#art donaldson prompt

[nottsangel]

art cums the second u slap him for the first time when ur on top

he moans and begs u to hit him harder and degrade him for being such a fucking loser ughhhhhhh

warnings: smut 18+, riding, creampie, face slapping, degradation

it’s only been a few minutes but art already has to bite his swollen lip in order not to cum at the sight of you rolling your hips on top of him, tits bouncing up and down. the sounds of moans fill the room— not yours though, but his, coupled with a string of curse words and your name repeatedly spilling from his mouth.

“baby, ‘m gonna— ‘m gonna cum s-“ art begins but his face abruptly meets the palm of your hand, slapping him on the cheek and leaving a red mark on his skin as a whimper leaves his lips. “you gonna cum already? fuck, you’re so useless art.” you hiss, not even near your own orgasm yet as your hips increase in pace, nails digging into his chest.

“harder, p-please.” art pleads, causing you to furrow your brows. “what?” “i— i want you to slap me again, please, baby.” you scoff at his desperation, feeling a surge of power as you gaze down at him— his blue eyes barely open, his plump lips parted, and his blonde hair clinging to his forehead, sweat trickling down his flushed face.

“so fuckin’ pathetic.” you sneer with a condescending tone before sticking your fingers into his mouth and forcing him to suck on them, “god, you’re such a fucking loser” you remove your spit-drenched digits from his mouth and drag his own saliva over his face, making a mess everywhere before your palm strikes his face with force once more, but even harder this time, the stinging sensation through his skin igniting a feeling of ecstasy throughout his entire body.

“oh my fucking god” art moans with his eyes closed before you suddenly feel a familiar pool of warmth deep inside of you, his hands tightly gripping your hips with all their might. “poor thing, couldn’t hold it any longer, huh?” he merely hums in response, unable to form any coherent sentences as he comes down from his high.

“‘m so sorry, baby. just… feels too fuckin’ good.” he murmurs, chest heaving up and down before you speed up again, bouncing up and down on his cock as his warm sperm drips down the insides of your thighs. hitched breaths escape his mouth as his brows knit together and his muscles tense from the intense overstimulation he’s experiencing. “so you’re sorry, huh? then shut the fuck up and help me cum.”

ੈ♡˳

[jesuistrestriste]

art is the MESSIEST kisser ever like if u make out his spit is literally everywhere. like he'll kiss u on the mouth then keep on kissing ur neck but w the wettest kisses ever. and i JUST KNOW he def drools. like when u give him head and his head is resting against a pillow, he's so lost in it that he can't even think. like the only thing he can do anymore is whimper and moan like a little bitch. and when u look at him u see him drooling all over the pillow😭

art donaldson has a messy mouth. he drools when it feels too good, he kisses with almost too much tongue when he's desperate, and his warm, eager lips are always on your skin whenever he gets a chance to touch you properly.

he practically salivates like a thirsty puppy on a hot day. it pools under his tongue whenever he catches a glimpse of the more intimate areas of your soft skin; the nape of your neck, your stomach, your inner thighs. and he has to try desperately to swallow it down when you two are in public and he can't get his lips on you.

the first time you and art made out, it was very sloppy. you thought this mightve been a result of minor inexperience on his part, or nervousness, or excitement, so you let it happen. you let him moan into your open mouth and grab at your shirt while he slid his pink tongue over yours. you let his sticky saliva mix with yours as your mouths mashed together. you let him kiss you and kiss you and kiss you until he came in his pants.

the whole ordeal lasted about 7 minutes.

after that, you had assumed that—in time—he'd get more reserved with his mouth as you two continued to be intimate.

but this didn't happen.

if anything, he only got more comfortable with you, and thus only became more orally-fixated and messy with his mouth.

he liked to suck on your fingers during sex.

he liked to slather your arousal with his spit when he went down on you.

he liked to kiss you wetly all over your body before bed.

he liked yearned for it all.

when you'd give him head, your slick lips bobbing over his tip and swallowing salty dribbles of precome, he'd drool all over whatever was near his mouth. it was just too hard to focus on not drooling when the warmth of your tongue got him close so fast. his eyes would get lidded and his knees would grow weak and his mind would turn to mush the second you started to blow him. sometimes you'd have to hold his hips to keep him steady. he was very predictable.

