#patrick just stay forever | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chlmtsdoll · 6 months ago

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IT’S NOT THAT COMPLICATED

౨ৎ Summary: you’re Art and Pat’s (mid)wife without the legal agreements. They both want to finally get you pregnant but who will be the one to shoot his shot first ? 🤭

౨ৎ 18 + | smut !, threesome, p in v (unprotected sex), heavy breeding kink, size kink, polyamorous relationship, domestic (mean-ish) reader, (mid 20’s) needy Art and Pat, angst, gayness, jealousy, religious themes here and there, inspo from Good Graces by Sabrina Carpenter 🩵

The entire house had been a complete and total mess.

You spent most of your weekdays like this — in your Skims sets, hair tied up in a neat ponytail only to end up in a messy bun by the time you were done cleaning up after the two boys who made up most of your life.

Unless they’d been at tennis practice of course.

You never could have pictured your life turning into this in your wildest dreams, especially when you’d never been the kind of girl who was into dating of any sort at all. You hated it really. The chase, the frustration, the uncertainty. Since you were a little girl, all you knew was that you wanted to accomplish receiving the home of your dreams and a cute baby or two to keep your days a little less lonely. You couldn’t fathom it was too much to ask for.

And even though you really didn’t exclusively picture a man (or men) being apart of your future — early days at school, Art and Patrick would make it the competition of their lives to never leave you alone. Ever.

Since you all met your sophomore year of college, it was the two on their hands and knees at your feet. Both always striving for your attention, fancying you, stealing you away from your studies to try and make you settle for dating at least one of them — and to their surprise (or your luck) you never really did. So moving through your last years of class really pushed the three of you as close as a trio could get.

You didn’t exactly put tittles on whatever you had been since it wasn't your style anyway, and throuple just seemed so indifferent. You’d all been more than that. Art and Patrick were yours and you were theirs. You’d draw hearts around your names in all your text books. Picturing yourself rocking cradles and being theirs forever. You’d marry your boys if you could. It was a new upcoming part of your plan — but one worth diving into.

You really did adore them with every ounce of your being.

So eventually when they went pro and started competing full time, both Art and Patrick’s families supported your decision of getting a home together. A great chunk of what you’d always wanted finally coming to fruition. Which was why you didn’t really mind staying back to do the important things around the home that was perfect in every way to you. It was a necessity when you lived with two six foot successful athletes muddying up the place without even noticing it. You would make dinner yourself on the week days and they always helped out on the weekends. You picked out and folded their sports wear every night for them just so it would make the morning even a tad bit easier. You loved it, and you loved them.

Even if the home was almost always in need of a little clean up with how busy your lives had ended up being, you couldn’t say you didn’t admire that it was constantly filled with the endearment you all shared together — so just after a few months of moving in, you finally thought it was the perfect time to let Art and Patrick give you a baby.

As excited as they were when you laid it all out on the table and they’d been a hundred percent ready too, you hadn’t properly thought out how combative your husbands got when it came down to it. The first week you’d given them the green light, it was non stop arguments and fighting between the two for who would be the first impregnate you. And although you gave them a deadline, wanting to be in your second trimester by the end of the year, they still hadn’t come to a full agreement.

And you still weren’t pregnant.

It’s pushed you into having much more aggressive periods and definitely during ovulation. You wanted your baby right then. Right now. More than anything else in the world. It was why you made a promise to both Art and Patrick — so you didn’t have to deal with running through men. Trying to find the perfect one to give you what you wanted even into your thirties. There’s two of them. Which means double the assurance that you should have been pregnant by now.

You’d had a hamper between your hip and the washing machine as you were unloading the laundry you set earlier when you heard the front door being unlocked.

The foyer was filled with the loud conversation and laughter the boys brought home with them to greet you. — but you’d remembered that you just mopped the entire floor plan spotless. So you dropped the hamper instantly in a hurry,

“Wait- - Wait ! Shoes. Mud room.”

As you scurried up to them, the blonde and brunette had paused in their tracks to face you. Seconds away from placing their worked equipment and tiresome shoes on the sparkling clean floors, just before they had registered it been freshly washed. Both men melt into apologies and “sorry baby’s” roughly at the same time while you finally let yourself breathe again post saving the floors from a brutal de-makeover.

When you turned your back to grace the kitchen, taking out food and utensils to start on dinner it was of course moments till your husbands made their way to merrily greet you as they always did — unwashed and grinning like they didn’t just see you that morning. Art had sure to respectfully take off his cap when he walked in, his damp blonde curls scattered everywhere. They looked heavenly with the sweat he had brought with him too, and Patrick, even sweatier, snaked around the corner of the counter to embrace you from behind without a care in the world to his abhorrent musk filling up your senses so quickly.

“Hi, baby,” the brunette smirked down at your smaller figure from behind, he bent to press a kiss to your cheek whist grabbing your dainty waist in his own brawny hands.

“How’s our girl ?”

Art began to smile from the other side of the counter in front of you. The blue hue of his eyes twinkled as he looked over your relaxed figure carrying on with what you’d been doing. “How was your day, sweetness ?”

“I caught a movie.. then I came back and cleaned up around here.” You spoke so nonchalantly the boys had already caught on to the fact that you weren’t your normal excited self who was over the moon to have them home. It was odd.

“So, that’s why you haven’t started on dinner yet..” Patrick chuckled, still behind your shoulder as he peered down at you, and you only glanced up at him with a mainly forced but soft simper.

“Oh, I’m so glad you noticed.. because you’re finishing it.” You only tapped Patrick’s freckled nose with a smile was laced with hints of sarcasm too smoothly, and as you looked between the two, their own glad expressions started to slip away when they really noticed your demeanor was not having it. You’d been pissed.

“So.. you’re not-”

“No. Do it yourselves,” you dried your hands on a cloth and shoved it off before removing yourself from Patrick’s embrace to exit the kitchen without a care. The boys watched your movements with frozen looks.

“I mean, we all should equally feel the current of not getting what we’ve been waiting for, right?”

As you stopped yourself from walking away to face them again with a look on your face that was holding back a thousand words of real rage, with just a cover of curiosity to how they could be so oblivious to your own needs — Art observed you from over his shoulder with a furrowed brow that also tugged a frown on his expression before he spoke.

“Baby- -”

“No. We had an agreement.” Your voice raised in pitch and you tried not to pout. Stand your ground. “I want a baby. And I still don’t have a baby.. and it’s ridiculous b-because, it’s not that complicated. Theirs two of you for fucks sake!”

You were angry, and quite upset. And even though you were pmsing, that wasn’t why. It was the exact problem.

Your emotions were at an all time high, and both men could have put that together at the way your voice shook, and nose had done that flair thing it did when you were at the peak of crying. Just on the verge of tears. But they had to know how you felt. And the way Art and Patrick observed you now, had affirmed they were taking in how it must all feel on your end.

“I thought we were in this together- guys. I-I thought we were ready to start a family…” your eyes switched between the two and their dejected faces before they both erupted into words of reassurance to decline to your state. Making their way over fast to where you stood, to be in the presence of their much shorter but adorned wife.

“We are!” The brunette huffed out.

“We’re a team.. that’ll never change, angel.“ the blonde one spoke over the other, and you crossed your arms as you looked up at both your tall and handsomely gorgeous (but very stupid at times) boys.

“Then fix this.. Get it together among yourselves like grown men who actually want a baby. Because bickering about who’s gonna get me pregnant first won’t get us anywhere.”

You breathed out deeply and searched their obedient assertion before Art and Patrick both nodded to each other in guilt of their actions. They knew how much you wanted this. And you confirmed you didn’t necessarily have to stop at just one.. you’d wanted a little bunch really — so both of your boys would have created something with you.

Their strife for who got there the quickest though, had been totally picked up from ego.

“We’ll.. come to it settled by tomorrow. But really, cut the chase baby, Patrick is just in it for all the sex with you… so your answers right there.” Art commented as he only half joked at Patrick’s wit to selfishly get you laid back to back.

The brunette retreated with shoving the other man in his side. “Fuck. Off. If I was in it for the breeding kink alone I’d say that… probably- -” Patrick defended in all seriousness to his nonsensical answer, and they had both scoffed at each other — you rolled you eyes.

This had been the root of your tiredness.

Sometimes you didn’t even know why you agreed to this. They could be such idiots. Lovable ones although. Enough that you’d let them be the fathers of your children evidently.

“Just… hurry up. Or I promise, I won’t let either of you touch me.” It was between you and god how true that statement actually was. But your eyes met their green to blue in all seriousness before you turned away again. “And wash yourselves before coming in my kitchen next time.”

It took every fiber of your being not to turn back and gently leave them with kisses after such a talk — but you had to show them you meant it. that you really weren’t fucking around this time. You’d definitely classify yourself as a much attentive wife. Always too nice to both of them, but they’d known how fast you could switch up like that — being as sweet as an angel one moment then not giving a fuck the next.

And it’s what they deserve for not attending to your needs too. Although you’d all still been fairly young and they were used to just being careless boys, constantly fucking things up time to time. But now that you’d all spoken out on being ready to settle down, they had to show you they truly meant it. That they wanted this just as badly as you did.

So if locking yourself in your room without your husbands, dickless and babyless would do the trick, then so be it.

It was bound to pay off, because around two weeks later when you let the boys know you were ovulating. They wasted no time to be on you every second of every day.

Fucking was all you’d known this time around, day and night Art and Patrick would take turns filling you with as much of their seed as possible. Giving you the most otherworldly orgasms you’d probably ever experienced got you letting them fuck you in as many ways as they could fit in between the hours they didn’t have tennis and could just be with you. There was something about you wanting them so badly to plant their own inside you, and something about them taking their greedy turns over you till the light of dawn made your sex drive triple it’s increase. The boys would end up arriving late to practice after making your body the judge of who’d be the one to carry your first born.

It all came down to when Art had no rein to miss when his sponsors asked him to be of attendance to a leading event. — which also lead to you and Patrick staying the night indoors, alone, without your other counterpart.

“Please ?”

“We shouldn’t, Patrick. He’ll be upset that he wasn’t here, you know how Art gets.”

Patrick scoffed off your words as he fast walked (chased) after you into the bedroom, “pssh. He has a sponsorship. He’ll be fine… c’mon baby, how am I supposed to make you a mommy if you don’t let me try?” Patrick grinned as he sauntered closer to where you stood. That grin on his face that said he’d already been painfully hard, you knew like the back of your hand. When Patrick towered over you untamed and pressed a deep kiss to your jaw line, you met him where he took your hips with his selfish hands — just below him you let your half husband leave kisses down your neck with that damn luring smirk on his face, still.

You shook your head and rolled your eyes playfully at his acts to get you to let him fuck you without Art around like usual. You already knew the petty excuse you’d use to tell him you didn’t go against the agreement you all kept. Only having intercourse when it was the three of you while trying to conceive, since you’d all be equal parents to the child.

Although, it was without a doubt that Patrick had a way with his undeniable charming nature, and it almost always paved the path to you just giving into the calculated man at some point.

He was pulling you on to his lap by the time you two reached the bed. His slightly calloused hands exploring, kneading your skin. Your breath hitched and Patrick let out a slow devious laugh as his grip on you wondered till it embraced your breasts and the man groped you with all pleasure. “These are gonna be so full when you get pregnant, baby. I can’t wait.” He had that cheeky grin as your eyes panned down at him from your position in his lap. You only let out a soft chuckle as you we’re totally more focused on when he’d get his pants off.

“I swear to god Patrick, I’m not fucking around. You better put a baby in me or I’ll have Art do it.” Your voice was pungent but remained sweet overall. The brunette snickered as he kissed on your chest anyways,

“Just relax baby doll, let me take care of it. Trust me you’ll be pushing a stroller before you even finish.” Patrick groaned into your skin. He continued pushing up your shirt and going straight to your nipples to place his lips with a soft curse while you put your hands in his hair just to watch the way he acted as if he’d been at starvation from you.

Deep down you knew for a fact Patrick had only been motivated to the whole baby making process for the kink of it all. The messy and wild sex constantly. Getting to cum in your pussy rein free as many times as he pleaded without a break, being the one to say you’d been carrying his child he planted inside of you. He was a thousand percent deep into a breeding kink since you’d all been in college. And no matter how much he tried to deny it these days, it didn’t even amount to the way he’d boast about loving to just see the sight of you pregnant and fully round, struggling to do simple daily tasks as your bump grew and grew every day. Meanwhile, it being all caused by him. The fantasy stroked his ego in a way like no other. He’d for sure end up being the type to tell friends the exact position you’d been in when he knocked you up. It was more of a contest of manly hood for the tennis player and you surely knew that.

On the other hand, Art had been dreaming of starting a family since practically a kid, he’d been proudest to say. He was in it not just for himself in a way that made him overwhelmingly happy to have a little one of his own to take care of, but for you. Making sweet love to you day and night, trying for the possibility of making a mini version of himself and you — just because he adores your personality and features so much that he’d want them in his own offspring. Art idolized the bond you two have that much. Always the one out of your husband’s to be doing as much research as he could in his free time by reading up on what were the best chances of giving you a baby and making the experience the most pleasurable for you. What would be healthiest way for you to give birth, baby names, and when you previously found his YouTube search history had been filled with how to properly build a cradle, or how to swaddle a new born. It made your heart all warm and mushy feeling. Jumping around underneath your chest even.

It was the cherry on the top of your ideal life. And you knew the right way to go deep down.

But as Patrick lowered your hips against his, skin on skin, and heated kisses in the middle of your make-out session being the only thought to cloud your mind — you’d been blinded by the one sided-ness of the man and the opportunity to end all anticipation of getting pregnant as soon as possible.

“Yeah, yeah- - just like that..” you panted as the brunette watched you while he was quick to lift himself and you to pull down his sweats and align himself with your entrance. Your hands had been wound to his shoulders while he reached for your ass in preparation of you taking his sized up cock like you owned it. And he lived for that. Patrick was dripping of pre-cum beneath you already. “Put it in.” You breathed out whist beginning to slide down his member as he pushed up into you. A low groan coming from the tease of a man, and the back of his head lost balance in your hands as you began to move on top of him.

“Take my cock baby… fuck, you feel good.” His low grunts and hands getting you to rock your hips faster was enough to get your skin feeling as if it been lit on fire. Your jaw agape enough to when Patrick put his lips on yours — you’d been met by his tongue on instant, sloppily kisses were laid in between your combatting lips. Patrick pulled a clean moan out of you as your legs begin to tremble at his penetration being rough to your walls on instant.

“Mmm- Pat… oh,” you’d been riding him on the edge of the king sized bed. Bouncing like there was no tomorrow in such little time. Your drive has just been insane, you could fuck like you took meals. The feeling of the finely built man running against the cave of your sensitive cunt assured you, this was it. You were getting pregnant by the end of tonight. If it weren’t for the astonishing thick walls, your moans could of filled every hallway of the house by now.

That was until the creek of the masters door had been a distracting note. And the blonde that appeared in it even more so.

When your movements froze and Patrick’s kisses to your neck loosened, the two of you were startled to see the sight of Art coming through that very doorway with a perplexed but not at all surprised look of predictability on his face.

Instead of pulling Patrick out of you to greet your other lover, the smile on your face only grew as you stared over at the less disheveled man placing his back pack on the floor.

“Hi, baby.” You would of been questionably chipper to most, but for the three of you this was as normal as it gets.

“Oh, don’t let me stop you.” Art shrugged softly as his crystal blues examined the heat you and Patrick had created in the atmosphere.

“But.. do you really want a brunette ? Wouldn’t you prefer the baby be- - I don’t know… A blonde ?”

“Oh, fuck off, Art.” Patrick, who had still been inside you let himself fall back into the bedsheets with a groan. And you already knew the blonde had a grin of his own spreading across his lips. You closed your eyes with a deep exhale.

“Guys.. stop it.” you huffed as you pushed on the brunettes limp shoulder, with a soft eye roll that landed back on Art, your expression softened at the sight of your golden boy prancing closer to the two of you. Your smile appeared again. “Come join us baby.”

You knew Patrick would be annoyed and bitching over the fact he didn’t get to cum inside you himself before Art had shown up. But it didn’t matter so much to you when overall, you wanted Art to be as much involved as his own. Even if Patrick had been the one to shoot his shot first.

You slid off of Patrick to crawl closer and plant your lips on Art’s with a pleasant little noise of joy, which the blonde then sent his hands to hold your waist as he leaned into your affectionate greeting.

“Hi.” He chuckled as he leaned away to meet your eyes. Like he wanted nothing. Needed nothing but you.

“How did it go ?”

“Good- - it went good. Boring, really. But what I’m more interested in is how many times you two fucked today..” Art raised a subtle brow as he glanced between you and the sexually frustrated man who’d had his back turned away from you and Arts embrace at the moment.

If only hiding behind your flustered face was an option.

“Y’know.. you’re more than welcome to tune into the fifth round, Art.” Patrick spoke out to poke the other man again and before he could glance at you, his eyes widen with a plea of ‘really ? Five ?’ laced through it and you immediately shook your head.

“No, no..” you held Art’s face in your hands, high cheek bones made it easy to acknowledge his pre-frown. Before he could assume more, your eyes search his while you kicked Patrick’s shoulders slightly. “He’s being a dick. That’s not true…”

“Let him believe it, doll. Now, can we get back to it please ? We have a baby to make.” Patrick’s tone was smug and filled with the tension to just get to your wet enclosure, and before you could even shut him up again, Art did it for you.

“Well, for that to happen, you do know she has to be on her back right ? Or at least comfortable in some capacity..” Art questioned the man and Patrick scoffed at his remark.

“I knew that.”

“Did you ? You had her on top, I would of at least expected doggy style from you, man.”

“Why does it fucking matter?!”

“Because she’s fertile right now!”

“Art, when the fuck did you become a baby daddy ? Please, explain. Because I could like to know-”

“My god. Will you two just shut up and put a baby in me!”

You’d gotten so fed up with the two bickering over nonsense, you stood to your knees between them on the bed as your frustration was shown through your expression that was slowly but surely going dull.

“Honestly, with all this tension, and arguments.. when even was the last time you fucked ?”

Your eyes switch between the two boys who choked on their own tongues when you brought up them being the ones in absence of fucking out their frustrations with one another. And you tried to hide your smirk as best as you could behind your doting eyes.

You wanted them to feel like they’d been draining you by the second, like you’d leave and shut them out again if they didn’t just handle you like real men.

“You know what, that’s it.” Art stood up from your side and glanced down at both you and Patrick who’d been taken by surprise to his new found demeanor.

“You wanna be a mommy ? I’ll make you a mommy.”

Art tugged on the bottom of his white tee, to remove it from his body swiftly — revealing his burly pecks and excellent abs that round a grin from you as easy as could be. He grabbed your wrists firm but with rooted gentleness as he took you aside. “Patrick. Make use of yourself and lay back so you can hold her reversed cowgirl.” Those last few words were more than enough to get the brunette on board as he himself stripped to then make his way neat against the pillows and covers. Art built brief lustful eye contact with you, leading you to straddle Patrick’s lap. The blonde couldn’t stop himself from grinning, and you pulled your lip into your mouth as your patience began to burn quick and your need for both of the men started to rise with it.

Patrick’s hands were on your sides as he pulled you into him, leaning in close to your ear where you felt his soft lips meet your lobe, “I can’t wait to have you full of both of us, princess.” His voice rasped at the perfect tone that had your spine increase with chills. His hands help adjust we’re your ass met his thighs. And that’s when Art came hovering over the two of you — meeting you face to face with even more want than ever. Your lips press into one another divinely as you could of sucked his bottom lip into your own if he stayed there long enough.

You smile into the smooches anyways. Your light, your angel boy, gracious as ever, depressed his palm into the firm mattress beneath where you and Pat coexist, as he made himself comfortable on top. You kept kissing Art with deep hungry moans humming from your windpipe. A slow but fervent pace. It’s like the man could sense your wetness before he even reached down between your thighs to part your legs. But when he did, with tenderness and urgency, he made them just wide enough for how he and Patrick would need you to be for them.

