#POND'S CAREER

[bl-bam-beyond]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ...

NARAVIT LERTRATKOSUM

[Nickname: POND]

POND'S ACTOR PROFILE

Name: NARAVIT LERTRATKOSUM

Nickname: POND (formerly PANGPOND)

Birthdate: FEBRUARY 1, 2001

Nationality: THAI

Born: Bangkok, Thailand

Career: Actor, Dancer, Model & Singer

Education: Studying Biomedical Engineering

In 2020 Pond won the 3rd GO ON GIRL & GUY STAR SEARCH by CLEAN and CLEAR. After which he signed with GMMTV

During his university years he was crowned the hottest guy of the Faculty of Engineering.

Pond is the founder of APOLLO clothing brand.

Pond's first role with GMMTV was a guest role. He played Non on THE GIFTED GRADUATION.

Pond's second role was the starring role along side his new ship PHUWIN TANGSAKYUEN and SAHAPHAP WONGRATCH aka MIX.

Pond's pairing with Phuwin was a fluke. As I heard it, Pond won the role of Mork (SUTTHAYA) but the role of Pi was originally cast with THANAWIN PHOLCHAROENRAT aka WINNY (he later played Koh in FUTS) and Phuwin was cast as Mork's brother Meen pairing him with TRAI NIMTAWAT aka NEO as they were "friends" in BL CAUSE YOU'RE MY BOY more or less boyfriends but Phuwin was a young teen then.

Director SAKON WONGSINWISET aka GOLF didn't like the chemistry so PHUWIN tested as Pi and got the role along side Pond. And LOUIS was cast as Meen.

Pond's third role with GMMTV was that of an Actor (a guest role) in OOPS, MR. SUPERSTAR HIT ON ME.

Pond's fourth role with GMMTV was a repairing with PHUWIN TANGSAKYUEN. Pond played Palm opposite Phuwin's Nuengdiao in their 2nd BL NEVER LET ME GO...he returned to the same role in OUR SKYY 2 (his technical sixth role with GMMTV)

Pond's fifth role with GMMTV was support role of Judo in DIRTY LAUNDRY. Judo was a dancer and a escort providing his services to female clients.

Pond's sixth role was another support role. He played Alan in LONELINESS SOCIETY. He played the little brother of two battling older brothers (one biological the other adopted and very mistreated)

Pond has his seventh role with GMMTV upcoming. Paired for a 3rd time with PHUWIN TANGSAKYUEN. Pond is slated to play Phum in the BL series WE ARE. Phuwin will play Pheem.

POND'S SINGING CAREER

Though not extensive Pond tried his hand at singing for the NEVER LET ME GO OST with the song ONLY ONE (Available on GMMTV Records) which was in my opinion a really good song.

He also joined Phuwin for 100 Seasons. And he has performed live with Phuwin and other GMMTV Artists.

Happy 23rd Birthday POND NARAVIT LERTRATKOSUM.

@pose4photoml

[wujucakes]

i really told myself i won't speak my mind about this,but honestly some people are such a joke; so many out there were ready to throw build in jail on the mere hint of abuse,because "they are forever on the side of the possible victim",so many demanded justice and were so "outraged"; yet now when he comes forward with a lawyer, with a bunch of evidence and number of accusations againts the other party, no one says word or worse just blindly hopes he is a liar and indeed abused her;lmao,she didn't even made any attempt to sue him!! those people are hypocrites at best,and their moral compass needs fixing

[genderqueerpond]

i love you butch amy i love you au where amy transitions but most of all, i love you, absolutely nothing is different it just wasn't explicitly stated what a flamboyant little fag (affectionate) amy (any pronouns) is

[babsvibes]

Brotp song for Zeke and Jimmy Jr.?

Float On by Modest Mouse

[welcometogrouchland]

What if I proposed the analysis that Belos actually has very little internal moral compass and that his veneer of righteousness has always been implied by the writers to be complete fabricated bullshit even before watching and dreaming basically confirms it.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[oldbaton]

Woah! I didn't realize how RARELY Juliet Stevenson appears in the United States. I wasn't familiar with her before The Doctor but I am now! She was in A Little Night Music (brilliant casting but apparently not good?) in 2003 and before that Scenes from an Execution in Los Angeles in 1993. That's three times in the last 30 years.... in years with 3's.... what does it mean......

[crystalromana]

Moffat didn't really get it at the time but it's so funny that he accidently wrote Amy as an Instagram model/Influencer. Rory as an Instagram husband.