one thing you two like to do together is have art get on all fours on the bed, knees spread apart with his cock hard and hanging between his thighs. his hands will go up and squeeze onto the pillows as he lowers his head and lets you jerk him off.

it’s kinda demeaning, in a way; being milked like a cow.

but you like doing it to him, and he likes whatever you like, so he loves this.

when your hand starts to stroke his cock, strings of pre leaking from his slit, his arms will usually start to shake. it'll start at his shoulders, and then go down to his elbows, and then end when his wrists can't hold him up anymore. he'll let himself collapse down onto the cushions without more than a whine of protest and a renewed tint of pink across the bridge of his nose. his head will lay on one side of his face, his lips parted to let out whimpers and whines as his hips jolt, and then it’ll start.

he’ll drool.

all over.

down the side of his face, over his bottom lip, down his chin. it all happens depending on how his head is positioned. but he always, always, always slobbers on the pillow a little.

just as his eyes start to roll back, and his pelvis starts to shallowly move to thrust his cock into your moving grasp, his sweet and sticky saliva will dribble down his face someway and soak into the pillowcase.

he can't help it.

because, again, you make it hard to pay attention to anything other than how good you make his dick feel. it throbs in your hand.

when you catch a glimpse of his drooling, you usually smile and speed up your touch.

"Art, baby-" you'll coo to him, "drooling."

and he'll know right away what you mean.

"Anghh— feel s'good, s'good— 'm sorry, 'm sorry," he'll inevitably slur.

he'll try to wipe it with the back of his hand, but he's usually shaking too much for that to do much of anything. it more just smears the transparent fluid across his flushed face.

slurp. wipe. whimper.

a few more strokes of your hand, and a thumb pressed right under his cockhead, is all he needs to let go after that point.

his eyes will roll back as he cries out and bucks into your fist, shooting and coating the bedding underneath with his load. he'll tremble and whine until his hands grasping at the sheets below have the instinct to fly between his legs and stop the overstimulation. you generally let up soon after he makes that known.

after you clean him up and ease him into bed, he'll make sure to kiss you goodnight. and it's messy and needy and a little bit too much, but you let him do it anyways. he's eager to please, and he's eager to show you how much he appreciates the way you take care of him. he’s just eager.

maybe one day you'll get sick of how much tongue he uses when he kisses, but you doubt it. it’s just so perfectly him.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

#27 with art if you feel so inclined! :) 🖤 please and thank you!

Sure thing!

Prompt: Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap.

Warnings: Established relationship, divorced Art Donaldson, smooches

"Did you eat already? I'm so fricking hungry," You grumble, leaving your suitcase by the door and striding toward the kitchen.

"Yeah, I ate."

"How's your shoulder?"

"It's fine."

"Are you sure?" You glance back at him from the kitchen. "Ken said you mentioned that it was stiff."

Art doesn't answer for a moment, eyes sweeping across your face. You watch him glance even lower before he shakes his head a little.

"It loosened up."

"If you're sure," You turn back to the sink, cranking on the faucet to wash your hands. "Don't push it if you don't have to."

"I won't."

"How did Lily's uh—Career day go?"

"It went fine. C'mere."

"Her teacher was so excited you could make it, I mean, so happy." You shut the sink off, plucking up the dishtowel to dry your hands before turning to the fridge. "Like, jazzed. I know no one uses that word anymore, but she was jazzed. Did you eat already?"

"I told you I did. C'mere."

"She's always been the coolest kid in the third grade in my opinion, but now it's official. Like—Peer official. Like, blue tick, you know?" You eye the contents of the fridge. "Are you hungry?"

"I just said I ate."

"No, right—Sorry. My mind's like," You shake your head. "I'm trying to slow down and catch up at the same time."

"Baby."

"I'm all jet-lagged and just jacked up. Fucking hate conferences."

"Baby."

"Yeah?"

"Look at me."

You turn your head from the fridge, raising your brows at the sight of Art's small, amused smile.

"...What?"