The blonde’s slender fingers rub around your core and he wet his digits with your slick before dipping them in your cunt leisurely, “Patrick did prep you good, but let me.. us, take care of things for once, alright ? You just focus on feeling good.” Art ducked his head to watch the way he added another finger to disappear inside you and your whine was soft. But your focus was on him. He looked overwhelming gorgeous on top of you — golden curly locks followed his every move. You felt more assured then ever by the way his sweet words made your tense muscles shift. Soon, Patrick to your left, left soft kisses on your shoulder blade which that just made you melt.

He stroked his erection before inching to slide himself back inside your soaked heat, and you closed your eyes with a sweet whimper leaving your plump lips at the way the brunette slid though your walls again — Art’s tongue darted out to watch the way you sunk down on Patrick before his eyes. Getting ready to penetrate you himself, “keep holding her, Patrick. Make sure she’s relaxed.” The man on top of you murmured with dilated pupils and mouth practically salivating just witnessing it second hand.

You bit down on your lip while Art put his cock above where Patrick had been, working himself against your already pulsing cunt, begging to be used by the two gorgeous boys. And before finally pushing into you along with the brunette, Art pushed you farther on to your back against Patrick’s broad chest.

“Stay open for us like a good girl, we’re gonna make you a mommy for sure this time.” You heard Patrick’s voice come in with a grin, he held your thighs apart as Art bottomed out inside of you the same way Patrick had with an echoed grunt. The double penetration sent your mouth going agape straight away, your face scrunched up in pleasure and pain at the same time.

“oh- - oh, fuck” your breathing hitched as the men just filled you with their length and girth. The farther they burrowed in you, the quicker you realized you’d probably never get used to the stretch of taking both of their dicks at once, nor would you tire of it either. But this was what you needed. Right this second, to be breed and stuffed with enough cum you’d have more than sufficient chances to have one of their babies make it to growing within you.

The blonde and brunette had started to move at a steady pace, then quicker as time followed. You sometimes felt as if your body was meant to take them like this — your moans and cries escalating could of confirmed that with how you’d been coating their cocks with more of your juices as they fucked into you. Both men making pornographic noises of their own while getting to submerge into your sweetness at the same time. The friction of feeling one another setting off a different kind of euphoria that had been truly in a league of its own.

From Patrick pushing his heels into the comforter to pound up into you, and Art’s hands going opaque with veins as he gripped on to the side of your hips to ass — to keep you open for him to have the best access to your womb, made your eyes go teary with the impact of it all. The way their balls carelessly slapped against your ass that would surely be darkened with a bruise tomorrow. Thrusting without mercy made you feel a heavenly kind of dizzy at this point.

Art couldn’t help but grin at the bulge he and Patrick had been imprinting on your lower belly as you could only shriek and moan on their cocks in repetition like you’d been saying a prayer after every pound to your sensitive cunt.

“Fuck- - god, princess. You’re gonna make us daddies aren’t you ? That tummy is gonna be full with us just like it is now, and you’ll love it. I don’t think you’ll ever stop wanting to let us fill you with babies you can take care of.” Art had panted out into your ear with a airy chuckle and you were too fucked out to do anything but tremble more from his words, the brunette has been smirking in agreement.

“Shit. She’s gonna be so pretty lookin’, Art. Being at home with the kids, nurturing everything she touches like the sweet girl she is… just to get breed nice and round again and again, isn’t that right, pretty girl?”

You were over the edge. Completely cock drunk and fucked stupid by your boys who held you together in the mess they made of you. That’s when you couldn’t keep it back anymore. “Oh- yes… god, yes. Fuck !” A high pitched whimpering moan ripped through you as you came hard, leaving Art and Patrick’s overly slick cocks with yours and their creamy details.

“Oh, shit, shit !” The brunette cursed from over your shoulder.

“Fuck- - Patrick.. you ready ?” Art huffed as he and your other husband didn’t stop plunging into you. They took your overstimulated and overstuffed hole clenching them through your orgasm as the gateway to finally leave their seed to your body’s pride.

Taking their slowed thrusts back up a notch, the boys fuck into you till you cry and they both cum with a slew of groans and other curses like that. Your muscles couldn’t hold up. You let yourself collapse against Patrick’s skin as the two pumped ropes into your pussy till they’d been drained out.

Art snapped his eyes shut as he strained into you with a deep grunt. He palmed Patrick’s shoulder “don’t pull out- - don’t move.. stay in. For as long as you can.” Patrick kept his hips flush against you. Your legs trembled and your chest heaved repeatedly, your cunt began to feel numb. You brought your swollen lip between your teeth.

“Mmmh... Art- - I don’t know how much longer I can hold up..” your wide tearful eyes met the blonde’s gaze as he leaned even closer to take your hand in his, intertwining your fingers right then.

“I know, baby, I know.. but we have to make sure you have all the chances of getting pregnant.” The blonde kissed your knuckles as he stayed there with you — and Patrick did the same. Staying put and not letting up till they had been as sure as could be that you were having a child.

It brought a simper to your lips as your chest eased into a relaxed sigh. The two men finally pull out of you with low moans and you immediately sprawl on your back to smile to yourself on the bedsheets.

You’d been pregnant. You just knew it. You felt it. When Art and Patrick came together to create something out of their love with, and for you — you knew your prominent instinct couldn’t of let you down now. And only a single pregnancy test later, and a trip the three of you all took to your doctor. It had been confirmed. You were pregnant.

And to your pleasant surprise and overly joyous nature... Your first born would turn out to be a Donaldson.

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girliism · 1 month ago

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having to sneak patrick into your parents house who kinda hate him.

“can you be quiet.” you hissed, looking behind you at patrick just tripped up the stairs and let out a loud shit. “sorry.” patrick silently followed you up the rest of the stairs, this whole situation starting to become ridiculously funny. “i can’t believe you still have to sneak me in. i thought you were a big girl.” patrick teased.

you rolled your eyes. “you know how my parents are, pat. as long as i’m living here it’s by their rules.” though the only rule they really enforced was no boys upstairs.

you were backed into your bedroom door. “could always come stay with me.” he whispered. “live by my rules.” a small was placed behind your ear. “first one is to be naked always.” you let out sigh at the feeling of patrick’s lip against your neck. the kisses tracked up your jaw and cheek until patrick slotted his lips on yours.

patrick licked into your mouth, and you could still taste the alcohol he had been drinking from earlier. your reached behind you twisting the door knob leading the two of you into the room.

patrick kicked the door close, and broke the kiss to pick you by your waist and toss you onto the bed. he made sure the door was locked before stalking over to you. you looked up at him through lidded eyes. you bit your lip, and trailed your foot up his chest. patrick took hold of your calf, massaging it a little before tightening his grip and yanking you to the edge of bed. you let out a surprised gasp when he flipped you onto your front. your legs hanging off the bed.

you turned your head to try and get a glimpse behind you, but all you saw was patrick sinking to his knees.

patrick ran his hands up your legs, over the curve of your ass, and to your waist squeezing. you whined his name and he shushed you. he placed a kiss on the back of both your thighs before pulling your skirt and panties off in one go, throwing them into the corner of your room.

he was eye level with pussy. taking in how it dripped from him. without warning he licked a long strip up your cunt. “fuck.” you pushed back on his face wanting more. and he gave you more.

patrick ate you out like a starved man. it was messy spit and slick everywhere, his thick fingers fucking you.

“gonna fucking cum.” you eyes rolled back as your legs twitched.

you barely had time to recover before patrick was stripping himself of his clothes, climbing onto the bed. “wait, pat-” he cut you off by dragging your body from hanging off the side of the bed to prop you up on your knees.

patrick ran the tip of his dick through your folds before pushing his full length in with no warning. a slighty too loud moan fell from your lips. patrick landed a hard slap on your ass. “shhh, baby you have to be quiet. don’t want you parents to here their daughter getting fucked like a slut right?” you whined shaking you head.

“good.” patrick pulled back only to push back in. his thick cock dragging along your sensitive walls. you could barely keep down your whimpers and moans as patrick fucked into you. his hips slapping against your ass, and his balls brushing against clit.”

“feel so fucking good around me, could fuck you forever.” he grunted letting his head fall back, getting lost in how wet and tight you were. “oh fuck, pat!” his tip bumped into the spongy spot inside you. “gonna cum again?” he went harder and faster, your headboard banging against your wall making it obvious to anyone what was going on. “gonna cum all over my cock?” teased.

you nodded into your pillow reaching down to rub at you clit, pushing your hips back to match patrick’s thrust. “s-so -oh shit- so close, patrick.” and in a second it was ripped from you. patrick pulled his dick out of you and moved you to lie on your back.

“wha-”

a gasp cut you off when patrick yanked down you top so your tips spilled out. you let out a whiny moan when patrick drop a glob a spit on your cunt, working his thumb over you little nub while his other hand jerk off to sight in front of him. your swallow slick lips and clit aching for release.

“don’t stop don’t stop, so c-close.” you breath got heavier and back arched. patrick sped up his movements the closer you two got. “fuck, going to cum all your pussy. cum with me babe.”

you let yourself go with a low moan paired with patrick’s strained groan. long white ropes shooting from patrick’s and landing on your cunt, both your arousals mixing. patrick sat back on his feet taking in the sight of glistening pussy.

“you have to be gone by morning.” patrick rolled his eyes, climbing to hover over you body. “don’t remind me.” he whispered, before lowering himself down and sliding his face in between your legs for another round.

#girliism #challengers #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut

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saintzweig · 6 months ago

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nsfw patrick zweig x camgirl!reader

–based on this blurb PART TWO HERE

– wrote this with 5 hours of sleep, not proofread because i'm lazy so i apologize in advance for the mistakes or if its shitty :3 wasn't actually going to write this but i couldn't stop thinking about it sooo

it was 3pm on a thursday, you were sat in your history class bored out of your mind. it was your last class of the week and it had only half an hour left but with the way your professor was droning on and on about god knows what, you couldn't wait to get out of here fast enough.

you had a live scheduled in two hours, as well. you needed enough time to rest and freshen up before you turn your camera on. you did live cams anonymously on some sketchy website just to get by, a cam girl if you will. you grew up in a strict religious household so you've never thought you'd end up doing this but desperate times call for desperate measures, it was an easy way out of your financial problems. plus, if you were careful enough no one would have to find out. its not like you were going to do this forever, only until you graduate and find a job with a decent pay. by then, your account will be deleted and forgotten about, as if it never existed in the first place.

your mindless scribbling was interrupted when your professor called your name. "l/n, zweig"

your head snapped up to the front and then to patrick zweig who sat two rows infront of you.

"your presentation will be a week from now, your topic will be on the reconstruction. i expect you'll do a thorough research."

you quickly wrote down the details as your professor dismissed the class, students rushing to get out of the room while you stayed behind to gather your things. before you knew it, patrick stood infront of you. his backpack slinging over one shoulder and his hands in his pockets.

you didn't know patrick zweig, you knew of him. a great, cocky tennis player who was supposed to go pro after juniors but his friends, art and tashi, convinced him to accept his standford offer. so he'll have something to fall back on if things don't go to plan.

you've heard people talk about him, how he's reckless in his plays yet he keeps winning. how he doesn't do anything in class yet he keeps passing. you had to stop yourself from sighing in front of him, is he going to make you do everything?

"y/n, right?" you've never heard him talk before, atleast not anywhere near you so you were surprised that his voice sounded ... attractive. you took this time to actually look at him, he wore a plain white shirt and denim jeans, which isn't much but he made it look so good. his face was slightly scruffy, his nose statuesque and his pink lips was pulled into a slight smirk. you had no idea why his appearance made your heart beat faster than normal.

the two of you discussed when to meet, deciding to do the work in your dorm every other day during his free time. so now, on friday evening, you were sat on your desk working on the outline for your project as you wait for him to arrive.

not long after, there was a knock on your door and patrick entered in his tennis attire, carrying his equipment. "a single room?" he asked with his eyebrow raised, taking in the sight of your room. the white walls adorned with tapestry and posters, your bed covered in a pink bedding and your desk was cluttered with your study materials.

"i got lucky" you sat on your chair as he settled on your bed, laying on his back in exhaustion. there was something familiar about your room, he just couldn't put his finger on it. has he been here before? did the two of you hook up and he had just forgotten about it? or maybe it's because most dorms look the same, it's probably just similar to tashi's. he put the thought on the back of his mind as you started to discuss your project with him.

it went surprisingly well the first day, although patrick was stubborn, he knew he couldn't just skip on this project because he'll end up having to do it alone so he decided doing it with you now was the better option. the next day, he got too comfortable that he's so easily distracted. you started bribing him with his own pack of cigarettes, taking it from his hands and putting it under your thigh as the two of you sat across from each other on your bed.

it was a little difficult to work with him, considering he's not so good at studying but it was fun, you had fun with him. he made jokes that you tried to keep a straight face on but end up laughing so hard your cheeks were starting to hurt. he keeps trying to flirt with you too, which just ends up with you scowling at him and slapping his arm.

and as soon as he left, you turned your camera on and positioned yourself on your bed. normally, you would only strip and massage your body, never going as far as playing with yourself in front of your viewers. but this time, you couldn't stop thinking about patrick. how big his hands were compared to you, you imagined it wrapped around your wrist, or holding your waist, or choking you. the thought making you squeeze your thighs together. you made soft noises as your massaged your breasts, imagining what it would feel like to feel his hands cupping you. you felt yourself get wet as you pressed your fingers against the fabric of your panties.

tonight's live felt a bit more sensual, it was almost difficult to stop yourself from getting carried away but you needed to be careful. so after an hour, you turned the camera off and placed your laptop under your bed. as soon as you lay back, your hand found its way inside your white, lacy panties. you shiver as the pad of your pointer finger brushed against your sensitive clit, feeling the slick against your skin as your press against your cunt.

you spent the next hour touching yourself to the thought of patrick using your body, feeling his lips against your skin, lapping up the juices leaking out of you. the sounds you were making were too pornographic that you had to place your hand over your mouth. your fingers covered in your juices as you desperately fucked yourself. it felt like a pretty sight to see that you almost regretted turning your camera off.

you wanted someone to see you, you wanted him to see what he was doing to you.

the next time he came over, he had just come straight from tennis practice. his skin was slightly moist with sweat and he wore shorts that rode up his legs when he sat on your bed. you couldn't focus on anything but his thighs.

“you feeling alright? you're looking kinda red, zoning out too” you blushed, feeling like he just caught you red handed.

you nod, “yeah, it's just a little hot”

he smirked, telling you to take your shirt off if it's that hot, he wouldn't mind it at all. you rolled your eyes at his suggestion, turning your attention back to your laptop. you were tempted to do it, it took you everything in your body not to. even with your choice of work, you still had a little bit of self respect and discipline left.

that night, you ended up touching yourself on camera for the first time. making yourself cum infront of your viewers while they had no idea you were thinking of patrick, again. having your lips on his skin, straddling his lap and feeling his bulge press against your clothed cunt, his hands on your breasts as you bounce on his cock. you made the highest amount of money you've ever made since you've started. but you made sure to tell them it was a one time thing.

the next evening, was the day before your presentation. patrick was on his way over so the two of you can practice and prepare yourself for tomorrow.

you bumped into him on your way to the communal bathroom, telling him to go right ahead.

patrick entered your room, dropping his equipment by the door as usual. instead of laying in your bed like he always does, he sat on your chair. leaning back with his arms crossed as he observed the trinkets on your desk and the photos pinned on the corkboard.

a few minutes later, you walked in and sat on your bed, facing him. he turned around in your chair to ask you something about the photos but the sight of you on your bed left him dumbfounded. the realization of why your room looks familiar finally came to him, the only reason it took him so long was because the only way he's ever seen it was through the camera, facing the exact direction he's looking at right now.

you were the anonymous cam girl he had been jerking off to after your sessions, you were the girl he had just sent a hundred dollars to the night before.

#patrick zweig #challengers #challengers x reader #patrick zweig x reader #challengers fic #challengers smut #josh o'connor x reader #saintzweig writes ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

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awakenedevildays · 10 months ago

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「quarrels and sofas」 Art Donaldson x F!reader

TW: angst, smut (minors DNI), fighting, jealousy, insecurities

you can read the other parts here!

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

Art knew it was a terrible idea to properly introduce you to Patrick right away, from the moment he saw how his best friend looked at you up and down he knew he was in for troubles. Even more when Patrick "kindly" offered to teach you how to play tennis while "your boyfriend was busy".

You agreed happily almost immediately: with Tashi busy with her professional tennis career, and you with yours, you didn't have much time to see each other, and when you did you tried to disconnect from your jobs by doing other things and that resulted in not playing that much anymore, expect with Art sometimes.

"your girlfriend is really cute by the way, how come I didn't realize it when we met her years ago" he teased Art after you excused yourself to go to the bathroom of the restaurant.

Art knew where the conversation was going, but decided not to respond to his best friend's taunts "you didn't realize she was cute? It's your bad I guess" he replied in a snarky way, his fingers playing with his glass "besides, she's been cute since forever, what are you even talking about?" Art asked.

Patrick snickered a little at Art's response, taking a sip of his glass while he kept his eyes on him.

"Oh don't play dumb with me. She's always been on the cute side, but come on... she's seriously gorgeous now. You're so lucky and you don't even realize it" he replied back, a mischievous grin on his face growing as he continued to tease Art.

Art felt anger rise in his body, why did he always feel like he had to compete against Patrick?

Patrick could feel the tension between them and continued to push further "You should be glad she's still loyal to you. She could easily leave your ass if she wanted to, bet she has tons of men after her" he kept going with a smug smile, knowing fully well he was pushing Art to his limit.

"Yeah well, unlike you I know how to treat my girlfriend right" he bit back, his smile growing.

Patrick's smile faded a little at the reference to his past relationship with Tashi, but he quickly regained his composure and a smirk formed on his lips "Oh please, I know how to treat women just fine. Tashi simply just couldn't handle me" he said with a laugh, trying to brush off the topic.

Art's frowned his eyebrows in fake confusion, his smile turning into a thin line "Oh... my bad, I heard it went differently, from what I know.. it was you who couldn't keep up with her".

Patrick raised an eyebrow at Art's response, his smirk faltering slightly as he tried to keep his cool.

"You've heard wrong then. It was Tashi who couldn't handle my life as a successful businessman." he retorted with a hint of defensiveness in his voice, trying to deflect the truth with arrogance.

Art was going to answer but a voice interrupted him "excuse me, I'll leave you the bill" the waitress said leaving the small receipt holder on the table, both men smiled as she walked away.

Art took his wallet to pay and Patrick didn't bother to stop the blond as he slid the money inside of the card holder before leaving it on the table for the waitress to take.

Then, Art takes a sip of his beer, his eyes never leaving Patrick's "stay away from her Patrick, I mean it" he warned.

Patrick rolled his eyes at Art's warning "Oh, come on Art. I'm just being friendly. What's the harm in that?" he replied with a smirk, clearly not taking him seriously.

"I know what you're trying to do, I know you".

Patrick leaned back in his seat, his smirk widening at Art's accusation. "And what exactly do you know, Art?" he asked with feigned innocence, though his eyes gleamed with mischievous intent.

"I know you can't stand seeing me happy while you're not" he replied immediately and Patrick couldn't help but scoff at Art's words.

"Oh please, I'm perfectly happy in my single life. I don't need a relationship to make me happy" he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand, though there's a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Art leans on his chair "sure you don't, but don't try to ruin mine too" his smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Ruin your relationship? Who said anything about ruining your relationship?" Patrick asked with a hint of sarcasm, feigning innocence once again. "I'm just being friendly, Art. I don't have any ulterior motives" he added, maintaining his smile but his eyes betrayed his true intentions.

Before Art could answer you are next to him again "sorry, what did I miss?" you asked innocently, Art's arm wrapped around your shoulder while his other hand takes your fingers in his to play with them.

