#challengers blurb
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accidentally sending your boss, art donaldson, a lewd photo :") you've been working as his manager for a few months now, his old team slowly cutting ties with him to manage a younger, hotter tennis player and you were hired to make sure the transition from being a six time grand slam champion to a retired six time grand slam champion goes a little easier.
working under him was a little intimidating at first, after all he was older and wiser, but art did his best to make you feel comfortable and friendly– sometimes a little too friendly.
you were on your day off, lounging on the couch with your take out boxes between your legs, phone on the other hand. as pathetic as it sounds, you were spending your rare free day sexting someone you just matched with on tinder, some guy named patrick. you took a second to check out the hidden folder of your lewd photos that you keep just for this situation, because taking photos right as you're texting is too exhausting, right?
you choose a good one, your face slightly in the frame showing the dark berry lipgloss adorning your lips, body clad in black lingerie and your thighs pressed together, your fingers hovering above share, imessage, patri– oh. you sent it to art. your boss, art donaldson. retired six time grand slam champion art donaldson.
you quickly scramble up to open the app and delete the photo, but the world seemed to be against you as your fried rice spilled all over your lap and sofa, slowing you down. by the time you've opened the chat, art had already seen it. oh god.
and he's typing.
you picked at the skin of your lips anxiously, would he fire you over this? is there an hr he can report you to? how are you gonna pay off your debt? where will you live now that you can't pay off your rent?–
'i'll see you tomorrow'
'better be wearing that'
#mars the king of never writing a full fic#so sorry guys it is what it is#art donaldson#challengers x reader#challengers blurb#art donaldson x reader#saintzweig writes ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅
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spending new year’s eve at patrick’s parents’ estate… it’s only minutes until midnight and patrick & art are have a stupid squabble in the corner of the living room about who gets to kiss you when the ball drops. after a few long seconds of going nowhere in their negotiations “it’s my party, i should get it” “that’s why i should get it, pat, seriously” they come over to you. you’re sitting on the most ridiculous couch you’ve ever seen, a couple drinks in. it’s art who speaks first, “so, it’s almost midnight..” and by the grin on patrick’s face, you can tell this was the latters idea. he clears his throat, “we both wanna have your kiss.” you scoff, a somewhat pensive expression on your face like you’re actually giving some thought to it. you give a loose shrug, leaning back, “huh. well, i’ll have to consider it, y’know.” art lets out a quiet sigh, like he knows you’ll pick patrick. while patrick looks like the cat who got the cream - he always was too cocky for his own good. but, of course, since you’re oh so nice, you decide to give your kiss to the both of them.
#this was supposed to be longer.#i have. a draft that is miles longer but i can’t be bothered to finish it …#daisy writes again#art donaldson x reader#patrick zweig x reader#challengers blurb
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#art donaldson#art donalson x reader#art donaldson x y/n#art donaldson x you#challengers#mike faist#challengers blurb#challengers fic#challengers x y/n#zendaya coleman#zendaya#patrick zweig x oc#Patrick zweig#tashi Duncan#tashi duncan x oc#tashi duncan x you#tashi duncan x reader#patrick zweig x you#patrick zweig x reader#dodge mason x you#sub art donaldson#dom art donaldson#dodge mason x reader#dodge mason#panic tv show#luca guadagnino#challengers x reader
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how’d i get so lucky?
boyfriend!patrick zweig x reader
note: just needed some cute bf patrick!!! first time posting something like this so i hope you enjoyy!! sorry if there are any errors, barely proofread this.
patrick’s been sitting on the edge of your bed for a while now, one leg stretched out, the other bent as he leans back on his elbows. he got to your dorm just a few hours ago, doing his usual visit before leaving for tour.
as you sit at your desk, working through your skincare routine, you can feel his eyes on you. it’s not unusual since he always watches you with this quiet focus, like you’re the only thing in the world worth his attention. when you glance up into the mirror, there he is, his expression softer than usual.
“what?” you ask, meeting his gaze in the reflection, your tone light but curious.
“nothing,” he says with a small shrug, but the smile doesn’t leave his face. “you just look... peaceful, i guess.”
you roll your eyes to mask the sudden fluttering in your chest and turn to face him fully, twisting the lid back onto your moisturizer. “want me to do it for you?”
patrick blinks, not expecting that offer. “what, like... your skincare routine?”
“yeah. don’t look at me like that,” you laugh, standing up and grabbing a few of your products.
he huffs out a soft chuckle, but when you walk over and nudge him with your knee, he doesn’t hesitate to sit up straight, giving you room to climb onto his lap.
“alright, alright,” he says, settling his hands instinctively on your waist to steady you.
your favorite playlist softly fills the background as you settle on his lap, a couple of skincare products around you. his eyes are closed, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as you swipe a cotton pad across his face, your legs draped comfortably on either side of him.
“you’re way too good at this,” he mumbles, voice low and content. “are you sure this isn’t just an excuse to manhandle my face?”
you huff out a laugh, dipping your fingers into a jar of moisturizer. "do you want me to stop? you need this, especially since you’re out baking under the sun all day playing tennis." you tease.
he opens one eye lazily, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin. “i love it when you’re bossy, you know that?”
“close your eyes,” you warn, tapping the tip of his nose with a teasing finger. he chuckles but complies, leaning further back against the headboard as his grip on your waist tightened slightly.
as you smooth the cream over his skin in small circles, you catch the way his jaw relaxes, the faint smile softening while his thumbs brush absentmindedly against your sides, making your heart flutter.
“i miss you a lot when i’m away,” he admits, his voice cutting through the quiet. “always thinking about you.”
your hands still on his cheeks as his words sink in. there’s a vulnerability in the way he says it, like it’s a thought he’s been holding onto for too long. his eyes open, meeting yours.
“i know. i miss you too.” you whisper, smoothing your thumbs along his cheekbones. “you can always call me when you can.”