"Come here," He laughs, holding his hand out. You close the fridge, rounding the counter slowly and eyeing Art with suspicion.

"What's that look for?" You ask.

"I'm not giving you any kind of look."

"Yes you are."

"I am not."

"I know that face, mister."

He chuckles, taking hold of your hand once you're close enough, tugging you down. You lower yourself over him, straddling his thighs and settling in as his arms curl around your waist. He leans up, sucking a gentle kiss to your neck. You bite your lip, shifting slightly as his hands curl in the fabric of your shirt.

"...Are we picking Lily up from practice tomorrow?" You ask as your mind races.

"Tashi's got her," Art mumbles, the hum of it vibrating against your skin.

"Okay, good. I mean—Not good like—I've got some errands to run and I have to wash my clothes from the trip. I don't wanna mess up her schedule."

Art groans, tipping his head back and leaning away. You frown, pouting.

"What's wrong?"

Art lets his head loll to look up at you, a pout forming on his lips.

"You've been at a hundred since you walked through the door."

"I've got things on my mind."

"I can tell."

"Alright—" You groan, beginning to lean away, but Art's arms tighten around you, leaning up and pressing his chest against yours.

"I missed you," He murmurs. You wilt a little, raising your hands to cup his cheeks.

"I missed you, too."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Because I'm feeling very neglected."

Art grins as you break into a laugh, leaning up and brushing a kiss along the underside of your jaw.

"You poor thing," You coo, turning your head. He catches your lips with his, sliding a hand up to your nape to guide your kisses as you sink down against him.

"...Art?" You mumble against his lips.

"Mm."

"I...Missed this...And you..."

"Mhm."

"But I am starving."

"Pizza'll be here in ten."

You grin, leaning back to look at him.

"You didn't."

"Course I did." His hand slides around your neck, knuckles brushing against your jaw.

"You're gonna spoil me rotten, Donaldson."

"Or die trying."

[artdcnaldson]

I have some fluffy fuzzy thoughts to share... I feel like Patrick is one of those people that babies just unexpectedly LOVE

Like imagine he's at a gathering with Art's family and someone asks him to hold their very new, very small, very breakable baby while they're in the bathroom.

Patrick freaks out expecting high pitched wails and a lifetime ban from Donaldson family BBQs.

But turns out his big strong hands are good for holding little people as well as rackets...

ohhhh <3 this is so, so important to me <3

Because Patrick is the type to loudly and frequently say he hates kids. His experience with children comes down to his older brother's hellspawn that make the pretty young au pairs he hires gray prematurely. Nasty, dirty, loud, annoying, persistent. The kind of kids that need to be told No, but never are.

Art's family is different. It takes a village, and all that. His cousin Beth is a teen mom, with a cute, fat little baby that has the same blonde curls as its mother. It has two front teeth already, a gummy little smile when Art's grandmother feeds it bites of some tater tot hotdish that would send Patrick's bubbe into cardiac arrest.

Art happily holds the baby in his arms and he seems comfortable enough. There are so many young kids running around that Patrick figures he has experience with that sort of thing. In his eighteen years of life, Patrick has managed to hold one baby, at age fourteen, when his older brother had his first kid.

The baby blinks up at him, its eyes wide and brown like Beth's are. Beth— who's off making fruit salad and dumped her kid into the first pair of open arms she could find. It's outfit is stupid— a little set of overalls with pockets that have muppets sticking out. What the fuck do babies need pockets for?

"It keeps staring at me," he complains, trying to move in front of Art to break the creepy eye contact, which doesn't work.

"Stop calling him it," Art insists, face twisting with annoyance as he bounces the baby in his arms. "His name is Noah."

Patrick sighs. "Noah won't stop staring at me. It's freaking me out, so make him stop."

Art laughs at that, grinning in that annoying way he does when he thinks he knows what Patrick's thinking. So what if most of the time he does? "What? He's a baby, I can't just make him stop. You're being weird."

No. Weird was the way that Art's family acted. He knew the detachment in his family wasn't normal, but the closeness, the joking, the passing babies and kids and hugging was weird. It was weird that they had potlucks where they would eat servings of each dish and smile even if it tasted really bad. It was weird that Art's other cousin, George, stood up with his wife and proudly announced they were trying for a baby. For all the Zweig's knew, babies arrived in cashmere swaddles carried by some endangered species of bird.