Patrick's gaze flickered from you to Art, observing the two of you with a subtle feeling of irritation before he plastered a charming smile on his face. "Ah, nothing much. We were just catching up, talking about old times" he replied smoothly, though his gaze lingered on your hand enclosed in Art's, a flicker of envy in his eyes. Art looked at you and smiled, "nothing important" he said, brushing off the conversation to shift his focus back to you.

"we should go baby, we have to wake up early tomorrow" Art stood up, you mimic his action.

"Oh yeah, that's right" you said, slightly puzzled but you quickly brushed it off and leaned into Art's side, giving him a soft smile. Patrick watched the two of you raise from your seats, his smile still on his face "alright then, it was nice catching up" he said standing up as well, giving Art a nod before his gaze went back to you. "It was really nice to see you again" he added, his voice carrying a hint of flirtation you didn’t seem to notice, but Art did.

"It was nice seeing you too Patrick, I'll text you for that tennis lesson, ok?" Patrick briefly looked at Art and smiled "can't wait, good night".

Art's grip on you tightened momentarily, his expression tense but he quickly regained his composure to give Patrick a curt nod in return. "Good night" he replied shortly before leading you out of the restaurant, his arm remained protectively around your shoulders.

Now, a few weeks later, Art leans with crossed arms at the doorframe and watches you getting ready for bed. He can't stop thinking how Patrick looked at you during that dinner and he can't imagine what his eyes saw while you played together, how he probably glanced at your legs and checked you out.

"So how was your match with Patrick?" He hopes you don't hear the jealousy out of his voice.

"it was good, how was your day baby?" you decide to ignore his jealous tone, you kiss his lips when you pass by him to go to the bathroom.

He kisses you back, smiling when your lips touched his but he can't help thinking of Patrick right now.

"My day was good," he says "what did you and Patrick do after your practice?" He asks while he changes from his jeans to a jogging pants.

"he gave me a ride here" you shrug.

He tries to hold a neutral mimic by hearing that but his jealousy is too much to not say anything about it.

"I could've picked you up, baby" he tells you while he sits down on your bed waiting for you to finish brushing your teeth.

"I didn't want to bother you, and we were already together" you explain to calm him down but it's not working as you hoped it would.

You can see his knuckles turning white "it's not about bothering me. It's about you and Patrick together, alone. I don't like him".

You look at him shocked "what do you mean? he is your best friend Art" you exclaim incredulous.

"he just has a thing for you and it's obvious and I don't like it" It's like you can touch his anger, it's filling the whole room.

He can't stop imagining how Patrick might have touched you when he wasn't there, how he looked at you... just thinking that he might have looked at you the same way he did during the dinner is making him crazy.

"I don't want you to see him anymore" he states and his arms cross in front of his chest and you scoff.

"you're being ridiculous Art, he didn't try to do anything" you say and finally look at him from the bathroom.

He starts to raise his voice and you can see the veins on his forehead throbbing "don't you see he has a thing for you?! You think he's such a good friend helping you play better? He doesn't give a damn about that, and you're just too naive to see that. He's just waiting for a chance to be with you" he snaps and stands from the bed.

"I'm sorry are you trying to say I'm cheating on you?" you ask and you really hope he's going to deny it.

"I'm saying I'm tired of seeing you give attention to every single male that flirts with you, I mean how much attention do you need, are you really that desperate?" he snaps and immediately regrets what he just said, your hurt expression makes him shut his mouth.

He sighs and walks towards you, but just as he arrives in front of you take a step back, tears swelling in your eyes and Art's heart clenches in his chest.

How can he explain to you that there is a voice in his head that tells him, every time you look at him, that he doesn't deserve you? that you could find someone better than him? that what Patrick had told him had affected him more than he wants to admit and that he is as terrified of losing you as he is terrified of few other things in the world?

"you're being unfair Art, you know I didn't cheat on you" you defend yourself but your voice tremble and it's difficult for Art to hear you.

"I know, I'm sor-" but you don't listen to him.

"I never, ever, gave you a reason not to trust me," your voice raises, you feel so hurt by him right now, you thought his trust in you was stronger than this.

"I know, I'm sorry you're right, it's just that... Patrick told me some thing last time at dinner and insecurities got the best of me! I'm sorry, I really am baby, its just that..." he tries to explain what he is feeling "every time I look at you I always think you are too much for me, that you could find someone better than me and that you could leave me at any given moment, I love you so much it makes me crazy... Please forgive me" he takes your face in his hands but you don't look at him, you can't bring yourself to feel sorry for him right now, you're way more hurt than he is.

"but this is not the right way to show me Art, what you are saying it's unfair, I never, ever gave you a reason to doubt my loyalty towards you and our relationship" you take his hands off of your face.

You are right, he knows you are, but his thoughts just won him over this time. He gently pulls you closer by wrapping his arms around your waist, he starts kissing you on your jawline and down your neck but you don't hug him back.

"I..am so sorry baby. You have every right to feel hurt by what I just said and did. Please forgive me, I really am sorry, look we're both tired, can we go to sleep? we'll talk about this tomorrow morning, how does that sound?" he gives you a small smile in hope to soothe you but you avoid his gaze and he realizes he had said too much this time, he swallows the lump forming in his throat.

"I'm sorry, I truly mean it" he whispers with a gentle voice. All he wants to do now is to kiss your pain away, but he know you won't let him this time.

"I think I'll sleep on the couch tonight" you say and slip past him out of the bathroom and the bedroom.

He watches you leave the bathroom and the bedroom with his heart racing like crazy. You are going to sleep on the couch? No. No way. It hurt knowing that he made you feel bad enough that you would sleep on the couch instead of in your bed with him. His legs moves on his own and he follows you out of the bedroom before grabbing your wrists and pulling you close to him. "Baby please, don't sleep on the couch" he pleads and tries to press you against his body.

"Art I don't want to be close to you right now, I really need space to think" you pull your wrist back and Art feels his heart sink at your words as his head starts spinning.

He tries to blink away the tears that were in the corner of his eyes, but he can't. So his hands slowly lets go of your wrists and he takes a step back. "Okay. If you want space then I will give you the space you need", he says with a cracked voice and looks down at his empty hands.

You smile weakly "thank you, night Art" but before you can turn again he surpasses you to sit on the couch before you can reach it "I'll sleep here baby, you take the bed" he says and lays there, his eyes never leaving your figure and the way he is looking at you makes you feel so damn guilty even though he is the one at fault.

You open your mouth to speak but nothing you think seems appropriate, you reclutantly nod and turn around to go back to the bedroom.

He watches you disappear in the dark bedroom. His thoughts are racing. The guilt that was already so heavy on his soul is getting heavier every second. But he knows that you need space now after what he said to you. The only thing that he can do now is to pray that in the morning everything will go back to being alright. So that's what he did before falling asleep after a long time of just simply staring at the ceiling.

You hand caressing his cheek softly stirs Art awake the next morning.

You can feel the you man’s body tensing up at first at the soft touch of your hand on his cheek, but he quickly melts into it. The warm feeling of your hand on his skin makes his heart flutter and he slowly opens his eyes to look at you. "Baby?" he whispers still sleepy from what you assumed was a bad night on the couch.

"Hi" you murmur and his hand come to rest on yours still on his cheek "I made breakfast, would you like to join me?" if it wasn't for the fact that Art slept on the couch and his burning eyes he would've thought that what happened yesterday was just a bad dream.

Art is confused, he is afraid to speak and ruin this moment, to push you away once and for all and lose you forever "Yeah I would love to".

You gave him a small smile before making your way to the kitchen and Art follows behind you. He still seems exhausted as if he barely got any sleep last night. His heart sinks once his eyes lands on the table. You made his favourite pancakes with maple syrup, but in contrast to all the other days you didn't made coffee this time, only milk.

You sit on your place but Art stands awkwardly at the doorframe as if he needs your permission to approach you. So you give it to him.

The both of you eat the food in silence. Art doesn't dare to say a word the whole time, the only thing that he can't stop doing is stealing a look at you every now and then when he believes that you won't notice it. He can't get over the fact that you were so kind and cooked him his favourite meal after what happened last night. But his heart stops when you suddenly put down your fork and clear your throat. He was so nervous that he can already feel the lump in his throat building up.

"I think we should talk about yesterday Art"

His heart is beating out of his chest the second he hears that dreaded sentence. The dreaded talk. The talk that would surely decide how everything is going to be between you two from this point. He swallows loudly before nodding his head. "Okay. Baby, listen I-" his voice cracks and he feels pathetic, if only his voice stopped him from speaking yesterday he wouldn't find himself in this position now.

The second he sees your hand going up to stop his rambling, he immediately shuts up and swallows hard again. The tension in the room is so thick it could be cut trough with a knife. He has no idea what to do or how to start this conversation, so he looks at you with his thoughts racing in his head and fear building up more and more.

"I'll talk first"

He felt the lump in his throat growing thicker, but he nods once to show you that he is listening. "Go ahead," and you nod.

"what happened yesterday was not okay Art, I'm sorry that you feel so insecure of our relationship but you have to talk to me about these things and not accuse me of things I never did and never will"

Art takes a shaky breath at your words. Everything that you said makes sense and he knows it. He should have talked about his insecurities and doubts, but instead he lashed his pain out on you. He feels so stupid right know.

"You're right. You're right. I'm sorry for what I said and did yesterday", he mumbles while he reaches for your hand to hold it. "I just..I don't know what got into me, but I promise I will never do this ever again".

"I'm not done" you say but take his hands in yours to reassure him.

He swallows hard as you tell him that you aren't done. So he sits there still, not moving a muscle but also not letting go off your hands while he waits for you to continue. His heart is beating in his chest so fast it feels like it could explode any second.

"If you really think that Patrick is flirting with me, I'll keep him away from me... from us. I don't want to know what he told you that night, I don't care, but I need you to know that I love you, I'll always love you and only you, nothing will change that and I will never cheat on you, and I won't tolerate you behaving or accusing me like you did yesterday".

Your words hit Art in the heart. He squeezes your hand a bit to show his affection and he nods "I know, I know that you love me and only me and that I'm an idiot for ever doubting that. And I love you too. More than anything. I'll try and work on my self doubt and my stupid insecurities. I'm sorry." He can't believe that you are still sitting in the same room with him.

You get up from your chair and sit on his legs, your hands go to his cheeks and you can feel his breath hitch as he hurriedly wraps one arm around you. Slowly he starts to press his cheek into your hand, he loves feeling your touch on him and he lets his eyes slowly close.

"is Patrick really the only thing that is bothering you?".

Art hums softly as he gives your question a real thought. Is it really the only thing that is bothering him?

He slowly opens his eyes and looks at you when he realizes that there is one more thing that made him jealous when he thought about it. "It isn't only Patrick..." he mumbled.

"what is it then?"

"It's you" he says truthfully "It's you and how many people find you attractive. Everywhere you go there are so many guys checking you out. I know that they're no threat to our relationship, but everytime I see them looking at you I can't help but wish sometimes to have you all for myself".

"it's your fault for choosing a hot girl as your partner" you joke to lighten the mood.

Art chuckles softly at your joke. He can feel the corner of his lips slowly twitching upwards to a smirk at your words. It's just like you to try and lighten up the mood and he loved that about you.

"That's not fair" he mumbled against your palm before he leaned in to press a soft kiss onto it.

"you think I don't feel the same about you? everywhere we go there is always some girls making heart eyes at you and it makes me crazy, have you ever noticed them?" he shakes his head, he never sees them, he only has eyes for you, "and in the exact same way I don't see any other guys that is not you." he blushes and you kiss the corner of his mouth "the fact that I am insecure as you are about other people finding you attractive doesn't mean I get insecure of your love for me or of our relationship, and you shouldn't either" you flick his forehead

At this point he is simply stunned by what you said and you could literally see on his face, so you are jealous of him too?

Art doesn't know what to say at first so the only thing that he does is to tighten his grip on your waist while his cheeks slowly turns red. "I..I thought you didn't feel the same about..you know..." He trails off when he realized that there aren't any words that can express what is on his mind.

"about other girls finding you pretty?"

Art slowly nods his head. "Yeah..I guess so" he mumbles and looks down at his lap, embarrassed that he has those thoughts and doubts. "I just thought that it didn't bother you cause you never said anything. I thought I was being crazy" he mumbled and looked up at you with guilty eyes.

"I should've express my feeling about it sooner, maybe you wouldn't have felt this way about Patrick"

"Maybe..." he mumbles while he slides his arm from your waist and gently brushes some loose hair behind your ear "I'm sorry for what I said about you and Patrick baby...I'm so sorry"

"I know you are... I'm sorry too" you murmur

His eyes widens slightly and his head snaps up so that he can look at you. "What are you sorry about, sweetheart. You didn't do anything wrong" his thumb gently brushes over the skin on your cheek.

"about not expressing my insecurity sooner, for making you feel alone in this, we both could have handled this situation better" his heart starts racing in his chest when you lean into his hand and softly press your lips onto it. A small sigh escapes his lips while he keeps his eyes on you "I guess we both have to work on sharing our insecurities baby. Let's not keep anything from each other, alright?"

"sounds like a great deal to me" you whisper and kiss him softly on the lips and he comes alive under you.

He immediately leans into the kiss and presses his lips back onto yours. He feels like all the tension between you is slowly fading out and he cups your face with his hands to pull you closer.

He can't get enough of the taste of your lips. The way you are sitting on his lap kissing him passionately feels so right. It takes all his willpower to slow down the kiss and pull away from you to breath for a moment. His thumb gently caress your cheeks, while he watches you, flushed and looking absolutely wrecked.

You climb off his lap just to straddle him and rejoin your lips together, his hands fly to your hip to pull you closer. The feeling of your body pressed against his makes him groan and his eyes flutters for a moment, before he deepens the kiss again. His tongue licks across your bottom lip and he gently nips on it with his teeth.

you moan and grind your hips on his, the only things keeping your body separate are your short nightgown and his jogging pants.

A breathy moan escapes his lips at the feeling of your hips grinding on him in such a sweet torture. He pulls you even closer if that's even possible and his fingers digs into the skin on your sides to hold you in place while his hips starts to move on their own. "Baby.." he gasps against your lips at the delicious friction of your bodies, he can't handle how hot you look on his lap.

"I need you Art, please"

-------

The second those needy words leave your lips something inside him snaps. The way you beg him makes him feel like he could explode in any second. "God, I love you" He gasps and pulls his lips from yours just to shower kisses along your jaw. "I need you too, baby." He moans against your skin and his hips rocks upwards to meet your movements.

you grind your hips on his again and again in circolar motions, his lips goes to your neck and lightly suck on it and his hands on your ass to help your movements. Your hands instead goes to raise his shirt to take it off and Art leans back against the chair to help you before going back to the same position as before.

Art groans in anticipation when you start to pull off his shirt that reveals his pale chest and abs to you. He shivers slightly when your hands roams over his bare skin and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He leaves wet kisses on your skin while he let his fingers sneak under the hemline of your nightgown to feel your skin.

you take off your nightgown and throw it on the floor with his shirt before raising your hips to slide off his pants and boxer

While you take the rest of your clothes off he can't stop himself from watching you. You look so divine and beautiful while undressing in front of him that he has to swallow hard and bite his lips at the sight of your body. After all this time you can still make his mind blank and speechless with your beauty. Slowly his hands roams up your thighs and over the skin on your hips while his eyes looks up at you, completely mesmerised.

"you look so beautiful baby" he says while you slid your panties to the side and sink down on his member, you let out a moan.

He keeps his eyes on you while you slowly let yourself sink down on him, his fingers gently grabbing at your hips to help you, while he feels himself becoming consumed in the feeling of you. "You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen" he manages to gasp before slowly kissing your lips. It felt like his mind was blank as he could only focus on every single sensation that you make him feel.

His breath hitches at the feeling of your insides wrapped around him and a moan escapes his lips in between the kisses. Art can't even concentrate on anything in this moment apart from you. He starts to move his hips in a steady rhythm with you in his lap.

"fuck, you feel so good baby, I love you" he moans and picks you up, a yelp come out of your mouth and your body trembles in his arms as his member slides deeper than before.

He picks up the pace when he hears you moan out loud, his mind completely blissed out at the feeling of himself buried inside of you while he continues to kiss you everywhere he can reach.

His idea was to take you in your bedroom but you feel too good and his legs tremble from the pleasure, so he has no choice but to sit you on the table, him between your legs as he pick up his pace.

A surprised gasp escapes your mouth at the change of positions. He spreads your thighs further apart and his hips snaps against you and a groan escapes his lips.

You bring his face to yours and kiss him deeply, your tongues intertwined and your hands slide to his shoulders to dig your nails there and Art moans at the pain mixed with pleasure, one of his supports his weight off of you by resting on the table and the other finds your clit to rub it in circular motions to stimulate you further.

He moans into your mouth the second your tongue finds its way to his and his body presses against you while he does so. That action alone causes him to be deeper inside you and his eyes flutters close despite his best efforts to keep them open to look at you.

"Art- fuck" you moan and tremble against him, your chests pressed together before you let yourself lay against the table completely

He stands back to look at your spread out body, you look so beautiful that it almost physically hurts him, he gets out of you to turn you around, you whine in response but lay against the table again without much struggle, he slips inside of you again

His pace now is slow and he stops your hips as they try to meet his, you whine in protest

"Art please... go faster" you look back at him, your eyes pleading while your elbows support your weight, he lowers himself until his chest is pressed against your back and his mouth is close to you left ear "tell me you are mine" he orders while he bottoms out inside of you.

The way he says that in your ear combined with how deep he is inside of you makes you whimper and shiver runs down your back. "I'm yours" you breathe and your eyes flutter by the feeling of him pressed so close against you. You feel like you're being wrapped up in Art and that feeling alone makes you feel so loved "I'm all yours, please..."

"I swear I'm only yours Art" you say again and his right arm goes around your neck while he brings you up with him in a straight position.

His hand tightens around your neck, making sure the pressure is light as his other hand slips around your stomach to hold you up against him. He then starts to move inside you with slow even strokes. "That's right you're mine..." he groans into your ear, "I love you so much..."

The new position makes his cock hit your cervix and you eyes gets watery from tears of pleasure, he picks up his pace "I'm going to cum Art"

"me too baby" his hands goes to your clit again and your walls spams around his shaft "can I cum inside of you?" you nod furiously and turn your head to kiss him, when you cum your mouths are still joined and he slides as deep as he can as he reaches his climax too, his mouth now on your left shoulder and your hands wraps around both of his wrists.

You stay still for a moment, your bodies joined together as your mouths lets out shaky laughs and breaths, he slide out of you delicately and turns you to sit you properly on the table again, his Hans on your thighs as they tremble.

Even in this moment you look the perfect combination of beautiful and wrecked to him. "I still can't believe how prefect you look all the time" he mumbles as he brushes some loose hair behind your ears softly.

You smile and pepper his face with sweet kisses that makes Art close his eyes in content, you slide off of the woodened forniture and take his hands in yours, "how about we take this to the bedroom, my love?"

He immediately nods in response and his eyes flutters when he feels your lips on his face. He feels like in this moment he could stand here and let you shower him with kisses forever. "Lead the way" he mumbles with a lazy tired smile on his face, his eyes follows you while you make your way to the bedroom.

━━━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━━━

do not copy or repost.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson fluff #challengers fic #challengers #art donaldson

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makeyoumine69 · 2 months ago

Text

Falling Back to You

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Insecure!Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You ran away from Patrick because you thought you were not good enough for him.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Angst, navel-gazing, depression, implied violence, making out, hurt/comfort.

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]; [MY IMAGINES AND SHORT REQUESTS].

A lingering, almost suffocating kiss of desperation sealed your lips the moment you crossed the threshold of Bateman's apartment, and to your surprise, nothing has changed. Literally nothing—the almost sterile minimalism, the blinding white walls, and that damn white couch you used to make out on so many times. All these memories felt like they were from your previous life and you never thought that one day you would be here again, scooped up in his arms as Patrick held you close, afraid that you would disappear like a mirage.