[hollow-park]

Ok, baby showers maybe my new favorite party, guests are all here having a good time, no ones pissed from the start except Pandora but thats only cause theirs going to be a new baby to be jealous of soon, and presents! So many presents! I don’t think sims ever gave presents at parties before, which is kinda sad when you think about how many birthdays and weddings I’ve done.. Theres even special drinks!

...But for reasons lets not drink any of those right now..

[fairy-ganj-mother]

moving preoccupied me so much that the 6th really snuck up on me this year

[dandelionjack]

not nearly enough people are fuming about the cass review. do you understand the eventual implications? trans people in the uk will be considered children up until the age of 25, and denied HRT/surgery/even basic measures like legal name change and social transition. all owing to a biased and largely unscientific study. you know what “treatment” for gender dysphoria is recommended by the review instead? conversion therapy.

this will kill people and they know it, because they prefer us dead and out of sight. the government, the NHS and even the opposition have made this clear again and again. a twenty-five year old can have sex, get married have children, join the military, earn a living, be halfway up the corporate ladder or highly successful in their chosen career field by that age, but they can’t transition under NHS rules. this is a death sentence for trans teenagers and they are going ahead with it. it’s trans genocide, same as across the pond.

i’m so afraid for my trans siblings and our futures. i’m so scared for myself. what are we to do if not even the party that is supposed to be on the “left” gives a shit about our safety and mental health as long as they get voted in? labour have become tories with a red coat of paint. it all feels hopeless

[ponds-of-ink]

So about the comic thingy with the different Purple Guys... Uh, what'd you think?

I did see it and liked the post, but I forgot to share my thoughts. 🤦🏻‍♀️ Sorry about that.

That was great! Really dug the song choice (that one part in The Mind Electric really worked well) as well as how you drew my William. Also, your Dave looked very mad about being sent to the infirmary... Which I guess is fair, given what (seems to) happens later in the song.

TL;DR: Really love it, don’t worry. I’m too slow with responding sometimes– Especially since I’m still on vacation at the moment.

[slaygentford]

Armand's podcast chiarobscuro on obscure art history is just him speaking in a monotone for 1 hour about 1 page of 1 illuminated manuscript nd it's coincidentally number 1 trending on pods because people use it as a sleep aid. but then sometimes in the middle of it he'll say something incredibly disturbing and a cult (haha.) following starts claiming there are hidden subliminals in it which are allegations Armand never acknowledges and which people on twitter roast but reality shifters on tik tok get increasingly into. Daniels podcast by/line is beat out consistently by pod save America which is totally fine and not contributing to his alcoholism or his divorce or his psychosexual obsession with armand. he won't listen to armands podcast as a point of principle except for when he puts it on to fall asleep and then gets weirdly turned on and then pavlovs himself into arousal every time he hears armands voice. one sided psychological torture. Armand's cult (haha.) following continues to grow until lestat's podcast lestat (self-titled) filed in culture & the arts blows up and usurps him even though its an hour and a half one-man monologue about quite genuinely nothing at all, though worryingly often, his mother. and Louis? well Louis isnt privy to any of this because he has a child to raise and zones out whenever lestat starts talking about renting out a bigger recording studio for his podcast so that he can have guests on and invest in sound equipment FOR CLAUDIAS FUTURE, OF COURSE. her college fund Louis! the dividends will go toward her college fund. ahaha. what is the definition of this: dividends. Louis gets curious and listens to lestats podcast but gets distracted by recommended for you: chiarobscuro, finds it interesting enough that he doesn't fall asleep, and mentions it offhandedly to lestat after telling him lestat (self-titled) is cute. lestat is distracted by the high of being told Louis likes his podcast but wakes up in the middle of the night sitting straight up in bed when he remembers Louis said "chiarobscuro" in passing at precisely 7:46am this morning. lestat who has armand in his phone represented by the 🕴🏼emoji from college (Louis doesnt know he knows him, lestat has never once mentioned him) calls him from the bathroom at 4am and demands he immediately end his podcasting career. armand who of course answered at 4am counters that they meet in a neutral location to discuss terms. at 5am lestat and armand meet at a park. lestat rages, scaring off several sunrise joggers and their dogs. armand allows this to happen in silence and then says look across the pond. at which point lestat does and sees a bedraggled 50 year old white man plodding along with bodega coffee. you needn't worry about your Louis, says armand. I have a different project. I have been implanting subliminal messages in my podcasts in order to lure Molloy into my thrall. lestat, grudgingly impressed, concedes and stops to get coffee for the family before going back home. Louis and claudia are delighted by the impromptu breakfast and lestat is offered a special shower time reward. before disrobing, and working quickly, he hacks Louis' phone (passcode claudia's birthday) and in a fit of true selfless sacrifice deletes not just Louis' subscription to chiarobscuro, but his podcast app as a whole--damning his own podcast to never again be heard by Louis but removing armand permanently from their lives forever. he joins Louis in the shower, stunned by his own genius. perhaps he will have that worm molloy on his show in order to thwart armands plans. lestat 2 armand 0. it's almost enough to ease the burn of armand telling lestat in their audio production class in college that he's too dumb to start a podcast