"I have to pee, dude, just hold him for a sec—" Art says suddenly, and before Patrick can do anything, the baby is shoved into his arms. It— he— is heavier than Patrick expects, so dense for something so small.

"Art—" He whisper-yells, but Art's already darting away, leaving Patrick to awkwardly cradle the baby to his chest.

Noah babbles as Patrick swears under his breath. No one seems to look his way— it's too loud for anyone to really care. Beth at least glances over to check on her kid, sees a yawning Noah being bounced in Patrick's arms. He thinks he gives a help me expression, but it's ignored.

Noah likes him. He rests his chubby little face on Patrick's Hollister polo and babbles contentedly once Patrick manages to nervously walk across the room and settle on an old, sunken in leather couch.

Tentatively, Patrick reaches out, lets the baby wrap his hand around his index finger. Noah yawns, his little face wrinkling and scrunching as he gets comfortable. The baby is asleep on Patrick's chest by the time Art returns.

The blond grins as he sinks onto the couch beside him, holding out a plate of baked goods. "Hungry?"

"I can't move," Patrick whispers. "He's knocked out, dude."

Art lifts a marshmallow lucky charms bar to Patrick's mouth and lets the other boy take a bite. "You're good with kids. Girls think that's hot."

"Shut the fuck up."

[somniuslucis]

No thoughts, only Art looking for chapstick and stumbling upon Tashi’s lipgloss in a tossed pair of Patrick’s pants.

Art puts it on for shits and giggles and immediately feels heat crawl up his neck and face as he looks at himself in the mirror. He knows he probably looks ridiculous wearing it. His image looks a tad feminine; the gloss being pale pink with a slight shimmer that sparkles in the light. He wipes it off, dismissing it as a one-time thing. Unfortunately, he can’t stop thinking about it and can’t help thinking about the shine and the slick, sticky feeling when he first rubbed his lips together and suddenly Art is putting it on whenever he has alone time.

He only applies the gloss when he’s sure Patrick will be out for the evening or stuck to Tashi until an inevitable fight brings him back to their shared dorm. It’s only by relying on Patrick being gone for a weekend, whether visiting his parents or staying with Tashi -Art can’t remember what Patrick had said- that Art gets caught by the devil, himself, putting it on.

The duo stands staring at each other for a long moment before Art scrambles to scrub the stickiness from his mouth. Patrick, in all his nonchalance and confidence, shrugs it off like it’s no big deal and the pair leaves it at that.

Only the image of Art wearing that pretty pink concoction is burned into Patrick’s mind and it’s all he can think about- hell, DREAM about. He constantly has to shake the memory from his mind when he wakes up in the morning with sticky boxers - dreams of Art going down on him and leaving wet kisses all over his body while wearing the cursed substance stay stuck on replay. His mind wanders so often to Art that it becomes enough of a problem to where he starts chronically canceling plans and ends up breaking it off with Tashi…

Because all he can think about are those pretty, pink lips and golden curls and pathetic puppy dog eyes before he decides he has to do something about it before he loses his mind, entirely.

[yourfavwritersfavoritewriter]

gonna try and participate in my first kinktober this year lol. pls send requests :((

[rayhalloffame]

Prompt 25 angsty with Art Donaldson please pretty pleaseee😩🛐

This one got away from me a little bit haha I hope you enjoy!! Requests are open, feel free to deviate from the prompt list if you’d like!

F!reader x Stanford!Art Donaldson

25. “It hurts...” “what?” “Loving someone who doesn’t love you...”

What’s frustrating is that it’s not the first time you’ve had this conversation. You’ve tried to make him understand how his behavior is perceived, how it makes you feel. He always tells you you’re thinking about it too much, if he didn’t love you he wouldn’t be with you. It’s hard not to believe him when in the next moment he’s reaching for you to pull you into his lap and pepper your face with kisses until you’re a giggling mess.

