

“Not yet.”

“I’ll go get them,”

You lightly touch his hand, “You don’t have to.”

He sets his free hand over yours, “I want to.” Wrecker brings your hand to his lips and presses a light kiss to your knuckles, “In sickness and in health, right?”

You sigh adoringly, “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Hm, well your father got his wardrobe stuck on the stairs and you asked for my help,” He grins at you.

You huff out a laugh at the memory, “Honestly, why a 60-year-old man thought he could move the wardrobe on his own—”

Wrecker vanishes from the kitchen for a moment, and you hear him moving around in the bedroom, and then he’s back setting a pair of pills into your hand, “You know what he’s like, stubborn to a fault. Just like his daughter.”

“Well, at least I come by it honestly?”

His lips press against the top of your head again, “That you do.” Wrecker moves back to the stove to put some of the food on a plate for himself and sits next to you on the much plainer chair.

You watch him for a moment, a warm, gooey feeling swelling inside you. You really do love him more than anything. “Do you have any plans for today?”

“Hunter invited us for dinner, assuming you’re feeling up to it.” Wrecker replies, “His father-in-law bought them a grill, and depending on how it does they’ll probably be giving it to us.”

You make a face, “That’s not the best gift for them.”

“Ah, his father-in-law is old, and keeps forgetting that Hunter’s sensitive to strong scents.” Wrecker explains, “Assuming that you’re still feeling pretty solid this evening, I thought we’d go and see them.”

“I’d like that.”

“I thought you might.” Wrecker leans back in his seat, and watches you for a moment, “And you’re sure you’re okay?”

“I am, I promise.” You watch him watching you, “Are you?”

“I’m not the one who’s sick.”

“No, but you are doing your best to support me. And I know this is hard. As much for you as it is for me.”

He’s quiet for a moment, “I don’t like seeing you in pain.” Wrecker finally admits, “And it’s not like I can punch something to make you better. It’s frustrating.” 

You reach across the table and take his hand in yours, “I know that this is my fight, but you know better than anyone that good support can make all of the difference.”

He flips his hand and threads his fingers with yours, “I just wish I could do more.”

“You do plenty.” You reassure him, “Really, Wreck. I mean it. I have bad days, sure, but my good days are so much better because I’m with you. And, when I go into remission, we can take a vacation.”

Wrecker laughs softly, “We live on a tropical island.”

“Then we can have a party or something.”

He sighs and lightly tugs you out of your seat to pull you onto his lap, his lips lightly pressing against yours. “I love you,” He murmurs as he presses his forehead against yours.

“I know, I love you too. Have since the day we met.”

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, “So,” Wrecker teases, “Did you get your dad’s wardrobe stuck on the stairs intentionally then?”

You pout at him or try to, but amusement tugs the corners of your lips up, “And if I did?”

“Sneaky,” He kisses you again, and again. “How about, after breakfast, we curl up on the couch and watch a holo?”

You bump your nose against his, “Can you give me a back massage?”

“Whatever you want, cyar’ika.” Wrecker replies, his smile warm and loving, “I am at your disposal.”

You catch his lips in another kiss, as you snuggle against him. This is how you know everything will be fine. How can it not be when you have Wrecker?

[the-fiction-witch]

Tennis Match

Media TMR AU

Character Newt

Couple Newt X Reader

Rating Smut

Smut Seminonconsenual / nudity / forced orgasm/ anal/ object insertion / squirting

I was a little nervous today as Teresa and I want to meet up with Minho and Newt for a game of tennis. Nervous because I wasn't very good at the game Teresa is but I'm awful. And playing against Newt wouldn't be easy, he's good and Teresa knows full well about my crush on him. And lastly, I was nervous because I left my sports bra at home and there was no way I could play tennis with my usual bra the bones would cut me to pieces so as I wondered thought in my little sports kit I was nervous everyone could see my breasts even if they couldn't but it's still a nervous fear I have. Teresa scanned us in the door with her card and we entered into the room used for tennis and changed the sign in the door to fill meaning we wouldn't be distributed by others opening the door to try and use the room.