If only he could know how hard it was for you to make the heartbreaking decision to run away from him, to leave him alone again, just when he thought he had found a person he could call his true love—a soulmate. But you never really told him about your own demons that were haunting you—all the endless thoughts of not being good enough, all the doubts and obsessive thoughts. You were too embarrassed to even think about opening up to anyone else, considering the world you lived in. In the end, the dark thoughts took over and the fear of getting your heart broken forced you to leave Patrick without explaining anything to him. You ran away and hated yourself for it. But there wasn't a single day when you didn't think about him, what he was doing and who he was spending his nights and days with.

Because after all the things that happened, and the things that never should have happened, you loved him. And you loved him so much that sometimes you could cry from that unbridled feeling that knotted in your chest and threatened to set you ablaze like a dying star that would one day explode and destroy the entire galaxy.

"Why did you do that?" Patrick's voice was so quiet and weak—those sleepless nights didn't go unnoticed. "Why did you leave me?"

And once again you were on the couch, just like the first time Bateman brought you to his place. Biting your lower lip to stop yourself from sobbing, you looked up at his face as the man hovered over you, then pressed your hand against his soft cheek. This small physical contact forced him to let out a sigh of despair and exhaustion as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. How many days did he search for you? At one point, Patrick was so depressed that he was sure he would never find you because New York was so big and the chances of finding you were literally dwindling by the day, until your best friend called him and told him everything you were going through.

"I... I just thought it would be better for you if I disappeared," you murmured, cupping his face with both hands, causing him to open his brown eyes and God, how much you missed them. "I'm so sorry, Patrick."

After a short exhale, Bateman took one of your hands and planted a soft kiss on it before doing the same with your other hand.

"Uh, you're such a silly little girl," he bent down to peck the tip of your nose. "My silly little girl," Patrick pulled you into another passionate kiss, his big palm caressing your neck while another trailed up your hip under the hem of your beautiful red dress. "I've seen you so many times in my dreams that I wanted to stay in them forever."

And that was the moment when you gave in to your emotions, finally allowing yourself to be vulnerable and not trying to suppress the tears that had been forming in the corners of your eyes all this time. Grabbing his broad shoulders, you squeezed the smooth material of his shirt as you nestled into his strong frame, wanting to be one with him, to smell like him, to breathe him in like oxygen.

"I missed you so m-much," you whimpered through the tears that made it difficult for you to speak. "I should have told you everything... but instead... I just ran away like a coward."

The man didn't say anything at first, but then he suddenly sat up and pulled you onto his lap, your hands instinctively finding their way to his neck and hugging it as if it was your only anchor to reality. Inhaling the sweet scent of your hair, Patrick laced your waist and rested his chin on the top of your head, caressing and stroking you, but never trying to cross the line or making any snide comments. It was strange to you, knowing how sex-obsessed and cocky he always was.

"Are you mad at me?" You asked abruptly, raising your wet eyes to him. "Tell me you're mad at me...please!"

Trapped in his own thoughts, Bateman just shook his head, his hands still roaming over your lower back and shoulders, their warmth like balm to your bleeding heart. And when you were about to scream to make him speak, he suddenly pecked your forehead with the most genuine affection and tenderness you had ever experienced.

"I'm not mad at you...and I've never been mad at you," he whispered into your ear, burying his nose in your hair with his eyes closed. "But I know you're afraid of me...of what I might do. And what I've already done."

You had to clench your hands to stop yourself from screaming, but instead of pushing him away, you just pressed yourself closer to him.

"Stop it!" You blurted out, covering your ears. "Stop saying that! I'm not afraid of you..." your voice wavered and you felt the salty taste of your tears on the tip of your tongue. "...because I love you."

The second these words fell from your lips, you felt his whole body tense and then his warm hands covered yours to remove them from your ears and you let him do it. There were still so many things you wanted to say to him, but Patrick was faster, covering your mouth with his and pouring everything he had into this kiss, brushing away your tears with his thumb.

"Even if I die at your hand one day... I will never leave you again," you managed to add between kisses. "Never."

Patrick's breath hitched, his fingers tightening imperceptibly against your skin, as if anchoring himself to the weight of your words. For a moment, the mask of polished composure slipped—his eyes, usually sharp as a blade, softened into something raw, almost human. You could see the gears turning behind them, the war between the part of him that craved dominance and the part that, against all odds, craved you.

"You..." he began, his voice uncharacteristically unstable, before trailing off. His thumb traced the line of your jaw, a gesture so tender it made your chest ache. When he spoke again, his tone was low, deliberate, as if each syllable were a land mine. "You think love is enough to survive me?"

There was no mockery in the question, only hollow curiosity. You could feel the pulse in his throat quicken beneath your palm, the slight trembling in his hands as they slid up to cradle your face. His gaze bored into yours, searching for doubt, for the flicker of fear he'd come to expect. But you held firm, even as the shadows in his eyes deepened.

"I don't want to survive you," you whispered, your lips brushing his. "I want to know you. All of you."

A sharp, almost painful sound escaped him—a laugh, or perhaps a gasp. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm and uneven. "You're a terrible liar," he murmured, but there was no bite. Instead, his mouth found yours again, slower this time, a collision of hunger and something dangerously close to awe; his hands slid under the fabric of your dress, fingertips tracing the ridges of your spine like a man memorizing scripture.

When Bateman pulled back, his expression had shifted—the vulnerability smothered beneath a familiar, predatory glint. But his voice remained disarmingly soft. "You'll regret this," he said, almost kindly, as his thumb brushed the swell of your lower lip. "They always do." You opened your mouth to argue, but he silenced you with a kiss that made your head spin. When he pulled away, he smiled. "But I'll let you try."

In the weeks that followed, Patrick oscillated between these two extremes: the man who brought you coffee in bed, who memorized the cadence of your laughter, and the specter who disappeared for days at a time, returning with blood under his nails and a darkness in his stare that dared you to ask. You never did.

And when he held you at night, his arms a vise around your ribs, you pretended not to notice the way he pressed his ear to your chest, listening—as if to make sure your heart still beat for him and him alone.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

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ghostgirl-22 · 1 month ago

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ok but imagine art and patrick at a frat party.. patrick’s already hyper aware of his bisexuality and feelings for art, arts still repressed as hell. theyre drunk, some guy starts flirting with patrick, art is clearly jealous but doesnt know what this feeling is (“am i homophobic? why do i care so much?” etc). patrick notices this and leans into it, starts flirting back w the guy, fucks him in the bathroom or w/e, finally explores his bisexuality. art feels CRAZY after this, finally notices hes so jealous and wanted to be this guy so bad.. crazy sexual tension ensues. idk if this is too specific but i see it so clearly….

I have been excited for this prompt forever. Idk if you’re still around the fandom anon after all this time 😭 but ily and this prompt <33 I didn’t do it justice but I had fun and so did my Colorado native heart.

CW: 18+ NSFW, never proofreading is the standard, Art is manipulative and kind of an asshole here but it’s just because he’s a fucking terror when he’s in love 😔

—-

It’s the middle of February and Patrick’s not in Palo Alto but he’s still at a Stanford event. “It’s this annual ski trip so many different frats and athletes go. Anyone who’s anyone will be there.” Art explains. “Tashi was supposed to go with me but you know… the girls won the final.”

Patrick knows all about that. Tashi’s playing in Austrailia. Her family made it a whole trip and she’s got another Adidas photoshoot that’ll be showing exclusively over there. In pro tennis the American season is still on hiatus, he can’t really afford to call Austrailia every night and he’s kinda bored so that’s how he ended up in Colorado for the weekend.

He’s on the slopes with Art and his tennis friends in the daytime but that night Stanford takes over the lodge and there’s this epic pool party. The pools are heated, there’s two hot tubs. Tons of pizza in the lobby and drinks outside. There’s even a DJ it’s like a full on frat party in the mountains. Everyone’s staying in the resort, kids are making out, hooking up, trying to hide more elicit substances like weed and ecstasy from the so called “adult” chaperones. It makes Patrick kinda wish he would’ve enrolled.

He’s lifting himself out of the pool, sitting up on the edge, half drunk when it happens. The cold air feels so nice on his heated skin. He thinks its an accident at first when this guy nudges his knee. Patrick smiles at him, just to show it’s no big deal. He grins back. He’s cute, pale blue eyes, dyed black hair, a lip ring. He’s skinny, a couple tattoos. He looks a little like the guy from Blink 182 Patrick touched himself for when that what’s my age again video came out.

He knows it by now. What he only suspected when he was younger. That he’s bicurious.

If getting weird feelings about Robin in that Batman and Robin cartoon when he was a kid wasn’t enough. Then spending 6 years developing the most delicious masochistic crush on his roommate that culminated in a kiss he can’t stop thinking about definitely did the trick. Pretty boy is chewing on his lip ring, smiling up at Patrick and checking him out. And yeah, Patrick definitely likes boys.

He’s had a little experience. Some kissing, heavy petting, dry humping another player in the back of his jeep after a bad day on tour. Made him feel better. He hasn’t really told Tashi… he doesn’t think of it as cheating. It’s something he can’t really get from her anyway.

“Dude, hurry, lets get some more drinks,” Art sits up next to him on the pools ledge, he’s all tipsy, wet and flushed. He looks so goddamn good right now. It's actually a cosmic joke. Pretty boy frowns and Patrick shakes his head just the slightest bit, hoping he understands that there’s nothing going on between them.

“Come on, man,” Art says as he gets to his feet. “I’m already cold.” They were in the middle of a game of pool volleyball. It’s enough like tennis that they’re kinda good at it. And Art’s been flirty with this tall girl, Porsha from the girls volleyball team all night. Which is probably why he’s actually in a hurry, to get a drink back to her.

Patrick figures maybe pretty boy wants a drink. They pad along the cold ground to the drinks table. It’s cold enough outside that nothing really has to be chilled, it’s nice and cold just sitting out on the table. As Patrick scoops up another beer, pretty boy approaches him.

“Hey,” he smiles.

Patrick smiles back. “You want one?” He holds up the can he was gonna bring over.

“Thanks, but I’m actually straight edge.”

“Oh,” Patrick says, not overly familiar with the term but he thinks it’s hot all the same.

Pretty boy looks over Patrick’s body, still checking him out. “Are you a freshman? I feel like I’ve never seen you before?”

“I don’t go here, my buddy Art does,” Patrick gestures.

“Hey,” Art says lightly, and then looks back at Patrick. “Come on Pat it’s fucking cold.”

”Guess you gotta go Pat,” pretty boy smirks, stepping closer.

“Patrick,” Patrick says, “he’s the only one that…yeah…”

“Got it,” pretty boy reaches up to finger the small gold Star of David necklace Patrick’s grandfather gave him that Patrick usually forgets he’s wearing.

“What’s your name?” Patrick asks.

“Julian.” He rakes his hand down the front of Patrick’s chest. “your body’s kind of incredible.”

“Okay… cool man,” Art is still lingering, and Patrick can’t believe he almost forgot about him. Art’s eyes are narrowed in Julians direction. “Aren’t you in the student government or something?” He demands.

“Not by choice, I’m just a genius at math and my friend is VP so they made me assistant treasurer,” his eyes haven’t left Patrick’s body. “You want to go inside for a little bit and you know… hang out?”

Patrick’s been kinda horny all night. He’s horny and curious and Julian is really fucking hot so he shrugs. “Yeah.”

“What? Seriously?” Art asks.

“Look I’m getting tired man.” Patrick lies. “But you have fun, I’ll see you… tomorrow.” He glances at Julian and he grins.

“You really think I have a shot with Porsha?” Art says, scratching his head.

“I dunno but you’ll have the room to yourself either way,” Patrick smirks.

Art’s eyes go wide. He looks again at Julian like it’s just now dawning on him what’s happening.

“Uh…” he steps back and stumbles a bit bumping into someone else that steadies him as he comes up to the table and steals a couple beers before hurrying back to the hot tub.

“Right, later man,” Patrick says, amused by the way Art seems to be glitching out. Patrick still can’t believe after all this time that Art doesn’t know… but whatever he’ll live. At least until tomorrow when they can talk about it. Patrick starts walking over to grab his towel and his things.

“Wait I’m— I’m tired too,” Art says, following him. Patrick raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t argue when Art decides to accompany them back to the lodge. Walking in between them. “Maybe we should go back to the room and call Tashi. It’s probably 12 in the afternoon there.” He says when they get inside. “Tashi’s his girlfriend by the way,” Art adds to Julian. He can be a total dick when he wants to be actually.

“Tashi Duncan?” Julian asks.

“Yeah… I mean… yes. She’s technically my girlfriend.” Patrick says, glaring at Art. He looks triumphant like he’s ready to see Patrick try and dig himself out of it.

“Technically,” Julian smirks. “Why do all straight boys have technical girlfriends, and fiancées and wives.”

��“I dunno… maybe I’m not technically straight,” Patrick says.

Art makes a strangled sound which Patrick ignores.

“I figured.”

“How’d you know?”

“I was watching you,” Julian says, glancing quickly at Art before looking back to Patrick.

“Right,” Patrick mutters, feeling a bit pathetic about the fact that it’s this obvious to everyone but Art.

“Yeah I’ll probably have to call her or something tomorrow… let her know I’m bisexual.” Patrick says, dryly.

Art laughs. “No way, Pat. One kiss doesn’t make us fucking bisexual.” He’s gone quite red and he looks irritated. “We kissed a couple months ago by the way. Me and him.” He blurts to Julian.

It’s not like Art to bring that up at all. Much less in front of another person unprovoked. Tashi would sooner bring it up just to watch him turn into a cherry, then Art just outright admitting it. If Patrick didn’t know better he’d call it jealousy.

“I agree, Donaldson right? You’re a tennis player?”

“Yeah and it’s…Art,” Art says, coolly.

“Well that’s… a name. I guess you should thank god you’re pretty.”

“I—I thank god all the time actually,” Art says, a silly counter for an unnecessary but amusing fight Art is trying to pick.

“Well that’s great man, and he’s right… one kiss doesn’t necessarily make you bisexual… but you know… we can do more than kiss.” Julian places his palm on Patrick’s bare tummy.

“Patrick that’s…that’s not a good idea! you’re gonna end up losing Tashi. I— I want to help you but I can’t if you’re gonna cheat on her. Just come back to the room with me. I won’t even tell her or anything.” He’s fucking jealous. God. Patrick wants to laugh. This is incredible.

“Okay fine, I’m coming. Can you take this?” He hands Art his wallet which has been useless all night since everything was paid for by the student event association or whatever and his unopened can of beer. He keeps his phone, his room key and his towel. “I’ll be up there in five minutes.”

Art lingers a little longer.

”dude go, I’m coming I promise.”

It’s a promise he totally keeps. In the bedroom where they don’t even make it to the bed… he comes. Julian has lube and condoms in his backpack. They’re making out in the elevator, in the hallway. and before they’re two steps into Julian's bedroom he’s pressed up against Patrick. Teasing fingers inside. Rolling a condom on and slathering it in so much lube. pressing into Patrick, slowly at first. it feels so big and achy and intense. And then Patrick’s guiding it towards his prostate. The angle where he fingers himself sometimes when he wants to come so hard he blacks out. It’s even better with a fully hard dick inside. Better with Julian’s teasing words in his ear.

“I know a yearner when I see one. You wish I was that silly little blonde twink so fucking bad, don’t you. Imagine him fucking you like this. Filling you up till you’re incoherent. Filling every hole you have. Fucking you so deep you can’t feel anything else but the thick hard ache of it.”

“Mm fuck, yes,” Patrick can’t help it. It feels like he’s seeing god over and over. Every thrust, every word taking him to new heights. It’s barely any time at all before he’s unloading all over the bedroom door breathless and moaning. Then they’re making out again on the floor, Patrick crawling all over Julian before a second round and a third. His first time, and this is so hot. He feels so good he almost falls asleep in there but when he picks up his phone to glance at it there’s like 20 missed calls and text messages.

Oh Art is sick.

Patrick barely gathers himself together and makes his way back to their room. It’s almost 2 in the morning but Art is awake watching tv. He’s finished another 2 beers. His eyes are a little red. His cheeks, a little streaky. He’s still in his swim trunks and his hair is nearly dried, his curls all messy. god Patrick can feel the blood rushing immediately right back into his dick.

Art glares at Patrick and then does a dramatic flop onto his pillow, turning his back to him.

“Oh come on,” Patrick says, laughing.

“What the fuck is so funny?” Art mutters.

“You.” Patrick approaches his bed and knees into it.

“You know you just cheated on the greatest girl ever right? Cheating on Tashi for some gay loser emo with a star tattoo.”

”It was a starfish, I saw it… up close…for like 2 hours,” Patrick smirks.

“Well aren’t you fucking special. I’m sure your mom will be proud.”

“Why? did you call her?” Patrick snorts as he collapses onto the bed next to him. He stops himself, as always, from rubbing Arts' ridiculously perky ass.

“I fucking should,” Art sits up and renews his glare. “What if he had an std? Then you bring it back to Tashi?”

”we used a condom. And i don’t remember you giving this much of a shit when I cheated on my high school girlfriends.”

“It’s Tashi man, you would really fucking do this to her?”

“And you’d really fucking cry about it?” Patrick reaches up, brushing a knuckle along his soft cheek. Art shoves him off. “You should be giddy that I couldn’t stop myself. I’m surprised you didn’t call her.”

“I did,” Art mutters.

“Ah. So you are still an asshole, I was worried.”

“She doesn’t even fucking care man.” Art mutters defeated. “She basically said why am I telling her about it if you need a dick and she doesn’t have one. and while she’s in Australia of all places."

Patrick chuckles for the way he and Tashi had a similar thought process and for Arts dumb jealous meddling not getting him the result he hoped for.

“Your mom would be upset though,” Art says, he sounds hopeful.

“God, Art. What is the big fucking deal? Why do you want someone to be mad at me because I fucked a guy? Are you homophobic or something?”

“What? What?! No.” He says quickly. “Im not fucking homophobic dude. I… you know my cousin is a lesbian and… and I could care less.” He’s turning red. “I’m not um… I’m definitely not a homophobe. That’s not fair.”

”Well then, what is the real problem? Is it that I wanted to get fucked? Is it because I wanted to feel some hot boys’ hard dick in my ass fucking into me over and over?” He says explicitly just to watch Art squirm. And boy is he squirming. He can’t sit still, can’t look at Patrick. Hes got his hands shoved in his lap, between his crossed legs, his face all twisted up.

“That’s… that’s…not my… you shouldn’t be… you shouldn’t be just…” he stammers out but he just can’t… finish.

“Art? Come on, what is it?” Patrick prods, a little softer now. “Tell me. Is it Julian?” Giving him an out.

Art nods his head, grasping at the new reason to tell Patrick why he shouldn’t. “Yes actually. I mean, you don’t know anything about him. He’s got all those tattoos for all you know he could be a… he could be violent or something. Plus I heard he's a loser… you wouldn’t know because you don’t go here but someone told me he sucks. I mean… he’s lame. And he’s not even that good looking or anything… you could at least find an athlete or like someone on a sports team or—”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “You’re fucking ridiculous. You know that, right?” He mutters sitting up and leaning in close. “How about next time… if you don’t want another boy to fuck me… you just fuck me yourself.”

The way Art’s expression changes so quickly to one of exaggerated shock and incredulity is actually amusing. “W-what?” He says, his Adams Apple bobbing.

“You heard me, you little shit,” Patrick smirks, leaning in closer. Art’s little tongue flits across his bottom lip, his eyes dart down to Patrick’s mouth then back up again.

”I don’t… I’m not…” he stammers, but Patrick grips his chin and he’s immediately pliable. Let’s Patrick pull him closer, till he’s leaning in near Patrick’s open mouth. Art licks a hesitant stripe across Patrick’s lips and then the flood gates open. He’s kissing Patrick, open mouthed, heated wet tongue slipping in and out and all around. Everywhere as he moans. If Patrick was seeing god before he’s pretty sure he probably is god at this point for how fucking incredible this feels.