That’s why when he asks if he could spend the night after practice, you were happy to have him. Between your class schedule and his tennis schedule, making time for each other was hard, but always worth it. Your only request was that he come over no later than 10pm because you had a big exam the next day.

You must’ve fallen asleep in bed while studying and waiting for Art, because you’re startled awake by the obnoxious ringtone Art had set for himself. You reach for the phone, grateful your roommate is away for the night so you’re not disturbing anyone. When the clock flashes the time at you, it reads 11:47pm. You bring the phone to your ear and say nothing, annoyed.

“Baby?” Art whispers. “Are you still awake?”

You consider feigning asleep. Maybe he’ll think you answered the phone just to get the ringing to stop. But you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t want to see him. You hadn’t spent a proper night together in over 2 weeks, just FaceTimes and lunches wherever you could fit them. You stifle a yawn and pull yourself to a seated position, quietly ask him where he is.

He sounds happy to hear you, tells you that he’s walking to you now and is about 5 minutes away. You let him ramble while you flick your light on and close the books scattered on your bed. By the time he reaches your door your bed is clear and you’ve spritzed it with your perfume for good measure.

He’s leaning against the doorframe when you pull it open, looking apologetic. “Sorry I’m late,” he offers sweetly, reaches his hand out to drag his knuckle down your cheek. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” You hum in acknowledgment, still annoyed but stepping aside to let him in.

He drops his tennis gear and book bag at your desk, slips off his slides, then turns so he can sit on the edge of the wooden furniture. His legs are spread just enough for you to slip between them when he reaches for you. “Gonna give me a kiss or what?” he asks.

You roll your eyes but can never deny him. As you’re leaning in you pluck his red Stanford hat from his head briefly so you can flip it backwards and avoid getting hit in the face by its brim. The kiss is soft and slow, your arms draped over his shoulders. He has a guiding hand on your jaw, the other holding you close by the waist. He hums into your mouth. You’re suddenly more awake when you pull away, suggest taking a shower together in your Jack-and-Jill bathroom before going to sleep.

“Sorry, baby,” he says, thumb stroking your cheek where his hand still rests. “Me and Tashi showered at the athletic center after our session before getting dinner. I didn’t get to wash my hair though, so how about we rain check for a longer shower in the morning?” Oblivious, he pulls you back to him in offer of an apologetic kiss but you turn your head into his hand. His lips press against the corner of your mouth.

You feel sick, drawing away from him, taking 2 steps back. “You and Tashi did what?”

He’s laughing now, holding his hands up. “No, no! We were in different locker rooms.”

“No, Art. You and Tashi went to dinner, when you’ve been with her everyday for the last month. I was so excited you could fit me into your busy schedule and you couldn’t even get here when I asked.” You cross your arms over your chest. You feel your heart speeding up behind your ribs.

“Don’t be like that,” he groans. “We train together and wanted something to eat after.” He waits for your response, and when one doesn’t come, he continues. “I am sorry for being late, though. I lost track of the time.”

Your eyes sting. You can tell they’re watering. You nod your head stiffly, just once. “You know, that really hurts.”

“What?” he asks. He stands to reach for you, spurred into action by the tears swimming in your eyes.

“Loving someone who doesn’t love you. You’re in love with her, Art, not me.” A tear betrays you, slips down your cheek. Before you can angrily swipe it away Art is there, as gentle with you as he’s ever been.

“Don’t do this,” he says. “You’re my girl, of course I love you. And I miss you, you know? Let’s have a good night together.” His tone is pleading.

Never one to deny him, you nod, sniffling. You don’t have the fight in you that you did the handful of other times you’ve had this talk. So you let him tilt your head up to press your lips together, let him pull you into a tight hug where he rests his cheek against the top of your head and rubs his big hand up and down your back.

He’s stripping down to his boxers in the next minute and pulling his Stanford hoodie over your head. He tells you you’re beautiful, squeezes your cheeks together cutely. When you get into your twin xl bed he pulls you tight against his body. You hike a leg over his hip, relish in the feel of his fingers stroking up and down your thigh.