[noonwalkdiary]

desired career: a nude pond nymph that plays a golden lyre and sleeps on damp moss beneath the moon

[bunnys-kisses]

the dnf club (vol. 2)

franco colapinto

tags: smut/pwp, brazil gp '24, rough sex, frustration, rough sex, modified doggy style, semi-public/closet sex, quiet sex

a/n: this is a little series of one shot fics because these poor guys all got dnfs at the brazil gp! this one in particular was inspired by an ask i got in my inbox after the gp! so thank you lovely anon! <3

carlos edition // alex edition // lance edition // nico edition

franco knew that his seat was still hanging in the balance. it felt like formula one was going through drivers faster than anything. one wrong move and they were out, replaced with another hopeful, who may or may not yield the same results.

it left the argentinian in a state of anxiety. after talks with the team you came over to him with a frown on your face. you weren't upset that he had to sit out of the race. but rather upset that he was upset. and when you collided into him and wrapped your arms around him tightly.

he simply held onto you a little tighter.

you ended up in the supply closet close to the williams garage. you ended up up against a wall of shelves with your skirt pushed up to expose the roundness of your ass.

"franco." you swallowed as you heard the unzip of his uniform. you couldn't see him, but you could only imagine the look on his face. you knew he was riled up, beyond upset at his weekend.

you believed he was a future champion, a hopefully for 2025. you knew he beat himself up a little more than more established drivers. he was still a small fish in a big pond. any dnfs could hinder a promise of a career.

"please." he said, "let me." his hand grazed the roundness of your ass before he took your panties and pulled them down to your ankles, "nothing more i need right now than you, my love." he then kissed the center of your clothed back.

you were in a williams t-shirt tucked into your skirt, not to mention the bracelet you made from plastic beads that spelled out his name. you looked like a real fan girl, and in fairness, you were franco's number one fan. (on top of being his girlfriend).

he admired your backside, as much as he would've loved to get you full undressed and admire your naked beauty. you two had to be quick. he could admire you when you got back to the hotel room.

"you're so beautiful." he admired as he ran a hand up the side of your thigh, "i want you so badly. i always want you." he shuddered with want as he sank his cock into you with heated affection. fucking with his driver's suit still on was a bit of a challenge as his fireproofs stuck to his skin as he got hotter.

you replied, "you always have me, franco." you quickly covered your mouth with your hand as to not be too loud. you didn't want the team to find your boyfriend's cock inside of you.

franco felt better when he started to move against you. with the thump of his chest as he battered his cock against your sweet core. he pressed his cheek up against your back as he moved your foot up against a lower shelf to get the best angle of your sticky sweet cunt. he panted heavily against your clothed back as he continued to rut against you.

"you'll win it next time, my love." you said with a bit of strain in your voice as he moved up against you. you felt a swirl of hear in your head as he moved up against you. you loved the feeling and the risk of being caught only added a rush to your system.

he kissed your back before he rested his cheek against your once more, he had you positioned in a way that allowed him to sink his cock into the deepest parts of you. he could feel your racing heartbeat against his back and it made his cock twitch. he needed you, he wanted you, every way he could have you. he was still wound up from the dnf, but being with you alleviated a bit of the emotional pain.

how could he upset when he had his lovely girlfriend's pussy to fuck?

you were trying to hold onto the shelves for some sort of leverage, you felt the hammering in your chest as the sounds of sex filled the small space. you felt heated, your hair stuck to places you didn't want it to. you covered your mouth once more to keep from being too loud. the waves of heat across your skin as the two of you fucked like rabbits in a supply closet.

you squeaked a little when you heard people walking by. their voiced muffled by the door, and you squeezed your eyes shut to keep yourself quiet. franco only fucked you harder, bouncing you up against his cock with a heated want. you felt the pleasure flood your brain and when the people on the other side of the door were further away, a stray moan left your lips.

franco groaned a little bit against your back, "when we get back to the hotel room." he whispered, "i want you screaming with how good i make you feel." and that only made you wetter.