It was small court with high walls, skylights and of course the net across it. Minho was stood fixing his hair in his blue shorts and best and newt just beside him having a drink in his orange shorts and white shirt.

"Ooohhh hi girls" Minho smiled

"Hi" she smiled widely giving Minho his hug

"Hi" I waved awkwardly

"Hey love. You okay?" Newt asks

"Yeah just worried you guys are about to destroy me"

"Aww don't worry. I'll go easy on you" he winked going to return his bottle to his bag

I sat my bag down on my side and fiddled with my racket

"Boys vs girls?" Minho suggested

"Of course" Teresa said

"I'm good with that" newt nodded

"We betting?" Minho asked

"No it always ruins it, just for fun" newt said

"Okay, girls serve first. You go y/n" Teresa said grabbing the ball and throwing it over to me I tried to catch it but missed bad dropped the ball, and my racket almost tripping over

"Sorry"

"It's fine, come on girls let's play!" Minho laughed

I did… my best.

Which basically means I came in dead last and basically messed up everytime the ball came near me so the boys made easy work of us. After a good few games I sat on the bench feeling sorry for myself as Teresa grabbed her stuff and Minho's arm

"We're off to get a sports drink, you guys wanna come?" She suggested

Which was Teresa's code for her and Minho are going to the sauna to fool around as honestly every time we came to the fitness center they did it and if may actually be where they do more physical exercise.

"We're good. I was thinking we could play a little just me and you?" Newt suggested

"Are you sure?" I asked sheepishly

"Yeah I'm sure I could give you a hand love, I'd you want that is"

"Thank you, I'd love too" I smiled

Minho and Teresa then left and I felt kinda nervous all alone with newt

"So? One on one?"

"Hummm?"

"Shall we play a game? Just the two of us?"

"Ohh yeah course sorry -"

"It's okay, give me a basic serve and we'll go from there" he says giving me the ball and heading to his own size so I did my best and actually did okay he quickly hit it back and I messed up completely and the ball hit my head

"Owww!"

"Ohh bloody hell sorry y/n"

"It's okay"

"You alright?"

"I think so"

"Okay, let's try again I'll serve this time I promise I'll be nice and gentle" he says giving a very tender serve which I could just about manage "there you go, you're doing great. Now we can get a little faster"

"Okay" I nodded nervously and almost immediately I messed up and need up flat on my butt

"Sorry"

"It's no your fault newt. I'm sorry for being such a mess up"

"Hey it's okay you just need a little more practice" he says "here" he says jumping the net and coming over to me "you should stand a little firmer" he says holding my hips moving me a little and immediately I blushed hard "don't get scared of the ball" he says still adjusting my legs, my hips, my shoulders, "hold the racket a little higher you have better control that way" he says moving his hand up from my waist to stroke my arm and move my hand

"Uhh okay" I nodded

"Don't be so tight loosen the grip a little" he says stroking my hands "see isn't that better?" He asked his breath against my ear

"Yeah, thanks newt"

"No trouble. Keep your swing loose but don't go too crazy" he says, guiding me a little "there you go, see that ball should be scared of you" he says "ohhh nooo don't hurt me y/n I'm just a cute little ball. There's no need to be scared of me" he joked making the ball give My cheek a kiss making me giggle "there, I'll serve" he says taking the ball away and pressing a little kiss to my cheek himself which immediately turned me bright red as he went back to his side and immediately I forgot everything he told me! I did my best to carry in with our game and I didn't do too bad "AHH. Okay point to you"

"Really!"

"Yep."

"Yay!" I giggled

"Your doing good, You just have to remember keep your body square" he says coming and fixing my hips again "okay? Square" he says

"Square. Okay" I nodded

"Good girl love" he smiled "and maybe don't run around so much your skirts rising up" he smirked and I almost had a heart attack as his hand moved from my hip to under my skirt and he snapped my panties

"Ohh I'm so sorry" I said quickly fixing my skirt as I blushed

"Was I complaining?" He chuckled "let's make this game a little more interesting."

"Oh?"

"Next to score a point wins"

"Okay?"