It’s not often you can tell when something is going to be the last time. But in this moment you know. This will be the last time Art Donaldson holds you to sleep, the last time you trace patterns on his chest. You savor his touch and will yourself not to cry, tuck your head into the crevice of his neck and try to memorize his scent. You try not to think too much about how he put on cologne to go to dinner with her.

[jukeboxsweethearttt]

Masterlist

Pretty please with a 🍒 on top don’t

Steal, Copy Or Plagiarize my work

I am begging you ;)

Rafe Cameron

Pageant Material

Book of Love

Sugar Baby Headcannons

You’re Not The Only One

NATURAL

Million Dollar Man

The First Taste

Butterflies

Blue

Dreams

What’s A Girl To Do?

Stay

Art Donaldson

Sexy to Someone

Patrick Zweig

Falling Behind

Anthony Bridgerton

Liquid Smooth

My Little Love

Ceilings

[silentmacabre]

leave imagine prompts below! ☁️

nsfw or clean 🪽

can be stiles or art (or dodge) 🩶

[cloveroctobers]

Here you’ll find all summer works written during the summer season of 2024 down below🍦🏖️ 🌅

BURN > Dante Torres + Tv/Film + Chicago PD (NBC)

BODYGUARD > Vic Hughes + Tv/Film + Station 19 (ABC)

MAKE YOU FEEL > Rio + Tv/Film + Good Girls (NBC/Netflix)

CAMPING > Sydney, Carmy, Richie, Michael, & Luca + Tv/Film + The Bear (FX/Hulu)

NEXT 2 U > _Requested_Layla Keating + Tv/Film + All American (The CW)

DISTANCE > Armando Aretas + Film + Bad Boys: Ride or Die (Columbia Pictures)

SINNERS ON COURT > Art Donaldson x Tashi Duncan x Patrick Zweig + Film Crossover + Challengers/The Strangers (Amazon MGM Studios/Warner Bros. Pictures)

95 DEGREES > Armando Aretas + Film + Bad Boys: Ride or die (Columbia Pictures)

SITUATIONS > _Requested_Luca + Tv/Film + The Bear (FX/Hulu)

HAMMER TO THE HEART > Dante Torres + Tv/Film + Chicago PD (NBC)

COMEDY > Sydney Adamu + Tv/Film + The Bear (FX/Hulu)

TV ON > Richie Jerimovich + Tv/Film + The Bear (FX/Hulu)

GRANDMA’s > Armando Aretas + Film + Bad Boys: Ride or die (Columbia Pictures)

FALSE STARTS > Carmy Berzatto + Tv/Film + The Bear (FX/Hulu)

LOVE FOR A MINUTE > Armando Aretas + Film + Bad Boys: Ride or Die (Columbia Pictures)

TIGER EYE > JR + Tv/Film + All American: Homecoming (The CW)

NEIGHBORS > Armando Aretas, Rio, Luca, & Mikey Berzatto + Tv/Film + Bad boys for life, Good Girls, & The Bear

-> A SUMMER EP 🌪️

RODEO > Javi Rivera + Film + Twisters [2024] (Universal Pictures/Warner Bros. Pictures/Amblin Entertainment)

FIRST DAY > Armando Aretas + Film + Bad Boys: Ride or Die (Columbia Pictures)

BEST EXIT > Dani + Film + Twisters [2024] (Universal Pictures/Warner Bros. Pictures/Amblin Entertainment)

[nottsangel]

no thoughts except giving art the sloppiest head of his life while he holds my hand

art donaldson is always so gentle with you, even when you’re on your knees in front of him with your soft lips wrapped tightly around his throbbing erection, bobbing your head up and down with hollowed cheeks. every now and then, he’d find himself losing control, his hips instinctively bucking up, but a soft and regretful “fuck, sorry baby” would escape his lips instantly as he gazes down at you through half-lidded eyes. soft whimpers and moans would slip from his throat, as he runs his fingers through your hair before extending his arm out, silently beckoning for you to grasp his hand. he’d gently trace circles on your skin with his thumb as he throws his head back when you speed up, feeling the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat each time you go down, saliva sloppily running down your chin. your eyes would start to water as you’re taking him as deep as you can with your hands massaging his balls, causing soft praises to leave his lips. “oh my god, baby, feels so fuckin’ good. just like that.”