you nodded and held onto the metal shelves a little tighter. you could feel something made of plastic dig into your skin. but there was little time to worry about that. franco decorated your neck with kisses, when his lips grazed the back of your neck you felt your nipples grow hard, they rubbed up against your bra which only fueled your pleasure.

while this wasn't the ideal place to fuck, it was something exciting. which only spurred you both on. franco's pace became brutal as he whispered in your ear, "all mine." he said, "you know that. no one else would let me take out all the anger out on them. all my frustration. that's why you're my number one. i love you more than anything." he wrapped his arms around your middle and bounced you onto his cock, "only you."

a few things clattered around on the shelves and you let out a moan, you almost made you lip bleed as you bit down on it as to not be painfully loud. even though there was more commotion outside, you didn't want to draw attention to your sexual escapade in the supply closet.

you prayed that no one needed an extra rag or a spare wrench while franco's cock was buried into you. at least your lover had the decency to lock the door. allowing a bit more privacy. regardless of it all, you felt the immense pleasure in your core. you felt the heat between you two.

your noises were muffled, and your breathing got heavier. franco's pace staggered and the two of you were rutting against one another with a frantic need for climax. you could find soft intimacy somewhere where curious eyes won't listen in.

his strong arms around you as he thrusted up into you made you feel protected. you felt the swim of pleasure in your core as the two of you continued to move against one another. it was a heated euphoria that soon found its climax.

you clamped a hand over your mouth once more and squeezed your eyes shut, your entire body tensed and you almost lost your balance as you came around his cock. franco could make out you saying his name which only encouraged him to keep fucking you.

his cock was slick with your wetness, sticky to the touch as it dripped down to the base of his cock. he knew the front of his driver's suit was a mess. he'd need to change before he got shoved in front of the press. with a few more heavy strokes he finished inside of you. his jaw tense as he tried to keep himself quiet from the gut punch of pleasure.

you rested further against the shelves and franco against your back. it wasn't long before he pulled out and tucked himself back into his suit. with your panties back on and your skirt straightened out. you turned to your lover and kissed him deeply on the lips.

"all better?" you asked softly.

he held you by the hips, his smiled bright as he said, "of course, you make everything better, my love." then kissed you once more. the frustration had melted off of his skin. he felt almost renewed, that the next race would be better.

you two kissed a little more before you both slinked out of the closet, thankful not to be caught. however franco would overhear later on about the smell in the supply closet. he grinned at the rim of his water bottle as he heard, "yeah, it smells like sex in that." <3

[amorisxx]

Snickerdoodle pt. ii

pairing: Art Donaldson x reader summary: Tashi invites you and your son to lunch with her family. You meet Patrick. And you can't stop sharing your cookies with Art. warnings: smut 18+, cheating, mentions of car sex, oral sex (fem receiving because Art is a munch), adults still acting like horny teenagers, hastily proofread word count: 4.2K prev part | next part

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

Tashi does call you. She invites you to have lunch. On them.

You say no.

There’s no way you can go have lunch with the man you just fucked in a parking lot and his wife. You make up some sort of excuse, continuing to dodge her calls for a week.

Unfortunately, your karma is fast acting because you run into Tashi while picking up Kaleb from school one day. Lily and Kaleb have grown closer this school year. In any other instance, you’d be proud of your little dude for making friends, but you can’t help but side eye him when he asks to have a playdate with Lily right in front of Tashi.

Before you can properly respond, Lily is tugging on her mom’s sleeve saying “please, please, please” and Tashi is giving you an apologetic smile. You relent because to do otherwise would make you a terrible mom. Denying your son time with his friend just because you’re avoiding the consequences of your own actions would be a new low. So, you agree to bring Kaleb over that weekend. Much to your dismay, Tashi takes the opportunity to sneak in the offer of lunch again.

ᯓ

On Saturday, you find yourself on the Donaldson’s patio while Kaleb and Lily play in their picturesque backyard. Sunlight pours over the yard, engulfing everything in a warm, soft glow. Lush greenery billows out from the ground creating pillowy grass for the kids to run around through barefoot. A steady trickle of water flows over rocks into a large pond nearby. There’s a light breeze in the air, just enough to feel refreshing.

Tashi is sure to order lunch for everyone. And despite your reluctance to show, you still bring a shiny, red tin of snickerdoodle cookies for dessert. Art took to reminding the kids to finish their food before playing and to be careful near the pond. When they insist on feeding their leftover bread to the fish, he’s quick to make sure they don’t go too far. The afternoon sun settles over him as he kneels between the two, carefully pinching off pieces of breadcrumbs to gently toss into the shimmering water. You just barely hold back a small smile at the seraphic appearance of him, and when you glance back around, Tashi’s eyes meet yours with a slight smile of her own.