“it’s not enough.” his hands press more firmly on your waist, grounding himself. “every tournament, every match—i think about what it would feel like to come home to you, instead of some cheap motel room.”
your heart squeezes at his honesty. you trace the curve of his jaw with your fingertips, trying to pour all the reassurance you can into your touch. the two of you can be away from each other for so long yet somehow, in moments like this, it feels as though the distance never mattered.
you’re about to respond, but he speaks again. “how’d i get so lucky to have someone that supports me and understands me the way you do?” he says it with smile.
your own lips curving upward to match his. “you make it easy, you know,” your head tilting slightly. “loving you, cheering you on— it’s never felt like a choice. it just comes naturally.”
patrick lets out a shaky breath, his hands slipping up to your back, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. he presses a kiss to your shoulder, lingering there and cherishing the moment.
“i love you.” he whispers, his lips brushing against your skin.
you pull away and smile, cupping his face again to tilt it toward yours. “i love you, patrick.” you whisper, your hands sliding into his hair as you kiss him.
#first blurb.. i’m nervy#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig imagine#patrick zweig#boyfriend!patrick#patrick zweig fic#patrick zweig blurb#patrick zweig fluff#challengers#challengers fic#challengers blurb#challengers x reader#domestic!patrick
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I Wanna Be Your Dog
Teammate! Patrick Zweig x fem! Reader (minor mention: Patrick Zweig x reader x art Donaldson)
18+, MDNI !!
Content warning . Pervy dom Patrick, major scent kink, wedgies, use of the word mutt once or twice, spanking, anal. A hint— a HINT— of a foot kink (I swear it’s not what it looks like). weird bullying tactics/ dynamics & teammate rivalry. Patrick is gross and unhinged in this
TEAMMATE! PATRICK ZWEIG loves to get filthy. If you ever come to him for a release, expect it to get sloppy and downright fucking disgusting. He loves to shove your nose right up against his pubic hair, all curly and dark, while he ruts against your face like an animal. He loves that you do anything he asks of you (outside of tennis, at least). So when he slides his cock up against your face for the first time— “cmon, baby, breathe that shit in… thaaaats it. You love that, don’t you? You dirty little girl-”— you exhale sharply and mewl. The idea of TEAMMATE! PATRICK ZWEIG shoving his cock down your throat shouldn’t be as appealing as it is.
TEAMMATE! PATRICK ZWEIG who lets you use his thigh to get off when he’s fixing one of his tennis rackets. The actual fixing doesn’t last long, obviously, because you get mad and you get bratty and you make fun of him for losing to you the day before. Patrick’s muscled thigh soon acts as a chair for your pussy as he guides your hips with one hand, the other wrapped around your throat and squeezing — “Can’t run that mouth now, huh? Yeah, that’s what I thought, brat”— as he feels the sticky trail of arousal you leave on his hairy leg. TEAMMATE! PATRICK ZWEIG also makes you clean up your mess afterward, ass perky and up against his face as he forces your tongue against his thigh and begins to peel your underwear to the side. Spreading apart your cheeks and tonguing your cute little asshole as you bury your face into his crotch for a more comfortable position.
And that’s when you feel the wet patch on the front of his briefs against your lip. His big fat cock is just aching for a nice, creamy cunt to come and choke it. He tells you that, too, and presses your legs down onto his hips, your hands against the floor holding you up so he can slide right in.
TEAMMATE! PATRICK ZWEIG who drags you into the sauna after a game. Just sits you down right across from him, rubs it in your face that you lost, and then stands right in front of you and drops his towel. All sweaty and musky and warm ughhh. And you can’t help but shove your face against his dick and let him hump against it, your tongue laving over his balls and making him cum all over your chin and neck. Doesn’t even give you anything to wipe it off with, just slaps your cheek lightly and says, “good job, kid” as he walks off (because TEAMMATE! PATRICK ZWEIG KNOWS you despise that nickname and the way he dumbs you down).
TEAMMATE! PATRICK ZWEIG loves to do this mean thing where he comes up behind you, sweaty and gross, and sticks his hand down the front of his pants. He shoves his fingers in your mouth— “taste that shit? Fuckin’ beat you again at practice, you little fuckin’ loser-“— swirls it around on your tongue then pokes the back of your throat until you gag. You push him off of you and swear up and down at him, but your panties are already soaked and you know you’ll be at his house later that night.
TEAMMATE! PATRICK ZWEIG loves to shove your head against his sweaty armpit after you beat him at practice. He gets so mad and acts like a five year old. It makes you giggle until he’s holding you there and calling you a dirty mutt for “cheating”.
TEAMMATE! PATRICK ZWEIG loves to shove his head between your thighs. No matter the day or time, he’s always got that tongue working wonders on you. Whether it be on your pussy, clit, ass. He doesn’t care! In fact, he prefers when you just finished tennis practice. If you have a hole, especially when it’s sweaty and warmed up, TEAMMATE! PATRICK ZWEIG is gonna stick his fucking tongue in it.
He’s good at it too. Uses his fingers and crooks them just right, absolutely devours that pussy like it’s his last meal. Clit swollen and throbbing as he takes it between his lips, chin and beard drenched in slick. His honey, as he calls it. The nectar of the Gods.
He loves putting his tongue on your little furled asshole, stretching out your rim and GODD is it the hottest fucking sight for him. TEAMMATE! PATRICK ZWEIG, ladies and gentlemen, is an ass man. A fuck-it-and-fill-it-with-cream-then-eat-it-out-of-you type of ass man. And I don’t mean with just yours, if you get what I’m saying. You’re his little whore and he’s gonna stick your mouth wherever he wants it to be (and you have zero complaints).
TEAMMATE! PATRICK ZWEIG is kind of a weird guy. Sometimes he bites the ends of your toes when he’s got your legs hiked up in the air and drilling into you. What can he say? He likes the pink nail polish you have on and the golden bracelet wrapped around your ankle.