ੈ♡˳

[jesuistrestriste]

art would be so enthusiastic about trying for a baby. he’d wanna be balls deep in your pussy at all times 😭🫨😵‍💫

oh YEAH. art donaldson loves to creampie you. once you two have been together for over several years and are actively trying to get pregnant, he realizes something about himself that he hadn't before: he has a breeding kink.

at first it started simple. you tracked your ovulation and whatnot with that little app on your phone, and you two would have sex nearly every night. and nearly every night he'd cum inside of you. it was heaven for him; feeling your gooey walls clench and throb around him as your body milked him for every drop.

one time, when he had you flat on your back in bed, moaning and holding onto his shoulders as he rutted tenderly into your cunt, he caught himself wanting to say hyper-specific dirty things.

"gonna fill you and make you a mommy," he'd wanted to say, "gonna cum until it leaks out of you."

but he hadn't. it was embarrassing, wasn't it? who knows if you'd even like that kinda stuff. this was purely to make a baby. not to indulge him in some secret kink he had. he had kept his mouth shut, and he had finished copiously inside of you. just like he did every time. and he withered afterwards on top of your chest and pouted, but he hid this from you well.

and then a few days later, it all changed.

he was fucking you gently in bed, nothing surprising, when you had started to reach down and rub your clit. he felt you tighten around him, and he thrusted into you a bit faster. as you got closer and closer, some words spilled from your parted lips that caught him fully by surprise.

"fuck me, art," you moaned out, "fill me up completely! i want your babies so bad-!"

and it was like something in him completely snapped.

he let out a guttural groan and instantly shot milky white ropes into your pussy, right up against your cervix. spurt after spurt after spurt of him flooded into your body, and he kept himself buried in you up to the hilt for as long as he could. his hands clutched your hips, his eyes rolled back. the orgasm had caught him utterly and wholly off-guard, and he moaned and trembled furiously over you as he rode it out.

after that, he was always vocal during sex about his want to get you pregnant. or rather, to express his love for the process that resulted in getting you pregnant..

he'd put you in doggy, and prone-bone, and cowgirl; claiming that all of these positions helped with conception, but you knew that he just wanted to be able to look and squeeze at all of your curves and soft, plush skin—in all his favorite ways—as he bred your hole.

"fuck, FUCK—! you're gonna be such a good mommy—!" he would gasp into your shoulder when he'd take you from behind.

"you want me to cum deep inside? give you my kids?"

"you wanna make me a daddy? oh god, let me cum— i'm gonna cum! i'm gonna give you everything i've got!"

"keep it all inside!"

you got pregnant that same month. twins.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

"I'm competing for your attention again, aren't I?" w Art Donaldson 🙏

From the Domestic Bickering Prompt List

Sure thing!

Warnings: Established relationship, twice-divorced Art Donaldson, fluff, smooches

You've caught sight of him out of the corner of your eye two, maybe three times—but you've been so damn busy answering the usual questions that you've hardly had a chance to catch up with him. You're certain that he's been getting a healthy handful of them, too, along with a heap of sarcasm—

Will you have the ceremony on the court?

Will the bridal party be in tennis whites?

Third time's the charm, eh, Donaldson?

While you hadn't had any idea who Art was when you'd first met him, he'd been forthright with you about being twice divorced. He'd told you that his first wife had cheated on him, and his second wife had been a rebound.

"I wanna get married again," He'd admitted, "But I want this one to stick."

Now, you pass a nervous smile toward where Tashi Duncan and Patrick Zweig are in the corner of the party. They've been keeping to themselves for the most part, seeming to trade smiles and barbs between one another, and exchanged bland pleasantries with Art's family.

Art having such a close relationship with his ex-wife had unsettled you at first, but they had a child together. His bond with Patrick was just as obvious but admittedly a little more nebulous to you. But, they were important to Art, so you adjusted.

Patrick catches and holds your eye, raising his beer in a mock-toast and shooting you a wink. Tashi meets your gaze you next, her brow arched slightly as she gives you a nod. It's just enough and nearly too much all at once.