"And the looser has to play the next game with their shirt off"

"Ohh! Uhhh I don't know"

"Come in it'll be fun"

"Well… okay" I blushed and we started our next game I did my best to play as well as I could with such intense focus and I got a point "yay!"

"Alright, deals a deal" he sighed pulling his shirt off revealing his thin but tones sweaty body "yes?"

"Uhhhhh nothing!" I blushed

"Come on your serve love"

"Yeah sorry" so I did my best even if he was so much more distracting now and I wasn't doing too has until it all went wrong.

I gave the ball a firm wack and immediately noticed something was wrong as my feet returned to the floor quickly I noticed my panties had snapped and now the tightness of My thighs is all that kept them on my legs

"Yes! I win" he smirked "you okay?"

"Uhhh I can't play anymore"

"What why not? Come on I thought we were having fun?"

"we were I just… I can't play anymore" I said in panick

"What is it?" He asks getting his shirt back in and coming over "did you hurt yourself?"

"Uhhh…"

"Come on sit down" he says ushering me to the bench "is it your ankle? Did you put your weight wrong? Your leg? Did you maybe pull a muscle? Maybe a cramp?" He suggested running his hands up my legs trying to soothe me I didn't know what to say or how to respond or even his to fix this byhe moved my leg a little too much and my broken panties came rumbling down my legs and onto the floor "oh." He says and I turned bright red wanting to bury myself in the pile of mats "I didn't think I snapped them quiet that hard" he chuckled "sorry love"

"It's okay, not time fault"

"It's okay one of those things no need to be embarrassed" he says still gently stroking my legs "that nice?" He asks as he massaged my leg

"It is but there's nothing wrong with my leg newt"

"I know. I just wanted to make you feel a little better" he Cooes giving my legs a sweet massage it was really nice and did make me feel better so I relaxed a little against the bench enjoying how nice it was until I heard his sly chuckle and I looked down at him noticing he knelt on the floor massaging my leg but he was holding my leg up a little higher then he needed and thus peaking under my skirt "ummm hello"

"Newt!" I yelped pushing my skirt down to hide myself

"Sorry, I was curious" he shrugs "come on, just a little peak" he smirked moving his hands up my legs over my knees as he did he pushed my knees apart and moved himself into the space between them before his hands moved up and across my thighs under my skirt until his hands where stroking over where my panties band would have sat stroking his fingers across me without the elastic and fabric in his way "there's no reason we need to stop our game" he whispered

"But my -"

"Yeah? So what? Maybe you can use it as a distraction for me. Come on you've already been playing all this time without a bra like panties makes any difference"

"You -"

"I'm not stupid love. I know how much your tits bounce. I couldn't help getting distracted by these while we plaid." He smirked taking a hand out from under my skirt and slipping up my top to fondle my breast "uhhh fuck- uummm Plus sometimes your cute little nips poke through your shirt"

"Oh my god" I blushed trying to cover… all of me at this point

"Aww I think it's cute come on one more game then maybe we can go to the sauna and take your whole outfit off" he whispered

"I uhhhh I'd rather we just stay here*

"Yeah? Okay. One more game" he says getting up and kissing my nose before he headed to his side for one more game so I got up nervously unsure how I could play like this "how's about a deal"

"What?"

"If you beat me I'll do whatever you want me too" he winked "but if I win you have to do whatever I want you too"

"Okay" I blushed

"Good girl. Your serve" he smirked throwing me the ball so I did my best all while trying to keep concealed but he was doing gae better then me so I decided to roll my skirt up and purposely bounce around often distracting him but even so he was no match for me not when hes really trying and I quickly lost "I win"

"Okay" I sighed

"Come here love" he smirked leaning on the net so I went over "one leg over"

"Uhh okay" I blushed moving one leg over the net he then smirked and pushed my back down so I bent over