Despite the serene atmosphere of their home, you can’t fully relax into your chair as you nibble on your lunch. Art peeks at the way you keep fidgeting with your dress and adjusting your watch on your wrist. He subtly tries to tap you to grab your attention, but you pretend to be reaching for another mimosa to avoid the contact. You find yourself glad to have another drink, actually, because you’re feeling more nervous by the second. You sip from your glass and graciously fall into a conversation with Tashi about your baking in an effort to ignore Art. You think that maybe you’ll feel less guilty about your attraction to her husband if you appear unaffected by him.

Halfway through lunch, you meet Patrick, a tall man with dark curls and glimmering eyes. He’d sauntered over to the table with an impish grin, taking the seat across from you. They introduce him as the player Tashi is coaching and Art’s best friend. You learn that Patrick lives in their guest house. But the way he moves about the space suggests that he’s quite familiar with their home.

Patrick talks to you about his career. Says you might’ve seen him play. You give a tight smile, tell him maybe you had.

In truth, you have no idea who Patrick is.

He openly flirts with you. Says he’s single. You don’t miss the glare Tashi shoots him. Art, however, is laser focused on your reaction to Patrick, searching your face each time he makes a suggestive comment.

You’re shaking your head in restrained amusement at Patrick when Kaleb runs to the table for a sip of lemonade. He spills it in his haste to get back to Lily, and you use a napkin to dab his chin before he pushes your hand away, grumbling mom under his breath. When he’s out of earshot, Patrick casually tells you that you look too good to have a kid Kaleb’s age.

You’re too stunned to speak. Art reaches across the table and slaps the cookie that he’s stolen out of Patrick’s hand, which makes him glare at Art, while Tashi groans in annoyance.

She massages her right temple and sighs, “I apologize for Patrick. He lacks basic home training.” He only grins at her comment.

When he pours himself a glass of sparkling champagne, she snatches it from him, muttering about not fucking up his meal plan. Patrick licks the droplets of champagne that landed on his fingers. She looks at him with disgust and continues, “He wasn’t even supposed to be here. But you know what they say. Never feed a stray cat.”

After you’ve made your way through two mimosas, you turn to Tashi to ask for the bathroom. You expect her to take you. Or simply give instructions and send you on your way, but Art stands up and says, “Come on, I’ll show you.”

You want to decline, but your bladder is screaming, so you follow him through the large French doors leading into their kitchen. You reluctantly watch the way his muscles move in tandem with his lazy stride. His gait is noticeably less stiff as he makes his way through his home. Here, he doesn’t have to be Art Donaldson ™, just Art. He doesn’t turn around until he stops at a door situated in the hallway you passed when you entered their house. He could’ve just told you that the bathroom was on that hall.

“Here it is.”

“Thanks,” you whisper and reach for the knob. Before he can say anything else, you shut the door behind you and lock it. When you think you can hear footsteps departing, you release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

You quickly pee and wash your hands, lingering to stare at the water rinsing over your fingers. It’s not until the stream is hot enough to sting that you retract your hands, grab the hand towel and turn off the faucet.

It would be nice to just stay locked in here until Kaleb is tired out and ready to go home. But you know that would be weird at best and suspicious at worst.

“You can do this,” you whisper to yourself in the mirror. “It’s just one lunch. After this, you never have to talk to these people again.”

With a mindful inhale, you move to open the door and pray Kaleb can make some new friends.

You’re thinking about how bad of a mom you are when you almost bump into Art.

“Shit! You scared me!”

He frowns at you. “What? You surprised there was someone else in the house?” He says, voice laced with amusement.

You roll your eyes. “No, I just didn’t expect you to pop up. I thought you’d gone back outside.”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Oh…you didn’t have to do that. I could’ve found my way back.”

“Never said you couldn’t.” You think he’s standing closer to you now. “I just uh, I wanted to talk to you. You’ve been…” he moves his head from side to side, “a little tense.”

You let out an exaggerated gasp. “Really? You don’t say?”

He frowns. Like a kid who doesn’t understand why you’re taking away his cookies.

“Art, how did you think I was gonna act? After what…” you lower your voice, “after what we did,” you hiss.

His hand grasps your shoulder. “Hey.” He squeezes it. “I told you it was fine.”

You scoff. “So we just pretend it didn’t happen?”

“I didn’t say that. I told you, I wanted you.”