Patrick reaches into his lap. He’s as hard as he can possibly be. Of course he is. All this drama and all he really had to say was don’t go with him, fuck me instead. The most ridiculous person Patrick knows.

He’s up on his knees, grabbing at Patrick’s face, then his body. Kisses so wet and eager that Patrick feels dizzy. Patrick settles onto his back, on the pillow, let’s Art fall on top of him, arms on either side of Patrick’s body, hips between Patrick’s thighs, he starts grinding up against Patrick’s ass, against his cock and balls, humping him like he’s humping into a pillow.

“Mm you should fuck me,” Patrick hums into Arts mouth. “I wanna lose my virginity again.” He grins. He’s still wet for how much lube Julian used to fuck him loose and slippery. God getting fucked by two different boys on the same night he first loses it for a boy. This’ll be a story for his grand kids.

“Fuck,” Art whines loudly before kissing Patrick again. “You should have just fucking…never let that loser… he shouldn’t get to…” Art’s all shaky, there’s this bright light in his eyes. Like he’s worked himself up into a frenzy. “I can fuck you so much better than him.” He starts grabbing at Patrick’s swim trunks. Tugging them down.

“I can fuck you better. Fuck him.” He breathes, as he grabs at Patrick’s dick with his shaky hands and swallows. Every touch between them feels electric, Patrick’s tingling all over, in a way he wasn’t earlier. It’s actually crazy. Art is holding his dick, he slaps it against Patrick’s tummy and bends over to lick at the length. His perfectly pink tongue licking heated stripes all up and down and along his balls. over and over again. Sloppy and messy and so wet. Spit everywhere. Just when Patrick thinks he’s gonna come by this alone. Art huffs, his heated breath ghosting along Patrick’s dick, along his upper thighs. “I can fuck you so much better.”

He sits up on his knees again and pulls his own dick out. His pretty perfect dick. Been perfect ever since Patrick first saw it. It was even more perfect the last time he saw it. When they jerked it simultaneously the last month of high school. Talking about Tashi. Not mentioning the kiss but the memory of it vivid in Patrick’s mind as Art was breathing heavy and ragged right next to him making him come so much faster.

“You can fuck me. I’m wet already, baby,” Patrick whispers. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t wait for you but I’m really fucking wet for you.”

“Fuck you,” Art looks more determined now. His eyes filling with water and it’s probably so fucked up, but watching him tear up makes Patrick’s cock twitch, even more eager to come again.

Art pushes himself inside and god, Patrick feels his body light up. Energy nearly as overwhelming as the night they kissed with Tashi. He couldn’t really compare anything to what it feels like to fuck Tashi before now. Art sniffling and teary eyed and fucking into his prostate. Slamming into it. Feels just as fucking good.

“You’re fucking mine, he doesn’t get to have you ever again, fuck you your mine,” Art is flushed so pretty, the way he looked in the heated pool. “Mine,” Art keeps muttering as he thrusts his hips over and over and over again. Patrick is seeing stars, nearly blacking out for every punctuation of the word.

“Fuck yes,” Patrick groans loudly as he’s getting close. “I’m all fucking yours baby. Fuck it all out of me. Make me yours forever.”

“Fuck Patrick I’m gonna—“

“Mm shit… come on… you can do more. Keep fucking me with that perfect dick, pretty boy. Fucking fill me up.”

”Patrick…” Art whines. “Oh Patrick…Patrick… oh fuck… I’m sorry….fuck nnngh…”

Heated liquid is filling Patrick up, making him even more of a mess as Art collapses into his arms. “Oh fuck,” Art starts properly crying. “I couldn’t even fucking…” he groans as he slips out.

God, Patrick wishes he wasn’t so fucking hard right now. All he can think about is Art’s soft red cheeks, wet eyes and clumped lashes, wet face, wet mouth. Wet all over and Patrick almost feels guilty for how badly he wants him to cry more.

“It’s okay… shh… ‘t’s okay. I’m gonna get you hard again,” Patrick whispers.

“Really?” art sniffles.

“Mmhm, come on… it’s gonna be fucking easy.” Patrick says lightly. He kisses Art’s wet cheek, tasting salty tears on his lips. and Art turns into it… taking Patrick’s mouth again, between sniffles. It’s easy really. Art is so easy— when Patrick can get him to be honest with himself. Fucking dream come true.

#challengers fic #challengers smut #artrick #art x patrick #art donaldson smut #patrick zweig smut

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senseofnewness · 9 months ago

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lovesick!patrick zweig because why not

• when he first saw you at the academy, he knew he had to have you, there was something mesmerizing about the way you moved, running off the court with your racket in hand, your tennis skirt fluttering with each stride, revealing the hem of your shorts that barely covered your perky ass

• sure he was a horny boy and the mere sight of the bare skin of your thighs drove him wild, but there was something so irresistibly attractive about your obliviousness to your own beauty, you were simply playing, enjoying yourself, completely unaware of the effect you had on him

• he finally gathered the courage to introduce himself, seizing upon a stray ball as his excuse, you smiled, a radiant beam showcasing your perfect, pearly white teeth and plump glossy lips, his breath hitched, heart skipped a beat, in that moment he not only stuttered saying his own name but envisioned you moaning it in his ear later on tonight

• at first, the attraction was purely physical, your stunning beauty evident in your little tennis dress that embraced your godly proportions, your long, graceful hair tied back in a tight ponytail, your legs moving swiftly across the court, and your hands gripping the racket so tightly that he longed for his cock to replace it soon enough

• he later found out that you were not only the hottest woman he had ever seen, you were also smart, witty, passionate and caring, you made him laugh with every comment you sent his way when you meet him at the water fountain, your little unofficial meeting place

• he began to perform small gestures to show his affection : fetching extra water bottles for you, offering you snacks during breaks, and even staying late to help you practice your serve, you noticed, of course, and you liked the attention

• one evening, as you confided your doubts about going pro, he struggled to offer encouraging words, relating a bit too much, but hoped the soothing sensation of his hand stroking your arm provided the comfort you needed, while it had the opposite effect on him, he was on fire

• he spent hours talking with you after practice, every night, about your lives, dreams, and desires, feeling closer to you than ever, you were now more than just a crush, he adored everything about you, from the way you giggled to the playful slap you gave him when he flirted a bit too openly

• after some pep talk from art, he decided to make his intentions clearer with you, waiting for you to get changed after practice and grabbing your hand to lead you outside to talk, he confessed he liked you, and you simply answered "why", leaving him at a loss for words as there wasn't any real explanation for love

• he pulled you into a long lingering kiss, a kiss so sweet that his heart shattered a little because he knew something so good could not last forever, "i don't have time to date" you told him, "i can wait until you have time" he assured you

• you didn't have time to date, but you always found time to get yourself cornered somewhere, your arms wrapped around patrick's neck and his hands on the small of your back as you kissed passionately

• hands started wandering and soon, it was getting harder to breath for him when your hands were so dangerously close to his length, almost fondling him, he had been a good boy until now but you're tempting him to be bad

• he went to your matches and you went to his, but he found out rather quickly after a match you couldn't attend that your absence was causing him to lose, his mind filled with questions about your whereabouts instead of focusing on the ball and his racket

• while he knew there was nothing official between you two, you had made it clear, why did it break his heart to see you talk with other men? sure, he did see other girls from time to time to take care of the blue balls you gave him, but weren't you the one with no time to date?

• in the midst of the season, you were excelling while he struggled, and he couldn't help but blame it all on you, he confronted you, pleading for a chance to have you, just once, one night, so he could purge you from his system and return to his former self

• "i'm not fucking you patrick" you said, rolling your eyes at him "why not" he asked, nibbling his lower lip "because i know you like me and you will want more" that was probably true "that's not true. and even if it was, what would be so wrong about it?" you both were attracted to each others and consenting adults "we're both about to go on tour! i need to focus" you sighed, "would i distract you?" he asked, pleased, a smirk on his lips "well, yes" you admitted, a boy was the last thing you needed

• he made you promise to revisit the subject after the tour, you agreed but only on the condition that he would win, you knew he needed the motivation but to be quite honest, you weren't so sure he was still capable of it, so you told him that any match won was a step closer to your 'divine' and 'life changing' pussy and he regained his confidence

• the following week, you both left the state, competing in different tournaments, but kept track of each other’s achievements, true to your promise, you sent him nude pictures after each victory, it began with just your breasts, and now he had a full view of your cunt

• he had looked at the pictures so often that he could swear they were burned into the inside of his eyelids, his post-match routine had turned into an endless session of masturbation, all thanks to your pictures

• thoughts of you lingered in his mind daily, coloring every moment with excitement, when he saw you on tv, his pulse quickened, and a smile effortlessly found its place on his lips, but then he remembered that you were still not his and it was breaking him

• and then he was in town at the same time as you and you gave in, it had been so long and tour was lonely, he was some warm comfort and you missed him, kinda, he knew it, so he gave you his all to prove to you that he was the one for you, the perfect guy to fulfill your needs

• he never felt that before with any girl, with your legs resting on his shoulders while he was ramming into you like a maniac, it all made sense, he felt like he was finally complete, like it was always meant to be, and it felt so good, you came, he came and so it happened again, and again, and again, and again

• he suddenly stopped fucking other girls, he wanted you to know he was serious about you, ready to settle down, get married and have kids, but the truth was that no one would ever be able to make his eyes roll back into his head and his thighs tremble like you did when you rode him

• he didn't want to play anymore, literally and figuratively, so he slowly stopped qualifying for tournaments to focus on you, to come watch your matches, he was always there, making sure you were stretched and hydrated, and he always cheered for you the loudest

• before competitions, you were always so tense and he found out that eating your cunt helped with that, he made it his life mission to make you the most relaxed girl on earth, he spent hours sucking on your clit, and you were, without a doubt, the most delicious meal he ever had

• when you lost matches, he also made sure to be there for you, holding you tight, cuddling you in bed, reassuring you that you were the best player in the world, and he was right, you were, you played with his heart like nobody else, but in those moments, he was pretty sure that he was madly in love with you and you would fall for him too

• he told you, you laughed it off, he told you again, what did he know about love? all you knew was that he was the guy who never grew up and was throwing his career away for a stupid teenage obsession

• you were eating lunch when you asked him "tennis is what you want, right?" he nodded, but the truth was that you were the only thing he truly desired, tennis seemed dull next to you. "you need to focus, you're playing like shit" you tried to be harsh to wake him up but he already knew that, but he could not do anything about it, it was your fault

• all he could do was thinking about you, enjoying the few moments he got to be with you when you were in town, he couldn't even afford to fly over to see you anymore, so he waited for you to come back, and he made sure to fall asleep inside of you each time, that way you would not leave in the middle of the night without saying goodbye

• he was not even a tennis player anymore, he barely played while you spent your time out of state or out of the country winning, sexting with patrick had lost its savour, it used to be exciting but now it just felt like it was holding you back, you were meeting new people and he was still the guy who followed you around like a puppy when you were 20

• years passed and getting back into tennis was hard for patrick, his body was rusty and he lacked motivation, you were not here to coach him to be better anymore, he had not seen you in years, plus, the fact that you had met someone, a tennis player, the kind who wins competitions, not a loser like him, was not helping, so what was the point in trying? he simply didn't know what else to do

• you went on with your life, he watched your radiant smile dazzle him from the TV screen as you held the trophy, a ring on your finger, a bittersweet ache filled him, a reminder of what might have been but never had been

• he mourned the love that slipped through his fingers, much like his career appeared to fade with each passing match, yet, amidst it all, he found a flicker of solace in knowing that you were happy, despite the fact that you should have been happy with him

#patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #challengers 🎾#challengers fic #challengers fanfic #challengers #challengers fanfiction #challengers fiction

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jesuistrestriste · 3 months ago

Note

Thinking about erectile dysfunction Art. Thinking about Tashi and Art reuniting with Patrick and you in adulthood. They have their first sexual encounter, Art is hard instantly. Tashi can’t even be mad honestly she’s practically grinning, but she also can’t help but tease him about it either. She’s hovering over him “aww you’re such a slut you need three people to get you off”, he cums faster than he ever has the entire time they’ve been together. Patrick’s having the time of his life with this and the three of them are each waiting for their chance to strike like vipers. Art has a different problem now, he can’t stay soft around them poor baby :(

ughh yeah— you + tashi + pat all crowding around poor artie on the bed and cooing down at him as his cock starts to swell for the first time in forever:/

one thing leads to another, and then you’re feverishly bouncing on his length and squeezing around it, while tashi’s fingertips tease his pretty pink nipples and pat licks at his neck’s pulse point

“i can’t believe it took three different people to get your shy cock all excited.. what a greedy boy…”

“oh? don’t need that little blue pill anymore ‘cause of us? what a slut, baby..!”

“feels so good, doesn’t it? throbbing inside while your weak spots get abused?”

“is your pathetic cock gonna let out a big load to make up for all of the times you couldn’t get it up? hmm? what do you think?”

and art’s vision just whites out completely—his pelvis bucking up into you uncontrollably and his hands grasping at the sheets while he sobs.

he’s hit with the hardest orgasm he’s had in years, all thanks to you guys. it’s so intense, in fact, that he gets lightheaded and tears start to spill down his cheeks as he reaches out for all of you. he’s whimpering and writhing against the pleasure that’s pulling him under the surface of coherency. it’s so cute.

slurring out things like—

“s-so muh-much.. can’t.. hngh.. s-so sensitive..”

—

goodbye, erectile dysfunction !

hello, constant boners ! !

#🌸 - ask prompts #he gets fucked every day #twice a day #the three of you rotate or just dogpile on top of him and ruin him #one big happy family <3 #sage’s asks #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader

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lovrre · 10 months ago

Text

Agreement prt1

Art Donaldson x Fem black reader

Warnings: cursing, infidelity(kinda), slight smut (fingering) sub ish Art. Slight he loves her more trope, needy Art and probably some other stuff

Word count: 2k

Summary: Despite being engaged to one of the top and richest tennis players in the US, you feel unfulfilled. But everything changes when you transfer schools and meet Art Donaldson, who just can’t quit you.

Author note: GUYS GUYS, PLEASE DON’T KILL ME. MY WRITERS BLOCK HAS BEEN SO BAD YOU DONT UNDERSTANDDD, But I’m finishing all my requests and unfinished fics soon so stay tuned. 😚

Sitting on the bed in your brand new silk pajamas, you found yourself distracted, just like you had been the day before and the day before that. You played with The edge of the book you were attempting to read,mindlessly repeated the last sentence over and over in your head trying to retain anything. The loud television and the whirring of the ceiling fan only added to the chaos. Plus the freezing cold air conditioning of the hotel room made it impossible to concentrate.

In a desperate attempt to regain some semblance of focus, you clumsily reached for the remote, hoping to silence at least one of the distractions. your eyes falling on your fiancé who was sleeping peacefully, his dark hair all messy, in his crisp white t-shirt that matched perfectly to the expensive hotel sheets, he looked so sweet,so innocent. You thought if he slept more, maybe everything could work out

Mike slept while snuggled into your side. Like he often did when you two shared a bed, You had attempted to remove him several times but every time he ended right back at your side so you gave up, In any other scenario his action would seem romantic but they only made you feel worse than you were already feeling. In an effort to relieve some guilt you liked to reminded yourself your engagement was never out of love but business. But then again the line did blur in the beginning of your relationship. Before you left for Stanford, you and Mike got caught up in the act of pretending be in love.

After that you could never really tell real from fake with him, he didn’t like you talking to other men. He’d shower you with really expensives grift but then leave town and not answer your calls or text for days. But when no one was watching he’d try to hug and kiss you. The whole thing was confusing, You had known idea how he persived your relationship but you knew You Felt guilty, without all the technicallys, you knew that you still lied,

The people ate up the role you and Mike played. occasionally you’d have to leave campus and go out in public holding hands or sharing kisses in the rain. But it was all for show, at least on your end. Your Dad made sure to reminded you That, it was the love sick tennis player in love with his coaches daughter that sold tickets. kept the stands full of women hoping to catch the world win romances in action. Also Brought in a large number of his clientele. He promised It wouldn’t be forever unless you wanted to be. And Really how could you complain? 20 years old engaged to One of the wealthiest and most talented tennis players in the world and he wasn't bad looking either. Before all this, you weren't too keen on love anyway, so what were you really missing out on?

~~~

Ten months before

Patrick serves but Art's attention is elsewhere. The ball zooms past Art for the second time, prompting Patrick to turn around and finally see who's behind him. His gaze lands on you, playing tennis alone on a smaller court. The sun shining off your smooth, glistening skin, and your pink tennis dress gracefully flowing with each jump and run.

"Oh, I get it," Patrick chuckles, glancing back at Art. "She's hot. You should talk to her, maybe offer her a lesson. She could use it," Patrick suggests, looking back at you as you let another tennis ball from the machine fly past you . "I think I've seen her somewhere before," Patrick mutters, tapping his racket against his leg.

Still in a daze, Art jogged over to your court. "Oh, you're serious," Patrick murmured watching as he went over to you following closely behind him. "Hi," Art greets, slightly out of breath walking up to the net. "Hi?" you respond, slightly confused, giving him a small wave.

"Are you new here?"

"To the school or the court?" You ask

"Both."

"I'm new to both” you say a little breathless wiping sweat from your forehead.

“I just transferred," you explain.

"Where did you go before?"

"A small community college in Virginia."

"What about tennis?"

"You have a lot of questions," you laugh, tapping your tennis racket against your leg.

"Im just curious “Art jokes.

"I'm just doing this because my fiancé is a tennis player. I thought I'd try to learn," you reveal.

“Finance?” Art questions.

“Yep”

“ how old are you like 20?”

“ actually 19, I turn twenty in a couple months”

“And you're getting married?” Art asked clearly dumbfounded

“Yes” you laugh at his forwardness

", is he a pro or college?", Art asked, assuming the answer would be college.

“Pro," you replied, letting your curls fall freely from your hair tie. Art couldn't help but admire how beautiful you were,too young to be tied down

"Anyone we would know?" Art asks following you as you walk over to the bench with your tennis bag. "Hmm, maybe," you hum, sitting down to tie your shoe. "Mike Fitts."

"Your fiancé is Mike Fitts!" Patrick exclaims a little too loudly. "Mhmm," you confirm, starting to tie your other shoe. "If Mike Fitts is your fiancé, why are you here?"

"Are you referring to the court or the school?" you ask, looking up at both Art and Patrick.

"Both," Art and Patrick respond in unison.

You chuckled as you stuffed your tennis racket into your bag. "Well, whether I'm engaged or not, I always planned to graduate college. And Mike is too busy right now to teach me, so I'm trying to teach myself."

The two of them nod in understanding as you stand up. "It was really nice meeting both of you, but I have class," you announce, throwing your tennis bag over your shoulder. "By the way, it would be great if you guys could keep the whole fiancé thing on the down low. I'm trying to keep it as quiet as possible for now."

"Yeah, no problem," one of them replies.

"Of course," the other adds.

"Thanks, I really appreciate it," you say giving them a small smile before turning around to leave the court.

just as you're about to walk away, Art calls out after you, "Wait! You said you're trying to learn, right? we could coach you if you want” Patrick gives him a look and Art ignores it waiting for your response.

You pause, considering the offer.

”the both of you?” you asked gesturing between them. Art gives you a nod. at that moment The risk didn't seem too big so you said

. "Sure," with small shrug

"How about tomorrow at 12:30?" you suggest, checking the pink Bvlgari watch Mike got you.

"Perfect," Art responds with a shit eating smile

“Ok see you guys ” you laugh walking out the court

~~~~~~

“Yeah see” Patrick says reading a newspaper. “Olympic coach, Dylan yLn, Daughter engaged to Olympics gold medalist Mike fitts” Patrick reads next to a photo of you and Mike smiling as you showed off your huge

engagement ring. “She wasn’t bull shitting”

“Let me see” Art says grabbing the newspaper. “She didn't have on her engagement ring when we saw her...” Art trails off

“You can't be serious” Patrick laughs

“What?”