"There we go" he smirked "if you move your Hands your in big trouble" he warns so I nodded "net between your tits" he smirked so I did as he asked adjusting so the net sar between my breasts "good girl. Now feet on the floor" he ordered so I did it "good flat on the floor now and keep those legs wide for me love" he smirked so I did as he asked and he moved slightly so I couldn't see him but he clearly could see me "awww yeah hello love" he smirked slapping my ass "now you stay nice and still for me. I'm gonna play a game I've been wanting to play with you for years" he smirked he pulled my cheeks apart spreading my pussy as he did he adjusted the net so the top plastic protective part of the net now sat against my clit and pussy he smirked holding my skirt up so he could see and he grabbed the nets loops a few down and began to lift or as if curling a weight lifting, tugging and rubbing the net leaving It to mercilessly run against my most sensitive places

"Uhhhhh newt!" I whined bright red as I felt my wetness already dripping down my legs but he just kept going without mercy for a moment "uuuuuuuhhh newt please stop I'll-"

"Aww is it really that good?" He smirked and I nodded "perfect. I wanna watch you cum" he smirked speeding up his movements leaving to squeal for mercy from the overwhelming pleasure but he ignored me only ever muttering things clearly enjoying tormenting me he stopped for a moment giving me a second to breathe but he returned to his pace immediately and I felt the base of his racket push it's way inside my pussy making me squeal as he used it to fuck me all while he still moved the net by now I imagined a puddle on the floor as I was utterly soaked desperate to cum "come on love cum for me. I wanna watch you cum before I fuck you myself" he smirked getting more intense with both and I was so so close my screams uncontrollable "how about I do this?" He smirked pulling the racket out of me using the juices I had covered it in as lube as he pushed it inside analy and thrust his fingers in my pussy which was enough for me to cum squirting all over him and the net "awww good girl love" he smirked slapping my ass taking the racket away and helping me to climbing off the net even if my legs were jelly, he grabbed my ass and pulled me into his chest stating at my breasts as my shirt has ridden up too "you look so fucking good" he growled pulling me into an intense kiss "come on. You walk all the way to the sauna without panties baby I'll fuck you raw"

"Okay newt" I giggled fixing my clothes grabbing my stuff making sure to flash him as I bent over

"Go on I'll be following" he smiled slapping my ass 

[artdcnaldson]

soft dom art whos always so sweet and nice but has to get mean and punish you without remorse cause you broke one of his major rules

Auurrrrrr <333

And if the rule you broke is flirting with Patrick at an industry event?? If he sees you smiling and touching Patrick’s arm through his suit jacket and giggling and he knows it’s just to spite him.

Maybe art was mean at practice— maybe he told you that you weren’t taking your career as seriously as you should be, and if you were just there to fuck him, you could’ve just done that and wasted the time of some other coach. He’s frustrated about a lot of things— you’re just the one on the receiving end. Fuck that.

So you come onto Patrick, knowing the history. Knowing he’s being coached by Art’s ex wife. Knowing that it would fucking infuriate him.

When you’re going for your Uber later, Art interferes, says you’ll take his car home. That he wouldn’t let his tennis star go home with some stranger when he has a chauffeur. Ever the gentleman, ever the charming sweetheart everyone knows him to be.

You both know when you get into his car that you’re not going home. That you’ll end up exactly where you do. Bent over his lap, ass stinging and raw as he beats your ass black and blue.

“I still expect you to be in the court tomorrow,” he says, sliding his fingers through your dripping folds, avoiding your clit before he plunges two thick fingers inside, plugging your cunt without moving them.

You gasp, walls fluttering around the intrusion— gripping him? Sucking him deeper. “Does that feel good?”

It’s a tender question. Bait beneath a snare. You gasp and nod. Mewling, bucking back to take more inside, to make him move. “Yeah, feels good. Love your fingers.”

He curls them, presses against that spot inside and you sob at the feeling, at the hot pool of pleasure in the pit of your gut. And then it’s gone.

“Good. Remember that when you’re on the court tomorrow. I’m not touching this pussy again until you win a goddamn tournament.”

It doesn’t matter that your next tournament isn’t for another week, that it’ll be a week of gameplay until the final match. Art Donaldson wants you to win. So you will.