TEAMMATE! PATRICK ZWEIG’s favorite position is doggy. Loves to watch your ass bounce as his balls slap against it ‘n the way your little asshole opens and closes like a pretty flower with each thrust. He also likes the way your back arches and how easy it is for him to wrap his biceps around your neck and choke you until you nearly pass out. TEAMMATE! PATRICK ZWEIG also loves when he’s got you in missionary and you shove your fingers into his mouth. He sucks on the digits while his eyes roll back and he grunts out a curse. He bites down on them when he finishes.
TEAMMATE! PATRICK ZWEIG loves when you beg for it. Spit slick lips sliding against his with a breathy whimper— “please, please, please, Pat, need it-“— as you take all eight inches deep in your tight little snatch, lips stretched obscenely around his length. Cunt drooling with your third—fourth?— orgasm of the night, eyes rolling back as your nails scrape down his broad shoulders. Abolishes that fucking pussy cus he’s so desperate to shoot his load.
TEAMMATE! PATRICK ZWEIG loves to cum all over your face and tits. Practically drenches you in his fucking cum, plays with it with his thumb and feeds it to you as it drips off his fingers. Messy creampies in your sore little pussy, spreading apart your hole so he can admire the sound it makes as it gushes out of you. Stuffing your ass full of creamy white cum and plugging it with a cute lil’ diamond anal plug. Ughh I need him
Lastly, TEAMMATE! PATRICK ZWEIG gives you wedgies. He bullies you so obscenely— sometimes he does it in front of your other teammate, Art. He’ll invite the man over, talking to him about the most random topics before girls are brought up. They’ll start talking about hookups, one night stands. You come back from a bathroom trip when they’re talking about pussy, and Patrick takes a swig of his beer and yanks you down on top of him. You grumble— no one is supposed to know ! But Art is Art, you guess, and he isn’t a completely terrible guy. He can keep a secret.
Patrick twists you and shapes you against his lap until you’re splayed across him, much to your annoyance. Your tummy presses into his thigh and your bare feet graze Art’s knee as Patrick directs the blonde’s attention to you. “yeah, but this one’s tight man. So wet, too—“
“Pat, if you don’t let me up, I swear to God—“
“You’ll what?”
He taunts you, flipping up your skirt and letting out a whistle. Art’s just as much as a sick perv, but he’s less open about it, so his cock tightens in his jeans and his eyes widen.
“She’s got such a cute little ass. She’d probably let you fuck it if you gave her a few wins on the court.”
You growl, but not before you’re whimpering when Patrick’s long fingers hook into the middle of your panties and pulls. Your underwear is pushed forcefully in between your cheeks, burning a little but also putting so much delicious pain/pleasure friction on your swollen clit. Patrick licks his lips when he sees the way your cunt lips practically swallow the fabric— he’s almost jealous of it as it becomes soaked with your slick. You press your head into your hands, embarrassed because of the company. Patrick ignores it, though, and his hand comes down on your backside as he holds you up by your panties. ‘N Art can’t help but let out a little chuckle when you begin to squirm, his fingers barely, just barely, leaving feather light touches on your outer thigh.
“Jesus fucking Christ! Quit it, guys, ‘s not funny!”
“Maybe,” Patrick chuckles, grabbing Art’s hand and pressing it against your skin so he can touch you properly. You can’t deny that Art’s hands feel good when they trail up to your ass and give your plump cheeks a nice squeeze. “But you’re adorable, sweet cheeks, and I think Art wants to watch us fuck.”
The three of you never speak about that night, but there are a lot more of them to come— literally.
:: @mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @wildgirllz
#Patrick zweig#bunny loves big sweaty men#Patrick zweig x reader#Patrick zweig x fem! reader#dom! Patrick zweig#sub! reader#Patrick zweig smut#Patrick zweig fanfic#Patrick zweig headcannons#Patrick zweig drabble#Patrick zweig blurb#Patrick zweig oneshot#teammate! Patrick zweig#smut#challengers#Patrick challengers#challengers fanfic#challengers blurb#challengers Drabble#challengers oneshot#challengers smut#art Donaldson#art Donaldson x reader#art Donaldson x reader x patrick zweig
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Was thinking about CamBoy!Art and Shy!Reader.
He invites her to his streams once they've established their relationship and she slowly starts warming up to the idea of being on his streams after watching him for so long (on her computer and in real life once she finds out). He coaxes her sit on his lap spreading her legs open and jacking off right between her pussy his tip gliding between her folds bumping up her clit as she holds back whimpers. Poor thing writhes against him gripping his thighs trying to stabilize herself grinding against his cock and hand until he paints her tummy with his cum. She pouts and is left hanging but he glides his hand up gathering his release and spreading it over her open cunt smearing the glossy white sheen between her legs rubbing her clit until she finishes too.
#i got carried away sorry#art donaldson#challengers#shy!reader#hannasmusings#art donaldson blurb#challengers blurb#art donaldson imagine#art donaldson x reader
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What if you met Patrick Zweig on that crisp summer evening of 2011, crawling through the streets of Atlanta like a dead body, his stupid gray shirt wrinkled, curls messy and a pout on his adorable face. He has just fucked Tashi like his life is supposed to end tomorrow, like it's his last action on this Earth, and he's fucking miserable.
And you, a gorgeous, neat woman, very successful - a lawyer or a business woman - just about to leave the local bar after a night of celebration with you colleagues when he staggers in. It happens pretty quickly, and you're not even sure how exactly, but the younger guy's lips are soon on yours and he's desperately grasping onto your clothes as if you're gonna evaporate.
The way he fucks you that night is completely different to the way he fucked Tashi - tired, sloppy, almost childish - and you think he's crying too. You let him snuggle into the warmth of your chest, deciding to allow him to spend the night at your place. In the morning, he's surprised by waking up to the smell of bacon and eggs.
While munching onto the warm, proper breakfast and watching the outline of your body move smoothly under your silk robe, he tells you his name is Patrick, that he's 24 and a tennis player. A miserable one - you can see. He's sitting in your kitchen like a dirty mutt, almost begging to be taken care of. With his mouth full - he has no manners, you see - he calls you hot and sexy, failing to deliver a compliment that a woman like you would actually appreciate.