“She’s engaged Art, not to anyone either,” Patrick leaned in on the table so only he could hear. “she’s engaged Mike Fitts!”

“I didn't say anything,” Art defends

“ you don't have to” Patrick says stealing a fry off Arts plate plopping it in him mouth.

”I know you,”

~~~~~

After that day, everything seemed to blend together. Art and Patrick dedicated themselves to training you throughout the weekdays for three entire months until you got tired of it and decided on once a week. You told Mike you found a coach but never told him who. Since they were kinda the only people you knew in the entire school, the three of you grew close fast. You started going out to bars and parties together. you had your most memorable college moments with the two of them. And then, your birthday arrived. Patrick had left for some torment and it was just you and Art.

You two were just having so much fun that night. On thing led to another And before you realized it, the two of you were constantly having “fun together”. It didn't matter where - in the dorm, in the shower, or even on the floor. It was bad, but you two couldn't stop

Trying to clear your mind you Let out a sigh. you carefully remove Mike from your side sitting up to taking a sip of you're water on the nightstand. Trying to ignore the ache of your core. This is how you spent every night away from him, needy, uncomfortable. You heard a knock at the door which almost caused you to spill water on yourself. You Quickly put your drink down and run to answer it before the person could knock again careful to be quiet not to wake up Mike.

You swung the door open to find Art standing there, hair slightly damp, with huge smile on his face. "Are you out of your mind?" you whisper, stepping out of the room and shutting the door quietly behind you. You can't help but notice his thin athletic hoodie and gym shorts. Slightly wet clinging to his skin as if he just stepped out of the shower.

"It's past one ,"Art huffed out , his voice filled with urgency and desire as he leaned in for a kiss. his hand gently cradling the side of your face in the process.

When the realization of what was happening washed over you, you pulled away, but still stayed close enough to feel his breath against your skin. "Art," you breathed out, eyes darting down the hall to check if anyone saw. Your hand instinctively found its place on his strong chest, you savored the feeling and the look of your manicured nails there, not knowing when you be able to do it again.

"I like these," Art hummed, playing with the hem of your pajama shorts. He rolled the fabric between his fingers, his big hand gracing you thighs in the process. The little touch sent shivers down your spine. You somehow composed yourself pushing him away gently with your index finger, creating some distance between you two.

He looked at you with sad eyes like a rejected puppy. "Mike’s sleeping inside," you whisper, worried someone could hear. "What does that mean?"

There was a long pause as you carefully choose your next words. Art stared at you intently, trying to decipher your expression. "You slept with him?” Art asks, as if he already knew the answer.

"No, I didn't sleep with him!” You whisper yelled, “He just showered and fell asleep," you explained,

"What's bothering you then?"

"I feel guilty."

"You didn't feel guilty at Stanford."

"Mike wasn't at Stanford."

“You care about Mike's feelings now ?" Art's asks furrows his brow, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and hurt.

" I don’t know… he’s been nicer lately and were supposed to be married in three days”

“You’re actually thinking about going through with it?” Art asked the hurt now evident in his voice.

“There’s nothing I can do now, I signed contracts, this isn’t just about us anymore I’ve told you this”

“What about the private investors?”

"That's just a 'what if,' a perfect 'what if,' but we don't even know if he's seeing someone."

“ If I win tomorrow?”

“Art If you win are lose tomorrow it doesn’t change anything, my Dad expects me at the alter on Sunday regardless, nothings gonna change that”

“But you don’t love him ”

“ I could” your words come out more a question, maybe a hope. “I loved you?”

“You love me” Art corrects

"There's too much at stake now, Art. This is my father's career. We don't come from money, this is all he has."

“You honestly believe this will ruin his career?”

“It could” you reply with a small shrug your voice cracking slightly.

“It won’t” Art response

“You don’t know that”

“ Don’t do this ” Art whispered closing the small space between you. He sounded so tortured, like he was pleading with you.

you hadn't realize it but tears welled in your eyes Threatening to spill any moment. When You blinked an a tear fell down your cheek. Art tenderly brushed it away with his thumb. The stress of the last two weeks had finally caught up to you. “it wasn’t supposed to be this hard” you murmured, your voice barely audible, tears streaming down your face as Art wiped them away.

“Do you love me?” his questions sounded genuine but you knew, he already knew the answer. ”more than i’d like to” you joke, using the back of your hand to dry your eyes.

“Then let me make you feel better,” Art whispered leaning down so he was directly above your ear.

“You’re right about what you said earlier, Mike wasn’t there at Stanford”. He paused for a second moving a piece of your hair out the way, “I was,” he hummed brushing his face against yours “just me and you” he whispered leaving a trail of kisses on the outside of your earlobe down your neck. Causing Your breath catch in your throat .“We had fun right?” Art question, his voice deep and breathy causing you to instinctively press your legs together as you leaned back against the door. “Art” you mumble trying to shake the sexual haze that was swirling inside you.

“I missed you” he whispered his free hand slinking up the side of you short griping your thigh, hiking your leg up slightly. “So bad…All day”

“we can't” you manage to breathe out unconvisingly.

“I’ll beg,”

“Art” you warned

“I’ll do anything baby” he mumbles leaving slowly kisses on your neck. “Anything you want me to” he says kissing under your chin. “ I need you” he hums kissing down your neck, ”don’t you need me?” Art asked kissing below your ear. You don't respond giving small nodd biting the inside of your lip. “Can I hear it?” Art asked, the way his voice sounded so desperate, Damn near whiney had you looking for friction. ”I need you so fucking bad” you basically moan pushing your body against his.

“I love you so much you don't understand” Art said smiling against you cheek. sliding his free hand down the front of your shorts. He rubs his fingers through your folds collecting your wetness on his fingers. You throw your head back with a quiet moan, quickly biting your lip to silence yourself. “Fuck your so wet” Art groans before pulling his hand from your shorts, sucking his fingers clean like it was second nature. You clenched around nothing at the sight.

“I missed that taste” he groans returning his hand to your heat. “Can I make you cum right here” Art huffed out peeping down the hall.

"Yea,” you breathed out, nodding your head feverishly. He could have asked you to drive to the moon in that moment, and you would have said yes. Art slowly pushed two fingers inside of you creating a medium pace before bringing his thumb to rub your clit, you moan lifting your hips to meet his fingers. “Fuck I could eat you out right here” Art groaned watching you Practically fuck yourself on his fingers. “Promise me you won't ever let him see you like this” Art goans leaving kisses on your collar done. “this is mine”

”You can bearly hear a word he's saying the feeling of his thumb on your clit and finger damn near touching you cervix was too much to bear. “I’m gonna cum” you moaned out grabbing Arts shoulder hard in an effort to ground yourself. “I can feel it,” Art breathed pressing his forehead against yours. He presses down harder on your clit causing you to buck into his fingers, letting out a loud moan You cum. his movement don't falter, he continues to pump them in and out while still rubbing your clit until he feels like you've finally had enough.

he removes his fingers from your pussy returning them to his mouth. “I’ll never get tired of that” Art laughs leaning in for a kiss, you return it, taste yourself on his lips. He gently places you leg back on the floor and you stumbled slightly grading his shoulder for balance. He instantly goes to your waist holding you steady. “You ok?” Art ask slight consern on his face. You don't respond afraid of what your voice would sound like after an orgasm like that.

You nod with a smile and Art led you to the hotel room directly next to yours, pulling out a key card from his pocket with a grin.

“You didn't,” you exclaimed as he opened the door.

“I did,” he replied, motioning for you to enter.

“How did you even know our room number?” you ask, stepping inside.

“I have my ways,” he answered, closing the door behind you.

“How did you afford this?” you asked, looking around.

“Are you going to keep ask questioning or are you going to take of your clothes” Art laughs , watching as you sit on the bed.

“You first,” you countered, settling back .

“Yes ma’am,” Art chuckled, starting to undress.

~~~~

Morning arrives and you found yourself back in your original room. Mike was in the bathroom getting ready while you fix your dress in the mirror of the bedroom. As you adjust the straps, you notice a hickey you hadn't seen before, one you forgot to cover up after coming back last night. You laid your hair over it and walk towards the bathroom to retrieve your makeup bag, slightly tripping as your sore legs gave out on you. "You good?" Mike asked, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, I think I'm just sore from tennis practice," you say, reaching past him to get your makeup bag.

"You know no one expects you to play," Mike laughs while drying his hair with a towel. "I'm not doing it for anyone, I want to learn," your words come out more offended than you intended. "I just mean you could spend your time doing something else."

"Like what?" You respond plainly, walking out of the bathroom back to the mirror. "Like calling your dad and asking him what time he'll be here," Mike says from the now open bathroom. "Is your phone not working?" You asked rhetorically, pulling out your concealer . "I don't want to fight today, okay," Mike Replies sternly, looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. "This is a big match," he mumbles while running his toothbrush under the water.

"I thought you said it was going to be 'nothing,'" you chuckle dryly, applying the concealer as his face was turned. "It is, but from what your Dad's been saying, he's been getting good. So I'd like to be on my A-game and not have you trying to start shit."