“And that makes it okay?” You crane your head back to stare at him.

He turns his head in the direction of the kitchen before letting out a sigh and bringing his eyes back to bore into yours. “Yeah. For me, it does.” You don’t think you’ve ever seen the intensity settled in his gaze the way it is now.

You look at him with disbelief. “Art. You’re married.”

He blinks at you.

“Your wife is literally sitting outside watching our children play.” You try to get him to see how wrong this is. “Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” You didn’t think Art could be so cold about this.

“It didn’t mean anything when she cheated on me.” His voice is steady, but there’s something undeniably hidden behind his hardened expression. You can’t place it, but whatever it is, it makes your brows soften.

“What?” You say lamely.

“You heard me.”

Your mouth opens. Then closes. That time when he’d told you he understood, he actually had. And you hadn’t believed him.

You want to inquire more, but he interrupts you. “Listen, I’m not really up to rehashing the fails of my marriage right now,” he says, reaching to grab your hand. You let him. “Just know that you don’t need to feel guilty. About anything.”

His fingers gently tilt your chin to look him in the eyes. “And know that everything we did that night was something I’ve wanted for awhile. Something I still want.”

Your eyes impulsively dart to his lips.

“Please tell me I can touch you,” he all but whimpers.

And at that moment, you know you really aren’t a good person. Because it only takes a matter of seconds for you to lean forward and catch Art’s lips as his head moves towards you. You bring your hands around the back of his neck as his arms snake around your waist. His warm hand presses against your hip before traveling up until he reaches your ribcage. You sigh into his mouth and thread your fingers through his hair. It didn’t take long for you to get lost in him, abandoning any form of restraint.

Despite the tenderness seeping through your fingertips, the kiss is rushed. It’s filled with lust and the desperation of two people, frantically trying to get as much as they can from the other. You whimper when you feel Art’s teeth dig into your bottom lip. One hand drags up to cup your breast, and the other moves to grip your ass, squeezing it. With an arch of your back, you let your head loll backwards a bit as Art’s pink tongue swirls around yours. He grunts out a small fuck when his thumb brushes over your clothed nipple and you moan. The action brings up flashes of him pressing his mouth to your breasts that night in the parking lot. You recall the way he sucked on them and played with your clit through your damp panties. The memory goes straight to your core.

Suddenly, Art pauses to glance towards the kitchen, as if weighing his options. You can feel him pressed up against you hard. And a part of you clenches when he turns back to you, grins, and whispers “fuck it” before attacking your mouth again. You let out a sound of surprise when you feel him ushering you back to the bathroom.

The lock clicks behind you as he presses you up against the door. His hands are everywhere and his tongue is following in quick succession. You’re so overwhelmed by it all that you can barely figure out where to place your hands. You settle for his shoulders as he falls to his knees in front of you.

Art spreads your legs, pressing his face into the side of your inner thigh. His nose and parted mouth travel up your thigh, bunching up the fabric of your knitted dress the higher he gets. Your stomach clenches when his hands come to caress the back of your thighs and make their way over your behind. In one swift motion, Art shoves his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugs them harshly down your thighs.

His name tumbles out of your mouth in a gasp. He lightly hums to himself as he rids you of the extra material, and you don’t notice him place them into his pocket because your eyes are shut tight at the feeling of his wet mouth trailing up your thigh again.

When you feel a puff of warm air hit your lips, your eyes fly open, and you instinctively grip your dress to get a better look. Art’s eyes are closed as he unabashedly inhales your scent. After a particularly deep breath, his tongue comes out to lick against your folds. He releases a shaky exhale that tickles your clit. His blue eyes open up to peer at you, silently pleading for permission. You could almost laugh at the ridiculousness of him needing your permission when he’s already fucked you once and just forced himself between your legs, literally yanking your underwear down.

Still, he waits with his mouth mere centimeters from your heat, glassy eyes wide, looking to you to grant him this.

It’s possibly the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. You place your fingers in his hair firmly and lower yourself onto his waiting mouth. The groan Art releases into your pussy resonates through your entire core. Your head falls back against the door as he begins to eat your cunt like he’s been starving for it.

He hungrily laps at your soaking entrance, dragging his tongue up to your clit and back again. He’s a messy eater. Letting your juices coat his chin without a care in the world. Shoving his tongue so deep into you that his nose is flush with you. It makes your stomach flutter. The intensity and risk of being caught transports you to a time when you might’ve hid in a closet with your high school crush. Except the head was never this good.