[v8mpstamp]

Wallet Polaroid

Summary: Steve Harrington is home alone, not knowing what to do since you’re busy, suddenly he remembers a picture of you tucked away in his wallet, he uses it and jeez does it get the job done.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem Reader

Word count: 500

Warnings: MNDNI 18+, male masterbation, descriptive language, polaroid of readers boobs

Master list:

polaroid pt 2 here

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Steve is sprawled across his bed, a tennis ball in hand as he throws it up in the air, catching it and throwing it up again. He tried everything to rid his boredom, went swimming in his pool, smoked a joint, tried to call you, to which you didn’t answer, took a shower and made some food, tried to call you again…to which you didn’t answer.

He knew earlier you told him you’d be busy tonight, but that didn’t stop him from calling you a third time that night, once again not getting an answer :/, with a roll of his eyes and a heavy pout on his face, he places the phone back on the wall, feet bringing him to his bed, his back hitting it as he flops down, letting out a heavy sigh.

It’s not till he gets reminded of the one thing he didn’t try tonight… he rises to his legs and begins to make his way to a pair of jeans discarded on his floor, he picks them up, searching his pockets till he finds his leather wallet, hands flicking it open, finger tips searching the compartments till he finds it, the dim light of the room reflecting off a shiny polaroid. His cock practically jumps beneath his boxers as he pulls out a polaroid of you, aching at the sight.

You hold the camera angled at your chest, dressed in a small light pink tank top, one of Steve’s favorite that you wear, it’s bunched up and sitting perfectly over your tits, your free hand propping them up with a soft squeeze.

He can feel his hard cock throbbing, the tension begging to be released, he feels his cheeks get red as he takes in the picture, his wallet dropping to his floor as he grips the polaroid between his fingers, carefully he sets it on the dresser in front of him, his hands moving to remove his boxers, they drop to his feet and he kicks them off, his cock springing free.

Right next to the picture is a bottle of lotion, he uses a squirt to lubricant his hand before quickly wrapping his fingers over his length, spreading the lotion down his shaft, a moan escaping as he grazes his red tip, his other hand grabbing the polaroid once again.

As he scans the polaroid he can’t help but notice how soft your nipples look, so pink and plush, ready to be licked and sucked by him. He runs his fist up and down his shaft, squeezing softly, pre cum dribbling out of his tip, he moves his hand up to swipe it away, gracefully moving over his slit, releasing a heavy groan from him.

As he stares at the picture, he imagines your hand squeezing your tits to show them off to him, imaging how good it would feel to squeeze your tits together and place his cock perfectly between them, grinding his hips so he can fuck them. He hears the pretty sounds of your moans caused by him, he feels the softness of your skin, the sweet smell of your hair, it’s all enough to send him overboard.

He pumps his hand faster on his cock, whiny moans fall between his lips, the sound of his hand moving up and down him is prominent in his room, his mind can’t help but to wonder beyond the picture, how just below the frame you sit in panties, your wet cunt waiting for his thick member to fill you up, your legs resting against the soft sheets in your bed, the bed he gets to fuck you in, the bed where you take polaroids of yourself for him! And for him to use in this exact way.

Deep grunts fall out as he gets closer and closer, unable to deny it any longer, his grip on his cock tightening as his orgasm tumbles out of him cum shooting from him. All sorts of noises fall out of him, pathetic groans and whimpers, any curse word you can think of. He imagines you finishing with him, how your face would be flushed with a red tint, your eyes squeezing shut as you moan his name, how he would pull out and cum all over your tits, still pumping and squeezing so that every drop falls out of him and he’s completely drained by you. He finally calms his breathing, eyes still on the picture, taking it in, he lets out a sigh as he painfully pulls his eyes away from the picture to look down at the mess he’s made, the mess you made him make, his cock limp and tired, his tip red and wet. He bends down to pick up his wallet, tucking the picture back where it belongs so he can use it for next time, before moving to clean up the mess.

Master list:

Polaroid pt 2 here

[miley1442111]

(part 2) choices and chances- art donaldson

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a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

summary: the last time you're second-place to tashi

pairing: art donaldson x reader

warnings: angst, feelings of disappointment, hurt, etc. +

PART 2 of 12

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Art ran through the science building, tennis bag swinging from his back as he raced through students to get to you. Patrick was hot on his heels, shouting ‘where are you going?’ and ‘can you slow down?!’. 