"Whatever you want honey" you respond, quietly laughing in disbelief. He had resorted right back to his old ways,How could you ever agree to marry someone like him, someone so vastly different from the man you spent the night with.

~~~~

soon as you and Mike were finished getting ready, your father called you to come downstairs to join him for breakfast. You and Mike both stood in line, slightly overdressed, picking out your favorite breakfast items. Mike only getting French toast, disregarding his strict diet. Suddenly, you heard a familiar laughter and turned around to see Art chatting with your father near the entrance. Your heart sank as your father motioned for you both to come over. After dropping off your plates, you and Mike walked towards them, feeling Mike's hand slip around your waist.

"I'd like you to meet someone," your father announced with a smile, putting his arm around Art's shoulder. "This is Art Donaldson," he introduced, "the man I'm competing against today." Mike stated extending his hand for a handshake, and Art reciprocated. Your stomach churned at the sight. "This is Mike, you know him, he's also my daughter's fiancé." Your father says with a smile.

"Stressful, huh?" Art jokes. "Oh, you have no idea," your Dad replies, laughing. "You're both at the same college, right? Stanford?" your Dad asked, nodding towards you. “maybe you could try your luck at training her because I just can't get through," your dad jokes. Art's eyes rake over you, as if looking at you for the first time. "It be my pleasure" Art smiles, looking directly at you. You to discreetly warn him with your eyes but You notice Mike's grip on your waist tighten, clearly not pleased. "Actually, I've been training y/n already, she's improving every day," Mike says, planting a quick kiss on your head.

"Really?" Art inquires, trying to keep up the act to the best of his abilities. "Monday through Friday," Mike replies with a smug grin. “How do you manage with your Busy schedule?” Art asks tilting his head to the side slightly in the process.

“You find time for the people you love,” Mike says with a fake smile. You had to physically hold back your laugh. But you played it off as wiping your face. He had taken a line straight from media training. Silence filled the air as the two have a silent conversation with their eyes.

“Well I wanted to introduce all of you, as I will officially be coaching Art starting next fall,"

Your Dad says in an attempt to break the tension. But it only makes it worse, Somehow Mike's grip on you tightened even more, now you were concerned he’d leave a bruise . "When did you make this decision?" Mike asked, his face showing no emotion but you could tell he was angry. "two weeks ago, and I've been waiting for the right moment to properly introduce you two. I know the timing is awkward with the match, but it's better to do it now than later."

Mike doesn’t say anything giving an expressionless nod. There was another awkward pause before you decided to speak up. "It was nice meeting you…Art?" you trail off , purposely sounding unsure. He nodded with a knowing smile. "But our food is getting cold," you joked, trying to escape the suffocating tension. "I wouldn't want to keep the couple from their food," Art said, while a smiling again only looking directly at you. You wanted to scream, he was being so obvious and the way Mike was already acting, you knew you wouldn’t hear the end of it. "You two eat, I have to go handle some things, I won’t be long" your father said, gesturing for you and Mike to sit at the table before walking off with Art.

Once the two of you sit back at the table you feel caught. "I don't want you near that guy," Mike says, taking a sip of his coffee. You roll your eyes and stab at your scrambled eggs. “He was basically eye fucking you the whole time, and it doesn’t help that your dress is so tight”

“I think you forget sometimes this isn’t real,” you reply, taking a bite.

"Lower your voice," Mike warns, glancing around to see if anyone heard.

"You didn't care about it being real when you accepted the gifts," he scoffs, "or in Virginia."

"It was once, Mike. And every day, you make me regret it."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. You don't get to control me just because you buy me shit. Anyone can buy me shit."

“I told you i’m not doing this with you today” Mike laughs dryly standing up from the table. "I'll see you later, okay babe?" he says a bit louder, forcing a fake smile as he plants a kiss on your head before walking away. You try your best not to flinch when he touches you. Once he's gone, your phone buzzes, and you glance down to see an unsaved number. It's a text from Art.

“meet me at the restaurant next door in 20, alone.”

Author note : GUYS FEEL FREE TO COMMENT I LOVE READING COMMENTS

#black reader #art donaldson #art donaldson smut #challengers #challengers fanfic #art donaldson x reader #Art Donaldson x black reader #Art Donaldson x black female #art donaldson x female reader

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theoldsports · 11 months ago

Text

SOUR.

Art Donaldson x Reader (Patrick Zweig x Reader) | SORRY series | 4.2k words

it’s finally here by popular demand. Patrick has entered the plot. this is set before all of the prior chapters, two days before the Donaldson wedding. can be read as part of the SORRY SERIES (read more episodes of their lives here) or on its own. lemme know if you’d like to be on the taglist.

warnings: 18+. angst. it’s brutal angst. more than allusions to Patrick’s canonical use of hard drugs. rehab, allusion to an OD, mention of Art’s disordered eating patterns. they’re bad for each other in a good way. the Donaldsons have a friendly dog. coveting another man’s wife. discussion of niche sexual fantasies. making out. biting. tornados/extreme weather. running away from your problems.

“Art?”

“Nngh.”

“Artie, wake up.”

“‘M up. Fhhh… ‘m up. What’s the matter?” Art grumbled with half shut eyes. “Somethin’ wrong?” He whispered even though they were alone. It was nighttime which meant whispering to Art.

“I don’t like this storm.”

What a sign that storm should have been.

Art smirked. “We’re getting married in, like, three days and you’re worried about the weather?”

“There’s a tornado warning. Or watch. Whichever the worse one is. I saw it on the news.”

Art frowned. “You ever been through a tornado?”

“No.”

Art rolled over from his position in [Y/N]’s arms to face her nose to nose. “I have. A lot. Close your eyes,” he commanded softly. His arm slotted into the dip of her waist and pulled her closer. “Close ‘em for me. That’s it, that’s it.” He coaxed as she followed his directions.

“I don’t see what this has to do with—“

“Shh, listen,” they both got quiet. Rain pelted against the windows. Wind whistled. Branches cracked and crunched. Thunder boomed. [Y/N] could see the gleam of lightning even behind her eyelids. “Hear it?”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Congrats. Your ears are workin’ best as they can,” Art teased to try and get his fiancé to crack a smile. “Now, which one’s the loudest? Which of the sounds?”

“You breathing.”

“I’m flattered. Which one outside?”

[Y/N] listened. “Right now? The rain, I think.”

“We’re in the clear for now. Let me know when the wind’s louder. Like that real, real crazy whooshing, whistling sound. When it starts whipping like that, we’ll go in the bathroom and lock the doors, yeah? Hell, we can head in now if it would make you feel better?”

“What if I fall asleep before the weather gets worse?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay awake,” Art yawned. “How about I get you up if I notice a disturbance. I gotta take care of my wife, right?”

“I’m not your wife.”

Art sighed. “…I know. I’m just practicing.”

Fortunately, no tornado ever touched down. And Art was still there when [Y/N] woke up.

It always amazed her that Art was still there everyday. For every nasty thing she said to him that she didn’t mean, every argument where she told him Patrick was right, every tennis match won or lost, every natural disaster, every tear shed. Art was there for all of it. He liked the bad moments as much as the good ones because it meant simply more time spent by [Y/N]’s side. He wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

It was too much power, [Y/N] frequently thought, that she had over Art.

[Y/N] faced Art and brushed his strawberry blonde hair away from his forehead. Art often looked exhausted. He wore his tiredness on his face and shoulders. The exhaustion of constantly chasing, people-pleasing and being a professional athlete could destroy a kid. Art wore it like a Boy Scout badge. [Y/N] could watch him look relaxed forever. It was so rare he looked like that.

“Good morning, guard dog,” [Y/N] whispered. Art stirred. She could tell he was awake even though his eyes were shut due to that crease the reappeared between his eyebrows. It was never not there in his waking moments. Slowly, Art’s hand crept up and gently clutched [Y/N]’s wrist. Art used his grip to slide [Y/N]’s hand down his own drowsy face. He planted a kiss on her palm before tiredly looking at her. “Good morning.” She repeated to him.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” [Y/N] replied. Gray sunlight filtered through the window. “You ready for today?” She smirked.

“What’s today?”

“Patrick’s in town.”

Art dramatically threw his arm over his face and groaned. “I thought he was in tomorrow… Everything was so peaceful… And quiet,” Art mumbled into his elbow. He couldn’t keep a straight face for long and resolved into a soft laugh. “Whose babysitting?” He asked, peering his blue and brown eyes over his arm.

“I’m picking up the cake today, so I figured I could use his strength.”

Art sat up a bit. “You’re getting it today?”

“In the later afternoon, yeah. Why?”

“It’s gonna be, like, stale.”

[Y/N] glanced over at Art. “If we had gotten cupcakes like I wanted, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“You’re such a little jerk.” Art teased.

“Me!” [Y/N] gasped. “It doesn’t even matter because it’s not like you’re gonna eat it anyway because you don’t eat anything.”

“Little jerk!” Art said with his crooked smile widening. He leaned in, slotting an arm over her. “You heard me. You’re a little… troublemaking jerk.” Art’s nose almost pressed against hers.

“Oh yeah? Why are you marrying me then, hm?”

“…You’re pretty,” Art grinned almost timidly, bowing his head. His flat vocal timber sounded like the verbal equivalent of a blush. “Like, really, really pretty. Even if you suck.” Tenderly, Art leaned the rest of the way in to kiss [Y/N]. Once and then twice and then seven times. Maybe fourteen.

And they would have stayed like that all day.

They would have.

BANG BANG BANG.

Like gunshots.

Their lips parted and they held long eye contact. They paused. They sighed.

“Patrick.” They both said.

With a bend of his arms, the full weight of Art’s toned body collapsed on top of [Y/N]’s.

“Pretty baby!”

“No. ‘M pretending he’s not out there,” He laid flat on her, head on her chest. “Can’t go anywhere now.”

BANG BANG BANG on the front door again. Cheese, the couple’s Labrador mix barked at the sound from downstairs.

“Art!”

“Mhm-mm. Nope. Too bad. Sucks for Patrick.”

[Y/N] huffed. “You’re upsetting the dog.”

“He’s upsetting the dog,” Art started to laugh. “He showed up early. I’m just laying here. Hey, hey!” Art jeered as [Y/N] wiggled out from underneath him from backwards. She tried to inch away off the side of the bed. Her shoulders slumped against the carpet, while Art held her legs in place on the bed. [Y/N] dangled in a half on-half off sort of way. Her oversized Stanford t-shirt rolled up during the drama, exposing her breasts to Art. Unashamed, he stared.

[Y/N] twisted her foot into the side of Art’s face, causing a small cry of disgust from him. Just enough chaos for her to slip away. Without hesitation, she tossed the lightweight door open and skittered down the stairs with Art’s long gate keeping pace behind her. His arms reached out in an attempt to grab her. “He’s early! He can wait! He’s never been early in his whole fucking life!” Art laughed. Cheese jumped and barked at the hysteria.

The chase continued until [Y/N]’s hand hit the doorknob and chain. She unlocked it immediately. As [Y/N] ripped the door open, Art’s arm encircled her waist yanking her to the side with the force of his momentum, causing her to laugh with glee.

And on the other side of the door was Patrick Zweig.

Smiling impishly, Patrick took in the disheveled appearances of his two favorite people. He bit the inside of his cheek. “Nice boner.” Patrick smirked at Art, while he pulled [Y/N] into a side hug.

Art didn’t have a boner, or at least a proper one. But the comment was enough to get Art to look. He rolled his eyes and pulled Patrick in for a hug. Cheese ran over to the door for attention, when Art greeted Patrick.

Art closed the door. Patrick ducked down to greet the Labrador too. He liked Cheese, but wouldn’t necessarily choose to be around a dog in his free time the way that Art and [Y/N] did. Cheese really liked Patrick, much to his chagrin, so he pretended to be nice. While Patrick sat on the floor with the animal, he looked up at his best friends. “What’s with the clothes? You just get up?” Art with no shirt in just tube socks and boxers, and [Y/N] in Art’s old college shirt and underwear. They had all seen each other like this so many times growing up that no one particularly cared that the future Donaldsons looked so post coital. It was pretty normal. Patrick’s smirk sliced further across his unwashed face with the ghost of a laugh. “Were you guys fucking?” He said like a horny teenager.

[Y/N] laughed hard and kissed her lifelong best friend on top of the head on her way to make a pot of coffee in the kitchen. “No.” Art sighed in disappointment, flopping onto one of the barstools in the kitchen. This disappointment was either disappointment in Patrick for asking, or disappointment in the lack of sex due to Patrick’s arrival. It was Patrick’s fault either way.

When the dog got bored, Cheese wandered into the kitchen for nonexistent scraps. Patrick pulled up a chair next to Art and dropped his backpack on the floor. “How’s it going, man? You look good. Feeling ready?” He asked, leaning forward to tap Art across his bare knee.

Art nodded as if it say it’s a sure thing. “Thanks. We miss you. We appreciate you being here. It means a lot.”

“I appreciate you being here,” [Y/N] cut in. “Because you’re in my half of the wedding party.” She and Art were always in constant competition over who loved Patrick more. Art wanted him to be his best man. [Y/N] won out, though, having known him since the age of seven and Art only since age twelve.

“Ladies please. Not all at once.” Patrick said. He stood from his chair and wrapped his long arms around [Y/N] in a proper hug finally. Briefly, his chin rested on her head. He stopped before it went on too long.

“Good to see you, kid. How’s it going?” At two months older, [Y/N] had been calling Patrick ‘kid’ diminutively for almost two decades. It was cuter before he got so tall.

“I called you yesterday.” He replied dryly, stepping back to look at her. [Y/N] noted Patrick’s intimately familiar eyes. Too wide, pupils too dilated. Hm. He wore a long sleeved sweater and jeans. And dirty tennis shoes.

“You bring something nicer than this for Saturday?” She teased, pulling on one of his holey sleeves.

Art snorted at Patrick’s expense and cracked a smile. His freckled elbows leaned onto the counter. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here for two seconds, ‘n you’re already giving me tsuris?” Patrick quipped to [Y/N].

“Tsuris… Never thought I’d say it, but you sound like your mom, Patrick.” [Y/N] scoffed. Art snorted a laugh too.

Patrick frowned. “Guess I have to kill myself then.” He joked harshly to more laughter from the other two. M

“Yep. Have some coffee. Both of you. I’m going to put pants on.” [Y/N] turned away and moved to the stairs.

“Aw, do you have to?” Patrick called after her. [Y/N] tossed a middle finger up over her shoulder as she walked away. Art hissed at Patrick’s comment.

“Do you have to flirt with my wife?” Art sneered without malice.

Patrick smiled that boyish small, wicked, unassuming smile. “She’s not your wife yet.” He snapped back. Art smiled at him in return. The two held each other’s gaze adorned with sick grins for a moment before both of them dissolved into laughter. Everything was a competition, but it was only real if they brought it up.

Fast forward a few hours and Patrick and [Y/N] were in the car. Art had taken off for a haircut because his mom thought he looked like a messy little punk and wedding pictures were forever. [Y/N] drove because Patrick drove too fast and without mercy. He had a sports car once when he was in school and still spoke to his parents daily and had notably wrapped it around a telephone pole and walked out without nary a scratch. How’s that for nine lives?

[Y/N] had a sedan.

She and Patrick both held a cigarette out each of their respective windows as she drove.

“You should really quit, y’know.” She told Patrick.

He leaned over and blew smoke in her face. “Yeah, I’ll quit when you do.”

Patrick’s rude gesture didn’t bear acknowledging. “It’s different. You’re an athlete. I watch movies and review them for a living. It’s expected of me. You… you’re making your performance actively worse. You’re kneecapping yourself by choice.” [Y/N] explained.

“I’m good enough to take the hit.”

[Y/N] laughed and took a drag of her cigarette, asking it out the window. “And you’re arrogant enough to make that comment. Sometimes I look at you and you’re still thirteen. I swear to God. It’s fuckin’ funny,” she said. It was quiet for a moment. “Art, though. He doesn’t smoke anymore.”

“I don’t believe you,” Patrick replied immediately with a wild look in his eye. That was apparently a big surprise. “He’s totally lying to you. There’s no way—“

“Nope! Quit on his own too. He just decided he was done with it one day and got all pro-athlete about it.”

“Y-you’re wrong! You’re so wrong. He’s a liar. Last time I was in town, we—“

“No. No fucking way,” [Y/N] shook her head in manic disbelief. “When you came by to—“

“Mhm. Yep. On the patio. You didn’t notice?”

[Y/N] shook her head. “No sense of smell because of… I’m a smoker. I just… He’s such a shit.”

“A shit and a hypocrite!” They both laughed. When the glee dampened naturally and the cigarette butts were pitched out the window, Patrick looked over at [Y/N]. One good, long look. “You ready for Saturday?” Patrick asked because he was a masochist.

[Y/N] found herself often thinking back on this moment. Was this when it had gone wrong beyond repair?

[Y/N] sighed. She would only ever tell Patrick and maybe Art this. “Yes and no.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t say it like that. I have been ready to marry Art since I was, like, seventeen years old. It is unfathomable to me how much love I am capable of giving him, y’know? If he wanted the Mona Lisa, I’d be robbing the Louvre tomorrow. He’s it for me,” she said. Patrick faked a smile very convincingly and nodded for her to go on. “What I’m not looking forward to is everyone I know being in the same room at the same time. I don’t like other people except you and Art. And my editor. That’s about it.”

“You’re not at all worried about spending all that time married to someone?” Patrick tried to jab at her with his words while he scratched his right forearm.

“Not with Art.”

“Wow. That’s awfully grownup of you.”

“Yeah, well. I’m a grownup. With a smokin’ hot fiancé. And he actually cares if I live or die. Isn’t that crazy? My parents weren’t like that with each other. It’s… Am I allowed to say how grateful I am to you for bringing him home for break that one time, or is that stupid?”

“It’s kinda stupid,” he agreed teasingly. In reality, he wanted more than anything to put himself out of his misery. My fault, my fault, my fault. The words looped in Patrick’s head on constant repeat. He wanted to rip his skin off for so many different reasons. He couldn’t take it and he was trapped. Fuck.

Patrick scratched his right forearm again.

“Truth or dare?” Patrick slurred. He was twenty-one and drunk for [Y/N]’s birthday. She, Art and Patrick sat on the disgusting archaic carpet in Art’s dorm room.

“Uh, truth.” [Y/N] said too soberly to sober.

“Boring!” Art said, putting his hand on [Y/N]’s thigh.

Patrick took a long swing of his beer while he thought. “Okay, okay. What’s your weirdest sexual fantasy?” He asked.

“Ew.” [Y/N] wrinkled her nose.

Art thought the question was epic, but wasn’t going to facilitate his girl’s discomfort. “Hey, it’s her birthday, she doesn’t have to—“

“Um, no. I’ll do it. This is an actual dream I had. I think about it kinda all the time. Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud. It so dumb. So, it’s Art and I’m sitting at the kitchen table with coffee or something. And Art… sings me Happy Birthday like Marilyn Monroe did for JFK. And he’s dressed like Marilyn, but like a boy. No dress, but like the boy version of that look. Then we fuck. That’s weirder than you wanted. That was weird, right?” [Y/N] rambled.

Art leaned in closer to her. They were all drunk as skunks and he couldn’t help bite his lip. His arm pulled her closer to him. Art was handsy when drunk, they were all learning.

“Whose Jackie O?” Patrick asked.

“No Jackie O. And I’m not JFK. He’s just Marilyn. Gentlewomen prefer blondes.” [Y/N] had laughed so hard at that while she tangled her fingers in Art’s sandy hair.

The car ride to get cake and the drive back was the last proper conversation [Y/N] and Patrick had. The pair got home. Nothing seemed unusual to [Y/N] at all. They talked the whole time without any dry spells. The cake, in pieces to be assembled, was carefully toted in and placed way out of the way from disaster. Patrick took his bag to the bathroom, claiming he was going to shower.

[Y/N] shouted after him. “You know where the towels are!”

Patrick looked back over his shoulder at her with a smirk and closed the bathroom door behind him.

And he went out through the bathroom window.

[Y/N] had no idea he had gone until she heard his car start. For a minute, she thought it was the neighbors. She walked halfway down her hallway and saw the bathroom door open. No running shower water, no half nude Patrick shaving or something. She ran back down the hall and glanced out the kitchen window and watched his new white SUV whip out of the driveway.

[Y/N] stood there for several minutes. Staring and staring and staring after him. Not a single effort to move. The first thing she did was pick up her blue slidephone from beside the sink. She called Art, not Patrick. Patrick made his choice.

[Y/N] hadn’t realized she was crying when Art picked up on the other line.

“Honey? Honey, you there? You buttdial me?” Art said. [Y/N] thinks he said shit like that for several moments before she spoke. She just faced the window and stared for what felt like ages.

“Patrick’s gone.”

“Hm?”

“Patrick’s gone.”

“What do you mean he’s gone.”

“He climbed through the bathroom window and drove off. We-we didn’t have a fight. Or-or… He just left. Like it was nothing.”

“I’m on my way. Stay where you are.”

Art rushed back in his blue-black jeep wrangler. It ripped into the smooth driveway causing the tires to damn near squeal. When he got out of his car and bounded to the door, it was clear that about half of his hair had been cut instead of all of it. [Y/N] would have laughed in an ideal situation.

“Baby, hey, what happened?” Art said breathlessly as he unlocked the door. [Y/N] sat at the seldom used dining room table the two of them used to hold their junk mail, sitting straight up and looking through Art. Art was alarmed. She never sat at the table and rarely was her face so expressionless. She was always feeling, expressing, something. He couldn’t tell if she was crying or not, but her eyes were red.

“Patrick seems to have decided not to join us this weekend.” [Y/N] said clearly.

Art closed up the door behind him and walked over to [Y/N]. His scraggly hair and bewildered expression lessened into some devastated softness. He knelt, as he often did, in front of her and took her softer hands in his. “Can you tell me what happened?” Art asked quietly. He felt angry tears sting at the corner of his own traitorous eyes.

“We went out, got the cake, got smoothies, and came back. We… He didn’t say anything weird. Nothing happened.”

“Okay. And then?”

“No, I mean, nothing happened. Like, he was on his best behavior. Like, he was doing so well. He seemed okay. Really okay, y’know?” [Y/N]’s voice broke and finally betrayed her. She choked on her last words and the tears followed. Art’s right hand traveled up the side of [Y/N] face to rest there in comfort. “We talked about everything, like always. He was totally fine. I swear. Then we got home and he says I’m gonna take a shower, or something. And then I heard his car pull away. That’s it.”

“I’m gonna fucking murder him.” Art said, shaking his head and gritting his teeth. He stood from the floor and pulled his own phone out of his pocket. Art leaned against the table [Y/N] sat at. He called Patrick. Then he called him again. And another time. Up to what felt like twelve times or so. He left voicemail after voicemail.

“Hey, call me.”

“Hey, it’s Art. Call me.”

“Art again. Call me back. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry about the last one. Patrick, call me. Are you coming home?”

“Hey, man. Fuck you. Fuck off.”

“I’m sorry about the last one too. I’m… Understandably, I’m kinda… Fucking pissed at you. I don’t need to talk to you like that, though. Are you okay? Are you safe? What happened? You can talk to me.”

“You’re an asshole. I wish you could see the look on [Y/N]’s face right now.”

“Don’t come back.”

Eventually, the voicemail box was full.

[Y/N] reached wordlessly for Art’s hand. She could feel his rare anger climbing. He got this ridiculous blush across his cheeks when he got angry and she could see it against the sunset’s glow. “Art?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened,” He said, turning his eyes to her. “I’m so sorry, hon.”

“It’s not your fault. You don’t have to apologize, pretty baby.”

“Yeah, but he’s my best friend. He’s your best friend,” He ranted. “That was a dick move to leave like that. I’m sorry that happened to you. He’s a piece of shit.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No! I do. I do mean that. For the last year, he’s treated us, especially you like trash. Do you not see how much more you deserve, [Y/N]? I don’t know what’s going on with him… Do you?”

“He’s…” [Y/N] looked down. “You think he’s using again?”

Art didn’t say anything, he just looked down. That was answer enough. [Y/N] buried her face in her hands with a shuddering sob. Art pulled her to her feet and into his chest. He buried his face in her hair, unable to hold his own tears back. Eventually, the pair landed on the sagging green couch. Art’s legs wrapped around [Y/N]’s middle. They kept the news on all night. In case he matched an accident description. They called hospitals and hunted for John Does that were over six feet with dark hair and stubble.

“What are we gonna do? He’s… He’s not coming back, is he?” [Y/N] whispered. Cheese rested his heavy beige head on her thigh. He obviously didn’t understand why Patrick had gone either.

“No, I don’t think he is,” Art replied, lips against her forehead. “I’m sorry.

Pathetically, [Y/N] raised her head to Art. “I’m sorry too. I don’t know what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything.” He said. [Y/N] forced Art to lean back against the couch and she laid her head on his chest. Cheese circled for a new position where he could be touching them both at the same time.

[Y/N] knew it was a little bit her fault. She leaned up and kissed Art on the corner of his lips. “It’s my fault.”

“Then it’s both of our faults. You can’t talk about yourself like that. You’re the only you I’ve got, babe.” Art huffed tiredly.

[Y/N] dug her hands into Art’s hair the way he liked. “Can I fix your haircut? Haircut’s a generous way to describe it.”

“Damn, I was actually trying out this new thing. You don’t think it’s cool?”

“Yeah, it’s big for guys who blindly answer their wife’s phone calls, I hear.” [Y/N] said weakly.

Wife was all Art heard and he melted.

“I have never known someone I love as much as you,” Art said. “I’m all in with you. You know that, right?”

“‘Course I do.” [Y/N] did know. She sunk her teeth into the freckled skin on Art’s right shoulder gently and he moaned. Over top of the spot, [Y/N] left a trail of kisses down Art’s bicep.

“I’m gonna call his mom.” He said once [Y/N]’s pace had slowed. Art’s stomach growled. When he got upset, he didn’t eat. [Y/N] told herself it was because he had forgotten to in stressful moments, but wondered if it was a punishment instead. She pretending she hadn’t heard the sound.

“They don’t talk.”

“I know. Just in case he turns up.”

Patrick did turn up. About ten hours later, wet and unconscious in the emergency room. Following a psych eval, Patrick went to a short stint in rehab. He had gone once prior at the age of twenty. Needless to say Patrick missed the wedding. It was too much money to up and cancel, according to Art’s piece of shit stepfather, Douglas. Patrick made no efforts to contact the Donaldsons since leaving, as he left or following rehab. Despite all of Art and [Y/N]’s tireless efforts to find him, all they had to show for it was his disconnected phone number and a crippling feeling of shame and loss. Patrick had vanished from their lives without giving either one of them a say.