You’re grinding your swollen clit into his nose as his tongue fucks into your hole when he grabs your thigh, placing it over his shoulder. The position lets him shove his face deeper into the apex of your thighs, moaning against you. At this rate, you’re not sure who’s enjoying this more. You start to feel dizzy, your senses overwhelmed with the feel of Art’s tongue and the sound of his groaning mixed with filthy slurping noises. It’s obscene the way he’s switching between licking into your hole and sucking at your clit.

“Ah-Art I’m gonna—,”

“Mmhm,” he nods into your cunt. He’s lost in it. He’s gripping your ass, kneading the flesh, when his tongue dips downward. He spreads your cheeks. You jolt when you feel something hot and wet swirl around your tight muscle. You’re surprised at how good it feels, your ex would never have done that to you.

Your mouth falls open. “Oh godddd,” you’re tugging his hair, pulling his ears, anything your hands can find purchase on.

Your thighs tremble as Art mercilessly sucks on your clit. The orgasm that washes over you has you lifting your back off the wooden door, vision gone black.

Art doesn’t let up. You have to push his head away from you to get him to release your overstimulated clit. He stumbles back on his heels, thighs spread, with a giant grin on his face. His chin is glistening and his lips are swollen and red. As you work to catch your breath, you notice that the front of his pants are soaked.

ᯓ

Art sends you out first. He has to change his jeans after he basically came from merely eating you out. The thought makes you giggle.

When you get to the table, only Patrick is there. You sit down, but you must look confused because he tells you Tashi had to take a call.

You nod.

“She left pretty soon after you went inside.” He takes a puff from his cigarette.

“Okay,” you say and smooth out your dress.

He blows out a cloud of smoke and tilts his head. He smiles at you like he knows exactly what you’ve been up to.

It makes you gulp.

“Where’s Art?” He asks, eyes twinkling.

“I uh…I don’t know,” you lie. “He disappeared after he showed me to the bathroom.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh.”

You can’t take the scrutiny. To keep from fidgeting with your hands, you reach for your neglected mimosa and take a sip.

Patrick puts out his cigarette. He looks over to the kids who are now taking turns throwing pebbles across the pond. It looks like Lily is beating Kaleb, but he’s determined to throw his further.

Patrick’s voice cuts through the air. “Hey.” He leans forward on his elbows and smirks, “was he good?”

You cough. “What?”

He laughs at your sputtering. “Oh my god. You let him fuck you, didn’t you??”

“Excuse me!” You look at him aghast.

“Oh come on,” he slightly sobers up. “I can keep a secret.” He mimics a zipper on his lips.

Thankfully, Art decides to finally rejoin you, saving you from having to respond to Patrick’s interrogation.

He sits down in the seat beside you, placing his hand on your thigh under the table. “He’s not bothering you, is he?” But he looks at Patrick as he asks the question.

Patrick scoffs. “No, we were just talking.”

Art looks at you as if to ask you to confirm. So, you nod. “Mmhm, everything’s fine.”

He looks you over then leans back in his seat, relenting. “So, where’s Tashi?”

As if on cue, you hear the door on the opposite side of the patio open as Tashi lets out a sigh. She plops down in her seat across from Art.

“I swear if I want shit done right I have to do it myself.”

She goes on to complain about how her team had fucked up Patrick’s upcoming campaign. If you’re being honest, the conversation is the last thing on your mind right now. Their voices fade out as you get stuck in your head.

You wonder just how much Patrick knew about you and Art. Had Art told him? Had he bragged about how easy you were to his best friend? Is that why Patrick’s been hitting on you all day?

It dawns on you that Art and Patrick might think you’re just a slut. The thought makes your stomach twist in humiliation. But some part of you feels excited by the idea. The thought that you could exist as a free sexual being. God is this what happens when you’re divorced and sexually dissatisfied for years?

The sound of someone clearing their throat steals you from your thoughts. You look up to see all three of them staring at you expectantly.

“I’m sorry?”

Art chuckles at your blatant inattention. It reminds him of the way you’d zone out when the PTA meetings ran over and Nancy couldn’t stop yapping.

“I promise, we do talk about more than just tennis.”

“Oh it’s fine,” you shrug.

Patrick laughs. “He’s lying. Neither of them can hold a conversation without bringing up tennis.”

Tashi rolls her eyes in his direction. “Patrick, you shouldn’t even be here right now. Shut up.”

You try to stifle your giggle at her dismissal of Patrick. Though her words drip with disdain, they lack any real malice. And if anything, Patrick’s smile grows wider the deeper she furrows her brows. You figure their bickering must also be characteristic of their tennis relationship.