Later on, he lets you know that he really has nowhere to be, that if you want to, he can stay and make you feel even better than he did yesterday. And when you allow him to, quite aloof, you end up being the one making him feel good. It's comical, and Patrick feels like he's a goddamn toddler when you run him a bath and lend him some clothes after your ex-husband. Patrick stays at your place for a whole week.
The two of you exchange phone numbers, an action you assume is only symbolic, as Patrick has to travel to the other side of the States for a match, while you continue your meetings with clients and shine in the court room every so often. So it's obviously a surprise when your phone suddenly buzzes, a little Patrick - Aug 8th glowing on the screen. Apparently, he's currently in Nashville, offering to hop on an airplane and be at your place tomorrow morning. You don't refuse.
After his arrival, Patrick is still the same, giving you his signature and yet totally see-through smug attitude. He's dressed in that same fucking shirt, the slogan punching you like a laugh in your face. I TOLD YA.
The two of you fuck and fuck and fuck, Patrick spends the whole evening buried between your legs, his pink tongue gently swirling around your clit while you respond to some emails. Shortly after midnight, he falls asleep, nose buried between your slick folds. You wake him up with a handjob when the sun rises, listening to his sleepy whimpers and gentle curses, telling him that it's okay and he doesn't have to do anything, just enjoy it.
After that, and everything else, Patrick doesn't feel like leaving at all. The tender treatment he has been receiving from you is something unknown, something not even Art or Tashi could ever give him. He tells you about the two and cries a bit, and that exactly makes your heart swell.
So you propose an offer - a life-changing one - that he stays with you, that you will take care of him, treat him like he deserves to be treated and give him all the love he needs. All of that under one condition. He continues pursuing tennis.
Patrick agrees, obviously, he'd be a fool to walk away from you. And so within the next few weeks, he's completely moved to your place, has his own spot in your bed and on the sofa, has his toothbrush in the bathroom and gets to eat how much food he desires. The relationship between the two of you blossoms almost naturally, with you being a natural caregiver, and Patrick offering the satisfying element in response. It's a perfect coordination of two parties where nobody feel forced into something or neglected.
Glued to your side, Patrick eventually finds his spark again. Slowly but surely, Tashi and Art begin slipping into the very back of his mind - he never forgets, you don't force him to. You know the three of you can co-exist freely in his brain - and he's finally happy. Finally that Patrick Zweig that needed to be found again, and you are the person who helped him achieve all that.
#challengers#challengers thoughts#challengers blurb#patrick zweig#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig blurb#younger!patrick x older!reader#older!reader#sub!patrick zweig#josh o'connor
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art giving you a tummy bulge or whatever it’s called
PUT IT IN MY LIVER
um yes ofc mwah mwah mwah 😉
18+ MDNI under the cut!
warnings: mentions of marijuana use and drinking, sex!!! and subby art <333
one minute you’re just getting high to balance out the small buzz from the vodka and the next, you’re kissing him as the weed hits. you feel a little extra aware of your body as you kiss him, feeling his hands slide down your waist as yours crawl up around his neck. you both leaned in and just ended up kissing and you were here now, in a kiss that wasn’t urgent, but wasn’t too slow either. feeling the high over the alcohol as you crawl onto his lap where he sits against his pillow, his hands sliding down over your hips, your ass.
“oh fuck,” he whispers against your lips as you press against him more intentionally. you can feel him get hard through his sweats and your yoga pants. his face flushes pink and you can feel it from the heat between kisses. “i’m sorry-“ he mumbles. you just smile, continuing to kiss him. the radio on low across the room the only sound aside from the sound of fabric hitting the floor as you take your shirt off. you’re just possessed by the weed. every one of his kisses feel so good, they feel like music, they’re soft and they tickle a bit as he kisses down your chest.
you wouldn’t have even thought he was into you. you thought he just enjoyed your company. maybe it was the weed or the alcohol but it felt right in the moment. no need to dwell on something that would ruin it. you sit up a little more so that he can continue to kiss down your chest, but he looks up at you and you can’t help but kiss him properly. his jaw is tipped up so that he can kiss you where you are, but his hands pull at your hips, asking you to sit on him again.
you slowly sink back down, grinding gently on him when you land. he makes a noise you didn’t think he’d be one to make and it ignites a fire in you that even the lighter on the bedside couldn’t spark up. you begin to grind on him a little more, looking for that gorgeous noise again as you kiss rather lazily, slow but not in a boring way, in a way where there kiss is so concentrated that there’s no other way to go about it. hands on each other’s bodies, slowly, sensually roaming. feeling the weed being you up into the clouds, making you hyper aware of everything you’re doing but it all feels so fucking right.
when you grind it feels like your bodies are melting together. you can’t stop smiling through every kiss and his hands are pushing you into him more for more friction and he’s kind of pathetic that way but it’s adorable. you move from where you’re positioned and you swear he almost whines, but you’ve only moved off his lap and next to him. you’re sitting on your knees now, turning his face and kissing him again, just a little harder than before. just as slow. just as smooth.
one moment you’re smoking, the next you’re kissing and then the next you’re sliding your hand down his pants to grab his dick. and he hums when you grip him, trying not to make another noise but it’s everything and your hands feel so good. he’s sure there’s nothing better than how he’s feeling. he kisses you harder to silence himself as you begin to stroke his cock, pumping gently and slowly up and down. the space is limited so he pulls his clothing away from him so you have full range of motion.
and soon you’re picking up pace, kissing him, letting him grab at you the way he needs. he’s desperate to grab and feel everything as you jerk him off. “that feel good?” you ask him.
you like how he struggles to answer. it’s cute. “really good.” he answers breathlessly. “so good- mmm”.
“faster? slower?”
“faster-“ he says, “please.”
and you do as he wishes, moving your hand faster. he’s pressing his hips upward into your hand for extra leverage. you’re high and you can hear the radio and the white noise and his moaning and it’s perfect. the fire between your legs burns and you just… need him. your free hand cups his jaw, tilts his head up to kiss you when you raise up on your knees.