Art did not slow down. Art kept running. 

He knew this was his last and final chance, that if he didn’t make it to this, he would lose you for good. He was still sweaty from a warm-up session with Tashi 10 minutes ago, his hat was practically falling off his head but he couldn’t have cared less. 

As he came to a halting stop outside the lab you were having an exam in, his heart dropped when he saw the lights off and the chairs empty. He checked the time, 2:48pm. Your exam finished at 2:30, right?

Art opened your texts and scrolled back to the text in which you had told him about the date of your final exam, asking him to pick you up at 2:00pm. 

“Fuck!” Art shouted, gaining many stares from the students around him. He quickly dialled your number (he had learnt it by heart) only to be met with an automated voice telling him that his number was blocked. “Fuck!” 

His tennis bag was swung to the floor and he sat against the wall, anger and shame eating at him. You had a match against Tashi and a final science lab today, and he was too busy with Tashi, helping her warm up when he should've been with you. 

“Hey, at least you’re off the hook,” Patrick patted him on the shoulder and Art blew up. 

“I don’t want to be off the hook! I want her to be angry with me, I want her to see me, to want to see me! I want her to fight with me, because that’s all we fucking do nowdays and it’s all my fucking fault! Once again, I ruined the best chance I’ve ever had with tennis!” He shouted, standing up tall in front of Patrick. “And yes, Patrick, I’m aware that you’re dating Tashi and that you think I’m jealous, well I’m fucking not! I just want my girlfriend to still want to be my girlfriend! My Y/n to still be my Y/n! So don’t come to me every fucking time Tashi pisses you off, telling me that ‘I can have her’ because I don’t fucking want her!”

Patrick sat there stunned. Art had never raised his voice at him.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go find my girlfriend,” Art said after gaining his composure once more, and starting to walk down the hall. 

“Ex-girlfriend!” Patrick shouted after him, rubbing salt in the wound. Art flipped him his middle finger, and set off to find you.

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Art didn’t find you before the match, but he was sitting beside an upset Patrick. 

You came out in your Nike tennis outfit, Tashi in her Adidas, and the match began. 

What ensued was real tennis. Tashi was talented, yes. But you, you were on fire. You beat Tashi Duncan. You actually beat Tashi Duncan. 

Art couldn’t have been more proud. Or worried. 

What if this actually was his last chance and he blew it on Tashi?

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He knocked on your dorm door with a bunch of lilies in his hand, your favourite. He had a whole plan, he would apologise, grovel, congratulate, then fuck you. Then, he’d spend all weekend with you and go into San Francisco for a city break. 

You opened the door wearing one of his sweaters, a sleepy, but upset look in your eyes. “What?”

“Can we talk?” He asked, a smile on his face at your beautiful and drowsy state. 

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes and stepped outside instead of letting him in. Odd. 

“I’m so sorry, I thought that the final ended at 2:30 and when I got there you were gone-”

“What time did you get there?” You asked, crossing your arms across your chest. 

“2:30?” he lied. 

“No you didn’t. I waited until 2:40 for you Art, fucking praying you would show up, don’t lie to me.”

Art sighed. “I’m sorry baby.”

“Look Art, I’m getting really tired of being second place to everyone, sorry- to Tashi, in your life so please just let me go,” you asked. “Now, I would really like to get back into my dorm.”

Art knew he had to fight for you. “Please, I wanted to make it up to you, I thought he could go to San-Fran this weekend, just you and me, no tennis, no distractions.”

“I have a match this weekend Art,” you rolled your eyes and Art sighed, realising he’d forgotten. “Y’know, the one you promised me you’d be at so you could meet my parents?”

“Yes of course, you know I’ll be there, I meant after we could go to San-Fran,” he smiled, his hands on your hips. 

“Don’t bother coming, we’re done,” you shoved his hands off your body and walked back to your door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a very hot guy from my science class who would like to fuck me again, so I’ll see you around Arthur.”

You slammed the door in his face and his heart broke, he had lost you. 

He had made his choices, and lost all of his chances.

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navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

PART 3: choices and meetings

art donaldson masterlist :)