“Also, I just know he was probably annoying the hell out of you while I was gone.” She tips her glass in Art’s direction. “Art here can barely keep him in check.”

“Okay, that’s not—“

Before Art can defend himself, Patrick cuts in. “Actually, I was just asking her out on a date,” he smirks at you. “Isn’t that right?”

His smile is daring you to disagree, and you realize he’s challenging you.

You clear your throat. “Yeah he did,” you say, peeking at Art. He looks like a disapproving father. Arms folded and mouth set in a hard line. “And I told him no,” you continue. “Because right now, I’m not interested in dating. I’d rather focus on me and my kid.”

Tashi smirks. “Yeah Patrick, no one needs your parasitic ass preying on them once they’ve already ditched deadweight.” She must realize her bluntness as her eyes lift to yours. “Sorry, I’m just saying.”

“It’s alright,” you laugh. Your ex was deadweight. You find yourself staring at your clasped hands. Your amusement at her comment had been genuine, but that’s the problem. For someone that just fucked this woman’s husband, you’re a little too comfortable in Tashi’s presence. Your lack of all encompassing guilt is concerning. Maybe it’s because you’ve had three mimosas.

Yeah. It’s definitely the mimosas.

You suppose that once reality sets in, it may all come crashing down on you. So, you enjoy the feeling for now. Besides, after lunch today, you intend to never sleep with Art Donaldson again.

ᯓ

Following that Saturday lunch, you proceed to fuck Art Donaldson after almost every PTA meeting. You two find yourselves in the back of your car screwing like rabbits with your clothes halfway on or in the front seat of his, you riding him while he tries not to slam you into the dashboard.

The night you have to throw Kaleb’s booster seat into the front as Art works to pull down your pants from behind is the night you decide this can no longer go on. Or more specifically, that fucking in a car is impractical.

Art convinces you to meet him at a hotel instead. You two get the same room each time, and even though you promise that you’re going to stop, you find yourself checking into that hotel room every weekend. If not there, Art comes to your place. It becomes your regular form of self care after a long week of work.

Kaleb has to start spending time with his father anyway, so you let him have Saturdays and Sundays. If nothing makes you feel better about your son hanging out with your ex and his new fiancée, it’s being able to forget it all with Art.

Unfortunately, the guilt begins to build a home for itself in your gut. Any time you aren’t being fucked by Art, you’re beating yourself up about it, swearing that you’ll never let it happen again. Never in your life have you experienced this much anguish over something. Yet, it’s a fascinating cycle of faux repression. The way you deny yourself out of some self-righteous need to be perceived as a good person, only to eventually give into your true desires when being a good person makes you feel utterly miserable.

It’s almost the same every time. Art will reach out to you. You tell him never to dial your number again. You feel bad, so you go to apologize. Then, you inevitably fuck him. But you hate yourself for fucking him, but you do it again because his cock is the only thing that makes you feel better.

It’s utterly ridiculous.

It’s also ridiculous that you can’t set firm boundaries with him. After the first hotel meeting, you nearly cried when you woke up cocooned within his arms. It was wrong. You’d already slept with him, cuddling was too far. It was too domestic.

You told yourself you wouldn’t let that happen anymore.

Yet, here you are again, trapped beneath his muscled arm. Except this time, he’s in your bed. And his face is buried in the crook of your neck, his mouth slightly parted for his warm breath to kiss your skin. The rise and fall of his chest against your back threatens to lull you back to sleep. You fight your heavy eyelids and shuffle to raise Art’s arm enough to slip out of.

You prop yourself against the headboard and stare out of the window. The leaves are starting to lose their green hue, and some have already fallen to the ground. Fall has always been your favorite time of year. Though the change in season isn’t as dramatic as the melting of icicles going into spring, the transition from summer heat to autumn has a way of slipping up on you.

One day, it’s unbearably hot, and you’re dreaming of when the air might catch a cool breeze, and the next, you’re reaching for a jacket because, though the days are still warm, the nights are getting cooler. And then one day, you’re peering out of your window to see that the leaves have changed color, and they’ve all fallen.

When you look back at Art, his blue eyes are already staring back at you. You wonder when he woke up. He has that small sleepy smile on his face, and his eyes are slightly swollen, and he’s reaching to wrap his arms around your waist and nuzzle his head into your lap. And you glance at the leaves from the trees and realize they aren’t the only ones that have fallen.

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

a/n: let me know what you guys think of this part! I think I have about two more parts for pta!Art and reader because a bit of drama is about to unfold. *rubs hands together like an insect*

Part iii