“i’m gonna-“ he says, breaths growing sharp. “can i?” you’re taken aback a little by the question, you’ve never been asked it before. if you were wet before, you were wetter now.
“uh huh.” you nod. and it’s only a few more strokes before he comes undone. it’s warm and it leaks down over your fingers and knuckles and he’s breathing hard and you don’t give a fuck, you need to fuck him now. the weed and alcohol says so. you’re dizzy but you need him. and he’s all sensitive but it’s so pretty the way he sounds-after helping you take your pants and underwear off- when you slowly sink down onto his cock. smoking, kissing, jerking him off, to fucking.
he makes these adorable little half-groan, half-moan sounds and they’re somewhere between high and low pitch. all you know is that they fuel you as you rock back and forth on his lap, your own moans mixing with his. he’s still coated in his own cum so even if you weren’t the waterfall you were at that moment, he’s still be slipping in and out of you so easily. it was a good thing you were on the pill.
“fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” he mumbled over your lower lip before you bit it gently, pulling just the slightest.
“you like this?”
“so… much… fuck,” his sounds were so fulfilling. “you feel so fucking good.”
his hands wanted to touch every single inch of you they could, they slid up and down your back but mostly rested in a grip on your waist, your hips, pulling you down on him. lazy, easy, sloppy sex that felt like the greatest thing in the world when you were crossfaded. neither of you cared about how you presented or how you sounded. not even about how loud you were as art fucked up into you while you rode him.
his hand was strategic, fingers reaching down, finding your clit and rubbing small, quick circles. you felt ripples of pleasure throughout your body and you knew maybe he’d been with a few girls based on that move alone. but that wasn’t the concern. you rolled your hips and he groaned so loudly. you’d never fucked anyone so vocal and you loved it, every move you made had a purpose- to elicit a noise from him. he made such pretty noises.
and it wasn’t long before his hand and his dick were both feeling just right. your own moans bounced off every wall in the dorm room and you rode him harder, feeling him deeper and deeper inside of you. he was big, he was really big, bigger than you thought. you knew it was genetics and probably because he was so thin, but it went so deep it hurt. and you had lost your virginity ages ago…
you could feel it in your lower stomach and as art trailed his other hand down your stomach, it trailed over the small spot where you could feel he was hitting. he was so deep there was the slightest little bump where he reached the top. you looked down as you bounced, “oh fuck- i’m going to“ and without warning you finished… HARD. harder than any orgasm you’d ever had alone. the mixture of sensations pushed you to the absolute limits of pleasure. art finished right after you, filling you with more of his cum, so much that it leaked before he even pulled out.
you slumped a little bit into him, dizzy. the room felt like it was spinning and you kissed him gently before resting your head for just a moment more before cleaning up. this was unexpected, sex on a whim, but it was definitely fucking good. and you would do it again. and you did do it again. twice more just to see the little bulge in your stomach again.
#challengers#art donaldson#art donaldson smut#art donaldson x reader#challengers x reader#tinytennisskirt#challengers blurb
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All Patrick needs is somebody to be mean to him, for somebody to match his energy, his freak.
Patrick needs someone who's mean to him and bullies him, giving him a taste of his own medicine.
He loves when you're mean, it turns him on, and he's not embarrassed to admit it.
One day he'll be telling you about this nice watch he saw that he wants and without hesitation you're quipping back at him, telling him that if he started winning matches he could buy it, and you say it so nonchalantly.
He especially loves when you're mean to him in bed.
You'd be riding him, not paying him any mind as you talk about the lunch you had with your friends, and he would groan, and that would have you rolling your eyes as you cover his mouth with your hand, telling him he can't cum until you're done with you're story.
All Patrick needs in his life is just someone who's mean to him, who lowkey humbles him.
#gracie rambles#gracie writes#patrick zweig imagine#patrick zweig smut#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig blurb#patrick zweig#challengers blurb#challengers x reader#challengers fic#challengers smut#challengers imagine
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hiii guys.. long time no see..
!!! : NSFW/SMUT, art donaldson x reader, fem!reader, fingering, car shit i think idk, 2019/new rochelle art
wc; aprx. 950
an; i’ve never actually posted proper smut before and i’m kinda shameful LOL. is that normal for the first time posting? perhaps i’ll post enough to get used to it. hope this isn’t too crappy. also this isn’t necessarily proofread so my bad
You can’t help it.
Driving home with Art post-date night had your mind running wild. Sat in the passengers seat in your little tight dress, thighs pressed close together and your hands in your lap, fingers intertwined with a grip so harsh your knuckles turned white.
Your eyes were only on one thing — Art’s hands holding that fucking steering wheel. Years of tennis practise, holding the racket with a tight grip, working each and every muscle in his long fingers; it really, really paid off. He must’ve noticed about halfway through the ride, because that’s when he started drumming them against the wheel every now and then or flexing them, but not even a glance your way.
Your bottom lip juts out, your head lolling against the car window, lifting with each small bump. Art glances towards you, then into the road and back to you again. He reaches out a hand and places it on your thigh; you flinch, and he pretends not to notice. “You all good?” He asks, his voice soft.
You want to scoff. You almost do. But you bite your tongue and nod, staring his hand down with both irritation and utmost desire. It’s just not fair. You’re seconds away from behaving like a petulant child, stomping and kicking and crying until Art shoves his fingers in your mouth to shut you up.
Anyway.
The car ride back to yours and Art’s apartment drags on. The low hum of the radio does a little bit of good to distract you from your thoughts, but they linger in the back of your mind nonetheless. What a burden. You plot as you wait to arrive at your destination. Lily’s with Tashi this week — hence your date night — so there’s no need to worry about that, and you’re sure you can somehow convince (cough, seduce) Art into giving you what you want.
Pulling into the apartment lobby’s parking, Art stops the car and turns his attention towards you with a gentle smile. “We’re here,” he states, rather obviously, but it’s something sweet about him you find charming. You don’t smile back though, no; you pout, and his instantly fades into a look of concern. You hate that you can’t tell whether it’s feigned or not.