Patrick was gone.

But Art was there for all of it.

TAGLIST:

@toxiclovergirl @basicallynotbreathing @miniemonie2001 @valentine333 @tremendoushorsepeachbanana-blog @athxnss @babyspice6 @diorrfairy @donaldsonsdarling @muthafuckingstargirl @avylanchce @shysstuff @soberbabes @ysuftmikey @pussy-f41ry

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson x you #art donaldson #sorry series #challengers movie #challengers #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig

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jesssssssssica · 5 months ago

Text

nsfw headcannons with patrick zweig

he’s definitely in love with you but just can’t admit it, afraid that he’s gonna ruin the ‘bad boy’ title and reputation that he’s gained

started as a one night stand which then progressed into his thoughts constantly being full with you to finding you through a friend of a friend and proposing the fwb ideas

he’s sweeter and gentler than the first time you did it though he’s not quite ‘making love’

definitely a shower not a grower and he's big

definitely has to finger you a few times before it puts it in because he doesn’t want to see you hurt!!

almost indefinitely prefers when you wear lingerie, loving the power he feels whenever he rips it off of you, along with the squeals it brings out of you whenever he does so

he's so LOUD, always groaning and moaning all while watching you fall apart beneath him (god bless the neighbours)

SUCH A MUNCH

trust me he loves receiving head but even more prefers giving, could stay down there forever and would die happy if he did so

obviously you guys are young and he's trying to become someone in the tennis world and with you in college, but he can't help but want to breed you so bad and fill you with all of his kids (one day, one day)

definitely sosososo quick with the removal of the bra like literally one moment it's there and then WHOOSH gone!

would definitely want to take you in public but you simply REFUSE it, much preferring the comfort of either of your bedrooms

offers/proposes a threesome every moment he can, he loves sleeping with you but girls on your campus have definitely caught his eye

swears that he can do the pull-out method, wanting nothing more than to feel you but once he actually gets the chance, he's too in love with the feeling that he can't find himself pulling out

unfortunately, he's not too educated on the importance of aftercare, falling asleep before you even make it to the bathroom

#patrick zweig smut #challengers imagines #challengers smut #challengers x reader #challengers 2024 #challengers fanfic #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig fic

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carajilloplz · 10 months ago

Note

Omg can u write a fic abt Art Donaldson and Patrick trying to hit on foreign exchange student!reader, could end in fluff or smut

no bc this is literally my fantasy i’m an international student at a D1 tennis school IM GONNA GO FERAL. loosely based off of my experience with the cornell men’s tennis team but we’re not talking about that.

warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, patrick x international student!tennis player!reader, this might be bad i wrote this over the course of like 3 days and changed the plot completely lol, smoking and drinking, oral!male and female receiving, facesitting, technically cheating? vague but everything is morally dubious with these three, unprotected p in v, hair pulling

uh enjoy ig i hope it's not too bad

Tashi? You’d known her since forever. You attended the same tennis camp when you were girls and never lost contact. Having played a few matches during Juniors, you stayed pretty close. So when you saw her on your match schedule for the upcoming month, you shot her a text saying you had to go out together when you were at Stanford for the weekend.

Your match rolled around and you were definitely focused. Winning meant you stayed at the top of your conference, which wasn’t the ATP ranking but it was still important to you. So you trained, and hard. You were a good player, quick on your feet, and the training paid off in your first doubles game that weekend. Before your game, you got to catch a wave and a smile from Tashi sitting in the stands, next to a mousy-looking blonde guy and a very cocky brunette. You noted that the brunette was more your type, but the blonde was cute enough. Must have been Tashi’s friends.

You started your match, extremely harmonious with your partner, and you swiftly caught every ball headed your way. From the stands, Art and Patrick were shamelessly throwing around comments as they saw the ball bounce back and forth.

“She has an insane serve. I heard she’s like a tennis prodigy in her country.” Art gushes, getting cut off by Patrick quickly with “I don’t know how you’re paying attention to her serve when she has such nice legs. I’d like to have those wrapped around my head soon.”

Winning the game 4-6, you were happy with the result.

You watched Tashi play her doubles match, flawlessly annihilating your teammates. When the time came for yours and Tashi’s match, you felt the playfully challenging energy in the air. Patrick and Art were at the edge of their seats, and as the game started they both were practically drooling at the match. They couldn’t decide whether to look at you, or Tashi, or the ball. Both you and Tashi were smoothly tearing each other to shreds, grunting and running around, you always catching the ball just in time.

“I don’t know how she’s doing it but I think she’s going to beat Tashi” Art mumbles, slumped into his seat as he switched his focus from the ball, to the way you moved, to your figure.

“I call dibs” replies Patrick. He was staring at you too, staring intently and admiring the way your arm smoothly hit the ball with a thwack in a way that threw Tashi off.

“Don’t do that to Tashi.” mumbled Art again, playfully hitting the brunette next to him. He didn’t even take his eyes off of you. He knew too damn well that Patrick could not care less, and didn’t know whether to feel for you or Tashi. Pat and Tashi had been having a rough time anyways, so it was really a matter of time before either of them caved.

Finishing the match, you and Tashi gave each other a friendly hug. You noticed that the two boys that had been sitting with Tashi were rushing down to congratulate the two of them.

“Great game, babe.” The brunette said, giving Tashi a small peck. You noticed that she didn’t really appreciate the gesture. The boy turned to you, “And this is?”

Tashi introduced you, explaining that you went to tennis camp together, the whole history. “And these two idiots are Art and Patrick.”

“Nice to meet you too, you guys play tennis?” you ask, intrigued but it was kind of obvious.

Art answers before Patrick can open his mouth— “Yeah, I play here at Stanford too, I’m just injured right now,” he says, pointing to his shoulder, which had muscle tape peeking from the sleeve of his shirt. “Pat’s just… there.”

“Hey! I play too, dipshit. I’m playing the Miami Open in a few weeks.”

Tashi was done with her games of the day, and said she’d be taking a short break. “I’m going to take a shower and heading to bars later, want to come?” She asks.”You can come and get ready in my dorm with me.” You nod in approval, following them as you headed to the locker rooms. Patrick and Tashi were walking together as he was clearly rambling about something that she was unfazed by.

“So they’re a thing huh?” you ask Art, who was walking next to you.

“Yeah I mean, he comes to visit every once in a while but I don’t think that they’ve quite put a label on it yet.” He answers quite honestly, “She’s a very focused person.”

“I know, that’s why it was strange to me that she was with somebody.”

Art nodded in understanding, “I know, I say the same thing and they’re surprisingly sticking it out.”

“Honestly I don’t know how she does it.” you admit. The few times you had been involved with someone it went to shit because of your schedule.

“What do you mean? I thought Tashi said you were dating someone.” Art asks, furrowing his brow.

“Oh no, I broke up with him forever ago, he was on my team before he had to stop playing because of an injury. He’s a full-on NARP now and that really got in the way.” You scoff slightly, laughing to yourself and shaking your head. “Doesn’t seem strange to me that Tash wouldn’t check my Facebook, I’ve deleted all my posts with him since.”

“Yeah she’s like that,” muses Art. “Lives in her own world and we’re all moons revolving around it.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

After changing in the locker rooms and staying to watch the rest of the singles games, you headed to your hotel to freshen up a little to head to Tashi’s and get ready.

Walking over to the dorm, you run into Patrick, already wearing what you assumed to be his bar clothes — some jeans, nikes, and a gray shirt that says ‘I told ya’.

“Hey Patrick, you heading to Tashi’s?” you say amicably, trying to strike conversation with your friend’s…? You don’t know what he was.

“Yeah, you?” he asks, pulling out a carton of cigarettes and lighting one. Pat sends the pack your way as an offering “Want one?”

“Yes please, and yeah, I’m getting ready at Tashi’s for tonight. She’d said we would go to bars?”

Patrick goes to light your cigarette and you two continue your walk towards the dorm. “I think you look gorgeous just like that, but to each their own.”

You roll your eyes and fill the rest of the walk with small talk, which to your relief was a relatively short walk so it didn’t get too awkward. As you headed into the elevator, you went to press the button and couldn’t remember what floor Tashi had mentioned. “On what floor does she live?” You ask, as the elevator comes to a close. You could feel his eyes on you. Looking back at him, you catch him staring and give him a questioning look.

“Patrick?”

“6th floor”

A moment of silence passes between you two. He, of course, breaks it. “Your accent is cute. I don’t know, it fits you.” Patrick is very clearly snaking his eyes up and down your figure, and you didn’t know whether you wanted to stop yourself. “You’re not from around here are y-”

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Patrick, but you’re with my friend and that is not something I want to intrude in.” You snap. It felt a little mean but it’s not something you’d want to do to Tashi.

He snorts, laughing to himself and furrowing his brow, “I’m not with Tashi, if you haven’t noticed. She barely gives me the time of day unless she wants me to fuck her.”

You’re surprised at his statement, a little less so at his crass choice of words, but you realized that that’s the kind of person he was. Extremely conflicted with how to react, you noticed the lustful look in his eye and the little bite he gave the inside of his cheek. You couldn’t. You turned away and looked at the numbers of the floors go up excruciatingly slow. Pat hesitated, but at this point he had nothing to lose.

“If it raises the chances of you being interested in me, then no. For all intents and purposes I am not with Tashi.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Later that night, at some dingy college bar, both Patrick and Art were inquisitively leaning towards you and Tashi. You'd all had your fair share of drinks and there was something in the air, you didn't know what it was but it made you feel magnetic, especically towards Art and Patrick. You liked Art and everything, but you couldn’t help but notice how he would always be catching a look at Tash and sweeping in to mediate when she and Pat would begin a harmless spat. Patrick, on the other hand, had very much caught your eye. Something about him made you curious, maybe it was his nonchalance and light cockiness towards everything. But from your previous conversation, you now knew that he was clearly intrigued by you, leaning his head to the side like a confused puppy as he listened to you explain that you were an international student.

“Oh so you’re far far from home” He comments, “And you’re not from the US?”

“Don’t act too surprised Pat, a lot of international students come to US universities to play tennis.” you reply, “And yes, I’m pretty far from home”

He nods in understanding. “That’s cool, honestly. I’d love to visit and see what your country’s like.”

You smile back, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes and the liquid confidence taking over, “You can come anytime.”

Eventually, you and Patrick keep up the conversation, drinks flowing, and notice that Art and Tashi had disappeared, God knows where.

“Did they really leave us here?” Patrick asks, bewildered when he noticed that Art and Tashi were nowhere to be seen. You shrugged. “I mean, I don’t mind it to be honest. I had to head to my hotel so I would have been going back alone anyways.”

“I can’t let you do that, that’s dangerous.” Patrick said, quickly inserting himself as the hero of the situation. “I’ll take you to your hotel. Where are you staying?”

“Oh just at a Holiday Inn down the street.”

“No way! I’m staying in that one too,” he says. “C’mon I’ll walk you back.”

You don’t know if it was the drinks or the tension you still had from today’s game but somehow, you ended up making out with Patrick in the elevator on your way up to your room. Patrick’s lips clashed against yours, bringing you closely into his embrace as you two killed the time before getting to your room. You separated the kiss for a moment, looking Pat dead in the eye.

“Not a word to Tashi about this.”

“No worries baby, she wouldn’t even care. She’s probably busy doing Art right now. She prefers him.” he admits, shrugging unconcerned and leaning back in to kiss you.

Luckily, your room was one of the first ones accessible as you got out of the elevator, so you reached into your pocket as you both stumbled towards the door. You fumbled with the key for a moment as Pat left some kisses on your throat, lost in you and your every move.

Finally being able to open the door, you two connected in a kiss once more and clumsily moved towards the bed, clothes coming off sloppily. Bumping against the end of the bed, you and Patrick fall onto the soft and fluffy duvet, heavenly on your tired muscles, heightening the pleasurable sensations of Pat’s lips on yours.

His kisses were desperate, frantic, rushed, matching all the possible descriptive words for the way he was reaching at all of the grippable parts of you as he sloppily kissed you, teeth clashing. He was panting, and you were also desperately clawing at his t-shirt, moving your tongue against his and travelling your hands back into his hair. There was something about how the two of you just melded together, maybe fuelled by the underlying guilt of what you were doing, but also the insatiable need to blow off some fuckin’ steam.

You could feel how he was starting to grow hard in his jeans, starting to kiss your jaw and neck.

“Let me get on top, Patrick” you gasp, out of breath, pulling him back into the kiss and rolling over so you’re straddling him. He’s reaching up to you, grabbing your ass as you wrap your arms around his neck in order to keep him close. You start rolling your hips, bringing yourself to hit that sweet spot, easily accessible through under your skirt, and moaning into his mouth at the feeling. Gripping the edges of his shirt, he follows your lead of taking it off as you remove your top as well. For a moment he stops, slowly leaning back into his elbows, taking the sight of you squirming on top of him.

“Suck my dick.” He says, something so gluttonous yet pleading in his eyes. “Please.”

You look down at him, licking your bottom lip at the mere though of hearing his moans with your mouth on him. Nodding, slowly, you start kissing at his body, making your way down and occasionally looking back up at him. He’s got his head thrown back taking in the tenderness of your touch. You get to his jeans, tented up by his hard cock and start unbuckling his belt. Making your way through his layers, you reach into his jeans and start palming him, feeling how hard you had made him feel. You hear him moan shamelessly at this, saying your name and encouraging you to continue.

He starts pulling his jeans and underwear down, barely enough for you to be able to access his cock, which you grab in your hand and spit on, beginning to pleasure him. His moans are loud as you continue, licking his tip and sending him into a spiral, moaning a load of curses and your name. As you keep going, he starts tangling his hands in your hair and trying his best to get it out of your face.

“God, baby you look so good like that sucking my cock, fuck.” He groans, throwing his head back. You look up at him, and his blissed out expression just fuels you even more, his stomach muscles contracting and his eyes scrunching closed giving you more of a reason to keep bobbing your head up and down on his cock. You gag around him, your mouth already salivating and sloppy, and you went up to take a breath.

“Want to return the favor, Pat?” you ask, looking up at him through half-lidded, pleading eyes while you kept languidly stroking his cock. He took a single look at you and nodded.

“Yeah, of course baby,” he says as you sit up. “C’mon, get on me.”

You furrow your brow— “You want me to sit on your face?” You reply with a smirk, climbing up his body

He smirks back, “How else would I return the favor?” Pat leans in to give you one, long hard kiss, the taste of himself in your mouth making his dick twitch. “Can’t wait to taste ya, babe”

You giggle, straddling him as he moves backwards a little in order to reach under you. At the first contact his lips have with your throbbing pussy, you let out a surprised moan and you grip his hair. He grabs your hips, a strong grip pulling you down towards him and making you have to find support against the headboard.

“Fuck, Patrick that feels so good.” You moan, throwing your head back and leaning into his grip. You didn’t care if he suffocated right now, at this point what was of utmost importance was the pressure in your stomach building as he continued to run his tongue along your folds, taking his time to kiss at your sensitive clit. He really did know what he was doing.

“Patrick please, shit you’re gonna make me come.” He doesn’t budge, just pulls you closer and nods his head against you, speeding up his movements and making you a moaning mess, gripping at his hair and rocking your hips against his mouth to keep that momentum and buildup in your belly. Patrick clearly senses this, moving his tongue faster and more intensely.

“Cum, baby” you feel him mumble. Immediately at his words, you feel yourself snap and a rush of energy archs your back and makes you gush all over his face. He comes up, making you straddle him, and he smiles at you with his mouth still glistening with your release, looking voraciouslt at you.

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

Patrick brings you into a passionate kiss, once again sloppily coming together with him manouvering himself to be on top of you. All of your clothes had come off at some point, all of the contact had been so frantic, truly taking your mind off of everything else as you felt him on you. He was rock hard, still aroused from your blowjob, and he started nudging the tip of his cock on your entrance. You come back to your senses, pushing him away for a moment and giving him a look, which he quickly realized what it meant.

“Fuck I— I’ll just buy you a pill tomorrow.”

This was enough for you to give him a nod and make him start sliding inside you, letting out a heavy groan as he bottomed out. You let out a tense moan, grabbing at the bedsheets next to your head, and bringing your arms around his back as he began his thrusts, breathing hard into your neck, kissing it erratically between moans.

“You’re so tight, oh my God” He groans, picking up his pace, making you a moaning mess and pulling him closer to you. He was hitting a spot inside you that was bringing your orgasm back, the pressure in your belly building again as he roughly grabbed your hips. Patrick brought his lips back to yours, sloppily kissing you with tongue to shut your high-pitched whines up. “Don’t be too loud baby, your neighbors are going to complain.”

A solution clearly comes into his mind as he sits back and turns you around to be on all fours, the sudden force on you making you yelp as he pushed you down against the pillow. He teases his cockhead against your folds, then reaches down to speak wantonly into your ear. “Now you can be as loud as you want baby.”

At that, you melt in his touch and let out a long, languid moan at the feeling of him slipping into your cunt, sopping with your arousal and absorbing his hard thrusts. You scream into the pillow as the pressure in your core keeps building and his thrusts hit the right spot that send you into a delirium. Patrick is a moaning mess behind you, the obscene combination of sounds, skin against skin and pleasurable moans making him even more aroused. He’s harsh, pulling your hips to match his pace and you feel him reach up and pull your hair back, revealing your fucked out face to him. “Make me cum again, please Patrick.” you groan, rolling your eyes backwards in pleasure as he speeds up his thrusts, bringing you closer to your orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m going to come baby—” he moans, his thrusts made more erratic at the sensation of your cunt around him. You begin to feel yourself let go as he thrusts sloppily one, two, three more times and pulls out of you, coming all over your back. You collapse under him, and he kneels back to admire your gorgeous ass painted by his work. “Patrick, you better not tell Tashi about this.” He hears, mumbled tiredly from under your messed up hair. Shaking his head and rolling his eyes (because really, you were thinking about that now?), he gets off the bed, walking into your bathroom to grab a towel for your spent, cum-stained body.

a/n: hope u enjoyed ig !! took me forever lol but if you liked this would like to request some ideas you are more than welcome to !!

#patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #patrick zweig smut #tashi duncan #challengers

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parkerluvsu · 5 months ago

Note

Artitck x fem reader comfort? reader on her period and usually they're so bad she gets sick and out of commission for the whole week. she just cries into patricks chest while Art plays nurse :(

love me more (artrick x fem! reader)

you were being punished for something. you had to be. you woke up this morning with cramps that made you curl up in pain, only allowing you to hobble to the bathroom before getting back in bed. you send a hasty email to your professors before shutting your computer and getting cozy in bed again, the fetal position you're currently in is the only way to feel some small relief. you're passed out before you can alert your boyfriends about staying home, a mistake that will soon start knocking at your door.. literally.

*. : ｡✿ * ﾟ * .: ｡ ✿ * ﾟ * . : ｡ ✿ **. : ｡✿ * ﾟ

if you were awake, you would currently hear muffled voices outside your door, ones that are easily recognizable to anyone on the same floor of your dorm since they are almost always cracking jokes and laughing loudly. these voices belong to your boyfriends, art and patrick, who, at the moment, are arguing about who should've brought the extra key to your dorm. "dude she gave the key to you, why don't you have it?" the hushed voice of patrick zweig echoes through the hallway, looking pointedly at art. "i gave it to you remember? i had that match and you wanted to come over here.." art argues back, pointing at patrick. patrick rolls his eyes, rattling the doorknob. "fuck.. what if she's hurt in there or something?? she's not answering my texts" patrick all but bangs on the door, as art sees if you've texted either of them.

waking up with a groan, the loud bangs on your door make you sit up, heart racing. you immediately reach for your phone, wanting to call art or patrick but you're met with missed calls and unanswered frantic messages. you hop out of bed, despite feeling weak from the current cramps wracking your body. you unlock the door, pulling it open and being met with art and patrick, looking at you like they've seen a ghost. "what the fuck!" patrick sighs out, obviously relived to see you. art immediately rushes forward, hugging you tightly. "you scared the shit out of us you know that?" he pulls away, hands on your shoulders, "you don't show up to any of your classes or our practice and then you don't answer any of our texts or calls?" art is clearly happy to see you, but the adrenaline of being concerned about you hasn't worn off. "you scared the shit out of us babe" patrick says, shaking his head. "im really really sorry it's just-" you try to continue your sentence but you're interrupted by a particularly bad cramp, causing you to hunch over and groan in pain. both patrick and art move toward you, making sure you don't fall. "holy shit babe are you okay?" patrick is completely overtaken by concern for you, finding it hard to see you in pain.

"im sorry.. ive just been sick in bed all day you guys.." you explain, letting them guide you back into your room. you sit back in bed, art taking a seat in your desk chair, while patrick makes himself at home in your bed. "ive been sleeping all day.. it's like the only thing that makes me feel better.." you describe the current situation, curling into a ball holding your lower stomach. art and patrick exchange a sympathetic look, with art reaching out to hold your hand. "you've been stuck in here all day?" art frowns at you, his extreme sense of empathy kicking into high gear. you lean into the soft pressure of patrick sitting behind you as you nod. "yeah.. usually i can make it through the week but none of my pain meds are working" patrick nods and brushes a hand through your hair. art, forever the worrier, sits on the chair next to your bed, frantically looking up "how to stop period cramps" and "are period cramps dangerous" you see arts phone screen, smiling at his obvious want for you to be okay.

"art it's okay.. it'll pass.. its bad but it's normal" you reassure him, smiling through the pain. patrick laughs, smoothing his hand through your hair. "cmon art don't be stupid, don't you know anything about women?" he jokes, obviously trying to distract you from the waves of pain. "shut up patrick you hardly even knew what a period was until college!" art fights back, face slightly pink with embarrassment. you let the two of them battle it out, feeling yourself sinking further into the mattress with the feeling of arts hand in yours and patricks fingers weaving through your hair. they don't even notice you've passed out again until patrick needs you to help him fact-check art and you don't respond. their petty argument is forgotten as they get you more comfortable in bed, turning off your light and pulling soft blankets over you. you toss and turn in your sleep, unable to feel actually relaxed enough to fall into a true sleep.

a particularly bad cramp causes your eyes to snap open, a groan of pain escaping your lips as you open your eyes, seeing art and patrick sitting on your floor together. they both rush towards you when they see you're awake again, your pain stricken groan pulling on both of their heartstrings. patrick moves to lay beside on on the bed, guiding your head to lay against his warm chest. "where does it hurt sweetheart?" art asks, sliding himself between your legs to lay his head on your stomach. weirdly, the pressure of his head relieves the pain for a moment, allowing you to answer. "just all of my lower stomach.. the cramps just won't stop.." you feel tears well on your eyes, trying to blink them away to no avail. patrick takes quick notice of this, brushing his thumb under your eyes to wipe your tears. art almost looks like a kicked puppy, gazing up at you with his baby blue eyes, unable to help. art lets patrick continue to comfort you while he pulls out his phone again, researching ways to help relieve your cramps.

"okay.. pat here it says that we should get something warm for her.. that'll like relax her muscles or something" art jumps up and grabs his bag, rooting around in it frantically. finally, he pulls out a little blanket looking thing with a cord coming out of it. "it's a heating pad" he explains, "my coah gave it to me for my muscle spasms but i think it could really help.." you nod and he plugs it in, helping you press it against your lower stomach and hold it there. yet again, art rests his head on your stomach like a puppy, while patrick continues to cradle your head against his chest. the relief from the heating pad starts quickly, and the warmth send you to sleep once again, along with patrick and art.

for the rest of your absolutely miserable week, art and patrick stay by your side, giving you massages and chocolate and everything you could ask for.. anything to make you feel better again. art and patrick could be annoying at times.. but you're positive that you've never felt so loved <3

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