You're drawn into Art's mother's arm a moment later, giving you a squeeze as she coos over your engagement ring.

"You have to meet Alan and Edith—they're Art's godparents."

"Oh, I'd love to!"

--

"There you are."

You look up, doing a double-take at the sight of Art leaning in the doorway.

"Hey! Where did you put that bottle of wine that your mother brought?" You ask, scanning the crowded counter tops in Art's kitchen—well, it'll be your kitchen, too, once you're fully moved in.

"Can't that wait?"

"It must be in here somewhere."

"Honey."

"Can you check the dining room? Or—maybe we left it in the front hall?"

You hear Art sigh and expect to hear him leave, but when he doesn't budge, you turn your head to get a good look at him. His head is hanging, his thumb sliding over his left ring finger.

"...Art?"

"I'm competing for your attention again, aren't I?"

You purse your lips, rounding the counter toward him. When the two of you had begun dating, he hadn't been the only name on your dance card. When he'd told you that he wanted to be exclusive all of that had stopped, of course—but he'd made his dislike of sharing your attention very clear.

"You know it isn't the same," You remind him. "I'm not texting a Tinder fuckboy. I'm trying to find the gift that your mother very kindly brought us to make sure I stay on her good side."

"You don't need to worry about that. She loves you."

"I worry about it all the same."

"C'mere." Art reaches out, taking hold of your left hand and drawing you in. You smile as he raises it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the ring, and then to your knuckles. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm just not used to having to chase you down for a kiss."

"Is that what that pout's about?" You lean in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips and grinning as he raises a hand to curl around your jaw.

"I wanna leave," Art murmurs.

"What?" You frown, drawing back to get a better look at him. "Why?"

"I'm sick of the party. I'm sick of this already," He thumbs your ring. "I wanna marry you tonight. Right now."

"Art!" You laugh, "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not kidding."

"You have to be. We haven't filed for a license yet—and we still have to arrange everything."

"We'll go to Vegas. If we leave right now, get tickets at the airport, we'll get there before the marriage license bureau closes. We can file online, on the way to the airport."

"...Art," You shake your head. "You're—Seriously?"

"Seriously." His eyes search yours. "I don't want to have to wait to call you my wife."

"We can't just leave everyone here."

"They're adults, they can see themselves out."

"It would be rude."

Art sighs, looking toward the busy patio. "Alright. We'll give everyone a very polite brush-off. And then can we fly to Vegas?"

"Won't your family be disappointed?"

"I don't care about that." He pauses, a wave of concern passing across his face. "Will you be disappointed?"

"What do you mean?"

"...I've done this a couple'a times. I can do without the big white wedding. But," His brows raise as he tips his head toward you, "If you want it, we'll have it."

You consider for a few moments, glancing toward the patio.

Tonight has been such a whirlwind. You've hardly had any time to catch a breath. The politics of wedding planning can be so nerve-wracking, and you'll have those little comments, those teases of third time's the charm hanging over your head. You'll have to invite Tashi and Patrick to the wedding, and where to seat them? With Art's other friends from the Academy? Will themed drinks be expected? Some hair-brained concoction called The Grand Slam, accompanied by a toothpick with a little tennis ball on the end?

There's press coverage to be had, too. Art may not be playing right now, but that doesn't mean he isn't news. You're not ready for those cameras, the questions, the months of speculation about your dress, about Tashi's attendance—

You look up at Art, resting your hand on his chest.

"I'm going to find the bottle of wine that your mom brought. We're going to finish this party like we planned...And pack when everyone leaves. We'll go to Vegas tomorrow."

The grin that breaks across Art's face is so bright and beautiful that you have no doubt you made the right decision. The crushing force of his kiss nearly bowls you into the opposite side of the door frame.

"I love you," He murmurs.

"I know, baby. I love you, too."

[starlightsuffered]

If anyone has Art Donaldson prompts I’m willing to take those for the time being :)

[heartz4shauna]

trying to make the most amazing x reader fic of my life but. but. but.

[stilinskiandthebanshee]

Somebody send me challengers requests!!

I’m going feral I need to write for them I need more and more and more. Need it injected into my veins actually