“What’s wrong? Is something bothering you?” He questions, undoing his seatbelt to face his body more towards you, reaching a hand out to cup the side of your face. His thumb strokes against your cheek in a delicate manner. You half-grumble, half-whine, and a fond smile curls up at the corners of his lips.
You take his hand, the one holding your face, and guide it to your mouth. You kiss the centre of his palm, your own pressed against the back of his hand as you intertwine your fingers with his. You shuffle, climbing over into the backseat and Art watches, until he’s ultimately tugged there with you and seated beside you.
“Baby? What’s—,” before he can finish, he’s interrupted by the surprise that consumes him as his hand’s guided beneath your dress and against the heat between your legs, the fabric of your underwear a lot damper than he had imagined. His lips part slightly, his tongue running over them to hydrate them, watching his hand disappear beneath your clothing.
“Please? You’ve been teasing me,” you beg softly, and your thighs close around his hand, trapping it there. His eyes flicker between yours and his hand, contemplating, and before either of you know it, the pads of his fingers are rubbing firm strokes against you from over your clothing. You squirm, your unoccupied arm wrapping around his, bringing it to your chest as his hand works against you.
Art slides the fabric to the side, and he’s instantly met with the slick of your pussy. You bury your face into his inner elbow with what could be considered a silent whimper, hips bucking faintly. He watches your face closely as his finger glides through your folds, watching for any change of expression, whether it be the scrunching of your nose or the screwing up of your face.
He decides to delay the teasing; you’ve waited enough. His middle finger feels for your clit, pressing down against it once he finds it. He watches as your hips buck, then begins to draw circles against it. Each puff of breath and small sound that escapes from your lips eggs him on further, and he can’t help but rush.
His finger moves quicker as you squirm more and your noises grow louder, legs writhing and grip around his arm tighter. He can’t help but shuffle closer to you to get a better angle, rubbing against the bundle of nerves eagerly, watching your reactions with fascination.
Each twitch of your legs signifies just how worked up you are, and you’re almost embarrassed how quick you’re about to come — you would be, if you weren’t so consumed by pleasure right now.
“Sh—it, Art—,” are the babbles that pass through your lips as you peak, back arching and body writhing. He slows his movements to guide you to come down, keeping his hand idle but still between your legs. He leans in to kiss your cheek, then the underside of your jaw.
“Feel better?”
#challengers x reader#writing ✧#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson smut#challengers smut#challengers blurb#challengers fic#art donaldson#bleedingwidow ✧
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Ice Skater!Art finding out why you haven't been around as much
All the binding you and Art did went right out the window when you turned eighteen, went to college, and got a boyfriend.
You and Art had decided that it was best that you guys went to the same college so you could still skate together, but little did you know that was the worst decision Art could have made.
First things, we're doing great for the two of you. You guys would walk with eachother to classes and even meet up for lunch every day. But slowly, you started to drift away, more like not asking art to meet you for lunch. Still, Art just thought it was because you were so overwhelmed with classes that you were busy studying, and then you had some of your classes switched without telling Art beforehand, and he had to find out after you when he didn't show up to your usual meeting spot.
He gave you the benefit of the doubt and chopped it up to you being late and not ditching him, but he was wrong, and when he found out, it broke his heart.
One day, after you flaked on Art yet again, he decided to walk a different way to lunch for a change of scenery, but then he saw you sitting on the grass with food in your hand and with a guy who was facing away from Art so he couldn't see his face and the both of you were laughing.
At first, Art thought his mind was playing tricks on him, like he was confusing you with another girl who looked like you, but it wasn't.
Was this what you've been doing when you tell art you are busy and can't hang? Did you ditch him, your best friend, for a guy?
Just when Art thought it couldn't be any worse, it did. The guy had turned around for a second to grab something from his bag, giving Art a good view of his face.
It was Patrick, the boy who has had a thing for you since you were young teens. Had you been talking to him behind Arts's back this whole time? Why didn't you tell him? This was now personal to Art, and he had to know why you would do this.
Sorry for the lack of post but my request are still open for my ice skater au’s as always
#my post#challengers#challengers imagine#challengers au#art donaldson#art donaldson imagine#art donaldson x reader#ice skater au#art donaldson au#ice skater!art#art donaldson blurb#challengers blurb
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i think art is the type to become a stalker without even realizing. he sits behind you at some random match during the junior us open, he didn't even mean to eavesdrop on your conversation but he was just so in awe that he couldn't look away from you. he overhears you tell your friend what time your match is tomorrow, that you're wearing your favorite navy blue tennis dress, and how you've accepted your scholarship to stanford. and the next day, he's at your match. and months later, he's at stanford.
he shows up everywhere you go, not because he's a pervert with ill intentions but because he just likes staring at you. he stalks all your friends to find out what your interests are before striking up conversations with you and pretending he's seen the films you like to get on your good side.
he overhears you tell your friend during training how you find it attractive when guys wear their hats backwards and guess what? art wears his hats backwards during trainings now. during a party thrown by someone on the tennis team, you tell him that you think he looks good in navy blue (which he knows is your favorite color) and sudden his wardrobe has five new navy blue additions.
someone's talking shit about you? their asking for your forgiveness the day after he finds out. some guy broke your heart? you'll see them around with a broken nose.
but it's all in good intentions, he'd never deliberately do anything to make you uncomfortable. he just really likes you and would do anything for you.
#challengers#challengers x reader#art donaldson#challengers blurb#art donaldson x reader#saintzweig writes ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅
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Stanford art wanting nothing else but to eat you out after a long day.
Immediately coming to your dorm after practice just needing to see you, As soon as you open the door he instantly clings to you. pressing kisses all over your face and down your neck. You carefully card your fingers through his hair, his face buried in the crook of your shoulder.
"Can I taste you? Please?"
The blond's words send vibrations against your neck, who would say no to that?
"Of course you can baby."
Art wastes no time in removing your clothes and setting you on the edge of the bed, it's practically Pavlovian the way the sight of you instantly had him rock hard. He sets soft kisses on your thighs before he licks a stripe up your slit, not having the strength to tease, he starts devouring you like it's the last time he'll ever get the chance to. All he wants is to make you feel good, make someone proud of him. Though you say that you are routinely. He likes earning it.
He treats you so gently, practically making out with your pussy and reveling in the taste. The sensation always gets you there far closer than anything else, you can't help but tug on his pretty blond hair, softly pressing him deeper into you. "Use me please", he groans into you, those words aided with him sloppily fucking you with his tongue making you cum all over his face.
Art lifts up his head, the sight of him between your thighs could practically make you cum untouched.
"Can we go again please?" Art gives you a pleading look, like it would hurt him physically if he couldn't.
Who would say no to that?
#art donaldson#art donaldson x y/n#art donaldson x you#art donalson x reader#mike faist#challengers#challengers blurb#challengers x y/n#challengers fic#zendaya#zendaya coleman#josh o'connor x reader#mike faist x reader#mike faist x you#dodge mason x you#dodge mason#art donaldson x oc#challengers x oc#tashi Duncan#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig x you#tashi duncan x reader#tashi duncan x oc#tashi duncan x you
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the night tashi made art and patrick make out was the same night art started questioning his sexuality. sure, he’s admired other men in the past but something about how patrick carried himself really stirred something inside him, and it was far from innocent.
he’d never considered himself a very perverse guy but being around him night and day started to nag him.
he started noticing the way sweat rolled down his adams apple after each match. the way he ate everything with his hands like a messy child, licking his fingers and plate clean. the way he would leave his dirty boxers scattered around their shared bedroom..
some nights he’d make excuses to sleep in his car to prevent himself from listening to all the women he’d bring back and fuck; but really it was so he could jack his cock profusely in secret; drowning his senses in patrick’s briefs hoping to stay unnoticed
but he noticed. patrick knows art like the back of his hand, literally. he’d never tell art how he’s spotted him peeping at him in the shower. how he’s felt his dick jump everytime they play wrestled. he’d never mention how many times he’s spotted art through the bedroom window, in his car across the parking lot; desperately panting like a dog
he’d been doing it on purpose
but soon he plans on the right time to leave the bedroom door open wide enough to get caught touching himself to the drunken polaroids he took of art from his 21st birthday
#reblogs appreciated 🔆#challengers fanfiction#patrick x art#patrick zweig#art donaldson#mike faist#challengers movie#josh o'connor#sub art donaldson#perv!patrick zweig#zendaya#artrick#challengers x reader#challengers blurb#perv!art donaldson#tashi duncan
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Cam Boy!Art Donaldson x Shy Reader part 2
“Come on it’s alright” Art scoots your body down to his pelvis his hard shaft bumping against your pussy making a shiver run up your spine smirking as you quiver beneath him, “this is just practice for when we start filming later.” He caresses your hip attempting to comfort you.
“Alright relax” he mumbles and squeezes your bent legs together by your knees kissing one before pushing his dick between your squished thighs, his head falls back as he glides it back and forth a loud ‘fuck’ and low grunt leaving his throat.
He looks down at you gaze lingering on your flushed cheeks and fucked out eyes before drifting down between the both of you the way you’re milking his cock, pre-cum glazing your stomach. His eyes jolt back up to your as you hold back a moan, one of your hands clasped over your mouth from embarrassment. He slaps your hand away and grips your cheeks tightly. “Don’t hold back I wanna hear how good I’m making you feel.” He grumbles.
You nod pathetically barely registering what he’s saying so focused on trying to make his dick slide inside you, hips jolting up trying to meet his hard member. You pout when his pace slackens and he smiles realizing what you want.
“Want me to fuck your your pussy?” His eyes darken as you huff and nod his smirk widens “you’re serious? I only ever touched you once and you wanna fuck already” he mocks.
You wince and cover your face with your hands humiliation over-riding your thoughts ‘fucking idiot’ loops in your brain, wondering if your desire comes off as pathetic desperation, you want to run away you slowly shift up onto your elbows when he shoves you back down against the bed by your neck.
“Say it” he mutters completely stilling his movements. you frown looking down at his cock, how good it’s making you feel and he can see it on your face you’re too scared to admit how much you want him. How you want to tell him to fuck off and get on with ruining you. Especially when you roll your eyes and try tugging the hand clasped around your neck.
“Say it or I’m walking out that door.” His eyes leave yours looking up briefly across the room. You scoff watching as he sits back on his ass letting go of your legs. He’s bluffing but you don’t buy it, feeling hurt that he’d leave you high and dry so you give in shoving down any shame you feel. “Fuck my pussy please.” You stammer voice cracking pitifully.
“Aw..” He mock pouts. “That’s all I wanted my good girl to say..”
Your heart hammers at the words ‘his good girl’ the idea of being his, him wanting you around more than just something to fuck or corrupt warming you up inside. He catches the look on your face the admiration and longing in your glassy eyes.
He feels guilty not feeling the same way yet
So he relents opening your thighs again and leaning forward pressing a soft kiss against your lips, lingering a bit before his hand shifts to the back of your neck pulling you up to sit.
“Spit,” he cups his hand out and you oblige his mouth slackens as a bit of drool drips down your chin, he gulps trying to keep his composure bringing his hand to his dick pumping it until it’s slick.
He takes a hold of it running it up and down your cunt, wet and ready for him. He opens your folds teasing your clit with the head of his cock slowly moving down pressing up right against your entrance.
He grunts as it flutters around the him but he hesitates and stops feeling you’re not ready even if you’re begging for it. He wants it to be good, perfect even he won’t take advantage of you
Instead he whispers an ‘I got you’ and adjusts your body molding your legs together again and shifting your ass so it’s laid on his thighs.
You stop him hand gripping onto his arm “aren’t you going to um..” you flush red trying to spit out the words “fuck me?” You whisper
He grins softly and shakes his head “next time.. I want it to be special.” You blush at the scene playing out in your head confused that he actually cares but reluctantly nod a sliver of a smile on your face.
he sighs satisfied and glides his shaft between your wet folds pushing his cock down so it manages to stay snug.
He notices how much you like it, entranced by the way your body clenches up, the way you cup your tits and tug at your skin craving some sort of stability. He cries out surprised when you take initiative moving on your own accord gyrating up and down meeting his quick thrusts.
A small moan leaves your lips you both move faster desperate for release his fingers clasping the flesh of your thighs indents surly to show tomorrow.
You gather up the courage to slither your hand down your stomach onto his dick, hand softly pressing his cock head down making sure it hits your clit every time he lunges forward in tandem helping Art fuck into your closed palm.
“Shit you’re perfect” he whimpers at the new sensation his motions becoming sloppy.
“Thanks.” You squeak and he laughs “so innocent” he whispers but his patience is wearing thin.
His pace quickens and you gasp at the friction the onslaught aggression making the squelching between your legs louder.
your eyes shut closed from how good is feels but Art refuses “let me see, open your eyes now” he pleads urgently needing to see you fall apart.
He falls forward unable to hold back anymore his hands gripping your torso pummeling you loud ah’s echo throughout the room as Art tries to hold back his impending orgasm his fingers meeting your clit rubbing circles around the sensitive nub, “come please.. can’t hold it-“ he swears face and chest red from exertion.
Then your orgasm hits you like lightning, body jolting up from the mattress, your hands reach up trying to grab hold of him but you writhe on his bed instead.
That was it for him 3 hard thrusts later and he comes undone a load moan ripping through his chest with each hard pump. Watching you cum making him unravel.
His ears ring from his release when your whimpers snap him out of his lust filled stupor as his name repeatedly slip through your lips.
he sees your hands reaching out for him through his blurred vision looking for some ease it tugs at his heartstrings
he releases his hold and your legs drop completely limp as he holds your hands running his thumb over your knuckles. “You did so good” he mumbles hovering over you encasing your body under his nuzzling his face into your neck. You smile softly heat radiating from your body feeling like your skin is on fire, beads of sweat littering your forehead, “sorry I’m sticky.” You whine uncomfortably.
Art rolls his eyes and smashes his mouth on yours, “it’s fine” he slurs sucking your bottom lip and pulling back with a pop. He takes a moment to catch his breath before sitting back and looking at his masterpiece.
Your beautiful face completely fucked out, breathing ragged chest rising and falling quickly.
That’s when he notices his spunk coating your belly “So filthy” he snorts gathering his load and smearing the remenants on your face wanting to see you dirty, covered in him.
he laughs as you cringe
#challengers#mike faist#art donaldson#hannasmusings#art donaldson x reader#challengers x reader#art donaldson imagine#camboy!artdonaldson#challengers blurb#art donaldson blurb
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No wishing bad stuff to anyone but imagine that Patrick Zweig is after an injury, like a really fucking bad one, and his lower half doesn't work properly. There was something wrong with his spine and spinal cord and has to spend like half a year bound to a wheelchair, needing a 24/7 assistance. And you're a good, young medic, specializing on people like Patrick, providing them care. So it's only natural that you move to his place to assist him fully.
He hates you at first, fucking despises you, because you're all smile and sunshine. He's so pissed at the positive energy you bring, how you keep taking care of him and being all nice and kind. Every other meal you cook, Patrick just pushes the bowl down the table and lets it shatter. Each time you attempt to excercise with him, he keeps complaining and not putting his whole effort in - even though he fucking should - and then, ironically, gets anger when there's no progress. Obviously, he can't stand up within days. But Patrick Zweig is an impatient man.
He hates everything and everyone, hates the whole fucking world and he hates you the most. Stupid, naive girl. If you were a magician, oh, maybe he'd buy you that vintage moped you keep babbling about to get you to heal him. But you're not. You're just a girl who never shuts up, keeps banking him stupidly sweet pies and gently touching his legs every day at four in the afternoon in his small house gym (not that he can really feel it). You wash him too, you hold his hand when he's in pain even though Patrick would love nothing more than to twist your wrist so hard that you'd cry. He wishes it was you who could cry instead.
Patrick is genuinely at his fucking worst. He's lost all hope of ever healing even though his prognosis is not that bad at all. But Patrick is a drama queen, he's a bitch, a menace and all the other words, but you never dare say that to his face. Not until he throws a childish fucking tantrum at lunch one day, throwing his glass in your direction and almost hitting you in the head. This time, you don't reach out to hold him, to drive him to his room, you don't even smile.
Instead, you yell at him. For the first time ever, your voice raises. Significantly. You yell at him for good ten minutes, calling him every name under the sun, calling him out for his constant complaining and childish behaviour. He's a grown man, for god's sake, you tell him while standing up and slamming your delicate hands on the table. And then, as you walk around the table, you say you're not gonna leave him, but you won't accept his behaviour either. He hears you cry later that day.
Ever since this encounter, he doesn't dare say a single word against you, against this treatment. It's evident you're angry with him, mainly from the harsh way you keep handling him suddenly. No more nice girl. You keep twisting his ankles, bending his knees the way he used to bend girls during sex, completely silent with a single crease between your brows. At one point, you really push too hard, so hard that Patrick gets a cramp in his calf - the first distinct hint of regaining the lost feeling - but he never tells you, not when you're pissed at him. That night, he cries in his room.
One day when you go out, as one of your colleagues offers to look after Patrick for the afternoon, you're wearing the prettiest floral dress. And at that exact moment, Patrick's dick twitches, he gets fucking hard the sight of you. As if magically regaining all the feeling in his cock. Your colleague is terrible, by the way, absolutely unable to care for Patrick the same way you do. When you come home in the evening, Patrick tells you that you're really pretty. As the time goes on, he begins thinking you might be his guardian angel.
#challengers#josh o'connor#patrick zweig#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig blurb#patrick zweig fanfic#patrick zweig x you#medic!reader#caretaker!reader#challengers x reader#challengers blurb
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